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reiderwriter · 3 months

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💫 Starry-Eyed 💫

Pairing: Porn Star! Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Summary: For work experience, you take a job working the cameras on a porn shoot, but after becoming suddenly attracted to a new coworker, you shortly find yourself as a fluffer, the person whose job it is to keep the "talent" aroused between takes.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Porn AU, College AU kinda, exhibitionism, oral sex (f receiving), consensual voyeurism, masturbation (male), blow job, deep throating, messy orgasm.

A/N: Well, look at where we are. I think this actually counts as my first Alternate Universe fic, which is crazy all things considered. I'm really enjoying the Kink Bingo Challenge as it's leading me to so many new ideas for fics!! I hope you all enjoy this one 🥰

Masterlist || Bingo Board

Being a college student still at age 25 meant many things, but mostly, it meant you had friends at many different stages of their lives. Some were fresh out of high school halls, enjoying their first taste of freedom, some were enjoying their first drops of alcohol. Some were giving up alcohol for good and starting families.

Some of them were successful porn stars who'd funded their own start-up porn production company. It certainly was one way to use a film degree. You knew a professor or two who would enjoy her work more than half your syllabus as well.

Candi Rapper had become famous doing cam shows in her first year of college and had gone all-in after graduation. You'd shared a few classes in the early days, before you took a break from college for financial reasons, of course. By the time you'd gone back, she was a big time and now in the position to offer you a job.

“One of my crews is down a cameraman this weekend. If you're open to it, I pay a fair wage?” she'd offed at your weekly brunch.

“Will you be the star?” You joked back with her.

“You wish.”

You took the job, of course, along with a ride from Candi (her name was Kate, but you'd let her pretend) and pulled up on site bright and alert at 7am.

The set was a large mansion - typical, Candi said - and you'd be mostly shooting in the living room - typical, Candi said. You'd had to tell her after her second typical that you were, in fact, an adult and had seen at least one porno before until she cut out pornsplaining everything to you. She introduced you to the key staff and the director, and they got you set up at your camera.

“The shoot today is going to be around 5 hours. You'll be on camera three. The papers in front have your cues and directions. You can have some free time until we start. There's a breakfast spread in the kitchen, help yourself.”

Not one to turn down free food, you bee-lined there and stood awkwardly in line for the coffee with the dozen or so other crew members, eyeing up the take-out pancakes organised across the granite surface.

“Your first time?” An older man asked from behind you, smiling in a friendly manner.

“You can tell?”

“You're thinking about eating the pancakes, and the rest of us are remembering the scene filmed there last weekend," as if on queue, a shiver ran down his spine. "Yeah, we can tell.” You laughed along with the man's joke and finally grabbed your coffee.

Luck just wasn't on your side, though, as you turned and immediately ran into someone immediately sloshing the coffee onto your shirt.

“Oh my god, I am so - I'm so sorry, I need to watch where I'm going.”

You'd run into 6’3” of lanky, awkward male perfection. He looked young, your age or younger most likely, and was fidgeting as he stood, the most obviously uncomfortable person in the building.

Your first thought was “Is he lost?” closely followed by “Can I beg him to get lost in a linen closet somewhere with me?”

He grabbed a handful of tissues from the counter nearby and began attempting to wipe away the coffee you'd spilt down yourself, completely unaware that he was fondling your breasts in his haste to do so.

“Slow down there, tiger, shoot doesn't start for another half hour,” you said, winking at him as you took the tissues from his panicked hands and dried yourself as best you could.

“I know, I memorised the call sheet. Who are you?” His question was blunt, but you weren't taken aback at all, your smile even deepening as you enjoyed his subtle attention.

“I'm Y/N. It's my first time.”

He spluttered, coming up with an answer to that, and you immediately cursed yourself for the slip.

“My first time on set, not my- I'm 25. Not that age determines experience per say but-”

“I'm 22. And my name is Spencer,” he said, grasping your hand and shaking it.

“So, it's your first time on set?” He asked, relaxing more into the conversation as he stepped closer to you, letting the other staff members come and go from the kitchen.

“Yeah. My friend offered me the job, you know Candi?”

He nodded but didn't speak, so you continued.

“She thought the experience would be good for me. And the cash. Gotta put myself through college somehow, and it was this or stripping.”

He laughed, and you felt a flash of warmth in your stomach, a familiar hunger spreading across your lower body. Maybe it was just the atmosphere of the set, but the air was charged with arousal.

“Well, you're certainly attractive enough to do both jobs. I'm sure the camera is going to love you,” he said, sounding so genuine and enthusiastic that you almost felt bad you had to correct him.

“Oh! Oh, no, Spencer, I'm not - I'm, uh, I'm going to be behind the camera. Behind camera number two.”

His face instantly flushed, and you thought you saw a pang of disappointment there for a second, too. The thought of him being disappointed made your skin heat, that he'd been looking forward somehow to watching you get fucked? Your cunt throbbed and suddenly, you found you did wish to display yourself, to let everyone see if it meant that he got to.

“I am so sorry. I didn't - I thought… No, I didn't think, I… I'll shut up now, please excuse me-”

“No, Spencer, wait-”

You tried to call after him, but he sent you an embarrassed smile and walked off in haste, leaving you behind as the director called people to their places.

You were still flushed with arousal as you moved to your station, getting your camera ready for filming. You were distracted even as the scene started, and the female actress came on set, already stripped down to her underwear and touching herself, teasing the camera.

Surprisingly, you found the work easy enough, too busy focusing on the settings and the gaze of the camera to even care about what was going on down the lens. She was moaning and writhing and gasping sure, to the benefit of the cameras, and although strangely intimate, nobody in the room seemed bothered, so neither did you.

Or neither did you until the actual scenario started, and your actress got ‘caught’ doing the dirty by the needy boy next door. You hadn't looked at the call sheet closely enough as Spencer peeped through the door to the bedroom, entering the scene not by accident but as a scripted part of the show.

Your eyes bulged out of your head as you immediately looked down to your prompt sheet to find his name there.

LEAD ACTOR: SPENCER REID

His stage name was scribbled next to that, but you paid it no attention as you steadied your camera again and got to filming seriously again.

The actress had pulled his glasses off and led him to the bed, letting him keep on his sweater vest and tie as she pulled his head between her legs, and he started doing his job.

Even from your view to the side of him, you could tell this wasn't his first time doing that. His tongue spread across the expanse of her heat, first, letting her grind into his face, getting comfortable before he snaked a hand up to her stomach and held her in place for as long as he so desired.

Then, he rolled her clit into his mouth and sucked. The fake moans and whimpers suddenly became real as you saw the sheer skill of his tongue ripple through the woman's body.

You couldn't even be jealous at this point, despite how much you sorely wished that were you on the bed. Surely no girl had resorted to porn out of pure horny desire before, right?

After a while of letting her gasp and moan under his tongue, Spencer's fingers curled inside the other woman as well. The director called cut, and he kept his fingers there, even as they walked him through the next few shots, and instructed him to unzip his pants in the next few clips.

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself as the cameras started rolling again, and he did finally free himself from his tight khakis.

You knew you'd probably sign up for whatever was on offer at this company next to see that gift again. Spencer wasn't an impressive size or girth, nothing so alien or out of the ordinary that it only belonged in porn. It was just that his cock looked so… pretty.

He was an inch or two longer than any man you'd ever been with, you were sure, but his cock seemed to have an air of dignity about it.

You had to stop yourself at that thought. Dignity? Really? You were working part-time on a porn set, and there was suddenly dignity involved?

You rolled your shoulders back and tried to find your earlier unbothered attitude. But with his cock in his hands and his face slick with female arousal, you really couldn't bring yourself to think about anything less than his fingers roughly finger-fucking you.

You tried to close your eyes to it, to be blind, but the wet, sticky sounds only distracted you and you found yourself soon swaying, swaying, swaying until you had to catch yourself before the camera dropped.

With a shout of “yes, baby, yes,” the female star came on his face, sending up a furret of fluids as he just kept diligently stroking his cock, only stopping at the director's final yell of “CUT.”

“Perfect guys, let's get her up and drinking water again. You need to stay hydrated after all that,” he joked, a PA walking over to pass the actress a robe and a bottle of water as she walked off set.

You relaxed for a second, trying to find your quickest route out of the room so you wouldn't have to drool over the man's cock so obviously any more.

“FLUFFER? Where's the fluffer?” The director yelled, looking around for someone who obviously wasn't there yet.

“Well?”

Still, no one arrived to do whatever job they needed doing, and you felt desperate for escape.

“New girl, would you mind?” Some crew member called out from the sidelines, nodding at you.

“Oh, uh, sure,” you said, hoping that whatever job you agreed to would get you far enough from this room and the heat between your legs as possible. You were not a prude, and you would not bolt from your very first film shoot.

“Great, get on the bed and keep the boy company,” the director said before exiting the room.

You were absolutely on board with becoming a prude and bolting the scene as fast as your legs could carry you. Unfortunately, eight people still sat around, monitoring equipment and chatting on their breaks, and so you were forced to comply with the task.

“We meet again,” you greeted the man stiffly as you found him on the bed, an apprehensive, tight smile on his own face.

“You don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable, I can keep myself… occupied.”

You noticed then that his hand was still wrapped around his cock, giving it slow strokes, not enough to tip him over the edge, but just enough to maintain the erection.

“So the fluffer….?”

“Prepares the actors for the next scene? I need to stay- let say in shape.”

His face flushed crimson as your gaze slipped down to his cock in his hand.

“So you want me to-”

“NO. No, I usually only talk to the Fluffers. Look at them, you know?”

You nodded and found yourself suddenly going still, watching his face contort with pleasure as his eyes raked over your chest and legs.

You couldn't help but let your eyes dart south again, and fuck did you wish you hadn't. His spare hand fisted the sheets as he stroked himself gently, practically taunting himself with the light touch.

“You do this often?” you asked, trying to pretend you were open to having a normal conversation even while your brain begged you to climb into his lap and sink down as fast as you could.

“You mean maaturbate or the porn thing?”

“Porn.”

“No. No, I come in for a shoot every few months. One of these shoots tends to fund another semester of my PhD, so-”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were impressed by that admission, but your predominate thought was still “shit, shit, shit, shit.”

“That's impressive,” you said, only catching your words as they tripped out of your mouth. “THE PHD! The PhD, I mean not your… penis? Not that it isn’t appealing, or- or-.”

You tried your hardest to use the most clinical word you could, distancing yourself from the honeyed words you so wanted to drop in his ear to get him to crawl further up the bed and entice him to make his own scene with you.

“Thank you. It's my third,” he said, slightly more relaxed now that you were the flustered one.

“PhD that is. Not cock. I only have one of these.”

“One is enough,” you say, unable to stop the words tumbling out as your eyes again find themselves following each pump of his hand up and down his cock. Inwardly, you curse your friend for starting up her stupid business and paying you to simply exist in the same hemisphere as this man without being able to ride him.

“Do you want to touch it?” He asked, blurting the words out suddenly. As if God had answered your prayers, your heart leapt up into your throat, your pussy clenching around nothing as you shifted your hips closer to him.

You'd thought then that you'd quite enjoy bouncing on that thing yourself, but a handshake would have to do.

“So you have to stay hard, but-”

“But it's best I don't cum, yeah.”

“Okay. Noted.”

Slowly, you reached out a hand and gently wrapped each finger around the tip of his cock. He released himself and wrapped his now free hand around yours, setting the pace for you quickly as he engaged you in conversation again.

“So, where are you from?” He asked, as inept at small talk as you felt in that second.

You answered him without a fuss and returned the question. Las Vegas. That seemed to check out with how easily he'd broken into porn. There was always something happening in that city.

"How'd you get into the business?"

"Well, Vegas, you know. A producer saw a group of... street ladies offer me a freebie and gave me his card."

You went back and forth on questions like that for a few minutes before you noticed he was coughing every few seconds to mask moans and groans, evidently too into this to request you stop.

“Is it okay to…Can I touch you?” He asked, sounding very afraid of rejection at that second.

“Oh, um, yes. That'd only be fair, right?”

He ran a hand up your waist to the curve of your breast and pressed his fingers into one, digging into the skin as though it were a pillow, and he was testing it before he fell head first into it.

Maybe that was just wishful thinking, though.

Temporarily, you let go of him, popping the front buttons of your blouse until he could freely see all of your black and red bra, and feast on the tops of your dusty nipples, peaking out just above each cup.

You heard him inhale sharply, even as he tried to hide it, but you didn't care, too transfixed on the precum decorating his tip.

“Would you mind-” You started, but cut yourself off quickly, biting your lower lip.

“Mind?”

“Can I suck it?”

You didn't know where it came from because there were probably half a dozen other people still in the room, and mostly men. But dear god, he looked delicious, and you wanted just a little sample.

“Fuck yes,” he said, finally giving in and letting out a whole gust of breath as he slumped down a bit further, no longer holding himself rigid. “No, no, actually, please do. I'm begging, I'll beg-”

You cut him off by pushing yourself to your knees and crawling in between his, and seconds later, you were licking the length of his cock from the base of his balls all the way to that precious drop of precum.

Hard, but no cumming. You could do that. You'd never done it before, preferring to fully pleasure sexual partners any chance you got, but there was no time like the present to start learning.

Slowly, you wrapped your lips around his tip and sank down, taking one inch, then another, and then another. When you reached the base of his cock, you pushed that little bit further down, calming yourself and going slowly so you didn't gag, nose pushing into his neat public hair before pulling away just as slowly and doing it again.

You took him as deep down your throat as you could manage, and suddenly, it was like everything that kept your conversation casual and civil earlier had flown out the door. He threw his head back, fisted his hand in your hair, and moaned deep.

The sound shook you so much you almost pushed a hand into your own underwear and started fucking yourself, needing to prepare yourself for him like a good girl.

Around you, you could hear signs of the shoot starting back up again, people finding their places, still all but ignoring you deep-throating a porn star.

Spencer's breaths grew more rapid as you sucked him, hips becoming restless as he tried to lift up into your mouth, hand in your hair tightening as you realised your mistake.

You pulled off his cock and grasped it again, stroking it slowly, but it was too late. With a sharp moan and a twitch of his hips, Spencer so prettily decorated your chin and chest. His cum dripped down your face, hitting your cleavage and pushing further down to stain your nice black laced underwear white.

“Fuck! Sorry, I wasn't meant to do that, let me get some - Can I get a towel please? A baby wipe? Some tissue, anything?” His voice was panicked, but his hand on your head relaxed, and he brushed your hair gently behind your ear, as if comforting you.

He was panicked, for sure, but the crew calmly handed him everything he needed, as if they'd been in anticipation of just this thing happening. You supposed they probably were, this being a porn set. You were sure you were supposed to clean yourself up, but instead, he grabbed a wet tissue, leaving the pack just out of your reach.

He managed to clean your face off a bit before the director returned to the room with a laugh. Running a hand through his hair and messing it up slightly, the director turned back to you.

“We're five minutes out from shoot time,” he said, shaking his head. You started to apologise, but he stopped you with a hand.

“New girl, work whatever magic you just did and get him hard again. Five minutes.”

“W-What?” You spluttered, trying your best to rise from your knees, but ultimately failing. You were either stiff from the position or just weak with arousal.

“He just came, I don't think I can-”

“10 pictures I've done with that kid, and I haven't seen him cum that quickly ever before in my life. And certainly not just for some kitten licks. Do it.”

You turned back to Spencer, his cum still trickling down your chest, creating an almost uncomfortable stiffness as it dried up.

“Pleasure working with you?” You said, not-so-secretly ecstatic that you got to sample him once more.

“I'll be in your care,” he replied, as you begin softly kissing the head of his cock again, tipping his head back again and losing himself in the pleasure or your tongue.

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imaginaryf1shots · 5 months

Text

Age | Lewis Hamilton

WC: 3.6K

Warning: Age Gap, cursing? kissing

Summery:(REQUESTED) When you fall for your boss who is much older than you.

Masterlist

Lewis Masterlist

Getting with Lewis wasn't what you sat out to do, you started working for his LH team, managing their social media and content. They felt like a younger person would best suit the job, Lewis wasn't involved in hiring you. In fact you hadn't seen him until a few weeks after you were hired. When you were sent to film him for content to post on Instagram. Lewis is a very nice man, it's a well known fact. Everyone that has ever

worked with him would tell you this(just don't ask Nico).

You haven't always been drawn to older men; you don't think about age that much. As long as you're both legal and mature, why not? But it wasn't like a kink or a plus in your books. Lewis just drew you in. Maybe it was his confidence, his maturity, or something completely different that captivated you. What you know for sure is that Lewis had your attention the moment you met and talked; there was no denying it. The pull you had, how easy it was for you to talk and have a laugh, was undeniable. Your relationship started professionally, but the more you met, the more you talked, and the more you got to know each other, the closer you got. And when you exchanged personal phone numbers, it was game over. You were calling each other all the time, texting, and FaceTiming. You hadn't reached the point of meeting when there was no reason to. But then Lewis had you travel with him under the guise of needing content, even though Mercedes had its own media managers.

You were denying your feelings. Lewis is an older, more experienced man, and he could have any woman he wants, why would he care or be interested in you, you found no reason for it. All the calls and texting you just convinced yourself is him being nice. Maybe he sees you as a mentee and nothing else.

You were at a hotel room in New York, Lewis had a shoot for one sponsor or the other plus a fashion event to attend. The sponsor stuff was already filmed and done the day before, so that was that. Meaning you'd only photograph Lewis with his outfit to the event and your day of work would be done. Your room was booked in the same hotel as Lewis, definitelydefiantly not as lush as his but it was a five star hotel, your room was amazing. You were lounging a bit in your room until you receive a call that Lewis was

done changing. You hear a knock on the door, you haven't ordered room service, so it came as a surprise.

Getting up from your comfy position on the bed, you open the door to see one of the hotel staff standing in front of you with a clothes bag in hand.

"Hi? How can I help you?" You ask the man, who had a polite smile on his face.

"I was asked to bring this to you." The man tries to hand you the bag but you step back.

"Are you sure you got the right room?" You're certain there must be a mistake why would you be sent a clothes bag

"You're Ms. y/n y/n, right?" You nod with a small yes. The man then smiled bigger and handedhands you the bag again. "Then this is for you."

You hesitate before taking the bag, thanking the man and then closing the door. You open the bag and a dress that is more expensive than anything you own is there waiting for you. Your mouth drops, the dress is stunning, you don't know the brand but it lookslooked amazing. After the shock of seeing the dress wore off you lay it on the bed and find your phone, pressing Lewis's name in the recently calls and press the phone to your ear

"Hello"

"Don't hello me." You say looking at the dress as if it just called you cheap in every language on earth, your tone is not happy and Lewis picks up on it instantly

"What's wrong, love? What did I do?" Lewis has an inkling why you're not happy with him and he's trying not to smile, but he's failing miserably

"You just sent me a dress, for some unknown reason, and I bet it cost an arm and a leg!" You exclaim and Lewis could imagine you pouting as you talk, he lets out a small giggle.

"Look it's from one of my favourite up and coming designers and I saw the design and I instantly thought of you." Lewis defends himself, it's the same designer that designed his clothes for the day.

"So you bought it for me?" You ask in disbelief.

"Yeah." Lewis replied as if it's the most normal thing ever

"Lewis!"

"Yes, baby girl." You instantly stop when you hear the new pet name, Lewis calls you love a lot but that's just because he's British. But this, this new, it got you blushing and struggling to say anything, you're feeling shy and speechless. Damn that man, he knew what he was doing "Seeing as you're not saying anything, I expect to see you in that dress when you come up, also I'll be done in 15 minutes or so."

Lewis hangs up and you're left there staring at the dress, before you sigh. Thankfully you showered this morning, so you just started on your make-up a simple look that will complement the dress nicely, and do your hair. It's more than 15 minutes, but you haven't gotten a call from Lewis or anyone else in the team. Once you're finished and with small heels on you're making your way up to Lewis's suite.

It doesn't take long before the door opens by the designer, she gasps looking at you and grins

"You look stunning" You blush at the praise and walk in

"It's all thanks to you." You wave her compliment off.

"Thanks, but it's the person in the clothes that brings out the beauty of the designs." She tells you and you can't fight the redness in your cheeks. "Lewis is in there."

You go to the room she's pointing at, you're holding your camera equipment bag in your hand. You walk in and see Lewis standing in front of the mirror, inspecting everything about his look. He doesn't look up when you walk in, so you take the moment to take him in, the see-through shirt allows you to see the faint outline of his abs and muscles, his tattoos on show.

Lewis feels your presence, he looks at you and you don't realise it so caught up in checking him out. Happy with himself he takes a moment to look at you, and you're stunning, the dress fits you like a glove, tight in the right places and loose in the right places. He's never seen you so dressed up. Lewis is out of his trace before you are. He clears his throat and your eyes snap to his

All you see in his eyes is amusement, the blush comes back to your cheeks but you ignore it and him and take out your camera.

"You're done right?" You ask him busying yourself. You already know where you want to take the photos, where the best lighting is for everything

"You look stunning, love." Lewis's words once more stun you, and you pause in your actions before you look up at him once more, meeting his coffee coloured eyes.

"It's not practical." You say and stand straight your free hand runs over the dress to smooth out any wrinkles, suddenly feeling insecure. Lewis is always having women thrown at him, models and beauty queens, all stunning, and here you are, just him social media manager/photographer

"It's not meant to be practical, besides after the photos, you're off for the night, and you're coming as my plus one." Lewis states and your eyes go wide

"W-What? No, Lewis I can't go as your plus one." You tell him with a shake to your head.

"Why not?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Because... I just can't, H-I don't want to." You mumble, looking at the floor not meeting his eyes.

"You don't have to walk the carpet with me, just go inside and join me there." Lewis doesn't want to take it personally, he knows being seen with him comes with a lot of packages and you're not even dating yet.

"Okay, yeah, I can do that." You say and look at him and swallow, Lewis had a smile on his face, as his eyes held you in. You cough and wave your camera. "Let's take some photos now.”

Lewis knows how to pose and it doesn't take long before you have the shots you're both happy with, before Lewis leads you to the mirror with his phone in hand.

"Come on, one of us together." Lewis's smile makes it hard for you to refuse, his arm wraps around you pulling you close to his side, you gasp and his quick movement your hand falls onto his chest to stabilise yourself. You look up, and his face is so close to yours, he's facing the mirror, and clicks his phone to capture the look on your face as you look up at him, Licking your lips slightly you face the mirror and

smile, ignoring your fast beating heart, it's so fast Lewis must feel it. You both pose for a few more, all with Lewis's hand one you one way or the other.

The car ride is filled with small talk, as Lewis and the designer talk, they'll walk the red carpet and you'll be dropped at another entrance. You're sitting between Lewis and the designer. You pull at your cuticles an anxious tic you have when you're anxious. Lewis doesn't look at you, before he takes your hand in his. Your heart skips a beat. Lewis only lets go when you arrive, both their doors are open, and before he lets go of your hand he gives it a squeeze and he gets out

Your seat is next to the designer close to where Lewis is sitting, they have all the A-listers sitting next to each other. But Lewis does come to talk to you before the show begins, and makes sure you're okay. But you only get talking after the show. Where the music is playing, people are dancing and the drinks are flowing at the open bar

"Your first show, what do you think?" Lewis asks you, you're both deciding not to drink since you have flights tomorrow.

"It was great." You reply with a smile. "It was so much fun... thank you."

"No worries, did you take any pictures?" Lewis asked and you shook your head no. "We can't have that, come on, I know a spot upstairs"

Lewis doesn't wait or hesitate, he takes your hand in his and leads you through the crowds, he helps you up the stairs like the gentleman he is. The place he takes you to is empty, the lighting is good and the music is faint. Lewis lets go of your hand and takes out his phone.

"Okay, Mr. photographer, where do you want me?" You tease him and move your arms shyly.

"Right here." Lewis moves you to where he wants and you pose, Lewis hypes you up. "You look great love, a little to the right, yes, now move your shoulder to the front, right there, wow, this one looks amazing, look at you posing."

For the next 15 minutes Lewis takes all sorts of photos, the last ones being a close up of your upper body and face. You don't look at the lens for those you look at him, and maybe that's why they're his favourite. You stand even closer to the older man as you look at the photos he took.

"Look at you go, if you even want to switch careers, photography will do you good." You smile and then look up at him, he's already looking at you and for the hundredth time today, your heart starts beating faster. He's so close to you, you can smell his cologne. Is he? Is he moving closer? Or is it just your mind playing tricks on you? You lick your lips and his eyes move from yours down to follow the movement.

You're already wearing heels, so you couldn't tip toe to close the distance, but you didn't have to, because Lewis leans down and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut, as a shiver went down your spine. Lewis's lips moved against yours once, twice, thrice before he pulled back all too suddenly. The warmths that overwhelmed you is suddenly gone. Lewis’s hands are gone and he takes a step back, your eyes flutter open and all you see is regret. The insecurity is hitting you hard.

”W-w…”

”I’m so sorry love, I didn’t mean to- I just- I’m sorry.” Lewis found himself unable to find the words, he has liked you for a long time, but here he is after kissing you suddenly doubting himself.

”No, no it’s okay, you don’t have to apologise.” You say and look to the side, your hands wrapped around your middle, you swallow.

”No, I have to, I didn’t ask and I don’t know if you wanted me to kiss you and I just did.” Lewis says and you realise why he stopped, why he looked so regretful. He thought you didn’t like it, that he forced you, he thought you didn't like it. “I’m your boss, and I may have pressured you into it and I never wanted to do something like this, I completely understand if- why? Why are you smiling?”

”Oh Lewis Hamilton, the man you are.” Lewis is now left confused, you step closer to him, and Lewis stands still with his hands down by his sides, as you place your hands on his chest, feeling the muscles under your fingertips. “If you only knew how much you affect me, I just thought it was one-sided, that you see me as a child or something.”

”Believe me baby girl, I see you as the woman you are.” Lewis’s voice drops a few octaves that have you shivering. His hand makes the small of your back home, he pulls you closer so you’re flush against him, a gasp leaves your lips, and his hand moves down to the top of your butt.

”Lewis.” You breathe out, your eyes fluttering.

”Sweetheart.” Those fucking pet names will be the death of you, this time you pull him by the back of his neck down to meet your lips. The soft moanes leaving your lips leave him wanting for more.

You don't know how long you stood there for but by the time you were done with the little make out session you both had to fix your lipstick. The lavish bathroom you both stand in front of the mirror, trying to wipe the lipstick. Exchanging smiles and giggles through the mirror, pumping hips and kisses.

”Lewis stop, we can’t kiss, I have lipstick on.” You say giggling halfheartedly pushing him away.

”Once I got a taste I couldn’t resist.” You blush and tell him to stop once more, before you both leave the bathroom. Going back to the event downstairs you both act as if nothing appended, and somehow you sell it.

Safe to say, you’re stuck to each other’s side. Lewis flies you everywhere and your relationship turns from professional to romantic slowly in front of the others, but to you two, after that night in New York you were dating.

You dreaded the time the media will find out, you know there’s two ways it will go, either they will go after Lewis or they will go after you. And you think they’ll go after you. Your appearance in the paddock was nothing new, but your appearance at dinners with other drivers and wags was new. No one said anything or commented, you got on super well with the wags. You did share your fears with Kika and Alex, they gave you as much advice as they could and told you what to expect. It’s always hard when a driver hard launches or even is just rumoured to be with someone.

You and Lewis didn’t get the chance to hard launch or soft launch, or do any of that sorts. A paparazzi somehow found you while you were on vacation and snapped a lot of pictures of the two of you in intimate positions. Kissing, cuddling, hands all over each other, there was no way of getting out of that one.

So during the next race Lewis walked into the paddock with your hand in his, the fans weren’t 100% who you were when the photos were leaked, but the moment you walked in all your social media was out for everyone to see. The things you were both scared of the most, happened. The fans weren’t happy with the age gap, you were both adults but it seemed like everyone knew why you were dating but you too. And that Lewis is just too nice to know that you’re with him for money. The almost 40 year old didn’t know any better. Like a lot of wags you received a lot of hate, and Lewis hadn’t confirmed a relationship in years, so you were an awaited wag.

You both expected all of this, what you didn’t expect is for every driver that interacted with Lewis to have their social media flooded with messages and comments of people telling them to tell Lewis that you were using him, and that the age gap is disgusting.

Lando was streaming once and he was talking about Mercedes or something when the chat took that turn.

”Come on chat, don’t be mean.” Lando said after he noticed all those comments. “You don’t know y/n and Lewis, they’re perfectly happy and there’s nothing to worry about. Let’s all just care about ourselves.”

Lily and Alex were live on Instagram for one reason or the other and they also got a ton of comments, especially since Lilly was seen hanging out with you a Friday of a race weekend.

“Believe me guys, y/n, is the nicest person ever, she’s so understanding and sweet.” Lilly said to the viewers, after seeing where the comments turned to.

”We’ve actually gone out with them a few times, and they look happy and in love.” Alex added.

”I haven’t been around LEwis much, but I feel like he looks… happier and more content?” Lily said and looked at her boyfriend.

”Yeah, I think George said as well, he looks happy and that this relationship is doing them both a lot of good.” Alex said and Lily nodded with him. “It’s good when you get into a relationship and you become better and happier.”

”Yeah.”

Things like that kept happening, and there were some videos of you and Lewis posted online just being lost in each other while dancing, having dinner or even just walking. The way you’d give each other all the attention when you’re talking is something admirable.

All those things online, affected you, you hated how negative your space online became, how much it became on Lewis’s accounts, and on the other drivers’ accounts as well. What it didn’t affect is your relationship with Lewis.

Lewis wasn’t happy, of course he wasn’t. You’re his girlfriend and his ‘fans’ are attacking you online, he can see how your smile never reached your eyes when you said you were okay. It affected you to some degree.

So he just hugged you tighter, told you he loved you more, and tried everything to keep you away from all that talk.

“What are you doing?” You mumble as you wake up from your slumber, you went back to the hotel after FP2, feeling tired, and Lewis having to stay back for a long meeting. It was almost midnight when he made it back to the room and found you sleeping in the middle of the bed. Lewis stripped to his boxers and slipped beside you. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him, this roused you from your sleep.

”Just want to hold you.” He said softly and kissed your cheek, you smiled and cracked your eyes open just a little, you turned around so you’re facing him. You cuddle more into him, nuzzling your face in his neck, as he laid on his back.

”How was the meeting?” You asked barely coherent, and Lewis knows you’ll ask again in the morning, that everything that will come out of your mouth right now is just your subconscious and that you will remember nothing.

”It was good, there’s going to be a few changes to the car tomorrow.” Lewis told you rubbing your back.

”Do we like it?” You ask, knowing that your stance on things is his stance on things, when it comes to driving and cars.

”Yeah, but we’ll see tomorrow.”

”Hmm, that’s good.” You fall silent and Lewis thinks you fell asleep before you say a barely audible. “I love you.”

”I love you too, baby girl.”

It took time, but the public came to accept the fact you’re here to stay and you’re not just using him for a week or two, for clout or anything of that sort. IT got better. But it never went away, and you don’t think it will. You don’t plan on breaking up with Lewis any time soon and you don’t think he will. And that’s all that mattered, you’re both happy and content with what you have.

Maintaglist:

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog

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omgeto · 1 year

Text

☆ GIMME, GIMME MORE — GETO SUGURU

summary: you were just a stripper who had no desire to fuck with any customers, but there was just one you couldn’t shake. once he laid his eyes on you, he wanted you. and with every little piece of you he got — he wanted more.

wc: 6.5k (my longest fic ever, lord help me) its a lot of plot with a nice chunk of smut

cw: afab!stripper!reader, angst to fluff, smutty smut, you fuck in his car, you fuck in a private room (i remembered condoms this time) so mdni sassy geto, if you squint.

an: listen to this song to feel the vibe, I love me some geto and I’ve yet to do a fic for him so I hope you enjoy this one.

the entrance to the high-end club exudes an air of opulence, with its glimmering lights and sophisticated clientele. geto suguru strolls in alongside his best friend, gojo satoru, the low hum of the music washing over them. the glances around, a mixture of boredom and detachment etched on his face. this isn't really his scene, but gojo had insisted on a night out.

as they find their way to a table, surrounded by plush seating and an atmosphere of indulgence, geto's attention wanders. the dancers on stage move with practised sensuality, but his gaze remains distant. until, that is, a change in the music's tempo signals a shift in the performance.

the spotlight illuminates the stage, revealing a figure that seems to command the room's attention effortlessly. you move with a fluid grace, your body swaying in time with the sultry rhythm. the way your hips move, the confidence in your eyes, it's as if you own the room. gojo's earlier detachment gives way to fascination he can't deny.

he couldn’t take his eyes off the way you were sliding down the pole, leaning forward in his seat to see more of you. the star shaped nipple covers and the gem encrusted thong you were wearing left nothing to the imagination. but still he couldn’t help but picture it all off of you, leaning forward in his seat to try and get a closer look.

gojo nudges him playfully. "not bad, right?"

geto’s response is a low, appreciative whistle as his eyes remain locked on the captivating dancer. his heart races as he watches you command the stage, a magnetic presence that draws him in despite his earlier disinterest. he couldn’t help but feel that you were dancing for him, call him cocky but the way your eyes were locked on him as you threw your ass back against the pole — he knew that was just for him. he looked around the room and saw that everyone else was just as captivated by you as he was.

“she’s the best performer here, she doesn’t do private dances, she doesn’t even do a long set,” gojo brags to geto but he’s barely listening, his eyes too focused on you, “this is as much of her as we can get.”

as the performance reaches its climax, geto’s lips curve into a slow smile. gojo’s grin is knowing. "looks like someone's found their muse." geto’s tears his gaze away just as you exit the stage, his interest piqued.

“you’ve got a request,” your boss announces insistent and smug, cornering you immediately after you exit the stage.

“you know i don't do requests, i come here, i do a 30 minute set and i leave remember?” you retort, stepping to walk straight past him, but he stops you, standing in front of you to block your path.

“this is a request you can’t refuse,” he adds, a smirk forming on his lips. your eyes narrow at his words, already feeling a sense of unease.

“oh i think i can,” your intention is clear as you step forward, intending to brush past him and continue on your way. but he remains unmoved, determined to stand in your path, his stance a physical barrier you can't easily circumvent.

“there’s a special guest tonight, someone who’s willing to pay handsomely for a private performance,” he explains, his tone implying much more than his words reveal.

you pause, folding your arms, sceptical. “how much are we talking about?”

he names a figure that makes your eyebrows shoot up. It’s a significant sum, the kind that could cover your bills for months, or even help you save for a future beyond the club. but still, you hesitate.

“like i said, i don't take request,” you conclude, brushing past your boss.

“i don’t think this particular patron will like that,” he tries to argue, following directly behind you.

“ask me if i care,” with those words, you step forward once more, your purpose clear as you attempt to carry on. but his presence remains a persistent shadow at your side, his attempts to sway you far from over.

his argument falters momentarily, but he regains his composure quickly, his tone becoming insistent. "this particular patron isn't accustomed to denial. I don't think he'll take kindly to it."

a defiant smirk tugs at your lips, your patience waning as you find yourself driven further by your own principles. "well, here's a thought—perhaps he should learn."

with that final retort, you pivot on your heel, striding purposefully toward the locker room. the temptation of the significant sum and the vague promise of this special patron tug at the edges of your thoughts, but your determination remains resolute.

“if you don’t do it your fired.” he calls out after you, a desperate final attempt to get you to agree.

you knew you were going against your better judgement, but you turn back to face your boss and with a deep sigh you agree, “fine, i’ll do it. but you owe me.”

with simmering frustration bubbling beneath the surface, you push open the door to the private room, your entrance punctuated by the subtle swish of the heavy fabric. the air within was charged, a blend of anticipation and tension, as you found geto suguru lounging on the plush sofa, his presence an unwelcome sight that intensified your irritation.

your words come out abruptly, a firm reminder to both him and yourself, “i don’t fuck clients,” you state, a touch of defensiveness in your tone. you wanted to establish your boundaries, to make it clear you wouldn’t be swayed easily.

he chuckles, catching you off guard, his amusement evident. “thats nice…” he adds, with a hint of playfulness, “i just wanted to talk anyways.”

“to talk?” you question, surprised at his request, as you knew what went on in the private rooms and talking was far from that.

“yeah, just wanna get to know you,” he explains casually, his eyes studying you.

“i don’t do time wasters,” you complain, ready to leave the room, “and i don’t have time to waste.”

“even if im paying for your time?” he bargains, raising his eyebrows, “im sure your boss told you the pretty expensive bill im footing just for your time.”

crossing your arms, you met his gaze with a steady one of your own. “look, mr…?”

“just call me suguru,” he interjected with a smile that held a hint of charm.

“alright, suguru,” you continued, your tone resolute, “i'm not here to entertain idle chit-chat. i’ll dance for you for an hour and thats it. just abide by the club rules, otherwise im out.”

“why don’t you take private requests?” he inquiries, disregarding your comments.

“because i don’t have to,” you respond nonchalantly, “why are you so persistent that you pay for my time. there’s tons of other great strippers in this club.”

“because i want you.” he shrugs.

“well too bad,” you mock, “just because you have money doesn’t mean you can buy everything.”

“everyone’s got a price,” he argues, chuckling softly, a condescending tone underling his words, “ah, but isn't that the way the world works? everything has a price, even principles.”

the audacity of his statement ignited a fire within you, your voice heated with defiance and scorn. “you think im for sale? you think i’d compromise my integrity just for a fat stack of bills? you’re delusional.”

“oh but isn’t your integrity already compromised,” he teases, raising his eyebrows, “is miss, ‘i dont do private dances,’ not in a private dance with me right now?”

“you know wha–”

“i changed my mind. i don’t want to talk anymore,” there was a shift in his tone, amusement danced in his eyes, “strip for me.”

you were pissed. but you couldn’t actually argue – he was right. he was paying for your time and he could spend it anyway he wanted to. you’d rather have him silently watching you anyways than talking to you.

the music blared through the speakers in the room, and you immediately straddled geto, you could feel his dick harden underneath you. the only thing separating you two was the thin layer of fabric of your thong.

you could see him smirk at you, but you ignored him, grinding your hips down on him to the beat of the music. his starts to trail down your sides, but you give him a pointed look reminding him of the rules – no touching. he surrenders his hands placing them besides his head, content in watching you dance on his lap.

you moved off of him, using the pole that was in the room, his eyes stayed fixed on you. you wanted to put on a show for him, so you move your body expressing a mix of sensuality and power, your eyes lock onto his, daring him to challenge you further, to push your boundaries even more.

the hour was eventually up, and geto didn’t say anything as he left, he just leaves a fat stack of bills on the table, and for some reason you couldn’t bite your tongue, “is that it? you’re just going to leave?”

“well the hours up, no?” he responds, checking his watch, “and, i’ve paid you for your time.” you couldn’t argue with that, so you remain silent watching as he turns his back on you to leave the room.

“suguru,” you call out, getting him to pause, “wait.”

“i thought you didn’t fuck clients,” he smirks, coming up from in between your thighs, “but i am not complaining”

“s-shut up,” you exhale, you’d like to believe that you didn’t expect this to happen, but you knew that was a lie. you didn’t get far out of the club, in fact you didn’t make it out of the parking lot. the back of geto’s car seemed to be perfect with the way he was eating you out.

the feeling of geto sucking on your clit, had your head empty. his head being pressed between your thighs makes your back arch as you push up against his face. he laps against your folds, drowning in your wetness.

“‘i don’t do private dances,’” he mocks your previous words, amused with himself, “oh if only you could see yourself now.” he enjoyed you like this, pinned under him, your pussy dripping all over his face, you were a writhing mess; no longer complaining to him about his actions, you were reduced down to moans and incoherent sentences, the only thing he could hear clearly was his name.

“suguru ah s-shit,” you curse, as he presses down on your clit, “do you always talk this much?” you tangle your fingers in his hair, guiding his face closer in your pussy, his nose deep in your arousal. he was practically inhaling you, swirling his tongue deep inside, trying to taste every inch of you.

“‘m close suguru,” you whine, thrust up against his face aiming to reach your peak on your own.

“calm down princess,” he teases, pulling his lips away from your pussy, “didn’t know you were this eager.” he presses his lips down on yours, making you taste yourself as his hand goes behind your neck to hold you in place. “see how sweet you can be?”

he takes his dick out of his pants, quickly putting on a condom, not even giving you much time to think before he’s slamming into your cunt. your eyes widen as your pussy stretches, and geto can only bite his lip as he feels you clench around him.

“you feel so good, y’know that right” he murmurs, forcing himself into you deeper, “so fuckin’ tight.”

he was merciless, gripping his hands on your tits, as he pistons out of you. he could only focus on how your cunt tightens around him with every push. you were pushing yourself down on him, fucking him right back. you didn’t care for his praise, you just wanted to cum.

“‘you’re t-too much, i-it’s too much”

“but you’re taking me so well,” he argues, with a grin. peppering kissing against your neck as he fucks you to a hilt. your hands find their way back into his hair, pulling and tugging at it as you moan out his name.

his dick twitches inside you as you call at his name, you could feel that he was about to cum. his strokes were getting sloppier, and his mouth went from biting to sucking on your neck. you could feel yourself about to climax, clawing at his back, as he continues to hit your spot.

“suguru, i’m about to–”

“cum with me,” he demands, swiftly pulling out of and leaving his cum all over your stomach. you release onto his car seats, your cum spilling out of your pussy, pooling into his car seats.

after coming down off your high, you come to your senses. “this doesn’t change anything.” you remove yourself out of his hold, pushing him off you.

“you really gonna say that after i gave you the best time of your life?”

"'best time of my life?'" you echo, a smirk tugging at your lips as you gather your belongings, "someone's cocky."

“i'm starting to feel you like me that way,” he teases, his words a playful challenge.

you roll your eyes, not willing to engage in his banter any longer. "goodbye, suguru," you reply, opening his car door. "don't return to the club."

“oi princess,” he calls after you, “you left your thong.”

“keep it.” you wink as you step outside of the car, “think of it as a souvenir.”

“why would i need that, when im going to see you again?” you don't respond, shutting the car door with a smile on your face as part of you hoped that he did return.

geto did see you again, practically every day after that. it became a consistent routine, he’d book a private room for a couple hours, you’d fuck, you’d talk and see each other whenever he wanted. he came when he needed you – and he always needed you.

as a stripper, you’ve always had one rule ‘don’t fuck with clients,’ but the moment that geto suguru laid his eyes on you – you were his. there was something about him that made him different from all the other patrons, although they were all snobby rich guys, the way that geto carried himself made you feel like he was worth breaking your rule. or at least that's what you told yourself.

you didn’t just fuck each other – sometimes he just wanted to talk to you, to ask you about your day, to get to know you. and you could tell he was starting to catch feelings that you weren’t prepared to deal with. however, despite him being rich, there was something endearing in knowing that he went out of his way, every day, to pay just to see you. even when you were mean and standoffish.

you always spoke for longer than you expected – longer than he even paid for. geto surprised you, he was actually interested in talking with you. as the minutes turned into an hour, the conversations flowed in unexpected directions. you found yourselves sharing stories, discussing interests, and laughing at each other’s jokes. geto’s charming demeanour and genuine interest gradually chipped away at your initial reservations.

“did you always want to be a stripper?” he asks, you had just finished fucking and he still had an hour left of paid time with you, and he was going to use it.

“do you always pillowtalk?” you retort smartly, evading his question.

“who would’ve thought you’d still be this bitchy after being fucked so good,” he jokes, pulling you into his hold that you quickly ease into, “girl just answer the question.”

“i don’t know,” you sigh, “i needed the money, i loved to dance, so being a stripper was a no brainer to me.”

“do you like working here?”

you shift slightly in his embrace, your fingers idly trace patterns on his chest. "liking it? well, it pays the bills, if that's what you're asking."

his fingers brush against your hair in a soothing gesture. "but is that all? just a means to an end?"

you sigh, a mixture of vulnerability and honesty in your tone. "i mean, it's not like i dreamt of becoming a stripper when I was a kid. but it's a job that's allowed me some financial stability, even if it's temporary."

geto's voice was gentle, his curiosity evident. "temporary for how long?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating how much to reveal. "i don’t know, i haven’t thought that far. i just wanna make money.”

"well, if you ever get tired of dancing, i can always buy the club for you." his response was unexpected, a mixture of humour and absurdity. “i think you’d make a good boss.”

“ha, if you did that i’d know that you’re truly obsessed with me,” you chuckle, his words catching you off guard. “i know you enjoy this place, but that's a little extreme, don't you think?"

"maybe, but you're worth it." he grins, his playful demeanour unwavering. "you're more than what you do here, you know."

a soft, ironic chuckle escapes your lips. "funny, coming from someone who's always here."

his grip on you tightens slightly, his voice holding a trace of seriousness. "perhaps I come here because I want to be around you. not just the dancer."

it was as if his presence had chipped away at the walls you had erected, leaving you exposed to a whirlwind of feelings you hadn't anticipated.his gaze, unwavering and intense, held yours as if searching for a sign—a spark of recognition that you too were experiencing this undeniable pull.

"suguru," you begin, your voice a whisper that barely bridged the distance between you, "this... whatever it is between us, it can't be as simple as you wanting to be around me."

he smiles softly, a gentle curve of his lips that holds both understanding and patience. "you're right, it's not simple. but isn't that what makes it worth exploring?" his words were a delicate melody, an invitation to step beyond the boundaries you had created.

you met his gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and longing. the weight of his presence was undeniable, a force that had drawn you in and left you yearning for more. but your insecurities whispered caution, reminding you of the differences that set you apart.

"suguru," you admit, your voice softer now, "i've never let anyone get this close. it's complicated, and I don't even know where this could lead."

“it doesn’t matter where it will leads,” he says, “what matters is that you like me? right?”

his words hung in the air, a direct question that pierced through the layers of uncertainty and vulnerability that surrounded you. the room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of his question settling like a delicate veil over the intimate space you shared.

your breath caught, and for a moment, time itself seemed to pause. the truth, the raw honesty that had eluded you, stood before you—bold and unyielding. you looked into his eyes, his gaze unwavering and patient, as if he was giving you the space to find your own truth within the question.

your voice, soft and tinged with a mixture of trepidation and longing, finally found its way to the surface. "i..." you pause, the words catching in your throat. but in the depth of his gaze, you found a strange sense of comfort, an assurance that you could be honest without judgement.

"maybe," you admit, your voice a whisper that carries the weight of your emotions. "maybe i do like you, suguru." the admission felt like a release, letting go of the barriers you had constructed to protect yourself.

a slow smile curved his lips, a genuine expression that lit up his features. it was as if your honesty had unlocked a door, allowing both of you to step closer to a truth that had been waiting to surface. he replies with deep content, "maybe is a good start,"

the room felt charged with an energy you couldn't quite define, a tension that simmered beneath the surface. your eyes held his, a silent conversation that spoke volumes—an acknowledgement of the unspoken connection that had grown between you.

as you lay there, cocooned in the aftermath of both physical intimacy and heartfelt conversation, an internal struggle brewed within you. your heart was stirred by the sincerity of geto's words, by the connection that seemed to grow stronger with every interaction. yet, amidst the warmth and comfort, a sense of bittersweet uncertainty gnawed at you.

the boundary you had set, the rule you had vowed to uphold, wavered under the weight of emotions you hadn't anticipated. you were drawn to geto, but a tangle of reservations held you back.

in the embrace of the night, you found yourself torn between the allure of a connection you had come to cherish and the lingering fear of what being with him might entail.

“you’re here early,” you comment, seeing geto in his usual seat. at this point, you were practically excited to see him, happy to go to work knowing that he’d show up.

“i guess i thought i’d change things up a bit,” he mutters his tone of voice off, “we’ve got to make this quick, though” he starts to undo his belt, “i’ve only got an hour till my next meeting.”

“wow no talking today?” you ask amused. geto usually is the one that likes to take his time, he always says he prefers to stimulate your mind before anything else, but today was different.

he gives you a pointed look, not bothering to respond so you continue to say, “an hour?” smirking as you straddle his lap, freeing his dick, “i think that’s more than enough time.”

“new outfit?” he muses, pulling at the straps of the lingerie you were wearing. you nod, focusing on stroking his dick, “red’s your colour, i like it. but i’d rather see it off you.” suddenly, he rips off your bra and forces you up to take off your panties. you bend down to take off your heels, but he pauses you, “keep those on.”

“get my fingers wet for me,” he commands, dragging you back onto his lap. you happily comply, taking in two fingers into your warm, pouty mouth. he caresses your jaw as you greedily nibble on his fingers.

he pulls them out thoroughly coated with your saliva and shoves them into your pussy. you gasp at the contact, and crumble into his side but he forces your head up with his hand pressing a rough kiss to your lips.

“w-whats with you today?” you query, as you see the look on geto’s face – something was off with him. although you couldn’t deny the pleasure you were getting from his current roughness, you were used to a gentler geto.

“nothing,” he dismisses you, slipping in another finger into your soaking pussy. his thumb rubs against your clit as his fingers easily glide in and out of you. you felt like you cum off of his fingers alone, you grind down hard against his fingers aiding yourself in reaching your climax. but just as you were nearing, he swiftly removes his fingers landing a fat smack against your clit, “i know i said i had to make it quick, but i didn’t think you’d be this excited.”

geto swiftly puts on a condom, raises you up slightly before slamming you down on his dick. he smiles as your legs wrap around his back, pleased by the sound of your heels clacking together. you shudder as he immediately fills you, your pussy stretching, taking all of him.

he thrusts into you hard, and you try to meet his pace and fuck him back as hard as he was doing to you – but you were no match for him. you were practically a ragdoll as he hammered into you, your arms flinging around his neck to hold yourself up.

“f-fuck,” you moan, clawing at his back, “im gonna cum.”

“hold it,” he demands, continuing to give you strong, relentless strokes. your head falls into his shoulder in submission, you were already gushing all over him, but he keeps going, hard and fast. he lifts up your head, and presses a soft peck against your lips before saying, “cum.”

geto movements turn sloppy as he finishes into the condom. you release all over his dick, shuddering as you feel your peak surge through you. he presses one more kiss to your neck, before you move off of him.

“are you good?” you finally ask him, as you put back on your outfit, “you seemed a little out of it tonight.”

he shifts on his feet, his restlessness palpable as he watches you. "yeah," he mumbles, looking around the room at everything but you, his fingers fumbling with his belt as if seeking something to anchor himself. "i'm alright."

"you sure?" you persist, a touch of concern pushing you to press further. usually, you wouldn't challenge him this way – because whatever he says goes in the time that he pays for. but the stark contrast to his usual demeanour gnaws at your thoughts. "i just want to make sure that you're okay–"

"didn't I say I was alright," he sneers, a defensive edge entering his tone, "it's like you don't listen or something."

“see, there is definitely something wrong with you,” you snap, screwing your face up at his tone, “since the usual geto that walks up in here knows that he’ll have my heel shoved up his asshole before he can talk to me like that.”

your words hang in the air, the charged tension growing thicker as you each hold your ground. he shifts his weight, his gaze flickering toward you briefly before skittering away. the air seems heavy with unspoken words, a tangible unease settling between you.

"i've actually been wondering how long we're going to be doing this for," he finally says, his voice low, almost as if he's reluctant to voice the thought.

“this?” you question, a confused look appears upon your face as you fold your arms. you knew what he was getting at – you just wanted to hear him say it, “you mean my job.”

his gaze finally lifts to meet yours, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips. "oh, I didn't know it was your job to fuck the customers here. I thought you were just a stripper… not a prostitute."

his words hit like a jolt, a rush of emotion flooding your senses as you absorb their implications. your jaw tightens, a surge of frustration warring with a pang of hurt. "don't be condescending."

he chuckles, the sound a mix of amusement and something else you can't quite place. "why not? you seem to be a pro at it."

“fuck you.”

“y’know, i’ve figured a lot about you in these times we’ve spent together – despite the fact that you don’t talk much,” he starts to say, his grin getting wider with every word, “i’ve worked out that you liked to be chased, you like the fact that I was intrigued enough to make you break your dumb ass rule, you like the fact that even after I managed to break down your pussy walls, I still wanna take your rude ass to dinner.”

his words cut deep, the truth laced with a mocking tone. you glare at him, the mixture of attraction and anger churning within you. he was right in a way – you did like the chase, the thrill of his attention.

"you really have it all figured out, don't you?" you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. his observations stung because they hit too close to the mark. but there was a small part of you that reminded yourself that he was just like the rest of the rich assholes that strolled through the club – and he was proving you right in this very moment.

“well suguru, i’ve worked some things about you.” you sneer, “you’re not the first wealthy lame that has walked into this club demanding more from me than a lap dance and some ego stroking–”

“but i’m the first to get it though aren’t i,” he interrupts, his tone teasing, “what does that say about me?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms defensively. "it says that you're just like the rest of them, thinking you're different, thinking you're special."

his gaze narrows, the spark of something more intense gleaming in his eyes. "oh, I never said I was different. but I am special, darling, and you know it.” you huff defiantly, sitting back down on the couch – this was an argument you couldn’t. because although he was cocky, he was right.

geto joins you, his hand coming gripping your thigh to get your attention, “look i don't want to be doing this with you, all i want is to spend time out with you outside these four walls,” he says as you gnaw on your lip, considering it, “it would be nice to see you with some clothes on for a change.”

he holds your gaze, his fingers tightening slightly on your thigh as if trying to anchor himself in the midst of the storm of emotions you've stirred. his vulnerability is a stark contrast to the confidence he usually exudes, and it catches you off guard. for a moment, you're caught in a whirlwind of conflicting feelings – his words tugging at something deep within you that you're not quite ready to acknowledge.

but then, you remember the rules you've set for yourself, the boundaries you've fought so hard to maintain. no matter how much he may want to blur those lines, you can't afford to give in.

without giving him a direct answer, you shift slightly, his hand sliding off your thigh as you put some distance between you. your gaze flickers away from him, focusing on some distant point in the room as you compose yourself.

"well, hour's over," you finally say, your tone a touch colder than before. "leave the money where you usually do."

his face falls, the vulnerability replaced by a mixture of disappointment and frustration. he opens his mouth, as if he wants to protest or say something more, but the words seem to die on his lips. the atmosphere between you turns tense once again, the unspoken words and desires hanging heavily in the air.

you don't meet his gaze as you move to gather your things, your actions brisk and efficient. you've mastered the art of detachment, of creating a barrier between yourself and the clients who come and go, no matter how they may affect you.

as you head toward the exit, your heart beats a little faster, a mix of regret and longing that you refuse to entertain. this is how it has to be – business, no matter how much your heart might argue otherwise.

behind you, you hear him sigh, a sound heavy with frustration and resignation. the door clicks shut behind you, the echo of the room's tension lingering in the silence.

he never returned after that. days turned into weeks, and still, geto's presence remained absent from the club. while you hadn't expected him to return, a small part of you had held onto a glimmer of hope that he might. but the weeks turned into months, and the emptiness left by his absence lingered.

life settled back into its routine – the dimly lit stage, the rhythmic music, you danced, you entertained, you put on a show. yet, there was an ache within you, a void that refused to be filled.

as time went on, you found yourself replaying memories of his presence in your mind – the teasing glint in his eyes, the genuine concern in his voice, the way his smile could light up a room. the connection you had shared, brief as it was, had left an indelible mark on your heart.

you missed the daily banter, the way he would surprise you with his insights, the simple pleasure of knowing he was there. the club felt different now, as if it had lost a part of its vibrancy. the nights were quieter, the laughter more subdued, and the glamour that once surrounded your performances felt somewhat dimmed.

despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the longing that had settled within you. you had a taste of something more with him, a glimpse of a world beyond the club's confines. and now, as you danced under the neon lights, you couldn't help but wonder if you would ever find that connection again.

the longing in your heart grew with each passing day, a constant reminder of what had been and what might have been. yet, even as you missed him, you were grateful for the moments you had shared – moments that had shown you a different side of life, a side you had almost forgotten was possible.

as you stepped into the club again to start your shift, an unsettling feeling settled in your stomach. the club, which was typically alive with the pulsating beat of music and the murmurs of patrons, was eerily quiet. it was as if the very essence of the place had been stripped away, leaving behind an empty void.

confusion crept into your mind as you glanced around, searching for any sign of movement or life. your footsteps echoed in the emptiness, the sound feeling unusually loud against the backdrop of silence. what was going on? had something happened that you weren't aware of?

just as you were about to turn and leave, the sense of unease growing stronger, your eyes land on a figure sitting on the main stage. your heart skipps a beat, a mix of surprise and a rush of emotions flooding over you. it was him – geto. he was here, his presence filling the void that had gripped the club.

he sat there, as if he belonged on that stage, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense as he watches you. the familiar, cocky smirk was ever present on his lips, and despite the confusion that clouds your mind, a warmth spreads through your chest at the sight of him.

as you draw closer, his smirk softens into a genuine smile, a glimmer of something unspoken in his eyes. the air was thick with tension, a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty hanging between you. your heart races in your chest, the space between you charged with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

"suguru," you finally breathe his name, your voice a mere whisper in the stillness.

he stands, his movements fluid and confident, as he closes the distance between you. "hey," he greets, his voice carrying a warmth that echoed through the empty club.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, your voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“let’s just say there’s new management here”

“you bought the club.” you interrogate, “why?”

“i don’t know, im a guy with a lot of money, so i bought a business.” he shrugs blatantly lying, “that’s what guys like me do…”

"you missed me," you conclude, with a grin.

he nods, "I guess I missed you...or whatever," his facade drops immediately. "it's just after you rejected me, i was pissed. all i wanted to do was to show you that i actually cared about you, for you to give me a chance.”

“and buying the club was the most logical way for you to show me that you care?” you argue. “you didn’t have to do that,” emotions swirled within you – a mixture of surprise, hope, and a spark of something you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in a long time. before you could respond, he took a step closer, his fingers gently brushing against yours. it was a simple touch, but it held a promise, a connection that went beyond words.

"why do you always have to be so difficult?” he questions fiercely, “why can’t you just let me show you that i do care about you?”

the weight of his words hung in the air, and as you looked into his eyes, you saw the vulnerability, the sincerity that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface. “why do you care?” you retort, almost childishly. you knew that he cared, you knew why he cared – you just had an affinity for making things difficult.

he rolls his eyes at your hard front “if it was anybody else, he would’ve given up a long time ago. but for some reason you were worth it. “because i see you for more than just the standoffish dancer who doesn’t let anyone get to her, im sure you know this by now.” he pulls you closer to him, into a strong hold. “now will you stop fronting and let me have you – all of you?”

you nod with mock reluctance, practically melting in his arms, “but what about my job? I’m not gonna stop being a stripper just because of you.”

“and i wouldn’t even ask you too,” he says quick with reassurance, “besides i find it hot that everyone gets to see you this way but they just can’t have you like i do.” he starts to work your top off your body, unhooking your bra, exposing your tits, “like just imagine, a crowd full of people watching me fuck the shit out of you — wanting you so badly, but not getting to touch.”

“we can’t do this here,” you gasp out as his fingers start to toy with your hard nipples, pinching and twisting them.

“why not?” he smirks, “you’re the boss aren’t you?”

“me, but i thought you bought the club.”

“you’re the one who said if i bought it you’d know that im truly obsessed with you,” he reasons, his lips pressing a kiss under your ear as he whispers, “do you get the picture now?”

“like I said you really d-didn’t have to do that,” you say, “i was the one that fucked things up here. you didn’t have to buy a whole business for get me to tell you that i like you.”

“oh so you do like me,” he comments sarcastically, “who would’ve thought.”

“shut up,” you grumble, swatting at his chest as he laughs, “i am sorry though. i don’t know why i pulled you into my little game, i knew i liked you a long time ago — but I just couldn't bring myself to admitting it. and I'm sorry for that .”

“it’s fine,” he reassures, “i knew dealing with you would be a challenge — granted i didn’t think it would be this hard — but i knew in the end it would be worth it.” his hands lower down your body, shimmying your pants off of you, “so now you gonna show me how sorry you truly are?”

AN: um so this was A LOT my longest fic ever, please lemme know what you thought since I am SOOOO UNSURE ABOU THIS ONE. thank you to my baessss @kazushawty @satoruhour for beta reading (I owe you two my life) also ur boss was pissed asf to find out that the club he owned was bought and given to you when he was the one that basically got you and geto together in the first place. ill make a part two where gojo comes back to the club to see the pretty little stripper who's got all of his besties attention looool jk

#stampedwithanE★#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x reader #geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto angst #jjk angst #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen angst #geto x you #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x you

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stark-ironman · 1 month

Note

pretty please im begging for dry humping with logan

Desperate

18+ No Minors

A/N: oh look, I finally wrote another one for Logan. Remember you can send in requests for Hugh and Logan!

Warnings: dry humping, cussing, mentions of killing Wade.

"Come with me."

Those three words are the reason you're laying with Logan on his bed, making out. He had a particularly bad day, his mission didn't go too well and Wade being his usual self didn't help Logan's temper at all.. which is why Wade is nursing a baby arm at the moment.

Logan didn't even bother to change out of his Wolverine outfit because that's how pissed off he was but you didn't mind, luckily you loved seeing him in it and it turned you on more than anything in the world. He made sure to take your shorts off though, leaving you in just your shirt and panties.

He grips your hips tightly, grinding them against his own growing erection, swallowing your moans down as he kisses you with so much anger, passion, and everything else he's feeling.

"Lo.. come on. Take the suit off and fuck me." You lightly beg. "Not yet.. I want you to cum all over this suit so I can smell it every single fucking time I have to go on a mission with Wade so I don't fucking kill him." He growls, running a hand under your shirt and groping one of your breasts.

The friction from his pants against you makes your eyes roll in the back of your head, kissing him again as you speed your movements. "There you go, princess. Grind against my fucking dick, let me watch you come undone on my pants so everyone knows you belong to me." He spits, wrapping his hand around your throat.

"You're mine too, Lo..." You moan out. "Nobody can ever take me from you. I'll kill anybody who dares to lay so much a fucking hair on you and that includes that bastard in the next room." You chuckle as you hear Wade say something in the next room.

Logan flips you over, pressing his erection back onto your clothed pussy, grinding hard and fast against it. You grip his shoulders, arching your back as your release starts to hit. Your breath quickens, looking at Logan with pleading eyes.

"I'm not stopping until you're fucking squirting all in them pretty little panties." He growls again, pressing straight into your clit and causing you to scream out, seeing stars from the pleasure and sensitivity he is causing with his hard but calculated movements.

Another orgasm quickly shoots through your body and you feel your release leaving your body. He grunts in your ear, biting down on the nape in your neck as he releases all in his suit.

Logan relaxes against you, letting you wrap your arms around him. "Feel better, Lo?" You ask, kissing the top of his head. "Yeah! Peanut, are you feeling better now? Because if so I have a raging bo-" Logan cuts off Wade by punching the wall.

"We need to get our own place, fast." He says laying back on you.

#logan howlett fluff #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #hugh jackman fluff #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman imagine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader

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gothcsz · 2 months

Note

imagine javier peña as a pornstar holy shit-

Summary: You're a camerawoman that shoots pornos. Javi's the pornstar you can't stand. So why is it that you're so affected by him during this honeymoon scene between him and his co-star?

Tags: smut, voyeurism(?), unprotected p in v sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), no use of Y/N, reader doesn't fuck javi in this i'm sorry, yes it's steve murphy as the sound guy, unbeta'd asf we're here for the dirty vibes, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: well my beloved, this spiraled into something i wasn't expecting but i hope you enjoy, hehe 🖤 shoutout to my lovely mutual @almostempty for summoning the threesome demon that inspired me to finish this.

You’re not a prude. Sex isn’t aversive to you. And you suppose it can’t be considering what it is that you do for work.

A camerawoman for dirty films. Not a director, just the lucky girl that points and shoots. It’s not a bad gig, even though sometimes you do wish it paid a little more. Then you’d be able to drop your bartending job.

Recording people fucking all day then tending the bar all night, you rarely ever have time for yourself or any of the hobbies that you’ve attempted to start but haven’t nurtured simply because there aren’t enough hours in the day.

During your downtime, you’re either sleeping or tending to your shit apartment that’s conveniently located above Lucky’s–– your night job. The only reason you can afford to live in Los Angeles is because of the cheap rent there and well, beggars can’t be choosers.

You hit the button on the elevator, currently taking you to the sixth floor of the surprisingly nice hotel the production company has booked a room in for tonight’s shoot.

Once you make it to room 606, you’re greeted by Steve, the sound guy. “You’re early.”

“Daddy got us a new toy and I wanted to test it out before we shot.” There’s a playful smile on your lips as you carefully show off the brand new camera bag with the device inside.

Steve whistles lowly, stepping aside to let you into the room. Looks very typical. Nice, grand bed in the center of the space. Desk, television stand, blah blah blah, and a bar cart.

You suavely make your way towards it, eyeing the small bottles that littered the glass top.

“Surprised you even got that thing. He’s as cheap as they come.”

You shrug, uncapping the small Fireball plastic bottle and swiftly downing it, the burn familiar and taste delicious. “I know, but considering how much money we’re making him, maybe he’s starting to realize our worth.”

You both share a knowing look then laugh. As if. That man would find any way to cut a corner. It’s honestly surprising how well his pornos do.

“Who are we shooting today?” You ask casually, beginning to set out the camera and all its attachments neatly on the desk.

“Lexxie Gold and…” He trails off, lanky form walking over to where his equipment is half set up, pulling out a tattered notebook that he flips through until he lands on the intended page. “Javier Peña.”

You can’t help the grimace that crosses over your face. Great. You’ve shot Peña a few times, each with a story that reminds you how much you dislike the guy.

Sure he seems to be a good fuck— but man was he cocky, annoying, and so damn full of himself.

Just because you have the biggest dick in the world, doesn’t mean you have to act like one.

“How fun.” Your sarcasm isn’t lost on the blonde man across from you and he doesn’t press— knowing you don’t get along with the star.

You curiously start messing around with the camera, flitting through its different settings, taking random videos of Steve as he finishes setting up while you chastise him playfully from the other side.

Your fucking around is disrupted by a heavy knock on the door then the familiar voice of your boss and the director, Robbie, and you let him in with a brief hey.

The scene is simple enough: a honeymoon. How romantic. He wants to focus on close ups, hence why he brought the new camera.

“Gotta show them how pretty and erotic it really is.”

“I don’t really think they’re watching for the riveting cinematography.”

He shoots you a look and you raise your arms defensively before shrugging your shoulders and getting back to making some last minute camera adjustments.

Steve helps you finish setting up, making the hotel room look like a lover’s getaway. Rose petals everywhere, moody lighting, it helps that the sun has fully set to really set the scene.

Not long after do Lexxie and Javier show up, his arm thrown around her shoulders, seemingly having met up on the ride up the elevator. She’s giggling over something he’s whispered in her ear, pushing at his chest playfully.

You suppose that’s why he’s so good at what he does— that goddamn charisma that seems to charm the underwear off of any woman, hell even some men, that cross his path.

His chemistry with his co-stars is what’s made him so popular in the industry. Aside from his appearance: cut jaw, full and fitting pornstache, golden lean body and nice cock; Javier ate pussy like his life depended on it and fucked women into oblivion— he usually ended up leaving set with one on his arm.

You remember one time his prowess had been so magnetizing, that he ended up taking the makeup artist home. The fucking makeup artist.

But things with you are different, somehow. You can feel it, he can too. Maybe it’s because you’re a no bullshit type of person that just shows up to do your job then you’re out.

In the beginning, he had attempted to flirt with you, but you weren’t really in the market to reciprocate.

A shock to anyone who meets him because what do you mean you didn’t jump at the chance to be charmed by Javier Peña?

You don’t mix business with pleasure, no matter if the pleasure seems to outweigh the business.

And since then he’s made it his life’s mission, it feels like, to push your buttons until you’re lit up like a fucking soundboard.

The flirting, petty comments, sometimes weaponized incompetence just to get you to move the camera into a more desirable position for him— yeah it really irks you.

With it being a simple, smaller shoot today: it’s only you, the director, Steve and the two stars in the room.

As Lexxie finishes doing some last minute touch ups in the bathroom, Steve and Robbie head out to the balcony for a quick smoke, leaving you in the room with Javier as he checks his appearance in the full-length mirror by your equipment.

The shoot is starting with them already half undressed, so he’s got an unbuttoned white collared shirt on, his toned chest on full display, with a pair of dress pants hanging low on his hips. He’s not wearing underwear, so you get a peek of the prominent V of his pelvis and the enticing trail of dark hair leading below the fabric.

Goddamn him.

“Lookin’ like somethin’ crawled up your ass and died, sweetheart. All good?” He asks, no real concern in his voice but the typical condescending tone he uses when he speaks to you.

You ignore him, wiping off the lens of your camera, lowkey wanting to down another small bottle of liquor.

“It’s rude not to speak when you’re spoken to.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m not exactly thrilled to have your balls slapping against my new camera.”

He smirks at the bite in your voice, “With the amount of times you’ve seen my sack, I figured you’d be used to that by now.” You roll your eyes and bite your tongue because he’s right and that wasn’t the best retort you could have given him.

You’ll admit, sometimes his attractiveness throws you off and that only pisses you off further.

“New camera, huh?” His eyes meet yours in the reflection, thick brows raising in amusement, “Honored to be the one to christen it. ‘Specially with Lexxie.” He whistles lowly, brown eyes flickering over to the cracked door of the bathroom, “She’s a sexy little thing, isn’t she?”

You ignore him again so you don’t get tongue tied by trying to outwit him, breathing out a sigh of relief when Steve and your boss reenter and the older man begins to throw out orders for everyone to follow.

“I want this to feel real. Aside from the close ups, I need some filthy, dirty talk. Sell it, make those horny bastards bust their load over the believable newlyweds.”

Lexxie is leaning against the doorway to the bathroom, a beautiful white lingerie set on her curvy body, obscured by a silk robe.

You’re both jealous of her for looking so goddamn pretty and jealous of Javier for having the pleasure of getting to fuck her.

“We’re not amateurs, Robbie.”

Okay, so maybe Javier isn’t all that bad and you do tend to overreact sometimes.

It’s just hard not to, he has a penchant for getting under your skin like no other. Kind of like the annoying boys you used to go to high school with that would relentlessly tease you for being you.

No time to project your insecurities. You’re at work, you remind yourself, listening intently as your boss turns to you and begins to describe how he wants you to shoot the scene.

Intimate. Very. Intimate.

He yells action and the scene begins to play out naturally.

Lexxie stands by the window, her white silk robe loosely tied around her waist, revealing glimpses of her smooth, brown skin. The moonlight accentuates her curves, making her look like a vision of desire against the backdrop of the shimmering city.

Javier watches her from the bed, gaze dark with anticipation. He can’t take his eyes off her, the way the silk clings to her body, hinting at the treasures beneath.

She turns to him, a playful smile dancing on her lips, and slowly walks toward the bed, her hips swaying seductively with each step.

Steve holds the boom mic above them, out of the camera’s view, as you follow Lexxie’s movements with careful precision, zooming in on her long legs then panning up to her thick thighs.

As she reaches the bed, she unties the belt of her robe, letting it fall open. Javier licks his lips, the outline of his cock prominent against the fabric of his pants.

She climbs onto the bed, straddling his hips, her hands gliding over his chest.

“I’ve been waiting all day to get you alone.” Her voice is a sultry whisper as she traces her fingers along Javier’s jawline. “I can’t believe we’re finally here, just you and me.”

There’s a lopsided smile on his lips, large hands sliding around her waist, pulling her closer. “You look incredible, baby. Couldn’t take my eyes off you all night. My pretty wife.”

She leans in, her breath warm against his ear. “Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it.” Her words are a teasing challenge, her teeth biting down on his earlobe.

He groans softly, hands roaming over her curves. “I want to touch you, taste you. Feel you shiver under my hands, hear you moan my name.” His voice drops to a near-growl. “I want to make you mine, over and over again.”

You’re on the bed with them, knees digging into the comforter as you hold the camera at eye level, the small screen that extends from it giving it that grain that makes it look even more erotic.

All of this is beginning to feel too intimate but you block that out, even if it’s fucking hard to. This is what your boss wanted, anyways.

You feel your clit pulsing, heat pooling at your core as you watch them and it’s infuriating.

She smiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she kisses him deeply, her tongue dancing with his and you make sure to get a good shot of it. “Then take me. Show me why I married you.” She pulls back slightly, her gaze locked with his.

He pulls her closer, his lips capturing hers in another passionate and hungry kiss. They’re absolutely unbothered by your presence.

“I’m going to worship every inch of you.” His tone is thick with promise, bringing his hand up to wrap around her neck. “I want to hear you scream for me, break that little throat then soothe it with my cum.”

Your breath hitches at his words and for the life of you, you don’t understand why you’re being so affected by this.

While faint, he hears your reaction and you don’t miss the subtle smirk that tugs at those pink, pouty lips of his.

“Yes. I want you. I need you. Fuck me like it’s our last night on earth.” Her words are a plea, filled with raw desire and feigning love.

A little corny, but what the hell, that’s half the appeal of these things anyway.

Their bodies press together, the heat between them palpable that you can feel it from where you are.

Her fingers tangled in Javi’s hair as she deepens the kiss, her body moving rhythmically against his.

The passion they exacerbate is undeniable, an electric charge that ropes you in as you move the camera closer, igniting your every nerve.

His skilled fingers move to pull down the cups of her bra, freeing her breasts and he uses his hold on her neck to tilt her back slightly, leaning down to wrap his lips around her stiff nipple. He suckles on it, drawing out a moan from the star on his lap as his wet tongue darts out to flick rapidly against the pebbled flesh.

He does the same to the other, you following his movements and your own nipples hardening, the friction of them rubbing up against your sports bra with each deep breath you take enough to gradually turn you on even more.

After lavishing her chest with his attention, leaving her tits glistening with a layer of his spit, he goes to kiss her again and they share more of that porny dialogue that usually makes you cringe.

But not today.

Not as you watch how they touch up on each other, the way he slowly releases his hold on her neck and she pushes the shirt off his shoulders then shimmies down his body, pulling his pants down and revealing his cock.

You’ve seen it dozens of times, it shouldn’t phase you (just as how he reminded you of earlier), but fuck— with the way you’re so heated right now by unofficially being part of this twosome, you can’t help how your mouth floods with saliva at the sight.

It’s got just the right amount of hair surrounding it, looking real heavy and swollen with arousal as she wraps her fingers around it.

You move down to get a good POV shot, bending at the waist and accidentally wagging your ass in his face.

While Lexxie begins to blow him, showcasing her skill to the camera, Javier’s eyes are glued to your ass and how good it looks in the jean shorts you’re wearing.

You can feel it, his stare heavy as lead, as one of his hands comes down to make a makeshift ponytail of the woman’s curly hair while the other just barely grazes the back of your thighs.

If you weren’t so hyper aware of his touch, you would have missed it. Your hips involuntarily moving subtly and you play it off as you shuffling to get more comfortable to record the oral he’s currently receiving.

Sounds of her gagging and his grunts fill the room. Steve’s brows are furrowed in concentration, picking up every single thing and you pray that he doesn’t hear how ragged your breathing has become.

You didn’t even notice it until the camera in your hand started shaking just a little.

So unprofessional, this shoot is gonna haunt you for weeks.

But Robbie doesn’t seem to mind, and you wonder if you’re the problem with how Steve and him seem to be so locked in while you’re sitting here, all hot and bothered, trying not to think of Javier despite seeing his spit slick cock slipping in and out of her mouth so filthily.

The director orders them to switch and you try not to be too hasty when you move off the bed, allowing the couple to do as they’re told.

You avoid Javier’s eyes, the ones looking for yours, as he settles in between Lexxie’s spread legs.

He comments on how wet she is, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he begins to kiss her over the lacy fabric of her fancy panties.

There’s an obvious wet spot from both her slick and his saliva. You alternate, panning the camera from his ministrations, up her gorgeous body, then to capture the look of pure fucking bliss on her face.

She squeezes her tits, moaning obscenely as he pulls her underwear to the side and begins to suck and lick at her pussy— wet sounds of his lips smacking against her folds and clit has your own cunt dripping and the rough fabric of your jean shorts rubbing against your underwear is just embarrassingly pleasurable.

It’s like you can feel his tongue on you as it flicks over her flesh, her arousal coating his face and dampening his mustache.

Javier begins to finger her and the director urges you to get a closer shot of it, which you do and it has you so close to their intimacy; you can smell her pussy.

Your thighs clench.

She cums all over his fingers and he pulls back, traversing up her body slowly, his lips marking their path until he’s kissing her messily again before shoving those sinewy digits into her mouth, and she expertly cleans them off, not breaking eye contact with him.

You lick your lips, practically tasting her, and they’re directed to start off in missionary then end in doggy.

“Put her head on your lap, get a shot of her tits down with his torso in view. Lexxie, scream his name like it’s the best cock you’ve ever had inside you.”

“Won’t be hard to do. It is the best I’ve had.”

You roll your eyes at the smug smile that tugs at Javier’s lips at her words, that statement enough to calm you down as you shift into the optimal position, her head on your lap as Javier strokes his dick and rids her of her panties, leaving her with the cups of her bra still below her tits and the garter belt on her waist.

The white stockings brush up against his thighs as he hitches her legs up on his hips.

He begins to fuck her, each thrust sending her further up your body and you grip onto your camera as you zoom in on the way her body moves, her back arching and needy whimpers pushing past her plump, glossy lips.

Your eyes are glued to the small screen, his toned body looking like a sculpture and a thin sheen of sweat making him glow.

Yeah, this tape is going to fucking sell.

“Get over here and get a shot of her pretty pussy when I push her legs up.” Javier instructs you and you can’t help but drop your jaw at the audacity.

There’s an insult on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be lashed out but Robbie agrees and you fight the urge to fling the camera at him.

Javier senses your irritation and fucking smirks, but you pay it no mind (or at least try not to) as you move away from Lexxie, off the bed, and beside him.

He spreads her thighs and pushes her knees up to her chest, her pussy on full view as his cock continues to piston in and out of her.

It really is so hot. Usually, some stars would have to use lube to get the process going but not Javier. Never Javier.

He eats pussy so messily and knows just how to treat his girls, they’re usually fucking drenched and dripping by the time he’s ready to fuck them. He doesn’t need anything artificial to help him out.

Lexxie is moaning and spitting out pure filth as he continues to fuck her, you’re doing a good job at capturing it all.

Suddenly, Javi leans over to whisper into your ear.

“Bet you’d look just as pretty like this, nena.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, camera once more shaking slightly in your grasp and your skin warms. What the hell is his deal?

And why does the idea of being spread out like this for him suddenly so fucking enticing?

Your eyes flicker over to Steve, who both watched that little interaction happen and picked it up on his mic, an amused expression on his face.

You shoot him a look that basically translates to Don’t and he shakes his head lightly, holding back a snicker.

They’re directed to switch again, both stars getting closer to their orgasms, and you use this a chance to take a step back and fucking collect yourself. No doubt that your cunt is an absolute mess right now.

Maybe you’ll rub one out before going in tonight. That is if you have the time. Maybe if you’re not so tired after, you’ll pick up one of the men at the bar and use him to fuck Javier Peña out of your mind.

Now bent over, her ass and pussy are on full display. Javier, once more acting like he’s the goddamn director, moves aside so you can get a good shot of it. You do, bristling as he brushes against you whenever he gets back into position behind her, entering her pussy in one swift motion and beginning to fuck the shit out of her.

Jesus. Christ. It must be because of how fucking weird this shoot has been but man, is he giving it to her good.

A few delicious spanks are brought down to her ass, his large palm making the meaty flesh jiggle and he grunts loudly at how it feels against his dick.

There’s more dirty talk, him telling her how good this pussy feels and that it belongs to him now. Her doubling down and telling him that he’s the only cock she’s ever going to take.

You move below his spread legs, getting a good view of his heavy balls slapping against her clit, his precum and her arousal coating the flesh of his sack, the sound of it smacking against her is for sure going to make some poor soul release their spunk all over their keyboards or whatever it is that they’ll watch this on.

Getting more footage of their full bodies, you maneuver yourself all around the bed, knowing that when this sucker is edited together, it’s really going to feel like an intimate telling of a couple’s honeymoon night.

You’ll give it to Javi and Lexxie— they’re good at what they do.

She reaches her peak first, shouting that she’s coming and her body flails and tenses, squeezing his cock and gushing cum out of her hole.

You make the mistake of looking up at Javier, finding that he’s already staring at you and he growls, stilling inside her and filling her up with his load.

It’s like everything else melts and disappears, leaving just you two suspended in this moment. The way his brown eyes twinkle with something you can’t quite decipher has your entire body quivering and your heart beating wildly in your chest.

What the fuck is going on?

“Get the money shot!” Robbie barks at you, seeing that you’ve been lost in a fucking daze and you shake your head, snapping out of it and moving off the rose petal covered sheets, again moving next to Javier as he pulls out.

Lexxie positions herself sexily, and not long after does her pussy flutter and milky cum begins to seep out of it, an obscene squelching sound as it drips lazily onto her engorged clit then the mattress.

It’s so fucking hot, you’ll admit it. That’s the point of these things, isn’t it? To turn others on. You can’t blame yourself for the way its intended effect washes over you.

Except your mind is still hazy from how Javier had looked at you while coming inside of another woman.

The pornstar shakes her hips erotically, giggling as Javier smacks her ass.

“And cut. Great fucking job team. You guys just made me a whole lotta money.”

You quit recording, licking your lips and moving off the bed quickly, closing the camera and making a beeline to the other side of the room, not being shy about the way you snag up another travel sized bottle of Fireball and shoot it.

“Drinking on the job?” Javier tuts, walking over to you with his soft cock hanging between his legs and you do your best to not let your eyes drop down to it. He’s got an unlit cigarette hanging from between his lips. “Very unprofessional.”

Lexxie has disappeared off into the bathroom again to clean up, Steve and Robbie discussing who knows what.

“Yeah well.” You’re flustered and hate how you’re conveying it. He’s reveling in the sight of you. “I got thirsty.”

“Hmm,” he hums, gaze narrowing ever so slightly, “Camera like what it saw?”

You clench your jaw, turning from him to begin packing your stuff up. You don’t have time for this, for him. You need to leave and get ready for the bar.

“You heard Robbie— just made him a whole lotta money, so what do you think?”

“Let me rephrase that. Did you like what you saw? Like watching the way I fucked her but was thinking of you the whole time?”

You freeze, static in your brain like an interrupted television broadcast and your body feeling feverish. You need to get out of here.

“And you say I’m acting unprofessional.” You scoff, trying to act like you’re not affected by him and his stupid words and that dumb mustache and his fucking bare cock.

He snorts out a laugh, prepared to say something else to grate your nerves but you don’t give him a chance, slinging the strap of the camera bag over your shoulder and grabbing your purse, pushing past him.

“Alright, Robbie I’m out. I’ll swing by the office tomorrow and drop this off after I’ve reviewed the footage.”

You can see Javier from your peripheral, tight jeans up on his hips and moving out into the balcony to smoke.

You feel like you can breathe a little easier now.

“Sounds good. I’ll have your check for it then.”

You nod, saying bye to Steve who has a shit eating grin on his face. “You workin’ at Lucky’s tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there ‘round eleven for a beer… and to discuss whatever the fuck all that was.” He motions vaguely and you roll your eyes.

“I’d rather not.”

“S’too damn bad. I drink Michelobs, by the way.”

Your face scrunches up, “I shouldn’t let you in based on that alone.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips at his reaction, but it’s all in good fun.

This little interaction is almost enough to make you forget about… all that. Almost. The door to the balcony slides open again and you take that as your cue to get the hell outta dodge.

“Alright, whatever, I’ll see you then. Hopefully we’re not too busy.”

You say goodbye to Lexxie over your shoulder, briskly walking down the hall to the elevator, looking forward to the cold shower you’re about to take to cool down your heated skin.

#javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #💌 you’ve got mail!

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seafarersdream · 18 days

Text

Kismet | Modern AU! (Jace Velaryon x Y/N)

Jace Velaryon, a wealthy legacy student at the University of Cambridge and captain of the football club, is barely surviving his second year in majoring in History and Politics. With a 5,000-word paper looming, Jace is hopelessly lost. His concerned professor decides to assign him a study partner: Y/N L/N, a star student. Y/N knows all about Jace’s wild reputation and his band of troublemaking friends. She's managed to steer clear of his orbit—until now. Aegon Targaryen, ever the wildcard, throws down a challenge to Jace: a bet on whether he can get Y/N into his bed. After all, Jace is a notorious womanizer, with a reputation for charming his way through the university’s female population. Should be easy enough for him, no? Word count: 14,5k

TW // Strong language and profanities, explicit scenes (oral), dub-con, sexual innuendos, alcohol use and intoxication, emotional manipulation, smoking, slow burn narrative.

Note: Massive thanks to @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 for the idea! Hope I did it justice. I really ran with this one—what can I say? I love a good, slow build-up. So yeah, this fic definitely got way longer than I planned. But hey, grab some snacks, settle in, and enjoy!

“Five thousand words? She’s taking the piss, isn’t she?” He thought.

Jace Velaryon slouched back in the worn, creaky chair, an amused grin tugging at his lips as he stared at the ceiling of Professor Jeyne Arryn’s office. The beams above were ancient, older than his ancestors probably, and seemed like they might crumble at any second. He couldn’t help but think it’d be a hell of an excuse to get out of this meeting if the whole damn roof just collapsed right then and there.

Professor Jeyne Arryn, all prim and proper in her tweed blazer and horn-rimmed glasses, sighed dramatically from behind her desk, fingers tenting in that classic I’m disappointed in you way. “Jacaerys, you do realize that the War of the Roses is one of the most pivotal conflicts in English history, right? It’s not something you can just... ‘wing’ in a night.”

Jace chuckled, the sound rich and careless. “Is that a challenge, Prof?” he teased, stretching out his long legs, one foot resting lazily on the opposite knee. “You know I love a good challenge. Ask anyone on the pitch.”

She didn’t smile. She never did, not when he was being an ass—which, admittedly, was most of the time. “This isn’t a game, Mr. Velaryon,” she said, voice tight with irritation. “You can’t charm your way through a five-thousand-word paper like you do with the girls or your professors, for that matter.”

Jace scoffed, giving her a cocky wink. “Worked on you, didn’t it? Remember that first-year exam?” He flashed her a grin that was all white teeth and mischief, the kind that usually got him out of trouble—or into it, depending on the situation.

Professor Arryn's lips twitched, but she quickly straightened her expression. “Enough, Mr. Velaryon. This isn’t negotiable. You’re going to do this paper, and you’re going to do it well, even if it kills you. Or, more accurately, if it kills me trying to drag you through it.”

Jace rolled his eyes, the weight of her seriousness finally sinking in. “Alright, alright, you’ve got my attention. What’s the plan then? A crash course in roses and wars?”

Jeyne leaned forward, her tone softening just a fraction. “I’ve assigned you a study partner.”

He sat up straighter, eyebrows shooting up. “A what now?”

“A study partner. Someone to help guide you through the research, outline, and, hopefully, writing process. Someone who actually understands the material and takes it seriously.”

Jace frowned, feeling his stomach twist. “Who?” he asked, wary now. “Not one of those posh History Society nerds, yeah?”

Professor Arryn smiled, a thin, knowing smile. “No, not one of those... though she is quite the academic star. Y/N L/N.”

Jace blinked, trying to place the name. It sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite remember a face to go with it. “Y/N?” he echoed, like it might conjure up a memory. “The one with the… cat?”

Jeyne’s smile grew wider. “Yes, that one. She’s in her third year. Sharp as a tack, that girl. And far more disciplined than you.”

“Great,” Jace muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “So, I’m stuck with a cat lady who probably hates my guts. This’ll be fun.”

“Perhaps,” Jeyne replied, “it’ll be good for you to spend some time with someone who doesn’t fawn over you or buy into your charm. And let’s be honest, Jacaerys, you need all the help you can get.”

Jace sighed deeply, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “Fine. Whatever. When do I meet this... Y/N?”

Professor Arryn checked her watch. “Actually, right now. She’s waiting outside.”

Jace’s eyes widened. “Wait—what?”

The door creaked open, and there she was—Y/N L/N, standing just outside with an expression that could only be described as skeptical. Her hair was up in a bun, a few stray strands escaping around her face, and she was clutching a notebook like it was a lifeline. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, flicked over Jace briefly before settling on Professor Arryn.

“You wanted to see me, Professor?” she asked, her voice low and even.

Jace couldn’t help but smirk. Oh, this was going to be interesting.

Professor Arryn gestured for Y/N to enter. “Y/N, this is Jacaerys Velaryon, your new study partner.”

Y/N’s lips quirked ever so slightly, but she quickly schooled her features back into a neutral expression. “Oh,” she said. “Lucky me.”

Jace chuckled, leaning back in his chair again, arms spreading out as if he owned the room. “The pleasure’s all mine, love,” he drawled, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Looking forward to all those late-night study sessions... with your cat, of course.”

Y/N’s gaze was flat, unimpressed. “Yeah, don’t get your hopes up. This isn’t a charity case. If you want my help, you’ll have to actually put in the work.”

Jace blinked, caught off guard. “Right,” he said slowly, recovering with a grin. “Fair enough. Let’s start with the basics, then… What’s a ‘War of the Roses,’ anyway?”

Y/N let out a soft sigh, clearly unamused. “We have a lot of work to do.”

Professor Arryn watched the exchange, a satisfied glint in her eye. “I think this partnership will be good for both of you,” she said. “And remember, Velaryon, this is your last chance to prove yourself. Don’t blow it.”

Jace glanced at Y/N, who was already walking towards the door, her back straight and her expression unreadable. He scrambled to his feet, hurrying after her. “Oi, wait up!” he called, trying to catch her.

Y/N paused, turning slightly, her eyebrow arched. “First rule,” she said calmly. “Don’t call me ‘love.’”

Jace grinned, loving the challenge already. “Alright… Y/N,” he replied, putting on his most charming smile. “Shall we?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was the slightest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah,” she muttered, “Let’s get this over with.”

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“Look, we can start with some basic texts,” Y/N said, flipping open her notebook and scribbling something down with a quick, practiced hand. She barely spared Jace a glance as they walked down the narrow cobblestone path, her steps purposeful and brisk. “Seeley Historical Library has the best collection on late medieval England. I figure we’ll start there. I know a few—”

“Wait,” Jace interrupted, his tone incredulous. “You want to start now? Like, right this second?”

“Yes,” Y/N replied, not breaking her stride. “Because it’s clear you know absolutely nothing about the War of the Roses, and I’m not about to waste my time with some half-baked attempt at a history paper. We’re going to the library.”

Jace groaned, dragging a hand through his tousled dark curls. “Oh, come on, love—”

She shot him a sharp look.

“—Sorry, Y/N. Can’t we at least get a coffee first? I haven’t even had my caffeine fix yet, and you’re already dragging me to some dusty library.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “No time for coffee. We have a lot of ground to cover, and I’m not about to let you turn this into some kind of social hour. The library, now.”

Jace huffed but kept pace with her. “You’re a hard-ass, you know that?”

“Yeah, I’ve been told.” She replied dryly.

They turned a corner, and Jace caught sight of the courtyard just ahead—a familiar patch of green surrounded by old brick buildings, where his mates were kicking a ball around. His gang—Cregan Stark, Oscar Tully, Aegon Targaryen, and Davos Blackwood—were all there, clad in their team jerseys and shouting insults at one another.

Aegon, spotting Jace first, smirked and jogged over, his bleach-blonde hair glinting in the sunlight. “Oi, Captain!” he called out, voice booming across the courtyard. “Where the hell you think you’re going?”

Cregan and Oscar followed, both looking amused. Cregan, tall and broad-shouldered, clapped a hand on Jace’s back as he got closer. “We’ve got practice in five, mate. What’s this? Thought you were allergic to books,” he teased, nodding towards the notebook Y/N clutched like a weapon.

“Yeah, I thought the only paper you touched was hundred-pound notes,” Oscar added with a grin.

Jace gave a sheepish grin, throwing a thumb in Y/N’s direction. “Meet my new study partner,” he announced, his tone half-mocking, half-serious. “Apparently, she thinks I need to learn a thing or two about the ‘War of the Roses.’”

Davos snorted, a grin spreading across his face. “Well, you’re gonna learn what war is if you don’t show up for practice, Captain. Coach is already pissed.”

Y/N, standing a step back, folded her arms across her chest, her patience visibly thinning. “I’m sorry,” she interjected, her voice cutting through their banter like a knife, “but Jace and I have actual work to do. Unlike whatever this is.” She waved a dismissive hand at the football pitch behind them.

Aegon let out a low whistle, eyeing Y/N with mock admiration. “Feisty one, isn’t she?”

Jace chuckled, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. “Look, Y/N, they’re right. We do have practice—”

“Don’t care,” she cut him off sharply. “We’re going to the library, and you’re coming with me. You can play your little game later.”

Cregan laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Your little game? Oi, Jace, I think she just called football a ‘little game.’”

Jace shot a pleading look at Y/N, but she remained resolute, chin tilted up defiantly. “This isn’t optional, Velaryon,” she stated flatly. “You can skip practice once. It’s not going to kill you.”

“Actually, it might,” Oscar quipped, elbowing Jace. “Coach’ll string you up by your own bootlaces.”

Jace hesitated, caught between the demand in Y/N’s eyes and the expectant gazes of his teammates. “Come on, Y/N,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “Just one hour? I’ll be right there at the library after.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, clearly irritated. “Fine,” she muttered, “One hour, Jace. But if you’re not at Seeley, I’m done with this, and you can flunk out on your own.”

Jace grinned, sensing a small victory. “Deal.”

With that, she turned on her heel and strode off toward the library, leaving Jace standing there.

Aegon nudged Jace with a sly grin. “Mate, you’re in deep with that one.”

Jace shrugged, his grin widening. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Then, he jogged toward the pitch, already plotting how to charm his way out of trouble.

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The sun was setting over Cambridge, casting a warm, golden glow over the courtyard where Jace and his gang were sprawled out on the grass, panting and laughing, still high from the adrenaline of practice. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and freshly cut grass. Jace gulped down his energy gel, feeling the rush of artificial citrus flavor burst in his mouth. Aegon, leaning back on his elbows, was grinning like a Cheshire cat, clearly up to something.

“So,” Aegon started, with that telltale smirk plastered across his face, “what’s the deal with your new study buddy, Jace? This… Y/N?”

Jace shrugged, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “Nothing much. Just some girl Professor Arryn stuck me with to make sure I don’t bomb this paper. Proper bookworm, you know?”

Davos, lying flat on his back and squinting up at the sky, chuckled. “Yeah, heard she’s one of those types. Always in the library, never out for a drink. Bit boring, if you ask me.”

Aegon’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Boring, eh? Anyone know anything interesting about her?”

Oscar, sitting cross-legged, shook his head. “Nah, mate. She’s just… normal. Doesn’t bother with us, and we don’t bother with her. Mundane as they come.”

Aegon scoffed. “Mundane, my arse. There’s always something, yeah? Everyone’s got a secret.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing some great forbidden knowledge. “I heard she’s still a virgin.”

Davos snorted, nearly choking on his water. “No way. At Cambridge? The land of drunken hookups and bad decisions?”

Aegon nodded, his eyes fixed on Jace. “Yup. Pure as the driven snow, they say. Bet she’s never even been kissed.”

Jace laughed, but it was more out of surprise than anything else. “What’s that got to do with me?”

Aegon’s smirk turned devilish. “Just saying, mate. You’ve charmed the pants off half the girls in this place. Why not try the one that’s got everyone else stumped?”

Davos caught on, grinning widely. “Yeah, Jace, bet you can’t even get her to look at you twice, let alone… you know.”

Jace raised an eyebrow. “You’re seriously betting I can’t get Y/N L/N to…?”

“To shag you,” Aegon finished, laughing. “That’s the bet. Get in her knickers, mate. Come on, it’ll be a laugh.”

Cregan, who had been sitting quietly, frowned, his brow furrowing in disapproval. “This is a bad idea,” he said, his voice low and serious. “Messing around with someone like that… it’s not right, Jace.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’m with Cregan on this one. It’s one thing to have a bit of fun, but this… it’s different. She’s not one of your usual types. You could really hurt her.”

Jace felt a strange flicker of something in his chest—a mix of guilt, curiosity, and… excitement. He brushed it off, shrugging casually. “Come on, boys. It’s not like that. Just a bit of fun, yeah? Nothing serious.”

Aegon leaned forward, eyes glinting with amusement. “So, are you in or not? Hundred pounds says you can’t do it. That’s what, a week’s worth of drinks and cigs for you?”

Jace hesitated for a moment, thinking of Y/N’s determined glare, her sharp wit, the way she didn’t give a damn about him or his reputation. She was different. Uncharted territory. A challenge.

He smirked. “Alright, you’re on,” he said, hearing the cheers and groans from the lads around him.

Cregan shook his head, already looking like he regretted being a part of this conversation. “This isn’t going to end well, Jace. I’m telling you.”

Oscar sighed. “I don’t approve, mate. But… you’ve never been one to listen anyway.”

Jace just laughed, but there was an edge to it, a thrill of something dangerous. “You all worry too much. I’ve got this.”

As they all started to pack up, heading off in different directions, Jace couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just stepped onto a very slippery slope.

He had an hour to make it to the library. And now, he had a new game to play.

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The small study hall in Y/N’s dorm was quiet except for the faint hum of the ancient radiator and the occasional rustling of paper. The place was cozy, with mismatched chairs and a long, scratched-up wooden table in the middle that looked like it had seen better days. A soft yellow light flickered overhead, casting a warm glow that made everything feel just a bit more intimate than Jace was used to.

Y/N sat across from him, her head buried in yet another thick textbook, her glasses sliding down her nose in that way they always did when she was deep in concentration. Her cat, Tabby, was sprawled out next to her, purring loudly, its fat tail flicking every so often. Jace watched the cat with a wry smile, the can of wet food hidden in his backpack, ready for his next move.

He had to admit, these study sessions weren’t exactly torture. Sure, he’d rather be out with the lads, downing pints at the pub or kicking a ball around, but there was something oddly… nice about the routine they’d developed over the last two weeks. Y/N was sharp, with a sarcastic wit that he’d quickly learned to appreciate. She didn’t laugh at his jokes, didn’t fawn over his every word, and wasn’t afraid to call him out when he was being a lazy git.

And yeah, maybe that made him want to impress her just a little bit.

Tonight, though, he had a plan. He set his textbook aside with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “So,” he started, his tone casual, “I think I’ve got the gist of this whole War of the Roses thing now. The Yorks, the Lancasters, the whole shebang.”

Y/N glanced up, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Oh, really?” she said, her tone dripping with skepticism. “Let’s hear it then. Enlighten me, Velaryon.”

Jace grinned, ready for the challenge. “Alright, so it’s like this: Basically, you’ve got two families—Yorks and Lancasters, right? Both got a claim to the throne, both think they’re the shit. Lots of battles, lots of blood, lots of people getting their heads chopped off. The Lancasters start off strong, but then the Yorks take over for a bit with Edward IV, right?”

Y/N nodded, her expression almost… impressed. “Okay, so far, so good.”

“Then Edward’s brother, Richard III, the shady bastard, knocks off his own nephews, or so they say—”

“They were never found,” Y/N interjected, raising a finger. “It’s just a theory.”

“Right, right, allegedly,” Jace corrected himself, rolling his eyes, “Anyway, then Henry Tudor comes in, wipes the floor with Richard at Bosworth, and boom, new king. Tudor dynasty kicks off. End of the Wars of the Roses.”

Y/N tilted her head, a small, amused smile playing at her lips. “Not bad, Jace. Not bad at all. Maybe you’re not as hopeless as I thought.”

Jace chuckled, leaning in a little closer, letting his voice drop. “See? I’m full of surprises.” He reached into his bag and pulled out the can of wet cat food, holding it up like a trophy. “And speaking of surprises… look what I brought for our furry study buddy.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard, and then she laughed—a soft, genuine laugh that Jace hadn’t heard before. “Seriously? You brought food for Tabby?”

Jace grinned. “Figured it might earn me a few points. Besides, I’m starting to think she’s the one actually running this show.”

Tabby’s ears perked up at the sound of the can, and Y/N shook her head, amused. “You know, you didn’t have to do that. But… it’s sweet. Thanks.”

He shrugged, feeling a strange, warm twist in his chest at her reaction. “No big deal. Besides, I’m trying to stay in your good graces here, remember?”

Y/N gave him a sly look. “Oh, is that what this is? Buttering me up? This is bribery.”

Jace laughed, leaning back. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like spending time with you, even if you do make me memorize the most boring shit ever written.”

She smiled, a real one this time, and he felt something shift in the air between them, something that made his heart pick up a little faster. “History isn’t boring, Jace,” she corrected, but there was no bite to her tone, only a soft fondness. “You just have to find the right angle.”

He watched her for a moment, taking in the way her eyes sparkled behind her glasses, the way a loose strand of hair fell across her cheek. “Maybe,” he said quietly, “you can help me find it.”

For a moment, they were just there, sitting in the soft light, with Tabby purring between them. And for the first time in a long time, Jace didn’t feel like he needed to be anywhere else.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “tell me more about this Henry Tudor bloke. Sounds like a bit of a legend.”

Y/N laughed again, and Jace realized he could get used to that sound. “Oh, he was. But not in the way you think.”

And as she launched into a passionate explanation, Jace found himself leaning in, genuinely listening, genuinely interested. Maybe it was because of her, or maybe… just maybe, it was something else altogether.

Jace then pulled his laptop out of his bag, its surface covered in stickers from random pubs, indie bands, and some meme that Y/N didn’t quite get. He flipped it open and tapped the trackpad a few times before turning the screen toward Y/N. “Alright, don’t judge me too harshly,” he said, flashing her a grin that was equal parts sheepish and cocky. “I’ve got about fifteen hundred words down.”

Y/N took the laptop, eyebrows arching as she began to read. Her expression shifted quickly—from neutral to slightly amused, and then to something bordering on exasperated. “Jace… this reads like a bloody blog post,” she muttered, her tone half a scold, half a laugh. “I mean, really? ‘York versus Lancaster: The Original Family Feud?’”

Jace chuckled, leaning back in his chair, hands resting behind his head. “Hey, I’m just trying to keep it interesting. No one wants to read a paper full of dry academic crap.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “This isn’t about being interesting, it’s about being accurate and precise. You’re supposed to be writing a serious outline, not an article for BuzzFeed.”

He raised his hands defensively. “Alright, alright, fair point. But can you blame me? I’m trying not to fall asleep while I write this thing. I figure, if it’s fun for me, maybe it’ll be fun for whoever ends up grading it.”

Y/N shook her head, though there was a softness to her expression that Jace couldn’t ignore. “That’s… not how it works. But I’ll help you refine it. You’ve got the right ideas, just not the right… execution.”

“Story of my life,” Jace muttered, and for a moment, his grin faltered. He quickly recovered, though, leaning forward to take the laptop back. “Seriously, though, I appreciate it. I know I’m a bit of a lost cause when it comes to this stuff.”

“You’re not a lost cause,” Y/N said, surprising even herself. “Just… a bit misguided. But you’re trying, and that counts for something.”

Jace smiled, feeling that strange twist in his chest again. “Trying, yeah. I’ve got my reasons. If I don’t pass this paper, my mum’s going to cut me off. And trust me, you don’t want to be around when that happens.”

Y/N looked up, curious. “Your mum… she’s Rhaenyra Targaryen, right? The one who’s always in those society pages?”

Jace nodded, leaning back in his chair again. “That’s the one. Everyone thinks she’s this glamorous socialite, but she’s tough as nails. Proper iron lady, you know? It’s always Jacaerys, do this or Jacaerys, don’t embarrass the family. She’s got this whole plan for me, for my brother Luke, for everyone. She’d have me running for Parliament if she could.”

Y/N listened, her face softening. “That sounds… intense.”

Jace laughed. “You’ve no idea. Luke—my little brother, he’s at Eton right now, the little shit—is the golden boy. Mum dotes on him like he’s the second coming or something. He’ll be here at Cambridge next year, probably ace every exam and make me look even worse by comparison.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his grin turning a little wry. “Between you and me, Luke’s the smart one. Reads all the time, top of his class, the whole package. Meanwhile, I’m just trying to stay on the pitch and out of trouble.”

Y/N smiled a bit. “I doubt that’s all you are. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have something going for you.”

Jace shrugged, playing it off, but her words struck a chord. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just because Mum and Grandfather have their names on a few buildings around here.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, but her eyes held a glimmer of understanding. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be here. It just means you have to work a little harder to prove that to everyone else.”

Jace looked at her, caught off guard by the sincerity in her tone. “You really think that?”

Y/N nodded, her expression steady. “I do. I mean, you’re lazy as hell, sure, but you’re not dumb. You just need to find something that makes you want to try.”

Jace felt a flush rise in his cheeks, unexpected and a little confusing. “Yeah, well, maybe I’ve found something,” he muttered, looking away.

Tabby, sensing the change in the atmosphere, stretched out on Jace’s lap and yawned loudly, demanding attention. Jace chuckled, reaching down to scratch the cat’s ears. “You’ve got a good taste in cats, at least,” he said, grinning.

Y/N leaned back, watching Jace with a look he couldn’t quite place. “Tabby seems to like you,” she said softly, a hint of surprise in her voice. “That’s… unusual. She doesn’t usually take to strangers.”

“Maybe I’m not as much of a stranger anymore,” Jace said, looking up to meet her gaze.

Y/N’s eyes lingered on his for a moment longer than he expected, and something passed between them, something warm and tentative. She quickly looked back down at her notebook, clearing her throat. “Alright,” she said, shifting gears. “Let’s get back to work. This ‘original family feud’ bit needs to go.”

Jace laughed, pulling his laptop back toward him. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, boss.”

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Two more weeks of grueling late-night study sessions, endless cups of coffee, and Y/N’s relentless revisions had finally paid off. Jace’s paper was finished. No, more than finished—it was actually good. Even Y/N had begrudgingly admitted it was up to her usual standards, which, coming from her, was high praise indeed.

Jace couldn’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction when he handed the paper to Professor Arryn that morning. He watched her face closely as she skimmed through the first few pages, her eyebrows slowly rising with what he hoped was approval. When she finally looked up, there was a rare, pleased smile on her face.

“Well done, Jacaerys,” she said, her tone warm. “This is… quite an improvement. I’m impressed.”

Jace grinned, feeling a surprising swell of pride. “Thanks, Professor. Guess I had a good teacher.”

Professor Arryn chuckled softly. “Yes, well, I’ll have to thank Miss L/N for her patience later. But I’m glad to see you’ve taken this seriously. Keep it up. You’ve got more potential than you think.”

Jace nodded, and as he left her office, he couldn’t shake the grin off his face. He had done it. They had done it. And he couldn’t deny the thrill he felt knowing he’d actually managed to prove everyone wrong for once.

Later that afternoon, he found himself wandering through the winding pathways of the campus, searching for Y/N. He finally spotted her by the fountain in the courtyard, sitting on a bench.

He sauntered over, casually leaning against the side of the bench. “Oi, bookworm,” he greeted, flashing her that grin he knew usually worked on most people. “Guess what?”

Y/N looked up, mildly surprised, but a small smile tugging at her lips. “I don’t know. You found another typo in your own name?”

Jace laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, better. Professor Arryn loved the paper. Said she was impressed.”

Y/N’s eyes brightened a little. “Really? Well… that’s good. I mean, not surprising, considering all the work we put into it. But still… good to hear.”

“Yeah,” Jace nodded, feeling a surge of excitement he hadn’t expected. “And I figured, you know, since it’s the weekend and all, we should celebrate. There’s a pub just off campus that does the best chicken wings. Thought you might fancy a night out?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, um, I don’t usually go to pubs,” she started, fidgeting slightly. “Not really my scene.”

Jace wasn’t deterred. He leaned in a bit closer, his voice dropping to that smooth, persuasive tone he knew could win over even the most stubborn people. “Come on, Y/N. It’s just a drink, some wings, a bit of fun. You’ve earned it. Besides,” he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I know you’re obsessed with chicken wings. And trust me, this place makes them mean.”

Y/N’s mouth twitched like she was trying to hide a smile. “How do you even know that?”

Jace shrugged, pretending to be innocent. “Just a guess. But seriously, you can’t turn down an offer like this. I’m buying, and I promise not to make you read any history books while we’re there. Think of it as… a reward for your hard work.”

She hesitated for a moment, but the look in his eyes was so genuinely hopeful, so damn persistent, that she found herself softening. “Alright,” she sighed finally, a small smile breaking through. “But just this once. And only because you said there’d be good wings.”

Jace’s grin widened. “Deal. I’ll pick you up at six?”

Y/N nodded, still looking a bit skeptical, but there was a flicker of excitement in her eyes that she couldn’t quite hide. “Six it is. But if it turns out to be one of those rowdy pubs with sticky floors and bad beer, I’m leaving.”

Jace laughed. “Trust me, Y/N, I’ve got taste. You won’t regret it.”

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“Tonight’s the night, mate. The night you finally conquer the wallflower,” Aegon declared, sprawled out on Jace’s bed with a grin wide enough to split his face in half. He was already two beers in, and his enthusiasm was rising with every sip. “I mean, come on, you’ve done all the groundwork. You’ve got her thinking you’re some misunderstood genius or whatever. It’s bloody perfect.”

Jace rolled his eyes, tugging a fresh shirt over his head. “Piss off, Aeg, you make it sound like I’m storming a castle. It’s just a drink, alright?”

“A drink?” Aegon snorted, sitting up with exaggerated incredulity. “No, no, my friend. This is a tactical maneuver. A carefully orchestrated operation. You’ve been planting the seeds, and tonight… you reap the harvest.”

Davos, leaning against the doorframe with a lazy smile, added, “Yeah, Jace, think of it like one of those battles you’ve been studying. Except instead of swords and armor, you’ve got charm and… chicken wings.”

Jace shook his head, but he couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. “You lot are ridiculous. It’s not that deep, alright? It’s just… it’s been fun hanging out with her. She’s different.”

“Different?” Cregan scoffed from where he sat at Jace’s desk, fiddling with a random keychain. “Different how? Like, ‘actually has a brain’ different? Or ‘won’t fall for your bullshit’ different?”

“Both,” Jace admitted, smoothing his shirt and checking himself in the mirror. “She’s… she’s not like the usual girls, yeah? Makes me work for it. And maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

Oscar, who’d been mindlessly strumming Jace’s guitar, looked up and smirked. “Wow, you’re going soft, Jacaerys Velaryon. Next thing we know, you’ll be quoting poetry or some shit.”

Aegon laughed loudly. “Nah, he’s too thick for poetry. But don’t lose focus, Jace. Remember the bet. She’s a challenge, yeah, but you’re the bloody captain. You don’t lose.”

Jace turned to Aegon, a hint of irritation in his voice. “I know what I’m doing, alright? I don’t need you lot in my head.”

Davos chuckled, raising a hand in mock surrender. “Fair enough, fair enough. Just don’t forget why you’re doing this. I’d hate to see all your hard work go to waste.”

Jace paused, looking at his reflection, and for a second, the bravado slipped. Why was he doing this? Was it really still just about the bet, or was there something more?

He shook the thought away and turned back to his friends. “I’m not losing,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “And tonight, I’ll prove it.”

Aegon raised his beer in a mock toast. “To Jace, the knight in shining armor, off to slay the virgin dragon.”

Jace flipped him off, but he couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Wish me luck, you pricks. I’m off.”

He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling in his chest.

Jace arrived at Y/N’s dorm at exactly 5:50, which was impressive by his own standards. Usually, he didn’t bother even showing up on time with his usual rotation of girls. Hell, half of them wouldn’t mind if he rolled in an hour late, two hours, even three—they’d still fall over themselves to be near him, giggling and batting their lashes, ready to jump him at the first opportunity.

But tonight was different. He didn’t want to be late, didn’t want to give her any reason to back out. So he was there early, leaning against the doorframe, tapping his foot to an imaginary beat in his head.

When Y/N finally opened the door, she looked a bit startled, clearly on her way out herself. Her eyes widened when she saw him standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Jace?” she said, blinking. “You’re… early.”

He grinned. “Yeah, thought I’d mix things up a bit. You know, keep you on your toes.”

Y/N folded her arms, a little smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well, color me surprised. You don’t strike me as the punctual type.”

Jace laughed and shrugged. “Usually not, but I figured you’d appreciate it. And besides, I’ve been looking forward to those chicken wings all day.”

Y/N shook her head, still looking amused. “Of course, it’s the chicken wings,” she muttered, locking her door behind her. “Alright then, let’s go.”

They started walking together down the winding path that led from the dorms to the main road. The evening air was cool, and the streetlights were just beginning to flicker on, casting long shadows along the cobblestones. Jace lit a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating his face in the dim light.

“So,” he began, making small talk, “aside from being an academic weapon and the loyal servant of Tabby the Cat, what else do you get up to?”

Y/N smirked at his choice of words. “Oh, you know, world domination, the usual.”

Jace chuckled. “Seriously, though. What do you do when you’re not buried in books?”

She shrugged, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. “I volunteer at a local shelter. Animal rescue, mostly.”

Jace raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. “Yeah? That’s pretty cool. What made you get into that?”

Y/N glanced at him, surprised he seemed to care. “I’ve always liked animals. And I figured, if I’m going to be stressed about everything else in life, I might as well do something good with my time. Plus, it’s kind of hard to worry about exams when you’re busy trying to get a terrified dog out from under a car.”

Jace laughed, a deep, genuine sound. “That does sound like a bit of a distraction.”

She smiled softly, nodding. “Yeah, it’s… it’s good. Keeps me grounded, you know?”

He took another drag of his cigarette, considering her words. “Makes sense. I guess we all need something like that.”

Y/N looked at him curiously. “What about you? What keeps you grounded?”

Jace hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He hadn’t really thought about it like that. “Football, I suppose,” he answered finally, a bit more seriously than he intended. “It’s the one thing that makes sense, you know? When I’m out there, everything else just… fades away.”

She nodded, understanding. “Yeah, I get that. Everyone needs a release.”

They walked in companionable silence for a moment, the sounds of the city around them filling the spaces between their words. Jace felt a strange calm settle over him, a sense that he didn’t have to perform or play a role.

As they neared the pub, the warm glow of its lights spilling out onto the street, Jace flicked his cigarette to the side, stubbing it out with his foot. “Here we are,” he said, holding the door open for her. “Prepare yourself for the best damn chicken wings in Cambridge.”

Y/N laughed, a sound that made him all warm inside. “Alright, Velaryon, I’ll be the judge of that.”

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In wine, there is truth, they say. But in beer? Well, in beer, there’s a hell of a lot of bad decisions.

Jace hadn’t expected Y/N to get drunk off a few pints. Hell, he’d forgotten what it was like to be around someone who wasn’t a seasoned drinker, someone whose idea of a wild night wasn’t pounding shots until the room spun. He was used to heavyweights—Cregan downing vodka like water, Aegon always pushing the limits, the lot of them living on a constant edge between buzzed and blackout.

But Y/N? Three pints in, and she’d gone from reserved and witty to giggling mess, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, and—most dangerously—her hands a bit too free with him.

It was around ten when he realized she’d crossed the line from tipsy to drunk. She stumbled as they stepped outside the pub, the cool night air hitting her like a slap. Jace instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her, and she leaned into him, her head tipping against his shoulder, a small, sleepy smile on her lips.

“Y’alright?” he asked, feeling a mix of amusement and something else, something warmer, spreading through his chest. Full of denial, he made himself believe it was because of the alcohol.

“Mm, yeah,” she mumbled, her voice slightly slurred. “Just… didn’t realize how strong those beers were.”

Jace chuckled. “Lightweight,” he teased, but there was no bite to it, just an unexpected tenderness.

Aegon’s words rang in his head like a bell. Tonight’s the night. She’s a challenge, yeah, but you’re the bloody captain. You don’t lose.

It would be so easy. She was already leaning into him, her fingers curling into his jacket, her body soft and pliant against his. She looked up at him, her eyes half-lidded and dreamy, and he felt his resolve waver.

“My place?” he heard himself say, the words slipping out before he could stop them, and he cursed himself immediately.

But then she nodded, a small, trusting smile spreading across her lips. “Okay,” she agreed softly, and he felt something dark and selfish twist in his gut. Fuck.

He wrapped his arm tighter around her, supporting her as they started walking. His dorm was closer anyway, and she was so warm against him, so… trusting. He felt the tension building in him, the battle between the guy he was supposed to be and the guy he wanted to be.

As they walked, she kept giggling, saying things he couldn’t quite make out, her hands playing with the zipper of his jacket, her breath hot against his neck. “You’re not so bad, Jace,” she murmured at one point, and he felt a pang in his chest, a mix of guilt and something else. “I think… I think you’re actually kinda sweet.”

Jace swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “Yeah, well… don’t go telling anyone that,” he joked, trying to keep his tone light, even as his mind raced.

They reached his dorm, and he fumbled with the key, feeling her sway beside him, her fingers brushing his arm. “Here we are,” he muttered, pushing the door open.

She stumbled inside, giggling again, and he caught her by the waist, steadying her. She turned in his arms, looking up at him, her expression soft and open. “Thanks,” she whispered. “For tonight. I had fun.”

Jace stared down at her, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he could do it—he could lean down, close the gap, and she wouldn’t push him away. She’d let him, she’d probably kiss him back, and it’d be the easiest thing in the world.

But something held him back. Something in the way she looked at him, her eyes so trusting, so… innocent. It made him feel like the biggest prick on earth.

He felt Aegon’s taunting voice in his head, heard Davos’s laugh, remembered the bet, the stupid bloody bet. And he hated himself in that moment, hated the way he’d played this, hated the way he was tempted.

“Come on,” he said softly, steering her toward the bed. “You need to lie down.”

Y/N giggled, collapsing onto the mattress. “Oh, is that an invitation, Velaryon?” she teased, her voice light, her eyes half-closed.

Jace forced a laugh, trying to keep his hands from shaking. “Nah, just… making sure you’re comfortable,” he said, pulling a blanket over her.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his heart thundering in his chest as he tried to get his bearings. This wasn’t how he’d planned for tonight to go—he wasn’t sure what he’d planned, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. Not sitting here, feeling like the floor had dropped out from under him while Y/N lay there, soft and warm and too damn close.

He was about to stand up, to put some distance between them before he did something stupid, when he felt her fingers brush against his cheek, tentative and light. Her touch sent a spark skittering down his spine, and he froze.

“I never noticed your freckles before,” she murmured, her voice slurred. “They’re… cute.”

Jace’s breath hitched, and his focus, which had been hanging by a thread, snapped completely. He’d lost it five minutes ago, maybe longer, the second she’d started touching him, the second she’d looked at him with those eyes, her lips all plump and pink from the spicy wings earlier.

He was staring at her lips now, unable to look away. They were wet and inviting, and he could almost taste the beer and the traces of spice on them, feel the warmth of her breath. His mind was racing, and his body… shit, his body was reacting like he’d never had a woman over before.

Y/N caught him staring, and she let out a soft, self-conscious laugh. “I must be a mess, huh?” she said, her voice laced with uncertainty. “I mean… I’m definitely a downgrade from all the women who’ve graced your room and this bed before.”

Jace’s heart stuttered, guilt and desire twisting together in his chest like a vice. She had no idea, did she? No clue about the bet, about the way his friends had egged him on, made this into some twisted game. She was here, vulnerable, open, looking at him like he was something more than a stupid, privileged jerk who could charm his way into anything.

His body continues warring with him, every muscle taut, every nerve alive with want. He knew damn well that under his bed, there were probably scraps of lingerie and thongs left over by fuck knows who, little trophies of past conquests, forgotten in the haze of nights he could barely remember.

But this? This was different. This was real. And he felt like he was on his very last string, the tightrope fraying beneath his feet.

Then, in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, she asked, “Will you kiss me?”

Jace’s brain screamed at him to stop, to decline, to be a better man than he usually was, but the words caught in his throat. Y/N was looking at him, all hot and bothered, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, and he could see the longing in her eyes, the same need he felt thrumming through his veins.

“Y/N…” he managed, his voice hoarse, strained. “You’re drunk, and I… I don’t want to—”

But she leaned closer, her breath warm against his lips, her fingers still resting on his cheek. “Please, Jace,” she whispered, her voice pleading, “just kiss me.”

And fuck, he tried. He really tried to hold back, to keep the distance, to be the decent guy he’d been pretending to be for the last few weeks. But the way she looked at him, like he was something she needed, something she wanted, something more than a mistake…

He was gone. Completely and utterly gone.

He closed the distance between them in one swift movement, his hand cupping her jaw, his lips crashing against hers. The kiss was rough, desperate, all the tension of the last few weeks pouring out in one fierce, needy snog. He groaned, pulling her closer, his fingers tangling in her hair.

Y/N responded immediately, kissing him back with equal enthusiasm, her hands clutching his shirt, pulling him closer, pressing herself against him. He felt her body arch into his, and he couldn’t help but deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, tasting her, losing himself in the heat of it, in the softness of her lips.

He knew he should stop, knew he was crossing a line he had no right to, but he couldn't think clearly anymore, couldn't focus on anything except the feel of her against him, the taste of her lips, the way she was kissing him with so much need. He could tell she hadn’t done this much before—her movements were uncertain, a bit clumsy—but none of that mattered now.

Jace’s mind was spinning, his breath coming in ragged as he broke the kiss and gently pushed her back, his hands resting on her shoulders. “Wait,” he murmured, his voice unsteady. “Y/N… have you done this before?”

She blinked up at him, her eyes hazy but honest. “No,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, like she was admitting a secret she wasn’t sure she wanted to share.

His heart lurched at that. He cursed under his breath, his hands still on her shoulders, holding her at a careful distance. “We should stop,” he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady. “I don’t want you to be angry with me… or yourself, come morning.”

Y/N shook her head, her fingers sliding up his arms, stubborn as ever. “I won’t be,” she insisted, her voice firmer now, a determined edge to it. “I know what I want, Jace.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine, but he fought against it, trying to hold on to his last shred of self-control. “You’re drunk,” he murmured, “and I don’t want to take advantage of that.”

But she was already leaning in again, pressing closer, her lips grazing his neck, right where she knew his pulse was pounding. “I’m not that drunk,” she whispered against his skin, her breath hot, sending a jolt through his entire body. “And I want this… I want you.”

Her mouth moved over his neck, by sheer luck finding a soft spot just below his ear, and he felt a groan rise in his throat, his body betraying him completely. Her lips were gentle but insistent, kissing the spot where she could feel his pulse racing, and he felt his resolve slipping, melting under the warmth of her touch.

“Y/N,” he breathed, trying to keep his voice steady, but it was hopeless. Every time her lips brushed his skin, he felt like he was losing another piece of himself. “We really shouldn’t—”

But she wasn’t listening, her hands moving up his chest, her lips still at his neck, kissing and nipping, her touch sending sparks all through him. She was so damn stubborn, and it was driving him wild, his hands gripping her waist as if to anchor himself.

“Please, Jace,” she whispered again, her voice a breathy plea against his skin, and he felt something in him snap. For a moment, he hovered on the edge, caught between his desire and his conscience, every nerve screaming at him to just give in, to take what she was so freely offering.

But then he saw her eyes, the way they were wide and unguarded, and he remembered her earlier words, the soft confession—no, she hadn’t done this before. She was drunk, not in her right mind, and damn it all, he knew he wasn’t either.

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. For once in his life, he chose to be the bigger person, to do the right thing, even though every part of him was screaming to just lose himself in her. There was no way in hell he was going to go all the way with her—not like this, not when she was a virgin and not when they both were just a little too far gone.

But he also wasn’t going to just leave her wanting, not when he could see the need in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks, feel the way her body was pressed up against his, warm and willing. He could give her something, at least. And that was a thought that sent a rush of heat through him, a decision settling deep in his bones.

Jace let out a slow, shaky breath, his hands sliding down her sides. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. “Not everything… but I can still make you feel good. Really good.”

She blinked up at him, confusion and desire mixing in her eyes. “What do you—”

He didn’t let her finish. Instead, he gently pushed her back onto the bed, his lips brushing against her jaw, trailing down her neck. He felt her breath hitch, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he moved lower, kissing down her collarbone, his hands sliding under her shirt, lifting it just enough to reveal her skin.

He looked up at her once more, his gaze intense. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, Y/N,” he promised, his voice rough with need. “Just trust me.”

And then he was lowering himself between her thighs, hands gently spreading her legs, his breath warm against her skin. He kissed her inner thigh, his fingers teasing at the edge of her panties, and he felt her shiver beneath him, her breath coming faster, her eyes wide with anticipation.

He knew this was something he was good at—something he had honed to perfection over the years. Someone should really give him a degree for it, a bloody medal for his services to women. Because if there was one thing Jace Velaryon knew how to do, it was this.

He slipped her panties down slowly, savoring the way her breath hitched, the way she tensed in anticipation. He spread her legs a bit wider, his hands gripping her thighs firmly, and he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste her. The first touch was gentle, almost tentative, and he felt her gasp, her hips arching off the bed.

Jace grinned against her skin, a low, satisfied hum rumbling in his chest. “Just relax,” he whispered, his breath hot against her, “and let me take care of you.”

He set to work, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing her, tasting her, finding every sensitive spot and lingering there until she was gasping, her hands clutching his sheets, her head thrown back in pleasure. He ignored his own growing need, focused entirely on her, on the way her body responded to him, the way she trembled under his touch.

He sucked gently, his tongue swirling over her clit, his hands gripping her thighs tighter, feeling the tension building in her, the way her breaths were coming faster, more desperate. She was close—he could feel it, could hear it in the way she moaned his name, her voice breathless and needy.

He kept going, picking up the pace, his tongue moving faster, more insistent, his fingers joining in, stroking her in rhythm with his mouth. She was writhing now, her hips moving against him, her moans turning into cries, her fingers twisting in his hair, holding him closer.

“Jace,” she gasped, her voice breaking, “Oh, gods, Jace—”

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. He kept up the relentless rhythm, his mouth working her with a skill perfected by experience, by knowing exactly how to drive a woman to the edge and hold her there until she was begging for release. His fingers moved in motion with his tongue, pressing deeper, finding that perfect spot inside her, feeling the way her body clenched around him, her thighs quivering under his hands.

Y/N was a mess above him, her breaths coming out in broken gasps, her body arching off the bed, every muscle tense, straining toward that peak. Her moans were getting louder, more frantic, her nails digging into his scalp, pulling him closer.

She was so close—he could feel it in the way her hips bucked against him, the way she was practically chanting his name now, over and over, like a prayer, like a plea.

And then, with a final swirl of his tongue, a firm press of his fingers, she shattered.

Her orgasm ripped through her, a wave of pleasure so intense it stole her breath, her cry breaking into a sob, her entire body shaking with it. Jace kept his mouth on her, coaxing her through it, feeling the rush of her release, the way she came apart beneath him, raw and real and beautiful.

He didn’t stop until he felt the tremors subside, until her hands loosened in his hair, her body going limp, spent and sated. Only then did he pull back, kissing her inner thigh softly before moving up the bed to lie beside her, his breathing ragged, his own body still tight with need he chose to ignore.

Y/N lay there, her chest rising and falling, her eyes still closed, a dazed smile playing on her lips. She turned her head to look at him, her gaze soft and filled with something he couldn’t quite name.

“That was…” she breathed, her voice still a little shaky, “that was...”

Jace smirked, his thumb lazily tracing her cheek. “Mind-blowing? Legendary? Best damn thing you’ve ever had?” he teased, his voice thick with cheeky arrogance. “Told you I’d make it worth your while.”

Y/N slapped him playfully on the chest, her eyes still feel heavy with the afterglow, but a grin tugging at her lips. “Yeah, yeah,” she laughed, her voice a mix of sarcasm and lingering breathlessness, “I get it now. I understand why every woman at Cambridge turns into a cat in heat around you.”

Jace chuckled, his grin widening, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the sight of her so relaxed, so damn comfortable with him. “Well,” he drawled, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against her ear, “I do aim to please. Can’t blame them for wanting a repeat performance, yeah?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was amusement in them. “You’re a real piece of work,” she muttered, but her smile gave her away.

He laughed, dropping a quick kiss on top of her head. “Maybe,” he said, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, “but admit it—you’re not complaining.”

Her cheeks flushed a bit, but she didn’t look away. “Alright, fine,” she conceded, her grin softening. “I guess you’re not completely useless.”

Jace barked out a laugh, his hand now resting on her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin. “High praise, coming from you.”

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The next morning, Y/N woke up with a pounding headache, her mouth dry as sandpaper, and a groan slipping from her lips before she even opened her eyes. The room felt too bright, her skull thudding like someone was hammering a drum inside her head. Her first hangover—and it was every bit as awful as people had warned.

“Morning, sunshine,” came Jace’s voice, too cheerful, too loud. She cracked one eye open to find him leaning against a desk, a lazy grin on his lips. He held out a bottle of some isotonic drink and a couple of ibuprofen tablets in his palm. “Here, take these. Trust me; they’re a lifesaver.”

She squinted at him, trying to make sense of the blur that was his face, and groaned again. “Do you have to be so… perky?”

Jace chuckled, moving closer and handing her the pills and the drink. “Nah, but it’s a bit fun watching you suffer,” he teased. “First hangover?”

“Obviously,” she muttered, swallowing the pills and chugging the drink like it was holy water. “Why did no one tell me it would feel like getting hit by a bloody carriage?”

He laughed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Consider it a lesson learned, yeah? But hey, you handled yourself pretty well last night.”

Y/N felt her face flush, memories from the night before rushing back in a haze of heat and embarrassment. “Yeah, well… thanks, I guess,” she mumbled, not quite meeting his eyes.

Jace grinned and, after deeming her well enough to stand, pulled out a well-worn sweater from his wardrobe. “Here,” he said, tossing it to her. “Borrow this. You’re going to need something warm for the walk back.”

She caught the sweater and stared at it for a moment. It was oversized, soft-looking, and smelled faintly of him—a mix of cologne and something else she couldn’t quite place. She slipped it over her head, the fabric swallowing her, but it was warm and oddly comforting.

Jace then grabbed a pair of sunglasses off his desk and slid them onto her face with a wink. “And these, to protect you from the cruel, unforgiving daylight.”

She couldn’t help but smile, a small laugh bubbling up despite the ache in her head. “Thanks, Jace,” she murmured, feeling strangely touched by his small gestures.

He gave her a once-over, nodding approvingly. “Look at that. Almost like you’re ready to face the world again.”

She rolled her eyes but felt a warmth spread through her that wasn’t just from the sweater. “Almost.”

Jace walked her to the door, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her gently. “Come on, let’s get you out of here before the rest of the lads wake up and start giving us grief.”

Y/N smirked, adjusting the sunglasses on her nose. “Thanks for… everything,” she said, her voice soft but sincere.

Jace just smiled, that damn charming grin of his, and opened the door for her. “Anytime, Y/N. Anytime.”

He watched her disappear down the hall, his sweater draped over her like a dress, her steps still a bit wobbly but steadier than before. He lingered for a moment longer than necessary, an odd mix of satisfaction and uncertainty bubbling in his chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, he didn’t want this to be a one-time thing.

As he turned around, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Cregan standing a few steps away, leaning casually against the wall near the water cooler. His arms were crossed, and there was a knowing look in his eyes.

“Fucking hell, Cregan,” Jace muttered, a bit more defensive than he’d meant to sound. “You spying on me now?”

Cregan shrugged, pushing off the wall and taking a few steps closer, his expression calm but unreadable. “Just grabbing some water,” he said, though his tone was heavy with implication. “Couldn’t help but notice… that was quite the exit.”

Jace rolled his eyes, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, well, we had a fun night. No harm in that.”

Cregan’s lips quirked up in a small, humorless smile. “She’s a nice girl, Jace,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that made Jace shift uncomfortably. “A real nice girl.”

Jace sighed, already sensing where this was going. “I know, I know,” he said, holding up a hand like he was warding off a lecture. “And I didn’t sleep with her, alright? Just… third base. That’s it.”

Cregan’s expression didn’t change. If anything, his brows drew together, a shadow of disappointment crossing his face. “Third base, huh?” he repeated, voice flat. “And how do you think she’s going to feel when she finds out about the bet?”

Jace bristled, his jaw tightening. “Look, I didn’t do anything wrong. She wanted it. I didn’t push her.”

Cregan sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not saying you forced her, Jace,” he replied, his tone measured, like he was trying to keep his annoyance in check. “But you know damn well she doesn’t know the whole story. She doesn’t know she’s just a notch on some stupid bet you made with Aegon and Davos.”

Jace clenched his fists, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “It wasn’t like that,” he muttered, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

Cregan gave him a long, hard look, his eyes piercing. “Maybe not to you,” he said quietly, “but it will be to her when she finds out. And trust me, Jace, she’s going to find out. These things always do.”

Jace opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

Cregan shook his head, stepping back. “Don’t say I didn’t see this impending mess coming,” he said, his voice resigned. “Just… don’t hurt her, Jace. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Jace watched him turn and walk away, his words hanging heavy in the air. And he felt the weight of what he’d done settle on his shoulders, the reality sinking in.

He could still hear Aegon’s taunting voice in his head, but now, it sounded more like a curse than a victory.

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How to Find Out You're the Punchline of a Bet: A Step-by-Step Guide!

Y/N stood outside Jace’s door, holding his sweater and sunglasses in her hands, trying to calm the fluttering nerves in her stomach. She’d had them freshly laundered, even though she’d slept in the sweater more nights than she’d care to admit. It had been too warm, too soft, and way too him. She might have drooled on it as well, but whatever, he didn’t need to know that.

She’d been debating for days whether to bring them back in person or just drop them off and leave. But somehow, she found herself here, standing outside his door, trying to summon the courage to knock.

That was when she saw him.

He was at the end of the corridor, coming back from another practice session, sweaty and still in his kit, flanked by his usual crew—Aegon, Davos, Oscar, and Cregan. They were laughing, shoving each other around, lost in their own world. They hadn’t noticed her yet.

She took a step forward, ready to call out, but then she froze.

Aegon’s loud, obnoxious voice cut through the hallway like a knife, his tone mocking and overly enthusiastic. “Oi, Jace!” he shouted, punching Jace playfully in the arm, a wide grin on his face. “Fair’s fair, mate! You earned it.”

Y/N watched as Aegon reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. He peeled off a couple of notes and smacked them into Jace’s hand—£100, easy. Maybe more.

Her stomach twisted, a weird, uneasy feeling creeping up her spine. What the hell was that for?

Then she heard it—the answer she hadn’t been looking for, delivered in Aegon’s stupid, booming voice.

“Can’t believe you actually did it,” Aegon laughed, clapping Jace on the back. “Thought you’d bottle it with the little wallflower, L/N. Didn’t think you had it in you to seal the deal, but you proved me wrong. Fair bet, mate. A hundred quid well-earned!”

Y/N’s heart stopped. She felt her blood run cold as her own name slipped from Aegon’s mouth, followed by a word that made her stomach drop: bet.

She ducked back into the shadow of the wall, pressing herself flat against it, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt like she’d been slapped, the shock of it hitting her all at once. She clutched the sweater to her chest, bile rising in her throat.

She’d been a bloody bet. A joke. Something for them to laugh about over beers and practice sessions. She had trusted him. Believed in that stupid grin and those stupid, warm eyes. And all the while, he’d been playing her.

She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing, but it felt like the air was choking her. She had her answer now—clear as day.

And god, did it hurt.

They were coming closer, their voices louder, their laughter echoing down the corridor. Y/N’s heart pounded in her ears, each step they took making her feel like the ground was about to give way beneath her. She gripped the sweater tighter in her hands, trying to steady herself, to stop the tremor that had started in her fingers.

And then Jace saw her.

His face paled instantly, the color draining from his cheeks, his smile vanishing like a shadow under harsh light. He slowed to a stop, and the rest of the group followed suit, their expressions shifting from amusement to confusion—and in some cases, dread.

Cregan sighed, a resigned, knowing look in his eyes. Aegon, who had been all smiles a moment ago, faltered, his grin slipping away, replaced by an uneasy look.

Y/N felt a cold fury settle in her veins, pushing back the wave of hurt that threatened to swallow her whole. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, her chin lifting with a defiance she didn’t even know she possessed.

“I just came to return these,” she said, her voice colder than ice, every word clipped and deliberate. She thrust the sweater and sunglasses into Jace’s chest, her hands trembling despite her best efforts to stay calm.

Jace took them reflexively, his mouth opening and closing like he was searching for something to say, but no words came. His eyes were wide, filled with panic and something that looked a lot like shame.

Before he could get a word out, before he could try to explain or deny or beg, Y/N’s hand came up in one swift motion.

She slapped him across the face, the sound sharp and loud in the suddenly silent corridor.

Jace flinched, the impact snapping his head to the side, his cheek reddening instantly where her hand had connected. He blinked, stunned, his hand instinctively touching the spot where she’d hit him.

Y/N didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing the tears that were threatening to spill over. She turned on her heel, her head held high, and walked away, every step feeling like it was taking all the strength she had left.

She didn’t look back. She didn’t say another word. She didn’t need to.

Jace stood frozen, his cheek stinging, his mind whirling, trying to process what had just happened. The corridor felt like it had gone eerily quiet, the only sound the dull thud of his heartbeat in his ears. He could still feel the imprint of her hand on his face, the shock of it running through his body like an electric current.

Did that really just happen?

He blinked, still trying to make sense of it, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He’d been slapped before, sure, but not like that. Not with that kind of fury, that kind of raw, cold anger.

Aegon and Davos stood a few steps behind him, both of them looking like they’d just been doused with ice water.

“Well… crap,” Aegon muttered, scratching the back of his neck, his usual bravado suddenly deflated. “That… that did not go as planned.”

Davos grimaced, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “No shit, Aegon,” he muttered, glancing over at Jace, who still hadn’t moved.

Jace didn’t respond, still staring at the spot where Y/N had been, his expression blank, like he was trying to decipher some impossible puzzle.

Cregan just sighed, shaking his head with a look that was equal parts disappointment and resignation. “I told you this would happen,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Without another word, Cregan turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, leaving the rest of them standing in the heavy silence.

Oscar, who had been hanging back, finally spoke up, a half-amused, half-sympathetic look on his face. “Crash and burn, mate,” he said, his voice almost soft. “Crash and bloody burn.”

Jace blinked, finally tearing his gaze away from where Y/N had disappeared. He felt a strange hollowness in his chest, a tightness in his throat that he couldn’t swallow down.

He’d messed up. Badly. And this time, he wasn’t sure he could charm or talk his way out of this one.

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In Aegon’s defense, he didn’t expect Jace to trip balls and spiral the way he had. The guy looked like he’d been living in a cave, all hollow-eyed and pale like bloody Dracula, and he was a miserable sight—mopey, silent, just plain ugly these days. For the past few weeks, Jace had been in a mood so deep and dark that even Aegon, the king of bad decisions, was starting to feel concerned.

Aegon had tried everything in his bag of tricks. Hell, he even brought out the big guns—he knew Jace used to have a thing for his sister, Helaena. So he’d gone to her, practically on his knees, begging for her to hook up with him or at least flirt a bit, throw him a bone to pull him out of this funk.

But Helaena had returned with a bemused smile, reporting that Jace had looked at her like she was crazy or some shit. “Honestly, Aegon,” she had said, “he stared at me like I had personally offended him. I don't think it's going to work.”

Nothing worked. Not a damn thing.

Cregan, usually the voice of reason in their little gang of idiots, had tried talking sense into him, cornering Jace after practice with the kind of serious, no-nonsense tone that usually worked. But Jace had just brushed him off, muttering something incoherent, looking like a phantom drifting through the halls.

Oscar had taken his turn, too, showing up at Jace’s dorm with his best bottle of whiskey and a pack of expensive cigs, hoping to lure him back to life with old vices. But Jace barely touched the drink, barely looked at the smokes, just sat there staring out the window like a man waiting for the death penalty.

His mates were at their wit's end. They’d bent over backward to drag him out of this shambles, tried everything they could think of, and nothing had made a dent. Jace was lost in his own head, his own mess, and Aegon was starting to wonder if this was what permanent damage looked like.

Aegon sighed heavily, watching Jace slouched in the corner of their usual pub, staring blankly at his untouched pint. “For fuck’s sake, man,” Aegon muttered under his breath. “What the hell are we supposed to do with you?”

Even Davos, normally the most reckless of the bunch, was beginning to worry. “We’ve tried everything,” he whispered to Cregan, who only nodded grimly.

“Maybe,” Cregan said quietly, “he’s got to figure this one out on his own.”

Aegon scowled. “Yeah, well, he better figure it out soon, or I’m dragging his sorry arse to therapy. I’ve got limits, you know.”

Jace didn’t even glance up. And his friends could only watch, exasperated and out of ideas, as the once carefree, charming captain of the football team spiraled deeper into his own self-made hell.

Jace then muttered something under his breath about needing to use the loo, pushing himself up from his chair and shuffling off toward the back of the pub. His mates watched him go, the silence thick.

Oscar leaned in as soon as Jace was out of earshot, his voice low but urgent. “I think we need to talk to Y/N,” he said, glancing around the table. “Get her to talk to him, or at least see if she’ll give him a chance to explain himself.”

Davos nodded quickly, his brow furrowed. “Yeah, shit, man. I’m scared one of these days he’s going to do something stupid. I mean, look at him? He’s a bloody mess. I’ve never seen him like this.”

Cregan sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. “His brother called me yesterday,” he admitted, his voice grim. “Said Jace hasn’t been answering his mum’s texts or calls. She’s worried sick. Wants to know what the hell’s going on, but I’ve got nothing to tell her.”

Aegon looked around at the lot of them, his usual cocky grin replaced by a serious frown. “Yeah, we need an intervention. This is getting out of hand. If anyone can snap him out of it, it’s her.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “She’s got every right to hate him, but… we’ve gotta try, right? Maybe if she just talks to him, hears him out, it’ll help. He’s spiraling, and none of us know how to get through to him.”

Cregan looked uncertain, but he finally nodded. “Alright,” he said. “But we have to be careful with this. She’s pissed, and for good reason. We can’t just waltz up and ask her to forgive him like it’s nothing.”

Aegon leaned back in his chair, looking more serious than any of them had seen him in a while. “So, how do we do this?” he asked, eyes flicking to the others. “Who’s gonna reach out to her?”

Cregan exhaled slowly. “I will. I’ll find a way to talk to her, explain… something. Let her know he’s not himself. We just need a chance. Otherwise, I’m afraid Jace is going to do something we can’t fix.”

They all nodded, glancing toward the hallway where Jace had disappeared.

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The next afternoon, Cregan Stark found himself walking along the Cambridge Backs, the gentle curve of the river Cam glinting in the sunlight, punts gliding lazily over the water, laughter and the murmur of tourists drifting in the air. He had asked around, pieced together the clues, and finally located her usual haunt—a quiet spot along the riverbank, tucked beneath a canopy of willows.

And there she was.

Y/N sat on the grass, a book open on her lap, though she didn’t seem to be reading it. Her eyes were swollen and puffy, dark circles smudged beneath them, as if sleep had been evading her for days. She looked almost as bad as Jace did, and for a moment, Cregan thought it was almost funny—if it weren’t so damn tragic—how much alike they looked.

She spotted him approaching and her eyes narrowed into thin slits, her whole body tensing like she was preparing for a fight. Cregan raised his hands quickly, palms out, a peace offering. “Hey, hey, I come in peace,” he called out, a small, disarming smile on his lips. “Promise I’m not here to make things worse.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but at least she didn’t immediately bolt. She looked annoyed, but resigned, almost like she’d been expecting one of Jace’s friends to show up sooner or later. “Of all people,” she muttered, “at least they were smart enough to send you. The one with half a brain.”

Cregan chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walked over and sat down a good distance away, giving her some space. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said lightly. “Though I think you’ve already got my number. I’m not here to defend anyone. Just… wanted to talk.”

She snorted softly, glancing back at her book. “If you’re here to try to make me feel sorry for Jace, save your breath. I’m not interested in playing the sympathy card.”

He shook his head, his expression earnest. “I’m not here to ask for sympathy, Y/N. I’m here because… look, for all the love I have for my mates, especially Jace, I told them from the start that this bet was a shitty idea. Callous. I disagreed with it, and I warned them. Didn’t stop them, obviously, but… I tried.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes still guarded, but there was a flicker of curiosity there. “So why are you here now? You think saying ‘I told them so’ is going to make any difference?”

Cregan sighed, leaning back against the bench. “Nah, I know it doesn’t fix anything. But I thought you should hear it from someone who… I don’t know, isn’t completely messed up in the head like Aegon. Gods, I love him like my own brother, but the man is a ticking timebomb.”

Y/N let out a small, involuntary laugh at that, surprising herself. “Yeah,” she muttered, “I got that impression.”

Cregan smiled slightly, sensing he was making a little headway. “Jace has been… well, let’s just say he looks like he’s been waterboarded. I’ve never seen him like this before, Y/N. He’s not eating, not sleeping, not talking to anyone. We’re worried, and none of us know how to reach him. It’s like he’s punishing himself or something.”

Y/N’s face softened for a brief moment, but then she straightened, putting her defenses back up. “Well, maybe he deserves it,” she said quietly, though there wasn’t as much bite to her words as she’d intended. “He made his bed, didn’t he?”

Cregan nodded. “Yeah, he did. But I think he’s realized just how badly he’s messed up. And I know you don’t owe him anything, not even your time… but I’m asking. Would you talk to him? Even if it’s just to tell him off properly, maybe it’ll snap him out of this spiral he’s in.”

Y/N studied him for a moment, her fingers playing with the edge of her book. “Why should I?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Why should I give him the satisfaction?”

Cregan leaned forward, his gaze steady. “Maybe not for him,” he said softly. “But for you. Because carrying this around… it isn’t doing you any good either.”

She looked down, her shoulders tense, a battle clearly waging inside her. After a long pause, she finally nodded, just once. “Fine,” she whispered. “I’ll talk to him. But I’m not promising anything.”

Cregan smiled, relief flooding through him. “That’s all I’m asking, Y/N. Thank you.”

She nodded again, her expression still wary, but Cregan could see tiny cracks in her armor. Seems like he has done his job. And that’s all the push he could do.

“Good luck,” he said, standing up and giving her a reassuring nod. “You’re gonna need it with that idiot.”

An hour later, Y/N stood outside Jace’s door, her heart pounding, her nerves shot to hell. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, then knocked on the door with more force than necessary.

Jace opened it, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, his hair tousled, eyes wide with shock when he saw who was standing there. He looked so stunned, she almost laughed.

“Y-Y/N?” he sputtered, his voice an awkward mess of surprise. “What—what are you doing here?”

He started to stammer out more incoherent sentences, a jumble of half-formed apologies, but she cut him off with a raised hand. “I don’t want to do this here,” she said firmly. “I need some fresh air while I listen to whatever sad attempt you’re about to make to justify what you did.”

Jace blinked, swallowing hard, and nodded quickly, grabbing his jacket off a chair. “Okay… yeah, sure,” he mumbled, following her out of the dorm like a scolded puppy.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Y/N leading the way through until they reached a quieter, less crowded part of the grounds. The air was crisp, the sky overcast, but it felt good—clean, refreshing, something he hadn’t felt in weeks.

She finally stopped, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to face him. “Okay, talk,” she demanded, her tone sharp, daring him to make this worth her time.

Jace ran a hand through his hair, feeling like a complete idiot. “Look,” he started, “I know I messed up. I know how stupid and cruel the bet was… I realized it from the start, but I went along with it anyway. I was out of my damn mind. I don’t have a good excuse.”

Y/N’s eyes flashed, anger boiling over. “Why?” she spat. “Why would you do that? I mean, I get that you’re a bit dim, but I didn’t think you were that cruel. And I’m an idiot for falling for it. If you’re dumb, then I’m even dumber.”

Jace flinched, the sting of her words hitting him hard, but he forced himself to keep going. “I didn’t want to do anything that night,” he said, his voice softer, more desperate. “You were drunk, and I knew it wasn’t right. But… fuck, Y/N, I really did want to kiss you. So when you asked me to, what was I supposed to do? How the hell was I supposed to say no?”

That shut her up real good.

She stared at him, her anger momentarily replaced by confusion, disbelief. “Why the hell would you even be into me?” she demanded, her voice tinged with frustration. “You could have anyone—why would you even look twice at me?”

Jace’s frustration boiled over. “Maybe that’s exactly why!” he shouted back. “Maybe I’m tired of the same old bullshit! Maybe you’re the first real person I’ve met in this whole bloody place, and it scared the hell out of me.”

They bickered back and forth. Y/N was still angry, still hurt, and Jace was struggling to make her understand, to make her see that it wasn’t just about the bet, that there was more to it—more to him, to them.

And then, suddenly, the sky opened up. Rain poured down out of nowhere, drenching them both in seconds.

“Great, absolutely fantastic,” Y/N muttered, throwing her hands up in exasperation as the rain pelted down. “I just washed my hair this morning. And now this.”

She looked like she was on the verge of tears, a mix of frustration and exhaustion weighing her down, and Jace’s heart twisted at the sight. He reached out, his hand hovering uncertainly near her arm. “Can we start over?” he asked, his voice pleading. “Please, Y/N. You can slap me again if you want. I’d do anything to make this right.”

Y/N just stared at him, long and hard, the rain streaming down her face, mingling with the tears she refused to let fall. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, the raw, unfiltered regret, the desperation in his voice. And in that moment, all the anger, all the hurt, seemed to wash away with the rain.

“I just really want to kiss you right now,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the downpour.

And then, before he could say anything, she closed the distance between them, her lips crashing against his with a force that took his breath away.

Jace responded immediately, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her close as he kissed her back with everything he had, the rain soaking them both to the bone, but neither of them cared. The world around them seemed to fade away, the only thing that mattered was this—this kiss, this connection, this second chance.

His lips moved against hers with a desperation that bordered on frantic, his hands sliding up to cup her face, thumbs brushing the rain-soaked strands of hair from her cheeks. He kissed her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Between kisses, he managed to whisper, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… please, forgive me…”

Y/N felt his words more than heard them, the breath of each apology warm against her mouth, mingling with the rain. Her heart twisted, conflicted, every emotion tangled up inside her—anger, hurt, relief, and something stronger, something she’d been trying to bury since the moment he’d first kissed her.

But she couldn’t deny the way he was holding her, the sincerity in his voice, the way his hands trembled slightly against her skin. He was being so gentle with her.

“Jace,” she whispered against his lips, her voice catching in her throat. “I… I want to forgive you, but I don’t know how. You hurt me. You made me feel like a joke.”

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his forehead resting against hers, his breath ragged and warm. “I know,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I know, and I hate myself ever since for it. But I swear, Y/N, I never meant for it to be like this. I never wanted to hurt you. It was stupid and wrong and… and I was a bloody idiot.”

She swallowed hard, searching his eyes, finding nothing but raw, open honesty. “You were,” she agreed softly, her fingers still clutching the front of his shirt. “But… maybe we’re both idiots. Because I still…”

Jace’s heart leaped in his chest, hope flaring bright and wild. “Because you still what?” he pressed, his thumb brushing over her cheek, wiping away a raindrop that looked suspiciously like a tear.

“Because I still… want to try,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know why, but I do.”

Jace’s lips curved into a small, hopeful smile, his hand cradling her face with a tenderness that surprised even him. “Then try with me,” he whispered, his lips hovering over hers again. “Let me make it up to you. Let me prove that I’m worth it… worthy of you.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then nodded, just once, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. “Okay,” she whispered. “But don’t make me regret this, Jacaerys Velaryon.”

“I won’t,” he promised again, and his lips found hers with a new urgency, a fervent hope that maybe, just maybe, this time he could get it right. “I swear, love, I won’t.”

And then, as if the universe wanted to punctuate the moment, a blinding flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed immediately by a crack of thunder that shook the ground beneath them. Both of them jumped apart, startled, wide-eyed like kids caught sneaking out past curfew.

“Shit!” Jace laughed, glancing up at the dark sky. “That was close. We should probably get back inside before we’re fried like fish and chips.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking the water from her hair. “Yeah, I’d rather not be a human lightning rod today.”

He grinned, noticing the way she was shivering now, rain running down her face, her clothes clinging to her skin. He slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her close, his voice dropping to that familiar cheeky drawl. “Come on, then. I’ll warm you right up,” he teased, giving her a playful wink, his hand sliding lower on her back, pressing her against him. “Plenty of ways to heat things up, you know?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her smile was undeniable. “God help me, you’re cocky,” she muttered, but there was a spark in her eyes, a waggish glint that matched his own.

Jace’s grin widened. “Oh, you liked it,” he teased. “Don’t pretend otherwise. You loved every second of it. I’ve got more where that came from.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not willing to let him have the upper hand for long. “You mean the head you gave me?” she shot back, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “Yeah, I have to admit, that was… nice.”

Jace barked out a laugh, his eyes lighting up with delight. “Oh, nice, she says!” he repeated, leaning in closer, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “L/N, that was just a taste. I’m a man of many talents. Consider that your appetizer.”

Y/N snorted, swatting his chest. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Velaryon. I’d hate for you to blow your entire repertoire too soon.”

He laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got stamina to spare. We’ve got all night to explore… my menu.”

She blushed and couldn’t stop her breath from hitching. “Alright, alright, let’s get out of this rain before you start making more food innuendos. I’m getting hungry.”

He grinned, holding her tighter. “Deal. But once we’re dry, I’m taking you up on that second course.”

She just rolled her eyes again but leaned into him, letting him lead her back toward the safety of the building, their laughter mingling with the sound of the rain as they ran for cover.

#hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd modern au #jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jace x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon #harry collett

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sweet-as-an-angel · 9 months

Text

House Husband! Simon who…

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Sexual Punishment (Consensual), Degrading, Edging, Simon Exhibiting Some Himbo Tendencies, Objectification of a Military Man, Implied Pegging, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Lets you take the stresses of your day out on him, riding him with such fervour that he’s left digging his heels into the mattress of your shared bed, gritting his teeth and trying not to let the coil in his stomach snap before you’ve gotten yourself off.

Secretly loves being berated, being called your “Stupid boy, only good for cooking and cleaning. Such a good husband for me.”

Loves when you spoil him with the lavish gifts you can afford with your high-paying job. “A reward for keeping the house so tidy while I’m away.” You say as you take the cologne bottle in your hand and pull the waistband of his boxers with the other, slipping the bottle past before letting the band snap against his skin. You make sure to give his ass a good smack on your way past, too.

Another symbol of your ownership of him to complement the wedding band you’ve bound him with.

He’ll bend himself backwards to please you, learning to cook anything that takes your fancy, giving you massages when you need them, using his height and strength to clean the house thoroughly, pulling out all the furniture and making sure the place is spotless.

Though, he’d never admit that he sometimes leaves certain things — laundry, dishes, whatever — unfinished so you’ll punish him when you come home.

Loves when you edge him, using him for your own pleasure while preventing him from feeling the fullest extent of his. He lives for the tears in your eyes when you cum for the third time, rocking yourself on his thick cock as he holds you by the hips, desperately trying not to rut into you and give you another reason to stave off his orgasm.

When you think he’s earned it, you’ll make sure he really feels it. Squeezing around him with such ferocity that has him seeing stars when he finally does unravel, thick ropes of cum shooting into you as his back arches, his low, strangled moans filling your home. He’ll pant heavily, trying to gather his bearings as you detach from him, thin strings of cum trying desperately to keep the two of you connected.

He shudders at the tone in your voice when you throw a towel and a pair of pants at him, telling him to clean himself up and go and make dinner.

“I expect it done within the hour. I’m starving.”

Needless to say, he considers burning it a little to incur your wrath once more. But he knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that that parcel you ordered the other day did look rather long. Thin, too. Almost dick-shaped.

He’s taken a peek. He knows he shouldn’t have, but now he knows he mustn’t – under any circumstances – get on the wrong side of your strap-on. Especially one so girthy and long; big enough to even wind Simon if when you slammed into him with it.

But that’s a punishment for another day.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

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eudaimaniacs · 10 days

Text

lunch with a side of a babydoll dress (hugh jackman x female reader)

word count: 700 words

warning/s: smut with one mention of feet

notes: i included a word count after four posts (well, it happens). also there's one request on my inbox and i'll try answering that asap. i'm not good at fulfilling these requests (i have one dead and deactivated tumble blog to prove it). enough yapping, enjoy reader!

It was a long day of shooting Hugh's new movie from 5:30 A.M. to 10:30 P.M. of shooting in multiple costumes. He was stressed, to say the least. He didn't have time to rest, rewind, or even fuck his wife.

You hang around on set to provide support for Hugh. You know how stressful filming gets, especially with the time allotted for makeup, costuming, and shooting. You mostly prepare his meals since he prefers your cooking to ordering take-out when he's tired from filming.

One day couldn't get any worse. It was a hot day, meaning Hugh would be tired from the filming and the heat. He wanted to lie down in bed and sleep away his stress. Hugh kept his composure and still treated the staff and cast nicely.

It was lunchtime, and Hugh couldn't wait to eat what you made for him. He went to his trailer and saw your heavenly figure preparing his meal. You were wearing a flowy, white baby doll dress. The sun shone through the ethereal fabric, dancing when you slightly moved. Hugh could trace your curves in the sheer fabric. The softness of your breasts, the soft bend of your waist, and your ass barely peeking out of the short dress.

"Oh, there you are, Hugh! Let's eat right now." You beamed and gave him a peck. He stared for a few seconds before exploring your body with his hands. Hugh felt heaven when he touched every part. He made sure to not miss a spot and treated your body like a goddess.

Hugh growled and remarked, "The lunch can wait, sweetheart. You look so fucking good in that dress." Before you can reply, he caught you by surprise by passionately kissing you.

You hummed and returned the same desperation to Hugh. You tugged his hair as the two of you continued to kiss deeper. Hugh lifted your dress and caressed your breasts. He massaged your nipples, turning them rock solid. Hugh's hands turned their attention to your ass, squeezing and lightly slapping it.

You giggle and break the kiss. "Glad you liked the dress, Hugh. I picked the perfect day to wear it."

Hugh dipped and then kissed your neck. "Have been too stressed today and the days before, honey. I need to relieve myself."

You raised your eyebrows at his suggestion. You were feeling the mood, but someone could walk inside the trailer to tell Hugh to return to set.

"Are you crazy, Hugh? One of your co-stars or makeup artist could come knocking, and they would hear us fucking," you whisper-screamed to Hugh, who was already touching your pussy. You moaned at the sensation of his rough hands rubbing your clit. You tried to protest, but Hugh's actions suppressed it.

"I don't care about them hearing, [Y/N]. I want them to know how good my wife fucking feels."

Hugh raised your dress and took out his cock from the restraint of his tight pants. He pumped it for a few times and then rubbed it at the lips of your pussy. You moaned and rubbed your breasts to further pleasure yourself. Hugh slowly entered, and you let out a loud, shaky whine.

He gradually fastened his pace, knowing he had little time to eat lunch and returning on set. Hugh growled and grabbed your waist as he reached his high. You felt the imprint of his dick on your stomach and hoped that he could see it through your dress.

You moaned and called out his name as you climaxed. You tried grabbing onto something as the sensation of Hugh's stress fucking you left you shaking.

"That was good, baby girl. Come on, let me help you get up," Hugh whispered, grabbing your waist to help you sit down. Your hair was a mess, as was your face. However, your white babydoll dress remained beautiful, sculpting your perfect body and highlighting your best features.

Hugh sat opposite and began eating the lunch you prepared earlier.

"Thank you for the two meals, [Y/N]. I can't wait for dinner tonight."

You winked and rubbed his crotch with your feet. Happily thinking what meal you'll prepare and dress he'll fuck you in with.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

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ofstarsandvibranium · 2 months

Text

Wield It

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x GN!Reader

Summary: You start your training with Qimir while also fighting the growing attraction you feel towards him.

Qimir Masterlist

You sit on a hill that overlooks the island. Your eyes are closed and you listen to your surroundings. You hear little critters chirping, waves crashing along the shores, the sound of Qimir breathing.

There's a buzzing sensation that courses through you and you know it's because Qimir draws closer. You feel him reaching out and, with your eyes still closed, you catch his wrist with your hand.

You open your eyes to see him smirking down at you, "Good," he says, staring at you with pride.

You drop his wrist and look away, staring out to the sea, "At the rate I've been going, I'm sure Mae will be much more suited to be your equal than I."

He looks at you curiously, "Does that thought bother you?"

You shrug, "Yes and no," you sigh, "Yes, because it proves to me that I'm not fit for this. No, because I still think Mae would be much more suited to be your equal than me."

"You have the potential. I sense a strong connection to the Force in you. You can have the power, Y/N. You just need to strengthen that connection, let it take over you. Then you can wield and bend it to however you like." He holds out his hand, "Stand up."

You place your hand in yours and he aids you to your feet. You stand there waiting for his next instruction.

"Close your eyes, do the same as before. Deep breaths, listen to your surroundings, but think of a time you were angry. A time that had your blood boiling, to the point you felt like you wanted everything around you to erupt in flames."

Your mind quickly flashes back to various times in your life where you felt angry, but none of them had the feeling that Qimir described. You thought back to your youth and then that's when it came.

You were a teenager. You came back from school to the apothecary your aunt owned. She was the one that took you in, raised you, and taught you how to run her shop. She always greeted you with a loving smile, but this time, she didn't.

You entered the shop to find it in disarray. You called for your aunt, hoping she would respond. But nothing.

Then you saw a pair of feet sticking out from behind the counter. You rushed over to her and she was already dead. You held her crying until the shop owner next door, came to help you.

Bounty hunters that weren't happy with a concoction your aunt gave them. In retaliation, they robbed and killed her.

The anger you felt towards them. The way you wanted to slaughter them after someone pointed them out to you a week later.

Going back to that memory, made your clench your fists and tighten your jaw. Your aunt was the only person who truly cared and loved you. And she was taken from you. Your aunt was taken from you. Rya was taken from you. You've primarily been alone and you were tired of it. You were angry that forces out of your control would take the people you cared about from you.

You wanted to take that control back.

"Amazing," you hear Qimir say and your eyes shoot open. Several rocks and boulders scattered around the hill were all suspended in the air. You feel that buzzing sensation again. It's much stronger this time.

"I told you," Qimir says, now standing behind you, whispering into your ear, "Let it take over you," he grabs your wrist, raising your arm out in front of you, "Wield and bend it."

You punch your fist out and the rocks zoom past you out into a rock pillar standing in the sea. The rocks pummel it, causing it to break and collapse.

You look over your shoulder and become incredibly aware how close Qimir is standing to you. You also feel one of his hands on your hips.

You clear your throat and take a few steps back, "That was...incredible."

"In due time, you'll be able to do much more than lift rocks," he gestures for you to follow him, "Let's eat."

____________________

You're trying to sleep. For the most part, the cave is dark, except for the little corner Qimir sits, working on his helmet.

You toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position to lay in. But nothing. Your body is pleading to rest, but your mind can't seem to get the hint. Thoughts are racing, questions and worries litter your mind.

You roll over, facing the direction where Qimir sits. He looks up, "Something wrong?"

You sigh, forgoing sleep and slipping out of the bed. You walk over to Qimir's little work station, sitting on the ground beside him, "So what is this?"

"A helmet made out of cortosis. Extremely durable. No lightsaber or blaster can get through it."

"I never knew such a thing existed," you say in awe.

"They use helmets similar to these in the Jedi academy. Help us hone in on using the Force and relying on just the Force," he states as he solders his helmet.

You look up at him in surprise, "You were a Jedi?"

"A long time ago. Things didn't work out," he says with a smirk and you can't help but snort.

"Did you just make a joke?"

He shrugs, "I can be funny sometimes."

"Has Mae seen this funny side of you?"

Qimir's smirk falls to a serious expression, "She only knows me as her Master. She doesn't know that the Qimir she knows out there," he gestures vaguely out, "is the same one here."

You bring your knees to closer to you, arms resting on your knees, "So you really think Mae will be your acolyte?"

"We have similar visions, we want to see the downfall of the Jedi. They talk of peace, but peace is a lie. There has never been and never will be peace. And I want to show them that," he reaches out and rests his hand on yours, "Together, we'll be able to show them that."

You nod, "I'm trying, Qimir. I hope you know that."

"I do. I appreciate you, for being here, for allowing this to happen."

You suddenly find yourself yawning and Qimir gives you a playful look, "Am I boring you?"

You shake your head insistently, "No, no. I just-I think my mind has finally caught up to what my body's been telling it."

Qimir rubs your hand and then pats it, "Rest. Your training continues tomorrow."

"Good night, Qimir," you say as you stand and head back to your bedroll.

"Good night," he murmurs, eyes stuck on you as you slip into bed, rolling over to face away from him. There's a pulling in his chest as he continues to watch you from afar.

He rubs at his chest, trying to soothe the ache. He knows nothing but you will soothe the ache in his chest he's still unsure about.

#qimir x reader #qimir imagine #the acolyte #the acolyte imagine #star wars #star wars imagine

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twizzie-lairs · 8 months

Text

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Quick Notes:

This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw so stay tuned...)

Reader is an artist/painter.

Part 4:

From here on out, you saw Alastor almost every single night. You felt brighter and Alastor definitely felt a change in you too. He wouldn't pry, for as long as you were happy, he was happy too.

The nightly meetings occurred for a month or two before one night, you saw Alastor and Mimzy chat before he came over to see you. Mimzy had finally told him that the reason that you were at the bar every night was because you were staying with her for the time being until you could find a place to live.

Alastor couldn't deny his affection for you any longer after hearing about your situation. He knew what he had to do. He had to make you his.

With a confidence like no one has ever seen before, Alastor twirls you around to face him, away from the patron you were helping serve drinks to.

He pulls you close and whispers in your ear, "My dear (y/n), I must ask you to accompany me to my home tonight. There is something I must ask of you."

A rush of blush appears on your cheeks, a reaction that he often and easily elicits from you. You nod in confirmation, speechless, mind racing at what he could possibly want to ask you.

Sure enough, Mimzy witnesses this encounter and walks up to you two "Alrighty, alrighty, I think we've all seen enough! (Y/N), you're done for the night! Get out of here you two!"

Bewildered, you look at Alastor. He held his arm out to you to hold on to, "Shall we head home, my dear?" Without any hesitation, you link your arm through his as he escorts you through the dimly lit streets back to a small home on the outskirts of town. It was secluded, bordering a forest.

"We have arrived, welcome, to my humble abode dear (y/n)"

After a small tour of the house, the two of you sit down on the couch in his living room. You turn yourself towards him "Your home is so lovely, Alastor. But.. what did you want to ask me?"

A gentle smile and expression creeps up onto his face, "Ah yes, I was enjoying your company so much that I nearly forgot!"

He tilts his head slightly and leans in towards you as he asks, "(y/n), it would be my honor for you to call this your home as well."

Alastor stands up and paces around the living room while he talks, "When Mimzy informed me of your plight, I couldn't resist taking you home with me. For you see, I am quite fond of you my dear."

You shoot up from the couch and immediately hug Alastor, "Oh my stars, I would love nothing more than to live with you, Alastor! It is no secret I am very fond of you as well."

Taken aback by the sudden contact of the hug, it takes him a second to adjust before reciprocating the hug, "My dearest love, I will do everything to make you happy."

From this point forward, you spend many happy months together, painting many a painting out of love for him, helping assist his radio shows, and still occasionally heading into town to pay Mimzy a visit.

It was almost pure bliss. Until one fateful night many months later.

-> Part 5

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #fanfic #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor radio demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin #hazbin alastor #radio demon #alastor x y/n #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x female reader #fem reader

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sevikasupremacy · 4 months

Note

I know you probably get this ask a lot so I’m sorry but can we get more Sevika that jealous?

No need to say sorry babe I love writing about jealous Sevika 😚

Jealous Sevika

NSFW

➼ Oh lord have mercy—

➼ Whoever lays their crusty ass fingers on you just asking to be killed.

➼ Who in their right mind would even try to flirt with you?

➼ Sevika’s presence is terrifying enough—

➼ Imagine what’s it like when she’s jealous.

➼ Oh this woman is OVERPROTECTIVE.

➼ And she hates it when anyone comes up to you with the intention of flirting.

➼ The two of you would just be chilling at The Last Drop (It became part of your daily routine at this point).

➼ And of course, you would be sitting on Sevika’s lap while she played cards.

➼ At one point you left to go grab a drink at the bar.

➼ That’s when a bold young man decided to shoot his shot.

➼ He’ll try to offer you a drink, which you immediately refuse.

➼ But it seems he liked that you were hard to get.

➼ So man didn’t stop there—

➼ He decided it was a good idea to snake his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

➼ You, on the other hand, were already pleading for help as you stared at Sevika

➼ And oh god—

➼ The woman’s eyes are screaming MURDER.

➼ And before you know it—

➼ The poor man’s body was already sprawled on the floor, choking on his own blood.

➼ This wasn’t the first dead body that you had seen let me tell you that

➼ Before you could even utter a word, Sevika has already dragged you out of The Last Drop

➼ Time to take her frustrations out ;)

➼ The moment you guys reach the apartment, Sevika kicked the door open (She was already carrying you bridal-style).

➼ Doesn’t hesitate to throw you onto the bed before hovering over you, her fingers eagerly unbuttoning your shirt.

➼ She will leave marks all over your neck, chest, stomach, inner thighs— LITERALLY EVERYWHERE.

➼ “Can’t believe I had to get my fucking claws dirty again. At least that’ll warn others not to lay a finger on you.”

➼ She will eat you out like it’s her last meal on earth—

➼ Definitely fucks you until you see stars.

➼ Oh she’s not finished yet—

➼ Make sure to have enough stamina for the rest of the night.

➼ Cos she’ll have you in every single position she could think of.

➼ Ride her finger, sit on her face, let her finger fuck you from behind— It’s not even a request. It’s an order.

➼ “What did you say, Sweetheart? Too much? Well too bad. Be a good girl and take it.”

#arcane #arcane x reader #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika imagine #arcane fanfic #sevika x you #sevika x female reader #sevika x y/n #arcane smut #arcane headcanons

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antiquarianfics · 4 months

Text

Accidental

What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warning(s): canon level violence, kidnapping

a/n: idk if this does well, maybe i’ll do a pt 2?

part 2

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

You glance down at the picture in your hand of your younger sister before putting the picture back safely away in your jacket pocket. You take a deep breath and pull the right ear loop of your black mask up around your right ear to secure your mask to your face. Then, you pull your hood up over your head, check that your gun is still securely in its holster, and slide around the corner. You were going to find your sister. You promised.

You walk with purpose towards the bar that you’d heard men who work for the man responsible for your sister’s disappearance were known to hang out. In fact, you’re pretty sure the man responsible owned the bar, so you have a good feeling anyone you kidnap to question will be able to give you some amount of information. You have a feeling, though, that you’re not getting into the bar, so you slink around the back. Surely someone will need a cigarette break?

As luck would have it, as you slink around the corner, someone is already taking a cigarette break. The man stands tall, leaning against the side of the wall, a cigarette lit. He isn’t smoking it, though, merely holding it lit in front of his face, studying it. The man is wearing a black suit, his jacket unbuttoned. Perhaps he had just gotten off work?

Good, you think. He must be freshly off work; I’ll have a few hours before anyone thinks to look for him.

You walk quietly, stealthily up to the man. Before he notices you, you take the butt of your gun and knock it hard against the man’s temple. He crumbles.

—

It isn’t easy, but you manage to drag the man to an empty townhome where you tie him up in the basement. You have his hands bound to the chair, each wrist tied carefully to the chair’s arms. His feet are bound at the ankles. You don’t bother gagging him. You sit a good distance away on an uncomfortable futon, your mask still on, your hood still pulled up. You’re cleaning your gun when the man finally stirs.

The man groans as he raises his head, bright blue eyes scanning the room, settling on the only exit up the stairs behind him, noticing the lack of windows, and then falling on his captor in front of him: You. The man says nothing, merely stares. You stare back, raising an eyebrow. He breaks first.

“I’m awake now. What do you want?” His voice is gravely with disuse, his tone serious.

You laugh. To your own surprise as well as your captive’s, it’s a genuine laugh—your normal laugh.

“What? No “Who are you? What’s going on? How did I get here?” You ask, amused.

“You’ve watched too many cop shows.”

You laugh again. “Perhaps.”

“I’ll ask again. What do you want?”

“Information.”

“Can’t help you.”

“Sure you can.”

“Why’s that?” He raises a curious eyebrow.

“Found you outside The Red Star. The only people who hang around that bar work for the man that’s responsible for my sister’s kidnapping.”

He laughs humorlessly. “Kid, listen, if your sister was taken by the mob, she probably owed them something she couldn’t repay. You’re going to have to accept your sister was in with the wrong crowd.”

You pull a knife from its sheath at your belt and put it to the man’s neck. He sucks in a breadth.

“Bullshit. Tell me. What do you know about my sister?”

“Nothing.”

You push the knife further against his neck. “Bull.”

“There’s a lot of women in Brooklyn, sweetheart. Can’t expect me to know which one you’re talkin’ about with no information.” He shoots you a cheeky smile.

You sigh and pull away. You pull out your sister’s picture and show it to him.

“Her name is Ellie. Now, spill.”

He leans forward a little to look at the picture before leaning back.

“Never seen her.”

You tilt your head at him and purse your lips.

“You’re lying. You know something.”

“Perceptive are we?”

You hum. He sighs.

“Well, I’m not just going to risk my life and my job for anyone. Who are you? Show your face.”

You roll your eyes, and against your better judgement, you pull your hood back and your mask down. You need answers. The man stares at you, taking in your features, and after what feels like forever, he seems to make a decision. He smirks.

“You’re looking for a man by the name of Barnes, James Barnes. He’s the owner of the bar you took me from, and he’s the head of the Barnes Family. He’ll have the answers you’re looking for.”

“Where can I find him?”

The man grins, a dashing smile.

“I’m right here, Doll.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #marvel x you #marvel x reader angst #marvel fanfiction

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keravnous · 2 years

Text

bathroom b!tch; tangerine/fem!reader (smut; 18+)

part two | part three | part four

playlist: train quickie with tangerine

Tangerine meets you in one of the bathrooms on the bullet train. He just wants to clean up after his tussle with Ladybug and get rid of the blood, but he could use you to blow off some steam as well. You know: he has to take it if he sees it.

word count: 5,9k

warnings: mirror sex, bathroom sex, semi public, fingering, oral (female receiving), blood (it's tangerine's), squirting, dry humping, rather rough sex, unprotected sex, light choking, confined spaces, dirty talk, name calling, kinda a quickie?, tangerine's a little rude but surprisingly gentle too idk he's just like that, he just needs to fuck the adrenaline outta himself, i have very strong feelings about this angry man

title is from the song of the same name, bathroom bitch by holychild

also thank you v for a) helping me out with Japanese and b) by telling me what being a passenger on a bullet train feels like

You knew it was a bad idea.

Starring at yourself in the impressively clean mirror of the small bathroom, you try your best to hold back any fresh tears.

You knew that a long-distance relationship wouldn't work. You fucking knew it and yet you accepted your fiancés pleas to Just try it. Maybe, it indeed would've worked out if he wasn't fucking his bloody secretary.

You regret leaving London. You miss your home.

You're not even that heartbroken, you just feel exhausted, like you wasted an awful lot of time.

You take a long, good look at yourself. Bloodshot eyes and a sad hue resting over your pupils, turning the colour dark and deep. The dress, that you bought for your anniversary brunch – a surprise, quite as much as the one he gave you, when you walked in on him, balls deep in his secretary – now looks oddly strange, out of place on you. You feel overdressed and ashamed, foolish.

But there’s something else, too: the loneliness that followed suite after your screaming, after fighting with him - after breaking up with him. It's been there since you boarded the train to Nagoya but now it rolls over you like a wave of-

Thump, thump.

"What the fuck", you mutter, taking a ragged breath, before yelling out, "Occupied!"

You just want to be left at fucking peace, not being watched by other passengers as you're bawling your eyes out. All you want is to get off that train and burn some of that fucker’s money on a spontaneous vacation. All you want is for the remaining days in Japan to be good ones.

Another sharp knock follows. This one rattles the door.

It takes a moment for you to scramble for the right words, the ones you have picked up when visiting your fiancé before. "Shiyouchu!"

Another knock. And another.

Motherfucker.

You clench your teeth - saying goodbye to the precious moments of crying in silence for the year you've lost to the most useless relationship of all fucking mankind - and wipe away the wetness below your eyes to open the door. "I said-"

Oh.

Oh shit.

There's a very handsome man waiting outside the door. He is towering over you, impatience plastered on his face and seeping through his every movement, with the way he's leaning against the door frame.

He's hot.

Also, he's dripping in blood.

His light blue shirt, once crisp and clean, is now disshelved and just as stained as his expensive looking dark-blue vest.

"Jesus, fuck, are you alright?", you blurt out.

The man's raising an eyebrow. "Could be asking you the same, love. Now, would you please get the fuck outta there."

He's moving towards you, closing in the last few inches separating the two of you. Your gaze is focused on the nasty cut on his arm.

"You're bleeding", you say dumbly.

His eyes shoot up at you and for a split-second you feel like you are face to face with a predator. The anxiety, that the blood and his rude behaviour sparked in your chest, sends adrenaline pumping through your veins and has the muscles your legs preparing for fight or flight. He blinks.

"I know", he says and his lips curl up to something, that you're convinced is supposed to be a smile, "Now, if ya'd be so kind?"

He gestures behind you, towards the empty bathroom.

"No?", you say, voice shooting up a little, which immediately has him cautiously throwing a glance down the hall to his right, "No, I won't! You need help, how the fuck -- what the fuck happened?"

"You're starting to really get on my fuckin’ tits, pretty thing. Would y'just let me the fuck inside?", he growls, tilting his head towards you. His tone has the hairs on your arms rising, as he is starring you into the ground.

You back up, colliding unpleasantly with the doorframe, that nearly drills itself into your left shoulder.

"Thank you, Lady", he's squeezing past you and then turns around again, giving you a quick one-over. You are unable to move, mesmerized by the way he's looking at you.

The corners of his mouth tilt up again and one of his hands, a little sticky and red with his own blood, comes up to his face, straightening his moustache, as his gaze runs over your body once more. You should leave, you should run - clearly, something is awfully and so not right but you just can't, being glued to the spot by his eyes.

It shouldn't make your loins grow hot, but you can't help it. You feel your belly tingle, shooting sparks down down down between your legs. He is very attractive and the aura of pure fucking danger that wafts around him doesn’t do what it normally should do – instead, it pulls you in. Oh, aren’t you just fucked.

"What were y'saying about help, again?", the man murmurs, gaze locking with yours.

"Uuuh", it's a very stupid sound you make and his eyes spark up at that, lips giving room to flash some teeth, "I-I just said you look like you might need some help?"

"Well, maybe I do."

He licks his lower lip and you blink, gaze following the movement.

This is very stupid. This is risky, dangerous, and most likely something you are going to regret.

It's not only the situation, it's him, too. He seems dangerous. It's not only the blood, mind you. It’s the way he moves, how his eyes dart through the room, over your body. It’s the aggression in his voice that he’s trying to hide, cover up but ultimately fails, something that seeps through every pore of him.

But he's also just ridiculously hot, walking with his crotch first, heavy northern British accent swirling the words around his tongue and, fuck, it's mostly the way he's looking at you.

And you're just so fucking full of anger and grief and your life feels strangely directed and determined by your shitty-ass fiancé and there's so much rage and sadness -

You take a step into the bathroom and the door slides shut behind you.

"Good", he hums, "Because you do look, like you could also use some help."

The door locks behind you and take another step forward, approaching him. "You have no fucking idea", revenge sex is a very stupid concept but now, it seems very tempting. It's exciting and makes you feel oddly alive.

"Did'ya get dumped?", and you don't know why you trust him with that information but you can hear yourself say: "Cheated on. Fiancé of twelve months." There is a hand sneaking around your waist, pulling you in closer. You can smell him now, the blood on his skin and clothes, the heavy scent of his perfume – it’s warm and thick, vanilla and fruit, like an orange grove.

"Allow me the comment - that's one bloody stupid bastard."

You look up at him and blink. That man's insanely pretty and you swallow as he pulls you in even closer, your hand connecting with his chest. It is firm and warm and your fingers get a little sticky with the fresh blood on his shirt. They splay out, feeling the firm muscle flex beneath the expensive fabric.

"How much time d'we have, sugar?", he hums, runs his thumb across your lower lip.

"I have to get off in Nagoya."

"Gonna get you off alright now, sweetie", you roll your eyes at that and he chuckles, "Bit more than half'n hour I'd say. Think we can manage that?"

You nod while biting your lip, adrenaline thick and heavy in your veins, pumping your blood down south and making you wet wet wet, and he laughs at that, runs his tongue along his bright, bright teeth.

It's sheer excitement that has your belly tingle and you lock your eyes with his, the darkening blueish green pulling you in and then he leans down, locks his lips with yours.

They are soft and warm and his moustache tingles a little. You hum against his lips, one hand fisting his vest as the other sneaks up his muscular arm, runs over and through the blood, up up up next to the cut and comes a halt on his neck. The hand on your waist holds you close, fingers spread out delicately as he starts to feel you up.

His tongue darts out and licks over your lips and you gladly give him more room, parting your lips slightly. He's pushing in, licking into your mouth. You hum deep in your throat, pressing against him, tasting the cigarette smoke on his lips.

You can feel the bulge in his pants, his dick pressing hotly against your lower belly. It ignites your loins, pleasure shooting through your abdomen.

You moan into his mouth and he responds by pushing you back, heaving you up the small sink, deepening the kiss. Your back presses against the mirror as you clutch onto him, hand running up his neck and into his hair, slick with product and a little sticky with sweat. Your knees hit his hipbones and the man starts to roll his hips into yours, having his hard dick rubbing against your crotch and your eyelids flutter with the feeling. He's rock-hard and so so hot through his dress pants and you can't fucking wait to get to it.

He eventually breaks the kiss, breath ragged as his eyes roam over your face, hands feeling your thighs up. You decide that you need more of him and thus, your free hand roams over his chest, fingers making quick work of his vest. As soon as you pop the last button, he hastily tears it off of himself, throws it to the ground where it lands with a quiet thud.

"C'mon sweetheart, I know you clammin' to touch me", he says, voice deep and raspy and you do - like you're on fucking autopilot. Your hands dart out, roaming over his defined chest. He feels nice and firm and makes you want him more, want to feel all of him, all at once.

He hums quietly, as you open a few buttons of his shirt and run your hands over the sweaty, warm skin, through the dust of fine chest hair, making his chain rustle. He feels nice and it makes you want him.

The man looks up from your hands and you don't know what has come over you as your hand glides up further, cupping his neck, thumb on his jawline. "Fuck me", you breathe, "Fuck me 'til I can't walk."

He grins and leans in even closer, his clothed and hard dick pressing against your wet panties, as he's kissing a wet trail from your jaw to your ear. "Who would've thought - such a naugh'y lil'mouth on such a pretty woman."

You hook one leg around his waist, tugging lightly at the hair that's curling in his neck as he starts to suck on your neck. The slight pain ignites your lust, has arousal blooming and wetness pooling between your legs. You want to tell him to stop, before he marks you up for good as --

"Name's Tangerine", he suddenly rasps, as his tongue rubs over the spot he has been sucking on and you're pretty damn sure that he just gave you a hickey.

"Like the-"

"The fucking fruit, yeah. 'M gonna burst you more like something of a cherry, though", he rumbles, quietly laughing to himself with his fingers digging into your hips.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he presses himself flush against you - all firm muscles, perfume, and hot skin - tongue licking over your throat like the hot blade of a knife, dancing over your jaw.

It's most likely not his real name and that should really, really alert you. But it doesn't - instead you surrender yourself to him, letting your head fall back and parting your legs, inviting him in.

And the man -Tangerine - follows suite and shoves your dress up up up, runs his hands over your now exposed thighs. You lean forward a little, until your lips brush over his. "Name's Y/N", you whisper and his eyes glint a little at that, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, you gon' be a fun one", he grins and you do too, before leaning in and kissing him again. He is less gentle now, keen on getting you hot, his kisses turn sloppy quickly, biting your lower lip and licking into your mouth until you lack air. The thumbs on your legs dive in deeper, until they connect with your crotch. And then, one of them gently runs over your soaked panties.

Tangerine breaks the kiss, wet lips brushing over the corner of your mouth, only to inhale sharply - keeps his cheeks puffed theatrically for a short moment, then exhales just as sharply, eyeing you up and down. "Jesus Christ, that pussy of yours s'fucking wet, innit?", he rumbles and two of his fingers run over the wet fabric once more, slowly starting to rub your clit.

You gasp, hips bucking a little and you watch the way his hand vanishes under the hem of your dress. "Fuck", you moan quietly as he quickly finds the spot that makes your thighs clench. He rubs you through your panties, soft lace turning wet wet wet and dampening his skin. Your mouth falls agape seeing his wrist twitching between your legs and the way he's looking down at it, a little mesmerized, makes your head swim. Then, he stops.

"Yeah, let's get those off", he mutters, more to himself than to you and then he's tugging at the straps of your panties, riiips the lace and tears them apart. "Oh-", you gasp unintelligently as he carelessly drops them to the ground and you really don't fucking mind at all.

It's the first time in a long time that you feel wanted, like someone's actually hungry, greedy for you. And it turns you on. A lot. It is like Tangerine has flipped a switch and you want him just as much as he seems to want you. And you want it now.

You blink at him through your lashes. "You gonna touch me now?"

"Easy, love", he chuckles, genuinely amused and then his fingers are slooowly creeping back over your legs, until his index finger finally touches your exposed cunt. The touch is cold, but not unpleasant and you suck in a sharp breath, one that hitches in your throat.

He watches you, as he runs it over your pussy, quickly joined by a second, digits running up and down, spreading your slick. You hum, pleasure building up in your abdomen and then, finally, his fingers return to your clit.

Slow, wide circles spread your lips apart, making you moan and throwing your head back in pleasure. His bracelet clinks as he quickly picks up a faster rhythm, keen on seeing you coming loose, circles growing smaller.

"Oh shit, yes that's fucking it", you can feel arousal building in your stomach, shooting through your body. Tangerine laughs under his breath and his lips are onto you again, licking and sucking over your straightened neck. You don't give a fuck anymore, the slight pain of him bruising your skin makes your hips buck and rolling against his digits.

"Such a good girl, ain't ya?, he groans against your neck and it sends shivers down your spine as you're moaning and gasping, nodding frantically.

Your body feels like it has been ignited, with the way his fingers rub your clit, teasing your pussy and then there's one finger circling your hole and fuck, you really fucking need it. You spread your legs farther and Tangerine puuushes in, sinks one rather cold finger in your hole, your hot hot skin meeting the cold gold of his ring.

Tangerine starts to fuck you slowly, finger pushing in and out of you, until you're loose enough to take a second one. His rings thrust against your hole every time he pushes them back inside and the sensation has you whining, his lips still glued to your neck, occasionally moving down down down to you cleavage, licking fat stripes over your warm, sweaty skin.

A flood of very good, very dangerous emotions has one of your hands abandoning the sink, instead running up his arm, splaying across his shoulder. You can feel the muscles working slightly beneath the light blue fabric, a little dampened by his sweat. "Fuck, you make me so hot, shit, that feels so good", you whimper quietly, gasping as his fingers push even deeper. It seems to kick Tangerine off, moustache grazing your skin as he’s picking up an even faster rhythm - rubbing, circling your clit faster, adding more pressure - obscene squelching sounds filling the air of the small bathroom. You moan as pleasure shoots up your spine, has you rocking on and against his fingers.

You can feel your walls clenching around his fingers, hole fluttering against the cold, golden rings and then --

He breaks from your throat and whistles lowly as fresh wetness pools around his fingers, your squirt dampening his golden bracelet and the cuff of his shirt.

Tangerine pulls his fingers out of you slowly, slick with your juices and looks at them for a few seconds, the way your wetness is glistening on his skin in the dim lights. He brings them up up up, gaze connecting with yours and then -

They go past his lips, as his tongue darts out and licks them clean. You blink - once, twice. "Fuck", you breathe, and he chuckles.

"You taste like a fuckin' dream, love", his hands push your legs further apart and before you know it, he sinks down to his knees. You blink at him, as he lifts the hem of your dress up, "Might wanna hold that f'me", and you do, pulling the fabric as high up as you can, exposing yourself to him further.

Tangerine tsks as he takes the sight in and you can feel your cheeks growing hot, burning red, as his fingers dance over your pussy.

"Don't ya just have the prettiest cunt?", he hums, running his fingers through your folds, "'M gonna fuck ya so good."

"Jesus, Tangerine", you huff out, legs shaking a little as his thumb carefully rubs over your clit.

Tangerine looks up at you, smirking a little and then he's leaning in, hands coming to rest on your thighs, forcing your legs apart. He's not breaking eye contact, keeps your gazes chained together, as he dives in and licks a long, fat stripe from your hole upwards to your clit.

You fucking mewl, as his moustache rubs over your sensitive skin, tongue circling your clit for a short moment. His eyes gleam up at you, watching your reaction as his tongue swipes down, over your folds to your hole, teasing it. It has your legs kicking a little and you grab the sink with both your hands, as your thighs give a quick shake.

You can hear him chuckle deep in his throat and it makes you hot hot hot all over, with the way his tongue crawls back up, lips grazing your cunt and then he's onto your clit once more, gently lapping at it, placing soft kisses on the sensitive skin.

A strangled noise escapes your throat as arousal rushes through your abdomen and up up up your whole body, has your chest heaving with a ragged breath and rolling your hips forward. It's so so good, but not enough - you just need more.

"Don't ya move, love", Tangerine rasps and one of his hands grabs your hips forcefully, dress sliding up to your navel as he's holding you in place. The other crawls up your lower leg and thigh, teasing your folds and then one finger presses against your hole, pushes in roughly.

You moan as he immediately starts to fuck you with it, pumping your wetness in and out of you with a rather merciless rhythm, keen on having you come for him, having you squirt once more.

His eyelids flutter, long and dark lashes against his pale skin as his tongue licks over your folds, tasting your wetness and taking your scent in. You're tasting so so sweet to him, like a fucking forbidden fruit that he's going to devour anyways, because he can and he will and because fuck the rules he had set himself for this job.

He closes his eyes as he pushes a second finger into you, pumping them in and out of you, while his tongue laps at your cunt, lips closing in around your folds, gently sucking. His fingers are fucking you fast now, pushing you further and further.

"Oh god", you gasp, one hand still holding your own weight, the other now fisting his hair, pulling it. It seems to spur him on, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and placing wet, open-mouthed kisses on your cunt, gently nibbling at the soft skin as his finger pumps into you. It's even better than before, with his beard scratching you and his tongue and lips gliding over your cunt as if it were a riddle he's going to solve without his hands. The heel of your shoe digs into his back - desperate for any leverage, to just feel him - as you are nearing your release.

"Shit, fuck fuck fuck", your voice sounds strange in your ears, high-pitched and far far away, between the squelching sounds that his rapidly moving fingers pull out of your pussy, "I'm gonna-"

He hums and then, after a short moment, pulls his digits out of you and grabs your hips hard, holding you in place, not stopping his tongue from rubbing over your cunt hard.

It tips you over the edge, has you breaking loose. You gasp loudly, throwing your head back against the mirror, incoherent rambling leaving your lips as you come - riding your orgasm out on his face as he licks you through your orgasm, your hips bucking wildly with it.

As your orgasm rolls over you, you already know that this isn't over. Usually, you would be spent for now, calm and a little tired but right now - you're not at all, lust still rolling over you, fresh wetness pooling between your legs again. "Mhm, shit", you breathe, feet kicking a little as Tangerine's tongue continues to flick over your clit. You are still wet, already desperate for more, more of him.

All you can think about is his hard dick, that you've felt earlier pressing against your crotch and pure want tingles in your stomach. Tangerine's lips close in around your throbbing clit, overstimulation making your head swim.

"Please, fuck, please", your hip bucks against his iron grip that holds you steadily against the sink. Tangerine looks up at you again and let’s go of your clit with an obscene pop. His moustache is dampened by your wetness as he grins up at you. "Please please", he mocks your high-pitched whines and then smirks, "Wan'it that bad, love?"

"Need you - ah, fuck - inside me. Oh, shit", you whine, as your hole clenches around nothing, desperate for more than his fingers. You are so turned on by this stranger, lust crashing over your body like waves - you can feel its tingle in your chest, your legs, feeling your pussy desperate for another touch.

Tangerine blinks for a moment and you're sure, that you saw his eye twitch and then he, very dramatically, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. "Shit, love, you make me feel all sorts o'things", he says quietly and then quickly gets up, wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

He leans in and his lips lock with yours again and you can taste yourself on his tongue, as he licks into your mouth, grinning against your lips, damp stache rubbing over your upper lip. He licks over it, groans deep in his throat, while his hands brush over your legs, before he commands, whispers against your lips: "Bend over the sink f'me.”

"What?", you blink, words not really reaching you through the lustful haze that has wrapped your brain in like cotton candy. All you can do is look at him, at this very handsome stranger with the very fake name and he has your head swimming, brain giving in and surrendering to lust once more.

You take the hand he offers you as he helps you down the sink, your legs a little wobbly. "Alright c'mon now, girl, don't keep me waitin'", Tangerine gives you a light pat on the cheek, rings barely connecting with your skin - a patronizing gesture that has your knees going ever weaker for a moment as you try to turn around, hands gripping the edges of the sink.

You watch him in the mirror, as he makes quick work of his belt and the fly of his trousers. As he pulls his dick out, your mouth waters. It's long and big and has just the right girth, a drop of precum glistening on its tip. You'd really like to suck that cock, like right motherfucking now.

Tangerine looks at you. "Got all hungry fo'it?", and you nod - breathing out Fuck yeah - arching your back for him, "Alright love, just a minute."

He spits in his hand and rubs the saliva over his dick, giving himself one, two strokes. You arch your back, keeping your eyes on him as he grabs your hips hard, lines himself up, head of his dick resting against your hole - all hot and hard - and then he finally, finally pushes himself in. The stretch is nice and has you squirming a little with the dull pain, excitement lighting your nerves up.

"Jesus Christ", his head falls forward a little, "You're so fuckin' tight."

He bottoms out, forcing himself in deep, holding still. You can feel his dick twitching inside of you, but he doesn't move and you can see his chest heaving, hear him grunt. His hand roams over your bare ass, shoving the dress even higher, until your back is partly exposed and his hand creeps around your body, over your stomach and under the dress, slips beneath your bra and cups one of your tits.

Tangerine squeezes it, feels you up and then pulls his dick back out only to quickly push himself back in. The sound that leaves your throat is nothing but desperate and your hand grips the sink harder, knuckles slowly turning white. His jaw is going a little slack as he rolls his hips into you, fucking you slowly.

"Ah shit", he groans, a deep and coarse sound, that makes you shiver, "Doesn't that just feel lovely?"

He watches the way his dick pumps into your pussy, eyebrows drawn together, lips slightly agape - until his gaze meets yours in the mirror once more and there it is - a shadow that dances over his eyes, turning the mesmerizing blue and green dark dark dark. One of his hands suddenly darts forward, rings glimmering in the dim light, only to roughly grab your chin, forcefully holding your head in place. It hurts a little, but the pain feels good, the way it stretches your back and intensifies the arch of it, forces you to look at him and yourself. Your mascara is pooling beneath your eyes, pupils blown wide and cheeks reddened.

"Would'ya just look at yourself", Tangerine groans, "Ya might be the hottest fucking thing I've seen in a long fuckin' time --" He groans again, thumb catching your lower lip and you moan as you watch his face coming a little loose with pleasure.

Tangerine picks up a faster rhythm, thrusting into you and you push your hips back, meeting him - desperate for more more more. He grins at you in the mirror and his hand creeps a little lower, until it rest riiight below your jawline and then -

Then he squeezes.

It has you gasping, choking a little at the sudden loss of air and the feeling of your windpipe being closed. Your hip bucks against his and he licks his lips.

The lack of air has adrenaline rushing through your veins once more, as his dick pushes against your spongy hot walls and you feel your body surrendering to him fully, the small voice in the back of your head remembering you that You are at his mercy has you growing even wetter.

The hand lets go off your throat, now gently holding your head in place and you suck in a few deep breaths, gasping, greedily sucking in the air, as --

There must be a bump on the rails, as the wagon suddenly lifts a little and has you thrown forward towards the mirror, shoves his dick deeper into you. You moan, instinctively catching his eyes in the mirror.

His lips are slightly parted, eyes darkened by lust and his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. The train speeds up just as he leans forward, throws his chest against your back. His body is so so hot against yours and your walls flutter around his dick, as his scent wraps you in once more.

Tangerine lowers his head, until his forehead rests on your shoulder, cock twitching inside of you. "Ya have no bloody idea what'cha doin' to me, Lady", he says, voice coarse and dark and your eyelids flutter, "'M gonna ruin ya."

He lifts his head a little and your gazes connect in the mirror once more. A shiver runs down your spine - he means it.

And you feel it, too, as he thrusts into you once, knocks the air out of your lungs with the sheer force of it. The tip of his dick hits the spot perfectly and you nearly cry out in pleasure, hands gripping the sink tightly. There are small lines forming around his eyes as he's grinning against your shoulder, pulls out a little only to force himself back in, even deeper this time. The hand that was toying with your tit leaves, crawls back down and his arm wraps itself around your waist, holds you close.

Your legs shake as Tangerine picks up a faster rhythm, starts pounding in to you like a starved man, like an animal gone wild. It's in his eyes, hunger hunger hunger and you feel pleasure shooting through your body, pooling in your abdomen. You squirt against his dick, wetting the trimmed pubic hair as his balls slap against your wet skin.

You suck in a sharp breath, a strangled high pitched whiny moan escaping your lips, as he hits your walls again, tip of his dick brushing over your g-spot, having you seeing stars. Your eyelids flutter, gasps escaping your mouth with every one of his thrusts.

"Be fuckin' loud, you lil'slut, I don't care - one - bit", he says through gritted teeth, each word one thrust, "If they come knockin'. I’ll kill’em."

It shouldn’t – really, it shouldn’t – but it has your head swimming, rocking back against him, obscene sounds filling the small bathroom and you moan loudly. His jewellery rustles and clinks as he ruts into you, huffing against your shoulder. The force of his thrusts has your body moving back and forth like a ragdoll, hipbones bouncing against the sink, one of your hands coming loose and pressing flat against the mirror, desperate for any sort of leverage.

You can feel yourself clenching around him, white hot pleasure building on the edges of your brain, until there's nothing left but him him him.

"Fuck", you cry out, "I'm gonna fucking cum, shit shit shit", lips falling agape with pure pleasure. It’s too much and you can feel your muscles tensing.

The hand around your throat tightens a bit more and that’s all you need – has your eyes falling shut, your second orgasm rolling over you. It knocks the air straight out of your lungs, has you going limp, while the muscles in your thighs and abdomen clench, holding and squeezing his dick inside of you.

You can hear him moan deeply, sounding far far away and then his cum hits your walls, paints it as he buries himself deep deep inside of you. You gasp, desperate for air and he lets go off your throat.

You suck in a few breaths and feel him doing the same, chest heaving against your back. "Fuck", he says and slowly straightens back up, looking at you in the mirror.

"Y'good over there, love?"

"Uh-huh", you hum, unable to speak, and blink at him. His hair's a mess and his cheeks are a little reddened, glistening with sweat.

Tangerine fucking winks at you and then slooowly, very carefully pulls out of you. You inhale sharply as you feel some of his cum following suite, dripping down your legs. You want to straighten up, too, clean it up, but he's quicker, taking one of the disposable towels and gently sweeps along your cunt.

"'S good, I can do that too, y'know", you say and take it from him, cleaning yourself up. For a long moment, while you can hear him putting himself back in his pants, there's silence between the two of you. Only, as you carefully put your dress back in place, does he look at you again.

"Be careful tonight, sweetheart", he says nonchalantly while tugging his shirt back into his slacks. He says it like it's nothing but it has the hairs on your body standing up.

I’ll kill’em. I’ll kill’em. I’ll kill’em. You look on the slight stains that his blood left on your fingers, that soaked his shirt.

"Make you sure you get out of that train in Nagoya, y'hear me?", his gaze is soft as it lands upon you. Your brain goes numb with anxiety.

"Y-yeah, yeah sure. I'm meeting a friend there, wouldn't miss her for the world."

He smiles at that. A genuine, warm smile. It does something funny to your stomach. "Alright love, gotta dash", he's straightening his vest and giving himself a glance in the mirror, running his hands through his hair, "There's this chap I gotta get rid of. Gimme a call, when you're in London, would'ya?"

You just nod and take the slim, white card he hands you. The numbers on it are orange.

"Very fucking funny", you huff and he grins, leans down towards you, and places his lips on your cheek. The kiss is feather-light but it'll haunt you late at night in the weeks, months to come after the story of the crashed bullet train breaks the international news. But right now, it makes your chest tingle in all the right ways.

"Tis'a good girl, eh?", Tangerine whispers and then, throwing one last look at you, struts out of the door.

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