#now that i can stand up straight my jawline is better

[bi-ftm-on-main]

Hello. How is everything going? How is your recovery coming along? Hope you are doing well.

Hi, soz for the late reply

Thanks for checking in :) I'm going good fr

I haven't had to wear the post op binder for like two weeks and fuck it's so nice to not have to worry about my chest anymore

But also it's so obvious now how shit my posture has been lmao. A trans first world problem I'm sure

I even went to the gym and didn't get winded after 10 minutes, so life is getting better

[peachysunrize]

Victory ⥃ boxer!Aemond Targaryen

Summary: after his match, you find him in the locker room and decide to tend to him yourself. Rest assured, the rush of adrenaline in his blood leads to you rewarding him for winning the game.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, porn without plot, breeding, no prep, boxer aemond, bruise & wounds & blood, dirty talk, tell me if I’ve missed something. English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 1.9k

A/n: based on this thot I got yesterday! Anon, if you see this, you made my day with this very very insane ask and I hope this does your thot justice🤭 beta-read by beloved @namelesslosers <3 Reblogs & comments are most appreciated!

You used to hate it at first when you started dating. All the bruises and wounds made your heart clench so hard that you cried for him every day while tending to him.

But now? You have toughened up, and Aemond has gotten better, much better in fact, that he’s now fighting for the semi-final of the season against Cregan Stark. 

You remember how he’s always hard on himself when he focuses on a goal he sets, and the past few months have been pretty rough on both of you. However hard to maintain and deal with, you can’t deny how hot it was to have your boyfriend all sweaty and topless throwing punches at his coach, groaning and yelling with each movement.

You watch his platinum hair swing with each punch and dodge in his ponytail, his long limbs harshly knocking his opponent down on the ground. You stand beside Criston, fingers fiddling with the necklace Aemond had given you as a promise of his undying love while he risks his life in the ring.

Cregan, the bulky man he is, launches at Aemond, punching him right in his nose. You can hear the groan of pain that leaves your boyfriend’s lips, but soon, he has cornered Cregan, his fists coming down on his opponent’s face at a fast pace that knocks the poor guy out in less than a minute.

The fight has ended, and your Aemond stands with the judge holding his arm up as the winner, winking at you as the blood drips from his nose and lips, his remaining good eye shining with pride.

He truly makes a sight for sore eyes; silver hair unruly from all the jumping, abs covered in a thin layer of sweat, a very smug smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. The thought of this man being yours makes you desire him even more.

You clap for him, screaming and rooting with Criston and his family from the audience until they lead him to his locker room to tend to him. You follow them closely, finding Aemond sitting on one of the benches with a fresh towel thrown over his shoulders as he takes a swig from the bottle with an open mouth, water dripping on his chin and chest, creating an even more lewd sight for you to devour.

“Leave us please, thank you,” Aemond says, beckoning for you to get closer as soon as his team empties the room for the two of you. 

“Congratulations on your victory, Mr. Targaryen,” you say, stepping towards him slowly, sultry, reaching to caress his angular jawline as he spreads his thighs for you, making room to stand before him.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he replies, dropping his bottle on the floor before his gloves and hands make a home on your thighs, slowly caressing the flesh, nodding when you show him the kit his doctor has laid next to him to tend to his wounds.

He visibly relaxes under your touch, wincing and exhaling sharply as you slowly clean the blood off of him, one hand holding his face straight gently while the other dabs a wet clean cloth with betadine around the open wounds. He is gazing up at you through his long light lashes, his thin lips curled into a smirk as he basks in your warm and welcoming touch.

You press a kiss to his forehead, grimacing when your eyes fall on the bruises on his nose and close to his good eye, shaking your head in disapproval. You know there won’t be a change, but you will tell him silently that you don’t wish to see him hurt, that he should care more about his health rather than these games that put his life in dear danger.

You help him pull his hands out of the boxing gloves, the fabric of the gloves torn and your boyfriend’s knuckles are bloody and bruised as well. Sighing softly, you grab his hand, bringing it to your mouth before pressing gentle kisses over the wounds.

He hums softly, his free hand coming back to rest on your thigh, observing you closely as you lean down again to clean his face, wiping the remaining sweat and blood off his skin. His fingers trace shapes on the curve of your ass, long digits praising you wordlessly on your choice of wearing a dress, making it much easier for him to ogle at you.

You can feel the path his eye takes when he lifts the hem of your dress a little, humming with every inch of your skin that comes into his view. You grip his jaw tighter, forcing him to look up at you.

“I have a pretty face, you should keep your eyes on that and your hands to yourself,” you whisper, leaning down to press a warm kiss on the bruise on his nose, “maybe I’ll take pity on you later when we get home.”

“You do have a pretty face, sweetheart,” he says, staring at you with his hooded eye, hands creeping up to your buttocks, “but I need more than just that. Maybe you can offer me your pretty cunt as a reward? I won the game, I deserve it.”

“You need to stay still and stop talking,” you giggle when he pinches your flesh playfully, pulling you even closer to have a better view of your teats in front of his face, “I won’t give you a reward for not getting yourself killed.”

“Oh, come on—” With a tight grip on your waist, he pulls you down on his lap, forcing you to straddle him with your legs on each side of his thighs. You squeal, arms coming down to wrap themselves around his broad shoulders, “stop playing coy with me. I saw you rubbing these pretty thighs together when I had Stark on the mat, punching him in the guy. I’m more observant than you think.”

“Are you now?” You hum when you feel the subtle bulge in his shorts, “so observant, so strong,” you mumble against his cheek, starting kissing his jaw down to his ear, letting him grind your hips down against his growing desire.

“Hmm, baby, I need you,” he tilts his head, giving you more space to prep his neck with kisses, licking a drop of sweat from his throat to the side of his jaw, sinking your teeth into his skin slightly before he grows impatient and cups your cheek and guides your lips to his, his mouth claiming yours in a deep passionate kiss.

Your tongue moves along his, fighting for dominance which you lose pretty quickly. You reach around his head to pull the hair tie off, letting his silver locks fall freely on his shoulders while he kisses you for a long hot minute, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Let me take care of you, my victorious man,” you mutter against his lips as the two of you breathe the little air between your faces, your clothed pussy rubbing against the rough fabric of his shorts with each move.

He groans against you, his restrain running thin with each second that you spend on marking his already marked neck, hips snapping up into you desperately. But he is not known for his patience, nor his temperament, so when he grabs your face, his bruised fingers digging into your cheeks, you know what is about to come.

“Be a good girl and take out my cock, I can’t wait any longer for you to be gentle with me,” he growls against your lips, his fingers pushing your panties to the side, “I won’t consider myself a winner if I don’t make you come on my cock at least two times.”

You whimper pathetically, reaching inside his boxer shorts to pull out his already leaking shaft, stroking him to full hardness. He is twitching in your palm, his heat and girth make your mouth water, and the way his fingers caress your inner thighs only urge you to guide him closer to you. 

Holding yourself up a bit with your knees on the bench he’s sitting on, your lips meet his in a messy kiss as you sit on his cock slowly, feeling the beat of his heart against yours with how hard adrenaline is pumping through his veins.

His cockhead breaches your wet entrance, making the two of you gasp and whine as your warm walls envelop him slowly with every inch of him you take inside you. 

“Good girl, taking me so well,” he says with a raspy chuckle, his large hands covering your ass completely as he helps you sheath his cock deep inside you fully, “prettiest girl with the prettiest cunt, now ride me, baby. Make a winner out of me.”

Your brain is already mush, you nod at him, hands bracing themselves against his shoulders as you roll your hips to his liking, skin melting against the skin with each move and grind.

He reaches to pull down the neckline of your dress, leaning down to litter butterfly kisses all over the top of your breasts while he helps you move up and down his cock quicker.

You know what he wants, what he needs, so with one tug, your teats are free from the confine of your bra, and Aemond latches onto your nipple like a starved baby needing to be fed — although he is anything but a baby with how roughly he bites and sucks on your bud, blowing air on the wet flesh that has you shivering and moaning out his name in pleasure.

Matching your enthusiasm, Aemond plants his feet on the ground, snapping his hips up into yours at a wild pace, fucking your heavenly cunt at a brutal pace that has you biting his shoulders to muffle your cries of euphoria.

His nails dig into your flesh while his bruised and bloodied face searches yours for his tongue to lick its way into your mouth. Aemond keeps up his fast pace, pistoning his cock into you with abandon as he bites your bottom lip and sucks on your tongue.

Your release is swift and smooth and world-shattering — your vision goes white for a second when the tip of his dick jackhammers your sweet spot for a good minute. Gushing around his girth, you moan into his mouth as your wetness drips out of you with each rough thrust.

Aemond somehow fastens his movements, driving his cock up into your soaked pussy quicker, deeper, and rougher if possible, chasing his sweet release. His breaking point is when you whisper in his ear about how sexy he looked when he was beating Cregan to the pulp, how you wish he would manhandle you on his bed and fucking you like you mean nothing to him.

He comes harder than ever with a loud groan of your name, hands clamping hard on your waist that you are sure there’ll be bruises that match his in a few hours. He fills you with his hot cum to the brim, his cock twitching deep within your core as he gives you all he has.

Breathless but not done, he kisses the corner of your mouth and whispers, “What a good fucking girl for me. Now, you need to give me the other half of my prize.”

[littlelamy]

untitled

drew starkey x victoria’ssecret!model!reader

a/n: the fashion show last night was underwhelming to be honest. i wish they dedicated more money and time on the lingerie and wings rather than having high profile models. but i did enjoy seeing tyla, lisa, bella, jasmine, adrianna and so many others; they looked amazing!!

the backstage chaos hums around you—makeup artists rushing, models adjusting their wings, designers shouting last-minute adjustments—but all you can focus on is the gnawing anxiety building in your chest. your heart feels like it’s pounding out of your ribcage, palms damp with sweat as you fidget with the intricate straps of the lingerie you’re supposed to wear. the excitement that had carried you through rehearsals, fittings, and sleepless nights now feels like a distant memory, swallowed by a crippling sense of doubt.

“what if i trip? or my walk looks awkward?” you whisper under your breath, eyes darting toward the stage where the show is already underway. each model that struts down the runway with effortless grace only seems to magnify your insecurity.

before you can spiral further, you feel a hand—warm, steady—gently squeeze your shoulder. you turn to see drew, standing just behind you, his brow furrowed in concern but his eyes soft, deeply grounding. he doesn’t say anything at first, just pulls you aside from the noise and chaos, into a quiet corner.

“hey,” he says softly, his voice low and reassuring, cutting through the frantic energy around you. “look at me.”

you hesitate for a moment, still caught up in your head, but you eventually meet his gaze. his expression is serious, but there’s something else there too—an understanding that goes deeper than surface-level comfort.

“you’re freaking out, huh?” he asks, but it’s not condescending. there’s a knowing warmth in his tone, like he’s seen you unravel like this before, and it’s never phased him.

“i don’t know if i can do this,” you admit, barely above a whisper, your voice strained with vulnerability. “all these other girls have done this a million times, and i—”

“you’re not them,” he cuts in gently but firmly. “you’re you. that’s why you’re here. no one else brings what you bring.”

you shake your head, still not fully convinced. “but what if i mess up? what if i make a fool of myself in front of everyone?”

he steps closer, his hands coming up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing softly along your jawline, forcing you to stay anchored in the moment with him. “listen to me,” he says, his voice dropping an octave, more intense now. “you’ve worked your ass off for this. this isn’t some random opportunity that fell into your lap. they picked you because you’ve got something none of those other girls do. it’s not just about being pretty or walking in a straight line. it’s about the energy you bring, the way you make people feel when they watch you.”

you close your eyes for a second, trying to let his words seep into the cracks of your insecurity. but the doubts are still there, lingering like shadows.

“drew, what if i freeze? what if—”

“then you freeze, and you keep going,” he says, his tone steady, unyielding. “but i don’t think that’s going to happen. because you don’t give up. i’ve seen you face way bigger things than this, and you never back down. so why would you start now?”

his words hit harder than you expect, a mixture of challenge and belief that makes your heart clench. he’s not just offering hollow reassurances—he’s reminding you of your strength, of who you are when you’re not wrapped up in fear.

“and besides,” he adds, a softer note creeping back into his voice, “i’ll be out there, right in the front row. the second you step on that stage, i’ll be looking right at you, reminding you of exactly how badass you are.”

a laugh escapes you, despite yourself, the tension breaking slightly. “you always know what to say.”

he grins, leaning down to press a slow kiss to your forehead. “because i know you. better than anyone. and i know you’re about to blow everyone away.”

there’s a pause, and for a moment, the world feels smaller—just the two of you, tucked away in this corner, away from the lights and cameras and expectations. drew’s hands drop from your face, but he keeps one hand on your waist, his thumb tracing calming circles against your skin.

“you’ve got this,” he says, quieter now, almost like he’s speaking directly to your soul. “and if you start to doubt yourself, just look for me. i’ll be there, reminding you that you’re not alone in this.”

the knot in your chest loosens, just a little, and you find yourself nodding, the panic subsiding enough for you to take a steady breath.

“okay,” you say, more to yourself than him. “okay. i can do this.”

he gives you a final, lingering look—one filled with so much pride, so much trust—and then steps back, giving you the space to gather yourself.

“you better go out there and make them all wish they had your confidence,” he teases, his voice light again, but there’s an underlying current of truth to his words.

as the stage manager signals for you to get into position, you take one last look at drew, and for the first time all night, you feel steady on your feet.

because no matter what happens out there, you know you’re not walking alone.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[leilanihours]

"I like your hand in mine, but I think it would look even better if it was wrapped around my throat " - I forgot what number prompt it was lol but could you do this smut with Nika Mühl congratulations on 1K queen

# SHE'S GOT MY ATTENTION, SHE'S CONFIDENT

pairing: nika muhl x bartender!reader

word count: 812

warnings: smut (MDNI), head (reader receiving), mentions of self-pleasure (nika's)

prompt: "i like your hand in mine but i think it would look even better if it was wrapped around my throat"

⭑ from lani: first smut of the celly 😜 WATCH THIS TIKTOK FOR BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF THE SHOT TRICK

celly masterlist !

main masterlist !

"WRAP YOUR LIPS around the bottle, put your hands on my head, and then just follow my lead, okay, babe?" you explain to the brunette in front of you.

nika bites her lip and nods as her friends are hyping her up from their respective seats. she blushes at your use of the nickname, hoping that it goes unnoticed by you.

you smirk at the power you have over the girl, wanting to tease her a little bit more. you notice the amount of distance between you two, disapprovingly shaking your head, "c'mere, don't be shy."

nika's eyes slightly widen as you pull her closer to you by placing your hand on her hip. you're only inches apart now, you could practically feel her heart beating against your own.

"okay, i'm ready," she affirms. she towers over you due to her height, but it's obvious that she needs a little confidence boost. you're banking on this shot to do so.

you twist open the lid of the small bottle, placing the base of it in your mouth as you tilt your head back, waiting for nika to come up behind you.

she follows your previous instructions, placing her lips on the rim of the bottle and gently placing her cold hands on either side of your face.

you take this as a sign to go, so you swiftly place your own hands on her jawline and spin your head so that you could flip the bottle of liquor to deliver the shot. nika flips along with you, her head now being the one that's tilted back.

you remove your mouth from the bottle quickly as nika downs the shot, feeling the burning liquid flow down her throat.

you lick you lips at the sight, not even realizing that your hands had drifted down to her waist, bracing the girl in support.

once she's standing upright, you take one of your hands and grab hers, lifting it in the air as the room fills with cheers.

you're both laughing when the exchange is finished, hands still intertwined. but the second your eyes meet, the room stills.

there's nothing but pure lust and desire lingering between the two of you - it's almost painful. there was no denying that nika was gorgeously sexy, it was one of the main reasons you were so eager to perform the shot with her.

after being so close to each other, it was insanely hard to back away. it was like you two were drawn to each other with an unbeatable magnetic force.

you can't help yourself when you whisper in her ear, "look, i like your hand in mine, but i think i'd like it better if it was wrapped around my throat."

nika's demeanor changes entirely, the atmosphere (and probably the shot she just took) giving her a newfound confidence, "when does your shift end?"

"baby, i run this place, it ends whenever i want it to," you smirk.

she bites her lip as she quickly pulls you into one of the bathrooms, instantly shoving you against the door and smashing her lips onto yours.

you moan at the feeling as it goes straight to your pussy, dripping into your underwear. it doesn't help when the brunette actually listens to your words from earlier and slyly wraps her hand around the base of your neck.

she squeezes gently, pressing you tighter against the door. her knee somehow ended up between your legs, pushing up against your clit.

"fuck, i can feel you dripping on me already," she groans as she begins to kiss down your neck and cleavage.

"yeah? you wanna fuck me now or what?"

"i'm getting there, baby, no need for the attitude," she shakes her head, peering down at you before lowering to her knees.

she unbuttons the denim shorts you had on, slowly pulling them down as her nails and rings trail red marks on your skin.

she begins to place teasingly light kisses on your thighs, working her way closer to your clothed pussy. you whine at her pace, ready to complain before she has you stepping out of your soaked underwear.

"mmm, who got you this wet?" she mumbles, thumb teasing your clit.

"you, nika- fuck," you sigh once you feel her tongue run through your slit.

soon enough, she's rubbing tight circles around your bud and fucking into your hole with her experienced tongue.

you find yourself grinding against her face, chasing down your climax. you look down at the girl, only to find her toying with her nipples underneath her shirt with her free hand.

the sight pushes you further to the edge, and with a few more laps of her tongue, you're coming undone with your legs shaking.

"holy shit," you pant out of breath.

she laughs at your fucked-out state, "yeah, you're definitely coming home with me."

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[brainddeadd]

The Proposal

When a sudden immigration issue threatens to deport you back to Canada, you devise a plan: convince your charming but infuriating neighbor, Quinn Hughes, to marry you. What starts as a wild scheme leads to unexpected feelings, hilarious misadventures, and a deeper connection.

this was originally going to be a series but my brain went pooft

Your life is officially a disaster. All it took was a single letter from immigration. Due to some bureaucratic nightmare, your visa is expiring, and you’re suddenly at risk of being deported back to Canada—a place you haven’t lived in years. Your job, your friends, your entire life is here now. You pace your apartment, chewing on your lip, heart racing with panic. There has to be a solution, some way to stay.

That’s when the idea hits you—crazy, reckless, and entirely illegal.

You need someone to marry you.

But not just anyone. It has to be someone local, single, and trustworthy enough to go along with this scheme. Unfortunately, your options are limited. And then you think of your neighbor: Quinn Hughes.

The thought makes you groan aloud. Sure, he’s gorgeous—with his sharp jawline, quiet charm, and infuriating smirk—but the two of you are more like frenemies than anything else. Your relationship consists mostly of snarky comments in passing and the occasional argument over his terrible parking. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And besides, if anyone can convincingly pretend to hate you while still marrying you, it’s Quinn.

The Proposal:

Later that evening, you find yourself standing outside Quinn’s door, chewing nervously on the inside of your cheek. The moment he opens it, dressed in a hoodie and gym shorts, you blurt out, “I need you to marry me.”

Quinn blinks, stunned. “What?”

You take a deep breath. “It’s not what it sounds like. It’s just… immigration messed up my visa, and if I don’t fix this soon, I’m going to be deported. The fastest way to stay is if I marry a U.S. citizen.”

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, a hint of amusement in his dark eyes. “And you thought I was the best option?”

“Yes,” you say, trying to sound confident. “I mean, you’re already in my life. Sort of. And it’s not like you have a girlfriend or anything, so…”

Quinn’s lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile. “You do realize this is illegal, right?”

“Only if we get caught,” you say quickly. “Look, it’s just a piece of paper. We don’t have to actually act married. We just have to fool immigration long enough for me to get my green card, and then we can… annul it or whatever.”

He studies you for a moment, as if weighing the insanity of your request. “What’s in it for me?”

You rack your brain for something to offer. “I’ll stop giving you shit about your parking.”

Quinn chuckles softly. “That’s it?”

“And… I’ll buy you coffee every morning,” you add, desperate.

He lets out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You owe me. Big time.”

Your heart leaps. “So that’s a yes?”

Quinn shrugs, looking both amused and resigned. “Guess I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Hilarious Misadventures Ensue:

From the moment Quinn agrees, things spiral into a series of chaotic events. You and Quinn suddenly have to act like the perfect couple, and it’s harder than you anticipated—mainly because the two of you are polar opposites.

1. The Wedding: You decide on a quick courthouse wedding to make it official. There’s no fanfare—just you in a white sundress and Quinn looking mildly annoyed in a button-down shirt.

“I feel like we should say something meaningful,” you whisper as the judge prepares to officiate.

Quinn smirks. “Like what? ‘Til deportation do us part’?”

Despite yourself, you snort, and the judge gives you both a strange look. You manage to keep a straight face just long enough to exchange vows—if you can even call them that—and sign the marriage license.

“Well, Mrs. Hughes,” Quinn teases after, flashing a grin. “How does it feel to be married?”

“Like I made a huge mistake,” you reply with a playful glare.

2. The Fake Instagram Life: To sell the story, you both agree to post a few couple-y photos on social media. The problem? Neither of you are exactly Instagram-savvy.

Quinn’s first attempt is a blurry photo of the two of you holding coffee cups. “What’s wrong with it?” he asks, frowning as you groan.

“It looks like a hostage situation, Quinn.”

After several failed attempts, you finally manage a decent photo: you sitting on his lap, laughing as he pretends to kiss your cheek. It’s fake, of course. Completely fake. But the way his hand rests on your waist feels a little too real.

3. Immigration Interview Disaster: The immigration interview is the real test, and it’s an absolute disaster.

The officer asks simple questions: “How did you two meet?” “What’s Quinn’s favorite food?”

You both answer at the same time, giving completely different answers.

“Spaghetti,” you say.

“Chicken tenders,” Quinn mutters.

You shoot him a look. “Since when?”

“I told you that last week,” he whispers back, exasperated.

The officer narrows her eyes, and you and Quinn exchange panicked glances. Somehow, you scrape through the interview, but not without promising each other to actually learn more about each other next time.

Feelings Get Complicated:

What started as a transactional arrangement begins to shift. The longer you spend time together—watching TV on his couch, cooking dinner side by side, sharing space in ways that feel dangerously domestic—the more the lines blur between what’s fake and what isn’t.

One rainy night, you find yourself curled up against Quinn on the couch, his arm casually draped around your shoulders. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you wonder if he feels it too.

“This was supposed to be fake,” you whisper, almost afraid to say it aloud.

Quinn’s hand brushes your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “But it doesn’t feel fake anymore.”

You look up at him, your breath hitching as his gaze drops to your lips. Before you can overthink it, he leans in, capturing your mouth in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s not rushed or rehearsed—it’s real. And it’s everything you didn’t know you wanted.

The Inevitable Realization:

Over the next few weeks, everything changes. The fake touches—his hand on your back, your fingers laced through his—become second nature. Quinn starts leaving his toothbrush next to yours. You start falling asleep in his bed more often than not.

And then, one morning, it hits you. You’re not faking anymore.

You sit across from him at breakfast, watching as he scrolls through his phone, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. It’s terrifying, how easy this has become.

“What are you thinking?” Quinn asks, glancing up from his phone.

You smile softly. “That maybe this wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.”

Quinn’s eyes crinkle with amusement, but there’s warmth there too—something deeper, more genuine. “Guess we’ll have to stay married, then.”

You laugh, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, Hughes.”

And for the first time, he doesn’t seem to mind at all.

[alchemistc]

I've already written this a million times between fic I've posted, tag rants, and my notes app, but now I'm thinking again about Buck and Tommy first meeting and:

Howie pulls away from the hug a few seconds too soon for Tommy's liking. It's been a long time since he's seen him in person, since before the car crash, before the stabbing, before all the fucked up shit that's happened to the 118 since he left, and he was maybe hoping for - more.

The LAFD are a bunch of fucking gossips and he's heard his fair share about them all, names passed vaguely around in group chats and ladder bars, stories blown even more out of proportion than all the actual miraculous survival stories. The two guys Howie gestures at with thumbs over his shoulders both look familiar, and he's already trying to place their stories before Howie introduces them. Brown hair-brown eyes-killer jawline gives him a twisted grin as Howie introduces him as Eddie, and he reaches across to shake Tommy's hand, firm and even. Tommy can tell before the handshake is over that he'd served.

That's Diaz. He'd texted Howie the night the kid had been buried fucking alive and somehow lived to tell the tale. He can't quite pull the memory, but Tommy's pretty sure he'd been the one at the 118 who'd been targeted by that crazy sniper, too.

The other one, bright eyed and staring around like a kid in a candy shop, looking like he might vibrate right out of his skin - shocks of bronze in his hair from the overhead lights and eyes cast silver-blue in the twilight, jolts when Howie reaches back and up to smack at his chest, standing at attention and catching Tommy's eye as Howie introduces him as Buck.

Jesus fucking Christ

Tommy's gonna die tonight.

Between Howie's sporadic communication and all the gossip, Tommy knows about Buck. Kid's a magnet for a shit storm. And Tommy's about to fly them straight into one.

"Uh, h-hi," he says, cheeks rounding as he leans in with a devastating smile, hand extended.

Tommy feels like he's been hit by a fucking truck.

"You, uh - call me Evan," he says, and all the air sort of whooshes out of Tommy's lungs at once as he shakes Tommy's extended hand.

Oh.

This is a bad idea. Capital B capital I bad. Tommy can't tell which one of them is extending the handshake too long, but he's actually kind of hoping Howie will fucking say something about it, make Buck-- Evan -- let go.

"He's gonna need that hand back, Evan," Howie says, an inflection on the name that Tommy won't understand for a good few months.

He ducks his head bashfully, shakes up, down, one more time, before he lets go, and Tommy can feel his own gaze chasing the silver-blue sparks of his irises as they dip out of view. Shit. Fuck.

This is fine. Tommy's worked with plenty of attractive guys. He's worked with plenty of guys he's felt a spark with, right out the gate. He's a fucking professional. He's flown out of enemy gunfire, into firestorms fed by 80 mile-per-hour winds. This is fine.

From what he remembers of the early days at Harbor, when he'd kept up better with Howie, this Buck guy isn't even in the wheelhouse of men who'd be interested, anyway. So. That's that.

"Nice to meet you, Evan," Tommy says, and doesn't miss the pursed lips and raised brows shared between Diaz and Howie when Evan's face lights up like a Roman candle, head tipping back up at an angle and his smile wide wide wide -- too wide for the suicide mission they're about to undertake.

Christ.

"You too, Tommy," Evan says, and Tommy sticks his hands in the pockets of his flight suit to keep from doing something insane like press his fingertips into the pink-swatched skin over his brow that might be a birthmark.

[bloody-peach]

Snake Eyes (Helluva Boss: Striker x F!Reader smut fic)

(gif edit by me)

~~~♡♡♡~~~

Now Playing: Kaleo - Way Down We Go [headphones recommended]

Goodie Bag: flirting, rough sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, masturbation (f), cursing, dirty talk, striptease, vaginal fingering, creampie [let me know if I missed anything].

A/N: Who doesn't wanna fuck Striker? Like, come on. When he pinned Blitzø to the wall in his debut episode, I wanted to be in Blitzø's place so bad. So I decided to make a fic. It's pretty short, but it's still good, trust me. Enjoy!!

Taglist: @omniuravity @pinkhimecat @moths-and-mantids @neonvehk @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered and all Striker simps!

~~~♡♡♡~~~

Your life wasn’t the best at the moment. Your bitter ex put a bounty on your head for no reason, and this forced you to be on the run. You were currently in the Wrath ring, trying to outrun this bounty hunter that’s been on your ass for a while. It wasn’t fair that he was riding on a horse, but you were able to keep a good distance from him. Unfortunately, you didn’t know that he had a lasso on him. You gagged when the lasso wrapped around your neck tight, pulling you back and knocking you onto your ass. You tried to pull the rope off of you, but it was on tight. During your struggle, he walked up to you, looking down with a smirk on his face. His tail flicked in a flourish, making the same sound as a rattlesnake’s tail. “Gotta admit, you can run pretty fast. But not fast enough.” a rough male voice said. “I haven’t lost a catch in my entire life, and I ain’t starting today.” He pulled the lasso up and got you on your knees. You had a good look at him and recognized him immediately. This was Striker, the ruthless bounty hunter who hunted down and almost killed Prince Stolas. You were aware of his track record of bounty hunting, and you knew you were just another paycheck. ‘Fuck, he’s hot,’ you thought to yourself.

He eyed you up and down and said, “Hey, you’re a cute one. Not a bad body on you, either. Maybe I’ll have some fun with ya before I turn ya in.” You weren’t sure how, but this man just flipped your switch and you decided to flirt with him. When he loosened the lasso so you could speak, you smirked and looked at him with flirtatious eyes, saying, “Oh? Have I caught the eye of the famous bounty hunter, Striker?” Striker’s eyes narrowed, momentarily taken aback by your smirk. His grin remained plastered on his face, however, as he leaned in further, his breath brushing your cheek. “Famous, eh?” He repeated, drawing out the word. “Maybe I am, maybe I ain’t,” he chuckled softly, running a hand through his snowy hair. “But there ain’t no doubt that I’m the best around these parts.” He paused, looking you up and down with a predatory gleam in his golden eyes. “And now that I got ya, well...you got a few options.”

“Option one, sweetheart,” He began, gesturing to the lasso around your neck. “We could keep things simple and quick. I turn you in, you’re executed, and I pocket that hefty bounty on your cute little head. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, right?” He winked, a mischievous smile tugging on his lips. “Or option two, we have ourselves a bit of fun, see how much you enjoy it..or how much I do. And then I decide whether you’re worth keeping around or not. Sound good?” You liked where this was going, so you smile and say, “Personally, I like option two better, wouldn’t you agree? Maybe if we hit it off, we can fake my death and split the bounty. I got quite a bounty on me, so if we split it, we’d be richer than even those Goetias.” Striker’s eyes widened as he smiled, clearly surprised at your words. “Ya reckon? Now there’s an idea,” he said, running a finger along your jawline. “Well, alright. Let’s give ol’ option two a go, see how it feels. But understand something, sweetheart, if I feel like you’re lyin’, tryin’ to trick me, I ain’t above changin’ my mind and sendin’ you straight to yer maker.” As he helped you stand up, Striker adjusted his hat and walked closer to you, looming over you. “Now, don’t think you can run off, darlin. That ain’t an option.” He smirked, his voice low and seductive. “I’m in control here, always. Otherwise, we ain’t got no game here.” You were getting turned on so much the more this went, so you smiled and said, “Well, that’s good, because it wouldn’t be any fun if I was the one in control.” A sinister grin spread across Striker’s face, his eyes flickering with excitement. “That’s more like it,” he growled, grabbing your arm and throwing you onto his horse. Once he got on, he made you wrap your arms around his waist, saying, “Hold on tight now.” With that, you two were off.

It was sunset when he stopped at a hotel and got you two a room. Once he brought you in the room, he pinned you to a wall and gazed down your body, lingering on your chest, before locking back on your eyes. “I bet you taste real sweet, don’t cha?” He murmured, his finger tracing a slow circle on your throat. “Between those legs of yours, you prolly taste like heaven.” He grabbed you and pulled you close to him, his body pressing against yours, the hard lines of muscle evident beneath his clothes. You blushed, but felt so turned on as you said, “Well..only one way to find out.” Striker grinned, his grip tightening on your waist as he pressed his groin against yours. “Oh, I’m gonna,” he growled, his hand sliding down your body and undoing your pants. “Real soon, darlin’. Real soon.” He leaned in, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispered, “But first, I wanna watch you squirm, feel your body shake with pleasure before I taste every inch of ya.” He broke away, stepping back and fixing his coat. “Strip for me,” He said, his voice deep and commanding. “Slow and sexy, darlin’. Don’t forget, I’m in control here.” He lit a fresh cigar, puffing on it as he watched you undress, his eyes never leaving your body.

You nodded and you started to strip nice and slowly, giving him a bit of a show with a little strip tease. Striker’s eyes widened, his nostrils flaring as he took in the sight before him. Your slow, erotic dance had rendered him speechless, but not for long. He swallowed hard, his fingers drumming on his belt. Soon, you were completely nude, your arousal evident as he noticed your juices dripping down your thigh. “Damn, girl,” He muttered, his voice shaky. “Look at ya, drippin’ an’ ready for me.” He slowly approached, putting his cigar out and throwing it out as he reached for you. He wrapped an arm around you, his hand groping your ass as his other hand brushed against your wet flesh, a low chuckle escaping him. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he praised, his hand running along the curve of your hips. You let out a series of moans as he started to rub your pussy, his fingers skillfully playing with your folds and clit. Striker couldn’t help but chuckle as he felt how wet and responsive your pussy was beneath his fingers. “Just wait til I’m inside of ya,” he breathed into your ear, his words coming out heavy. “Ain’t nothin’ like havin’ you clench around me, feeling every throb and twitch.” He slid one finger inside you, feeling your walls contract around him. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He pushed in another finger, his cock straining painfully within his pants. “I’m gon’ fuck you so hard, baby. Make you scream my name when I reach that sweet spot.” His hand started moving faster, thrusting in and out of you, rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Feel that, darlin’? Imagine it bein’ me -- my cock poundin’ into ya, fillin’ you up.” Just the thought of his cock stretching your pussy out made you even wetter and made you moan more as he continued fingering you. “Fuck, baby,” Striker swore, his arousal threatening to burst through his jeans. “You ain’t no liar, are ya?” He chuckled darkly. “Your pussy’s so damn greedy for me, already wanting more.” He took his fingers out, watching as they glistened with your essence. You watched as he licked his fingers clean, a sinister look in his eyes when he looked at you, saying, “I was right. Your pussy do taste like heaven.” He cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Tell me, darlin’, do ya wanna feel me inside of you? Then get on your knees and beg for it.” He demanded, his voice thick with lust. “If I’m gonna take ya, you best beg for it properly.”

You nodded and got on your knees, looking up at him and putting on your best puppy-dog eyes as you said, “Please, Daddy..I want your hard cock..give it to me..I need it so badly..please fuck me...I’ll do anything you want..” Striker’s eyes darkened with hunger, his heart pounding in his chest. “That’s my girl,” he praised, reaching for his belt buckle. Unbuckling it, he let his jeans drop, revealing his thick erection standing tall and proud. He smirked, holding his cock and aiming it at your mouth. “Anything I want, huh?” He mused, running a hand through his hair. “Well, since ya asked so nicely, I’ll start easy. Take my cock in yer mouth and suck it like a good girl,” he commanded, his eyes never leaving your face. “Prove how much ya want it.”

You nodded and gently grabbed his cock, stroking it and licking up the shaft. You then kissed the tip of his cock and slid his cock into your mouth, sucking on it as you moaned. Striker hissed, his hand fisting in your hair as you took him into your mouth. “Goddamn, that’s good,” he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily. “You got some skills with that tongue, that’s for sure.” He tugged your hair, guiding your movements. “Swallow me down, deep throat me,” he grunted, his pace picking up. “Make me feel that warm, wet throat around my dick.” His breathing grew ragged, his hips bucking hard. “Don’t stop, keep going. Show me how much ya need this cock.” You did as he said and took more of his cock in your mouth, feeling it go down your throat and slightly gagging until you were able to relax your throat, making things much easier. Soon, you were able to deepthroat him to the point of your lips touching his hilt. Striker’s eyes rolled back as he tilted his head back, his fingers digging into your scalp. “Fuck, yeah..” he moaned. “Take it all, darlin’, show me how much you love it.” His thrusts became more aggressive, his body trembling. “Keep goin’, make me lose myself in your mouth.” You sucked even more, making sure your tongue massaged his shaft. You reached towards your pussy and you started to touch yourself as you sucked him off, clearly turned on from the experience as your juices dripped onto the hardwood floor. Striker’s eyes narrowed, his breaths coming out harsh and uneven. “You’re gonna make me cum like this, aren’t ya?” He growled, his grip tightening on your hair. “I fucking love a woman who knows what she wants.” He pulled out, his cock glistening with saliva. “But I’m in control here, remember? So, enough of that,” He said hoarsely, grabbing your arm and throwing you onto the bed, soon pushing you down and hovering over you. “Time to get that pretty pussy stretched wide.”

He put his hands on your hips, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy. “Spread your legs wider for me, baby,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Cause I’mma ride ya so hard, mark my words..” You spread your legs wider, your pussy twitching with anticipation. Striker grinned, his eyes gleaming with danger. “Perfect,” he murmured, positioning himself between your legs. “Now, tell me if you want me to be gentle or rough.” He teased, his tip brushing against your entrance. “Your choice, darlin’.” His eyes bore into yours, waiting patiently for your decision. “Remember, you asked for this. Now choose wisely.” You smirked and wrapped your arms around his neck, saying, “That depends, sexy. How do you want it? You’re the one in charge here. I’m just here to take it like a good girl.” Striker’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Damn right you are, darlin’. I’m in control.” He growled, thrusting into you forcefully. “But don’t worry, I’ll give ya a taste of both.” He began with a steady rhythm, his hips grinding against yours. “Like that, huh?” He sighed, his voice tinted with satisfaction. “Worried you wouldn’t be able to handle me, but look at ya takin’ it like a champ.” As he pistoned in and out of you, his pace increased. You were tight, so fucking tight around him. You just lost it as his size stretched you out so good, moaning as he kept thrusting, “Ohhh fuck..yeah..!” Striker’s eyes heated up, his thrusting becoming even wilder. “You love it, eh?” He snarled, gripping your hips tightly. “Takes a real man to stretch ya out like this, don’t it?” He leaned down, whispering in your ear. “But I ain’t done with ya yet.” His grip tightened as he pulled out of you. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard now, got it?” Without waiting for an answer, he slammed into you again, his thrusts erratic and violent. “Like that? Wanna see how far you can take it?” He snarled, his pace unrelenting. “Show me how much you can take!”

Your pleasure had reached its peak, crying out in pure ecstasy, “Ahh..! Ohhh..S..Striker..! Yes..! Harder..! Deeper..!” Striker roared, his thrusts becoming even more savage. “Fuck yeah, that’s it,” he gritted out, his breathing labored. “Ya like that, huh?” He reached down, rubbing your clit roughly. “Don’t hold back, darlin’,” he ordered, his pace not slowing. “Let me hear you scream.” His cock slid in and out of you like lightning, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. “Goddamn, I’m gonna paint your walls with my cum,” he promised, his eyes blazing. “Can’t wait to hear ya scream my name.” “Y-Yes..! Please...fill me up...make me yours...ohh fuck..!” You moved your hips to match his thrusts, intensifying the pleasure for both of you. “Ohhh fuck, your cock feels so good, baby..!” Striker growled, feeling you meet his thrusts. “That’s it, darlin’,” he encouraged, his pace increasing. “Fuck, I ain’t gonna last much longer.” He grabbed the back of your head, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You kissed him back, moaning in his mouth as your tongues did an erotic dance. Striker broke the kiss and looked you in the eye. “Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he demanded, his voice raw with desire. “Do ya want me to fill ya up?” His thrusts became more desperate, his hips slamming into yours with all his might. “Tell me what you need, baby girl.” “I..I need you to fill me...fuck me in all of my holes...fill me up full of your cum until I can’t take any more..use me..break me..!” you cried out. Striker’s eyes flashed, his entire being focused on satisfying your request. “Goddamn, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” he snarled, his thrusts becoming even more brutal. It’s not too long until he came deep inside you, filling your pussy up to the brim. “Gah, fuck..” he groaned. He quickly pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, wiping his cockhead on your ass before aligning it with your back door. “Ready for another round, darlin’?” He asked, his voice thick with lust.

With a swift motion, he plunged into your ass, making you gasp. “I’mma fill every hole ya got,” he promised, his thrusts frantic. “Feel every inch of my cock inside ya.” His cock slid in and out of you, fucking you mercilessly. “How’s that, huh?” He panted, his grip tightening on your hips. “Need me to go faster, slower?” You gripped tightly on the bedsheet, your teeth gnashing down on the fabric as you lost your mind even further, moaning as he fucked your ass so good, “Ohh yeah...more..fuck me more...don’t stop..” Striker smiled cruelly, his thrusts becoming even harder. “Atta girl,” he praised. “I ain’t gonna stop until you drain every bit of cum from my cock.” He slapped your ass, hearing you whimper. “Scream for me, Y/N,” he commanded, leaning down to bite your neck. “Let everyone know who you belong to.” “S..Striker...ahh...Striker...I..I belong to you..!!” Striker smirked, biting down on your neck to make sure a mark would be left behind, a sign of ownership. “That’s my girl.” His thrusts grew frenzied, his cock stretching your ass to its limit. “So goddamn tight,” he snarled, his pace ruthless. “I’mma make sure you can’t walk tomorrow.” You soon could feel the knot in your belly starting to wind up and soon, you moan out, cumming hard. Finally, he came inside you again, his orgasm shaking his entire body. He kept thrusting into you, elongating both of your orgasms.

“There ya go, baby,” he chuckled, collapsing beside you. “I hope I filled you up good.” You crawled up to him and laid your head on his chest. “Oh, you did so much more than fill me up, baby...” you said, your voice slightly slurred. Striker chuckled, wrapping an arm around you. “Glad to be of service, sweetheart,” he said, his breath still slightly ragged. “Guess ya liked it rough, huh?” He put his hand on top of your head and nuzzled you, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he whispered, running a hand through your hair. “Next time, I’m gonna be gentler.” He watched you snuggle into him, making him smirk. “Unless you beg for more, of course,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. “But for now, let’s figure out how to pull the wool over that bastard’s eyes and how we’re gonna split that bounty.”

~~~♡♡♡~~~

[daisybianca]

pairing: lewis hamilton x yn

summary: lewis is kind of a mafia type of guy here, but he still remains the best f1 driver in history with 8 championships (!). mafia means that he kinda kills people. he's always hot put now he is double hot. idk if that's even possible, but anyway. you're his girl, and he sees that someone made a bruise on your hand. spoiler alert: i doesn't end well for the guilty man.

warnings: lots of cursing words, sexual actions, mentions of death, etc

(a/n): it is written in 1 pov, from his point of view. though it couldn't get any hotter? nah, it can.

WHEN I UNLOCK my mansion's door and come see my girlfriend crying, three completely different options pass through my mind.

One. Killing someone.

Two. Making someone regret.

Three. Doing both of those after kissing my woman's tears until the don't exist anymore.

I rush to her on the couch, not even bothering to shut the door behind me. "What happened, baby?" I get on my knees and try to hold her close to me. She doesn't meet my gaze. She's hidden her face behind her little hands, but I can still take a glimpse of her scorching hot, red cheeks. "Hey, y/n, talk to me." I try to persuade her, even though it seems impossible.

"P-please," she stutters, and something dark and colorful captures my attention on her left wrist.

Fuck.

It's a bruise. A fucking bruise. A huge one to be exact.

I try to compose myself. It's not even enough. I think my jawline starts to tremble, and I don't even notice at first. "Y/N," I force her to look at me, forcing her hands away off her beautiful face. Her features are soft but her precious eyes have turned swollen and her lips are tighter than ever. "Who did this to you?" The words come out sharp. I don't even think about them to be honest.

She is my fucking woman. These are the rules. Nobody is allowed to touch her in a way that she doesn't want to. Not even me.

I cup her small face with both my hands. "Who hurt you, baby?"

I hear a soft cry and then she tries to speak again but doesn't manage to do it properly without stuttering.

Fuck, I won't look good in jail clothing.

I bit my lip in order to not lose it just at this fucking moment. My fists become a ball. My girl notices and places her little ones over my hands to stop the shaking.

"Baby, please," I mouth. "Tell me who the bastard is, and I swear, he'll never see sunlight again to touch you." Forcing myself to stand up, in a matter of seconds, I sit on the couch, and she's moved on my lap. I think I'm losing my mind each time she looks at me, and I don't know who to kill. "Just tell me a name, Y/N."

She finally stops crying. Fuck.

My heart jumps each time she attempts to speak but is unable to due to the silent sobs.

A few seconds pass.

A few more, too.

Eventually, I feel a hand pressing on my chest and immediately blood rushes straight to my cock.

Damn it.

Of course, my dick doesn't get the whole situation. It has a whole brain of its one. In fact, we are under hard circumstances right now. And surely, there can't be anything harder than that at the moment.

She hides her face in my neck. I place my hand on the back of it and wait.

I think my blood pressure is on its fucking limits when she turns to face me. "It's my ex." She blurts out suddenly. I want to laugh but I don't.

Oh this fucking bastard again... Though we were done with him by the time I threatened him with his life if he ever got close to my girl again. But he definitely isn't the type of guy loyal to anything. Not to promises, not to threats, not even to his ex-girlfriend.

"He asked to meet me. I said no, but he wouldn't understand. He was waiting outside my place this morning, claiming he'd like to talk. I wanted to get away from him, but he grabbed my arm and..." her voice breaks.

I hold her for a few seconds as the sobs initiate again. Afterward, I get up and make a very important call. Returning, I am very pleased to meet a much-better-looking, without-any-tears woman sitting on the couch and scrolling through her phone.

Noticing me, she looks at me. I try to smile. "He'll be dead till midnight." Sitting next to her, I take her on my lap and kiss the dry tears off her cheeks.

And then I start undressing her, not because my dick is asking for it since one hour ago, but because she seems in the mood for it.

"I just want you to fuck me, Lewis." She says as I press my palm around her neck and spread wet kissing along her breasts. "Fuck me like you hate me."

I smile. "Baby, I could never hate you."

"Just do it for an hour," she moans against my ear. "Please."

I stop to look at her, laughing. "An hour?" I rise my eyebrows. "Love, you underestimate me."

She laughs too, and we're off to upstairs, where one of the mansion's bedrooms is located.

I want to make love to her, truth to be told. Passionate and delicate. But she asked for a rough fuck.

She knows I'm a man capable of doing both. So I proceeded to doing them.

[sebastiansluts]

While you're waiting for me to write some of these requests.....how about a lil something I wrote a bit ago that I just finished up for you all ❤️

Bucky Barnes x Reader; everyone is above age, like 20s ish, dark!40s bucky, virgin!reader, dub-con/non-con, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal cockwarming

ANY HATE WILL BE DELETED THIS IS A JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE DON'T LIKE, DON'T INTERACT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

You were beyond excited, it was finally tonight, the night! You were going out with the Bucky Barnes tonight, you still couldn't believe it. He was the catch of the neighborhood, and yet, he'd asked you out. He was the type of boy who could have anyone, and there were plenty of girls who did want him, but he wanted you.

You felt a flutter in your chest, and you tried to calm down, sitting on the couch in your front room, trying your hardest not to stare out the window. He would come, you were sure of it. This wasn't some prank, he wouldn't do that...would he? Surely not, Bucky wasn't that type of man, right?

A knock on your front door jostled you out of your thoughts and you jumped up immediately, flattening your hands over your skirt, getting rid of any wrinkles before you quickly crossed to the door, not wanting to keep him waiting.

You opened the door, eyes focused on the doorknob until you had it open enough. You looked up to the figure in your doorway, your gaze traveling up a fitted waistcoat, a navy jacket, semi messy tie and that face.

Cut jawline, high cheekbones, straight nose, pink lips, and blue, blue eyes. His hair was slicked back, pressed down against his head and you smiled, thinking how sweet it was that he was so dressed up for you.

Bucky's eyes were focused lower than your face, and you felt your cheeks heat when you realized he was staring at your chest. You laughed lightly but his eyes were dark, making you take a step backwards, your laugh turning awkward.

His eyes snapped up to yours, full of concern and laughter. "Doll, where'd you get that rock? Steal it from your ma's jewelry box?" He gently turned you back into the house, following you in and shutting the door behind him. You frowned, looking down at your chest, lifting a hand to your necklace. It was a small gemstone, your birth month, given to you by an ex. You told him that, looking up at him and there was a flash of that darkness again, but it was so quick you could have imagined it.

“Where’s your dad? I wanted to tell him what time you’ll be home,” Bucky asked, changing the subject as he looked around the front room into the kitchen. 

“Oh, he’s napping. Had a long day at work and said to tell you that I should be home by eleven,” you lied, actually having no idea where your dad was, he’d left a few weeks ago and you and your mother were just barely scraping by right now. 

Bucky nodded slowly, then spoke quietly. “Well, I wouldn’t want to wake him. Shall we go?” 

“Of course! Let me get my purse,” you whispered, bending to grab it off the couch. You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you, but you knew your skirt was covering everything. Still, you felt unnerved, like he could see through all the layers to the skin underneath.

You shook off the feeling, standing up with your clutch in hand, and walked back to the front door with Bucky, his arm behind your back, not quite touching, but it raised the hair on your arms. 

“Maybe I better grab a jacket,” you murmured, suddenly chilled, but Bucky had already shut the door, and was guiding you down the front steps. 

“Doll, we’re a block from the theater, if you’re that cold you can have mine,” Bucky said easily, sliding the jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, catching it in his hands before he lifted it to your shoulders. He draped it around you, letting you grab the lapels and pull them in close. You breathed in his spicy scent, shivering again, and Bucky chuckled. “Guess you were cold.” 

The two of you walked down the road to the theater, Bucky walking you right up to the ticket taker, already handing over two before you could even read what was showing. You tried to look back at the marquee, but the man was ripping them in half, handing them back to Bucky and saying, “Enjoy the show.” Bucky ushered you inside, getting a popcorn and soda before leading you into the theater, into the second to last row, right in the middle, and though you were confused, you sat down. 

“Are we not sitting closer?” you asked quietly, always feeling awkward talking normally at the movies, even if it hadn’t started yet. 

“Nah, this is the best seat in the house, trust me,” Bucky said, leaning back in his seat and eating some popcorn, offering you some too. You smiled and took a piece, chewing slowly as the lights dimmed, the picture starting. 

You sat back in your seat, engulfed in Bucky’s jacket, keeping you nice and warm as you drank some soda before handing it back to Bucky. He moved around beside you, jostling you gently, and you turned to him, trying to see what he was doing. He sat forwards, blocking your view of most of him, and you were concerned, thinking he had been sick, but he suddenly handed you the soda and popcorn, so you took it and moved to set them down, but he tapped your thigh, just above your knee. 

Leaning over in the seats, Bucky whispered in your ear. “You still cold, doll?” You shook your head, and he continued, “You sure?” as his fingers trailed over your knee. You shivered again, feeling uncomfortable, not sure what he was getting at. His hand swept under your skirt and you moved to push it away, but you were holding the popcorn. You couldn’t reach to set it down on the floor, and you weren’t going to dump it, your other hand holding the soda, so big you could barely hold it one handed. 

You couldn’t do anything but sit there as Bucky’s hand explored under your skirt, massaging your thighs, pushing them further open until he reached your covered sex. He rubbed over your panties, feeling the warmth emanating from you, and he grinned against your ear. 

“That’s why you’re not cold anymore! You’ve got all this heat inside you, keeping you burning up. Share that heat, huh babydoll? Share it with me, won’t you?” Bucky kept rubbing at you, over your clit, making circles with an even pressure, and you couldn’t help the way you felt warmth rising from your toes up to your cheeks. 

Bucky’s fingers suddenly pushed your panties aside and slid in the wetness that he had created, coating themselves in your slick before slipping against your bare cunt. You tried to buck your hips to get him away, but all it did was give him the opportunity to slide his fingers into your pussy, making you gasp just as an explosion happened on screen. You hadn’t realized what kind of movie it was, but a war movie was not what you expected.

You jumped, Bucky moving with you, keeping his fingers inside you, and when you settled, you were practically sitting on his hand, Bucky’s body turned to face you, his knees digging into your thigh. His other arm was wrapped around your shoulders, on top of his own jacket, settled on your breast. 

It was more than anyone had ever touched you before, beyond yourself, and it was getting to you- you were trapped with no way to move, and you were too scared to make a noise, despite the explosions still happening on screen, humiliated at the thought of being found like this. Bucky sucked on your earlobe, making another shiver wrack your body, and he tightened his hold on you. 

“Sorry dollface, forgot, I’m takin’ some of your warmth, I should be givin’ it back to ya,” Bucky whispered, hot breath on the skin behind your ear, nearly making a moan slip out of you, despite yourself. He kissed your neck, sucking on the skin, ragged breaths leaving your lips as he moved along to your collarbones, peeking out of your top. 

“Damn it, I want your tits out,” Bucky muttered darkly, and your cheeks turned hot, his crass language a bit of a shock, despite what he was doing to you. He took the popcorn from your hand, and tossed it into the empty seat next to you. You turned to him, opening your mouth to tell him off, but Bucky kissed you, plunging his tongue into your mouth, stopping your words. 

You tried to protest but every noise you made was swallowed up by Bucky, kissing you messily and deeply, shoving his tongue down your throat as his free hand pulled at your top. You tried to stop him, but he had one of your tits out of your lace bra and through the neckline of your top before you could even get your hand up to his. You tried to swat at him in the small space but only succeeded in further pushing your top down, allowing Bucky the opportunity to pull your other breast out. 

Bucky finally pulled away from your lips and you gasped for air, squeaking when his hand covered one of your breasts, massaging it and rolling your nipple in his fingers, his other still buried between your legs. “See? There’s a girl, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, get on my lap and give me some of that warmth.” 

Your head whipped around to face Bucky’s, leering at you in the dark, eyes shining brightly but darkly. “Get on my lap now before I show this whole theater what a fucking slut you are, begging me to finger you in back of the picture show, tits out for anyone to see.” 

Tears sprang to your eyes, but you couldn’t do anything but nod, finally able to set the soda down as Bucky moved his hands to your waist, letting you bend to put it down before lifting you onto his lap. He pulled you back, lifting you at your thighs and setting you down with his cock slapping up against your pussy. 

You squeaked again, you hadn’t even known his cock was out, and it startled you, feeling it huge between your legs. Bucky hooked his chin over your shoulder and whispered in your ear, “Yeah, that’s it babydoll, I know it’s big, but you’re gonna take it aren’t ya? Now reach down and grab it, easy doll or we both get caught, remember? And you’re the one with her tits out, skirt up, panties drenched,” Bucky reminded you.

You held his cock gently but firmly, guiding it to your entrance, but your panties were still on. “Push them aside, and sit on my cock before I decide to stop bein’ nice and use your other lil’ hole instead,” Bucky ordered darkly, and you whimpered, reaching down and sliding your panties to the side, and pressing his cockhead against you. 

“Bucky…please. I’m- I’m a virgin,” you whispered, and you felt Bucky shudder beneath you. 

“I thought so, but to hear you say it, fuck, babydoll I’m gonna be so good to you, my little virgin,” Bucky crooned against your ear, and spread your thighs wider apart. The tears that filled your eyes before began falling as he lifted you up, making you position his dick below you, then he began to lower you. 

Bucky’s dick split you open as soon as it entered you, and your mouth dropped open on a silent shout as all the air raced out of you. You quickly bit your lip, hard enough to draw blood, desperate to keep quiet, as Bucky pulled your hips down and back until you were sitting in his lap again, his cock buried deep inside your cunt. 

You were aching, deep inside, it felt like a gut punch to your insides, but Bucky was swearing up a storm in your ear, telling you, “Babydoll, you feel…fuck, you feel amazing, my sweet little virgin girl. Oh I’m gonna take care of you doll, this cunt is fucking heaven, my dick’s never been so snug, I’m gonna blow in seconds baby. Don’t worry, this is just round one.” 

Before you could even process it, Bucky was bringing one of his hands between your legs and rubbing your exposed clit, his other hand slapping over your mouth, muffling your cry. You tensed on him, tight, not sure if you were coming or not, but he came, you could feel splashes of cum filling you, warming your insides. 

Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pulling you to lean back against his chest. Your eyes were drying but there were tear tracks down your face that Bucky kissed. “You were perfect doll, just perfect. Now just sit here and relax, watch the rest of the movie- I need to see these gorgeous tits some more,” he said, raising his hands to your chest, groping your breasts for a while before he just held them in his hands, squeezing every once in a while. 

You couldn’t move, feeling his cock still inside you, softening but not slipping out, still big and keeping you plugged up. You rested your head against Bucky’s shoulder, helpless to do anything but wait for the movie to end, but getting anxious about people seeing you. 

Finally, just before the credits started to roll, Bucky released your breasts, stuffing them back in your top, ignoring your bra. You tried to quickly stand, but the change in angle of his dick inside you made you gasp, sinking back into Bucky. 

“Nice and slow, dollface, told you it was the best seat in the house, don’t go hurtin’ it,” he murmured into your ear, helping you off his dick, his fingers under your skirt, adjusting your panties as you stood in front of him. He tucked his dick away and stood, grabbing his jacket and leaving the trash. You tried to bend to pick it up, but you were aching again, and Bucky was pushing you out of the aisle, so you left it. He placed his jacket over your shoulders again, wrapping his arm around them afterwards, pulling you into his side, turning your face into his chest, hiding your messy face from sight.

“Have a good night!” called the ticket taker, and Bucky responded in kind, with a jaunty, happy tone that you couldn’t believe had sounded so sincere earlier in the night. He walked you home, whistling a cheery tune, keeping you tucked into his side. You tried to walk up the steps and get the front door open without him, but he was glued to you. 

“Now doll, I’m not going without saying somethin’ to your father. I expect he’d want to know you had a good evening and are home safe,” Bucky said, a glint in his eye that you didn’t trust, and you tried to slip inside when you got the door unlocked, but he pushed it open wide, following you in. “Where is he, huh dollface? Where’s your father? Matter of fact, where’s your mother?” 

You were shaking like a leaf as Bucky shut and locked the door, whistling again as he stalked towards you. “They’re not here, are they baby? No, your daddy walked out on you, didn’t he? And your ma’s out there right now hookin’ to make ends meet! I saw her the other night, don’t fucking deny it.” You were backing up, Bucky still preying after you, until your back hit a wall, and he pressed you up against it. 

“My little virgin girl’s all alone, she needs someone to take care of her,” Bucky crooned, nosing at your neck. One of his hands came up to rest on your throat lightly, before pinching the chain around it and yanking hard. Your necklace broke, gemstone scattering on the floor and you gasped, staring at Bucky with wide eyes.

“The only jewelry you're gonna wear is mine, understand? You’re mine now. I’m gonna take care of you, I’m gonna provide for you. You’re never gonna need anyone again, because you’re my girl. I don’t ever want to see another man’s touch on you, in any way.” Bucky threw the chain to the floor, then pushed away from you. He examined the room you were in, walking past the couch to the rooms in the back. “Come show me your room doll- it’s time for round two.”

[blakeswritingimagines]

Seeing Jason Again

He gives a cocky grin at your reaction, his dark blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, you're surprised? I thought you'd be happy to see me." He leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "But I guess I should've known better. You always were too cool for school, weren't you?" His voice is teasing, yet there's a hint of challenge in his tone. He tilts his head slightly, studying you with an intense gaze. "So, what brings you here, huh? Just passing through Gotham City or did you have some other nefarious plans?" You take a moment to study Jason, your expression unreadable as you observe the younger man leaning casually against the wall. There's something undeniably magnetic about Jason's presence - the way his dark hair falls just so, the sharp angles of his face, the confident smirk playing on his lips. "Nefarious plans?" you echo, a slight chuckle escaping you. You push away from the bar, closing the distance between you until you stand mere inches apart. The scent of leather and musk surrounds you, mixing with the faint smell of gunpowder lingering in the air. "I'm just here for a drink. A quiet night after a long day." With a fluid motion, you reach up to brush a strand of hair from Jason's forehead, your touch surprisingly gentle given the rough exterior you present. "But if you're looking for trouble,"

At the touch on his forehead, Jason catches your hand before it can retreat, holding it firmly against his skin. His own fingers curl around your wrist, a silent challenge in his grip. "Trouble finds me," he says with a shrug, though the intensity in his eyes suggests otherwise. He leans closer, his breath warm against your neck. "And besides, you know me. I don't need much of an excuse to stir things up." There's a playful edge to his voice now, mixed with a hint of flirtation that seems almost irresistible. "What kind of drink are we talking about?" Your pulse quickens at the contact, a shiver running down your spine as Jason holds your hand captive. You meet Jason's gaze steadily, unflinching despite the heat building between you. "A whiskey sour," You replied, your voice low and smooth. "Straight up, no frills." As Jason releases your wrist, you slide your hand down to rest lightly on Jason's chest, feeling the solid beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his shirt. "And maybe later, we could find somewhere quieter to continue our conversation." The suggestion hangs in the air, heavy with implication. "Somewhere private." You lean in closer, your lips brushing against Jason's ear as you whisper, "Where we won't be disturbed."

Jason smirks, a thrill of excitement racing through him at the idea of privacy with you. He lets go of your hand, but only to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. "That sounds like my kind of plan," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Lead the way, and I'll make sure you get exactly what you're asking for." His free hand trails down to rest on your hip, squeezing gently as he nuzzles into your neck, inhaling deeply. "Gotta say, I didn't expect to find you so… enticing tonight." Your breath hitches as Jason pulls you close, your body responding instinctively to the younger man's touch. You can feel the hard planes of Jason's muscles pressed against you, the heat radiating off Jason's skin. "You always had a way with words, Jason," you say, your voice thickening with desire. "But actions speak louder than words." With a sudden movement, you spin Jason around, pressing him against the wall as you capture Jason's mouth in a searing kiss. Your tongue delves deep, exploring every inch of Jason's mouth as your hands roam freely over Jason's body. "Let's show each other just how enticing we can be," you growl against Jason's lips, breaking the kiss only to trail your mouth down Jason's jawline to his throat. "Right here, right now."

Caught off guard by the sudden shift in momentum, Jason gasps softly as your lips claim his. He responds eagerly, his own tongue tangling with yours in a dance as old as time. His hands move to grip your shoulders, holding onto you tightly as he presses back against the wall. "Fuck," he groans, a low moan vibrating in his throat as your teeth graze his skin. "Always knew you were good with your hands…" He arches into your touch, relishing the sensation of being handled so roughly. His hips grind against yours, seeking friction, seeking release. "Keep going, and I might just forget where we are," he teases, even as his body betrays him, craving more of the pleasure you offer. Feeling Jason's response, you become bolder, your hands slipping under Jason's shirt to explore the hot skin beneath. Your fingertips trace patterns across Jason's back, sending jolts of electricity through his system. "I'm just getting started," you promise, your voice laced with lust. "And I have a feeling you're going to love every second of it." Your kisses trail lower, leaving a path of fire on Jason's skin. Your hands slide down to cup Jason's ass, squeezing firmly as you lift him slightly off the ground. "Hold tight," you warn playfully, before setting Jason down on a nearby table, your own body hovering above Jason's.

Jason's breath catches in his throat as you lift him, his legs wrapping around your waist instinctively. The moment he's set down on the table, he pushes back against you, grinding your hips together in a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure building between his thighs. "Christ," he pants, his fingers digging into your shoulders. "You're playing with fire here." Despite his words, Jason makes no move to stop you, instead urging you on with his body. His hands roam over your back, nails scratching lightly as he tries to get closer, to feel every inch of your skin against his own. "More," he demands, his voice rough with need. "Give me more." You chuckle darkly, the sound sending shivers down Jason's spine. You lean down, capturing Jason's lips in another fierce kiss as your hands roam over Jason's body, pushing his shirt up to expose his chest. "You want more?" You growl against Jason's mouth, your breath hot and heavy. "Then you better be ready to take it." You break the kiss, your gaze burning into Jason's as you reach for the button of Jason's jeans. With deft fingers, you pop it open and slowly lower the zipper, revealing the tight fabric of Jason's boxers. "Let's see what you've got hiding under there," you murmur, your hand sliding inside to cup Jason's cock through the thin material. "Looks like someone's excited."

Jason's head falls back against the table, a low moan escaping his lips as your hand wraps around his cock. He bucks his hips, trying to get more friction, more contact. "Fuck, more," he gasps, his voice strained with need. "Don't tease me, not now." His hands reach for yours, trying to guide them to their destination, to free his aching flesh from the confines of his underwear. "I need you," he admits, his chest heaving with exertion. "Need to feel you inside me, need to make you mine." Jason's eyes lock onto yours, his gaze intense and hungry. "Please… don't make me wait any longer." Hearing Jason's plea, you smirk, a wicked glint in your eyes. You pull away just enough to yank down Jason's boxers, freeing his throbbing member. Your hand gives it a firm squeeze, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Jason. "Patience," you whisper, your voice dripping with desire. "You'll get what you want, but only if you beg for it." With that, you step back, giving Jason a moment to fully appreciate the sight of you. "Beg for it, Jason," you command, your tone commanding yet filled with lust.

Jason grits his teeth, a mix of frustration and arousal coursing through his veins. He watches as you step back, the sight of your body making his heart race even faster. "Fuck you," he snaps, though the heat in his eyes betrays his true feelings. "But I need you too much to care right now." He squirms on the table, his cock standing proudly erect, begging for attention. "Please," he pleads, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper. "Take me, use me, fuck me until I can't remember my own name." The sight of Jason so desperate, so willing, sends a surge of pleasure straight to your groin. You move closer once again, your fingers tracing along Jason's length before wrapping around it firmly. "That's more like it," you purr, your other hand reaching behind to unzip your own pants. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't forget who you belong to." With a swift motion, you free your own cock, giving it a few strokes to get it nice and hard. "On your knees," you order, pulling Jason off the table and onto his feet.

With a groan of relief, Jason drops to his knees, his eyes locked on your throbbing member. The sight makes his mouth water, and without hesitation, he leans forward, taking your cock into his mouth. "Mmmph," he hums around it, the vibrations adding to the sensation. "Fuck yeah," he mumbles against your skin, his tongue swirling around the tip before taking you deeper. "Tastes so good," he adds, his hands gripping your ass, urging you to thrust forward. The feeling of Jason's warm mouth enveloping you is almost too much for you to handle. You let out a deep grunt, your fingers tangling in Jason's hair to guide him. "Just like that," you encourage, your hips rolling gently at first, then picking up pace as you plunge deeper into Jason's throat. "God, you're so fucking talented with that mouth," you praise, your breathing becoming heavier. "Keep going, show me how much you want it." Jason moans around your cock, the vibrations causing you to throb even harder. He takes you deeper, relishing the taste and texture of you, his throat working to suck you off expertly. "Mmmm," he hums, his nose pressing against your pelvis as he gags slightly, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine. He whimpers, his hands tightening on your ass, pulling you further into his mouth. His eyes water as he struggles to breathe around the thick shaft filling his mouth.

Watching Jason struggle to take you is incredibly arousing. Your grip tightens in Jason's hair, holding him in place as you begin to fuck his mouth in earnest. "Look at you, taking it like such a good little slut," you growl out, your voice laced with lust. "You love having my cock in your mouth, don't you?"You pull back just enough for Jason to answer, your thumb wiping away the saliva dripping down Jason's chin. "Answer me, Jason," you demand, your eyes blazing with intensity. Gasping for air between thrusts, Jason nods, his eyes glazed with lust. "Yes," he manages to choke out, his voice muffled by your cock. "I love it," he admits, his words punctuated by another deep swallow. "Your cock…feels so damn good in my mouth," he confesses, his tongue flicking against the sensitive underside, eager to please. His hands slide up your thighs, kneading the flesh there as he sucks harder, determined to make you lose control. The sensation of Jason's tongue teasing his sensitive spots has you seeing stars. You grunt, your hips snapping forward as you drive deeper into Jason's throat. "That's it," you praise, your voice strained with pleasure. "Show me how much you want it." You pull Jason's head back, breaking the seal with a wet pop. "Now it's time for you to ride my dick," you command, spinning Jason around and pushing him down onto the table.

Surprised by the sudden shift in position, Jason gasps, his body instinctively arching against the cool surface of the table. As you pushed him down, he spread his legs wide, offering himself up for whatever you wanted to do next. "Fuck yes," he groans, looking back at you with hooded eyes. "Ride me hard," he pleads, his hands gripping the edges of the table as he braces himself for what's coming next. Without wasting another second, you position yourself behind Jason, lining up your throbbing cock with Jason's eagerly waiting entrance. With a firm grip on Jason's hips, you thrust forward, burying yourself to the hilt within Jason's clenching heat. "Oh fuck," you curse, your breath hot against Jason's ear. "So tight and perfect," you compliment, starting a slow rhythm, each thrust driving deeper into Jason's quivering walls. A loud cry escapes Jason's lips as you fill him completely, the sudden stretch and invasion sending sparks of pleasure coursing through his veins. "Ah! Fuck!" he exclaims, his nails digging into the table as he tries to adjust to the size of your cock. "You feel amazing," he pants, his back arching off the table as you start to move. "Don't stop," he begs, meeting each thrust with a roll of his hips, trying to take you even deeper. "Harder," he demands, his voice husky with need.

Hearing Jason beg for more only fuels your desire. You lean forward, wrapping your arms around Jason's chest and pulling him up to meet every powerful thrust. "Like this?" you ask, your voice low and rough. "You want my big cock pounding your tight hole?" your hands roam over Jason's torso, squeezing and kneading the muscle beneath his skin. "Tell me exactly what you want," you commanded, your pace increasing, each thrust hitting Jason's prostate perfectly. The feeling of being held tightly against your frame sends a thrill through Jason's body. His moans crescendo as you hit his sweet spot again and again. "Yes," he whimpers, his breath hitching. "Your cock…it's fucking incredible," he confesses, his voice thick with arousal. "I want it deeper, harder," he urges, pushing back against your thrusts. "Make me scream," he challenges, his own hands reaching down to stroke his rapidly hardening length. With a groan, you comply, slamming into Jason with reckless abandon. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room as you pound into Jason's willing body. "Scream for me, Red Hood," you demanded, your voice dripping with dominance. "Let everyone know who's fucking you senseless right now." You reached around, grabbing Jason's cock and stroking it in time with your thrusts, pushing Jason closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me," you command as your own orgasm builds rapidly. "Fill my hand with your cum while I fill you with mine."

The combination of your relentless thrusts and the pressure on his cock is too much for Jason to handle. A strangled cry tears from his throat as his climax crashes over him like a tidal wave. His whole body tenses as he shoots rope after rope of sticky seed onto your fingers. "Fuck!" he screams, the pleasure so intense it's almost painful. "I'm gonna—ahh—" His words cut off into a long, drawn-out moan as he cums hard, his inner muscles clamping down on your cock in rhythmic spasms. Feeling Jason's walls convulse around your dick sends you over the edge. With a guttural roar, you bury yourself deep inside Jason, your seed flooding the warm confines of Jason's ass. "Shit!" you swear, riding out your orgasm, filling Jason to the brim. "Damn, you're good," you praise, collapsing onto Jason's back, your heavy breathing mingling with Jason's. "That was fucking amazing," you murmur, planting soft kisses along Jason's neck.

Panting heavily, Jason can barely form coherent thoughts, his mind foggy with post-orgasmic bliss. "Mmm…yeah…" he agrees, his voice weak and husky. "Best sex ever," he admits, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "You're something else, Blake," he says, turning his head to capture your mouth in a lazy kiss. "Can we do that again sometime soon?" he teases, a mischievous glint in his eye, despite the sated exhaustion coating his body. Chuckling softly, you pull out slowly, relishing the warmth of Jason's ass clinging to your cock. "As many times as you want," you promise, your voice still thick with lust. "But for now," you continue, trailing your fingers down Jason's chest, "let's just enjoy the afterglow." You roll onto your back, pulling Jason onto your chest, holding him close. "You did great, Red Hood," you compliment, nuzzling into Jason's hair. Snuggling into your embrace, Jason lets out a satisfied hum. "Thanks," he replies, his voice tinged with smugness. "But don't get used to it," he adds playfully, poking you in the ribs. "I expect you to keep raising the bar." Despite his teasing tone, there's genuine affection in his touch. "You're pretty damn good yourself," he concedes, his arm curling around your waist.

Smiling against Jason's hair, you wrap your arms around him, holding him tight. "I'll keep that in mind," you say, your voice low and rumbling. "And who knows? Maybe next time, I'll let you tie me up and have your way with me." You grin wickedly, nibbling on Jason's earlobe. "Would you like that, Red Hood? To see me helpless and at your mercy?" Your words are laced with flirtation, a challenge hidden beneath the surface.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: starstruck

pairing: jameson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: you’re an actress and you’ve got through a few auditions got your dream roll, the next thing that comes up is a chemistry test that doesn’t quite go as you had planned

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, mild swearing, really intense make out session, mention of sexual tension

a/n: this is the jameson equivalent to paparazzi for grayson, thanks for reading 🤍🤍

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @peterlcsingwendy @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77

You sit alone at the bar, drinking a margarita. Your friend had bailed on you last minute but seen as you were already dressed up you decided to go anyway. Why waste all that effort? Besides you deserved this. Tomorrow is a big day, you needed some time to sit back, relax, enjoy some drinks and breathe. Mid sip of your margarita, you catch the eye of someone across the room. He has tousled dark hair, unruly yet it suited him quite well and striking green eyes. Those green eyes sent something through you, the ghost of a shiver down your spine that sent warmth into your body. There was something about those eyes… You quickly look away, not letting your gaze linger for too long, you need to stay focussed. You stare at your drink, your fingers subconsciously playing with the glass as you think about the future that may come if tomorrow plays out the way you would like it to.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

His voice is low and alluring and reels you in from deep thought. It might’ve made you jump, if you weren’t so fixated on where your mind was running off to. You look up to see it’s the man you’d made eye contact with previously. Close up, he looks even more attractive. Steady jawline, wicked smile, bold eyebrows, striking features. He is quite tall, even when he sits beside you it’s noticeable. He’s really very gorgeous and at any other point in your life, meeting a guy like him would’ve been perfect. But now wasn’t the time for guys, now was the time to focus on getting your career back on track.

“No thank you,” you say, a certain sharpness in your tone. You wanted to make it very clear you were saying no.

“Are you sure?” he asks, one of his dashing eyebrows raised a little.

Oh… so he was the stubborn type, this should be entertaining.

“I’ve got one,” you say, holding up your half-empty margarita.

His mouth forms an ‘o’ shape and he nods, ordering himself something. His drink arrives in a matter of minutes, that’s when he turns and says, “I couldn’t help but notice you from over there.”

His head jerks to where he had previously been standing. You decide you fancy playing with him a little, seeing how easy it’d be to break his cool, flirty facade. Some men needed to be humbled and he seems like one of them.

“Oh yeah, and why’s that,” you ask, expecting a delayed answer or not one at all.

“Because you’re breathtaking,” he answers almost immediately, staring into my eyes.

You’d expected him to fumble but he’d turned the tables. He’s bold and unafraid, vulnerability didn’t scare him. You searched for a witty, uninterested reply but your brain is still hooked in the compliment from this handsome stranger, “I’m not interested,” you blurt out. The words fall from your mouth without you even thinking.

“Straight to the point,” he coughs, his ego probably a little bruised, “that’s cute.”

“Don’t call me cute,” you scowl at him. No better way to deter a man than scowling, but he didn’t seem to be too deterred.

“I could make you interested you know,” he shrugs, “if you gave me a chance?”

“The smell of male desperation is so…” you take a moment to find the right set of words, “pathetically pungent.”

“Who says I’m desperate?” he asks, cocking his head to one side, a graceful yet annoying smirk plastered on his lips.

“I told you I’m not interested and yet you’re still here,” you reply cooly.

“I like challenges, call me a player of sorts,” he explains, “riddles, mind games, secrets, I love the lot.”

“Well here’s a riddle for you then… what has two eyes, a margarita in her hand and isn’t interested in you at all?” you force a sickly sweet smile.

“My great aunt,” he replies, smiling right back.

“I don’t think you’re as good at these riddles as you thought,” you criticise, taking another swig of alcohol.

“And I don’t think you’re uninterested,” he tells me, “body language speaks volumes sweetheart-“

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” you snap suddenly, raising your voice a little louder than you’d intended.

“You’re facing completely toward me, your posture is open, you’re looking directly at me and you occasionally scan over the rest of my body,” he says, “if you were uninterested that wouldn’t be happening. Not to mention our eyes kept meeting from across the room.”

You smile slightly and then swivel around on your chair so your back is completely towards him. You hunch over wishing you had some sunglasses to reinforce the no eye contact thing.

“How’s this for body language,” you call, not even looking over your shoulder to see his reaction.

“I much prefer looking at your face but the back of you is a perfectly nice view as well,” he says smoothly. Well, wasn’t that annoying.

Your cheeks heat up and you spin back around, “please leave me alone.”

“Alone…” he ponders, “not with anyone?”

“My friend is in the bathroom,” you lie quickly.

“She’s been there for a while,” he raises an eyebrow.

“And how would you know that?” you question, folding your arms tightly across your chest.

“Because I’ve watched you for a while,” he shrugs in response.

“You do realise that just makes you sound like a massive stalker-ish creep right?” you ask, trying not to laugh a little.

“Let me reword then…” he pauses, “I’ve observed you.”

“I think that’s worse,” you tell him, finishing the last of your drink, before getting up to leave.

As you begin to walk away, the man begins to follow you. Like a bad smell, you think, mentally rolling your eyes.

“Where are you going?” he asks, eyes wide.

“I’m leaving,” you reply, ice cutting through your tone.

“Bit early to be leaving,” he says, checking his watch. You sneak a glance, it’s expensive.

“I have work tomorrow,” you shrug, picking up your walking pace.

“What do you do?” he attempts.

“I’m leaving,” you repeat, firmer and flatter this time.

“Without my number?” he asks.

“Of course,” you say bluntly, as if he’d asked you whether the sky was blue.

“What about your friend? In the bathroom?” he taunts, a pathetic attempt of a joke.

“Oh shut up,” you roll your eyes and debate slapping him across the face. You decide not to, just this once and make your way down the outdoor staircase. Cabs awaited at the bottom and you intend to catch one. Unfortunately Mr a-bit-too-obsessed seems to intend to catch up with you.

“Let me pay for your cab,” he offers suddenly, when you’re nearly at the bottom.

“Absolutely not,” you scoff, laughing a little at his sheer boldness.

“Please?” he asks, as you reach the bottom of the staircase.

“No, piss off, I’m uninterested, remember?” you shout, opening the cab door, shooting a smile at the driver before turning back to the man.

He’s caught up now and was stood all but a meter away, “uninterested, yet your eyes keep grazing over my lips.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you almost laugh, “as if you can see what my eyes are doing in the dark.”

“I see everything,” he smirks, the upturned corners of his mouth annoyingly attractive.

“Goodbye,” you deadpan, slamming the door.

“Bye sweetheart,” he calls, “and the name’s Jameson by the way.”

***

The next morning, you arrive at the studio a few minutes early and wait outside. The nervous excitement was roaring around inside of you as you stared at the sky. This was your dream job, what you’d worked to get to for as long as you could remember. You wanted this more than anything. If you landed this role it made all the turned down auditions, all the tears, all the times you almost quit, all those minuscule commercial jobs, it made it all worth it. Last year, when you’d landed a job on TV show and gotten a little taste of fame you’d felt on top of the world. Working on a big piece like that was an entirely new experience and one that you wanted to experience again, especially as this character was a character that you personally connected to.

Going to that first audition had probably been the scariest moment of your life and you’d come out convinced you’d messed the whole thing. But to your utter shock and surprise you had gotten a callback… and then a second. You’d made it this far. You didn’t want to blow it now.

But you’d be lying if you told yourself the audition was the only thing on your mind today. A certain man from a bar also seemed to be encircling your thoughts paths, aggravatingly frequently. You don’t know why he’s such a prominent thought but you try to avoid it. He’s a little too distracting for a day as important at this.

Soon enough, the casting director walks out and spots you, beckoning you in. With a small smile you walk in and find a set with cameras being ect up in front of it. The set looks to be a standard bedroom, with a single bed, shelves, a wardrobe, beside table and lots of other little nicknacks scattered around.

“Hello, thanks for coming,” he says, as he shakes your hand firmly.

“Thank you for the callback,” you smile, with a little laugh on the end.

“You’re doing a chemistry test today,” he explains.

The sentence takes you off guard a little. Of course you’d done chemistry tests before but suddenly you felt a little unprepared. Today you’d expected to act alone, but now you were relying on someone else to bring out your performance as well.

You look around, “Where’s the other person?”

“Apparently he’s running late,” the director replies, checking his watch.

“Oh,” you murmur, your heart sinking just a little.

“But don’t he should be here soon,” he nods, “there’s a few seats over there, if you want to sit down and get yourself ready.”

“Isn’t there a script?” you ask, curiously.

“You won’t need one,” the director replies.

“Oh,” your brow furrow, “is it like improv?”

“Something like that,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” you reply sceptically, your mind running through ideas about what it could be that you were doing

You sit yourself down the chairs and begin to do something to distract your mind. Reciting song lyrics usually did the trick. It killed time and made you think. Half way through one of the songs you’d been listening to at the moment the doors burst open from across the room. Your eyes snap up to see a man at the door. Must be the person who was running late.

As your eyes skim over him, you get a funny feeling wash over you. You immediately recognise that mess of dark hair and bold green eyes. You wrack your brain as to where it is that you remember them from. And then it hits you, like a punch to the stomach. The man from the bar last night, Jameson, you recall him shouting after your taxi.

This just can’t be happening.

Of course the only person you had a chemistry test with today was the one person you had zero chemistry with whatsoever. But it didn’t matter, you thought, you were still going to perform at your best and show these directors that you deserved this.

So you make a plan. To do what you think is the smartest thing to do in this situation. You decide to play dumb. He was probably drunk and wouldn’t remember your face, like you’d remembered his. You convince yourself you don’t know him and he doesn’t know you. You’re just two strangers, two actors, who have to do a scene. The director waves you over and suddenly your legs ae just moving towards him. Your heart thuds in your chest as you approach.

It was definitely him. Those green eyes couldn’t belong to anybody else. Without the darkness of the night, he looked even better. He was bolder and brighter like this. His facial features were even more beautiful than you’d originally thought, no wonder he was in the running for a role. The fan girls would go crazy over this guy.

“Jameson, meet y/n,” the director says, gesturing to you, “I’ll let you two get to know each other a little whilst we finish setting up.”

You look at him, wondering if you should start the conversation to manipulate it how you wanted or whether you should let him. Though you don’t get much of a chance to analyse it as he already begins.

“I know you,” he says.

Well shit. You didn’t actually expect him to remember you. This put your plan in a bit of a fragile situation. But nevertheless, you stuck with it. Fake to ‘til you make it.

“I don’t think you do,” you say, adding a hint of confusion into your voice

“I know your face,” he insists.

Stubborn. You observe. He’s stubborn, just like last night. Well, you were stubborn too, so you continued with your little act.

“No you don’t,” you reply, with a little laugh on the end.

“I hit on you,” he says calmly, too calmly for your liking.

You almost choke on your own spittle. He really remembers last night then.

“I’m sorry!” you ask.

“Last night at the bar,” he continues cooly.

“I don’t drink,” you say simply, attempting to shut down the conversation.

“I saw you have two margaritas, don’t lie,” he says, that got awful handsome devilish smirk dancing on his face.

The smirk that makes your stomach flutter.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, trying to stay as stubborn as he.

“You know you look so much better in this lighting, sweeheart,” he grins.

“Don’t call me sweetheart.”

The reaction was immediate and sudden, you have no control over it whatsoever. It’s like a deadly instinct.

“Oh so you do remember me?” he says, the smile now laced within his voice.

“Maybe I do,” you grit through your teeth, “but I declined you the first time, you’re a little brave to try again,”

“I am brave,” he tells me, “it’s one of my many green flags.”

“Such a shameless flirt,” you tusk, with an eye roll.

“Is that your type?” he wonder coyly.

“No,” you reply, blunt and sharp.

“What a pity,” he pouts with his pretty lips.

You choose not the say anything else. The conversation has run its course and ended. It’s better that way, when the two of you were not talking. That way he couldn’t make you feel anything. No flutters, no warmth. That’s the way it should be.

“I never knew you were an actress,” he says suddenly.

“And I never knew you were an actor,” you counter, mirroring the way he said it as well as his words.

“It’s really more of a hobby than a career path,” he replies nonchalantly.

“Well some people are serious about this stuff,” you say, a certain fierceness brought out in your voice.

“Are you some people?” he asks, smiling from ear to ear.

“Why does that matter?” you snap, not meaning to be so defensive all of a sudden. He didn’t need to know that you cared.

“Because it matters,” he says simply.

“Look I really want this part and I swear to god if you mess it up for me I will…. rip your head off or something,” you explain.

“I think you’ll get it,” he replies.

“What?”

“The part,” he clarifies.

“Why?”

“We’re about to do a chemistry test,” he shrugs, hands in his pockets.

“I’m aware,” you reply, your tone a little dead.

“So let’s show them what we’re best at,” Jameson shoots you a grin.

“Arguing?” you ask.

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, “having chemistry.”

“You must be out of your mind if you think we have chemistry,” you say.

“I’m out of my mind in love with you,” he replies.

Your cheeks immediately radiate heat and you can hear your heart drumming loudly in your ears. How dare he make you feel this way with just his stupid words.

“Oh shut up, that’s such a bad line,” you roll your eyes, pretending you were unbothered.

“I think you secretly liked it,” he whispers in your ear, a tingle going down your spine.

“You’re thinking wrong again,” you murmur.

“You’re definitely writing it in a pink fluffy diary and drawing love hearts around it,” he mocks, amusement in his tone.

“Have you been watching teenage girl movies or something?” you ask, slight notes of disgust and concern in your voice.

He doesn’t get a chance to bite back as the director walks towards us both and begins to explain what we’re doing today.

“So today we’re just testing out for good kissing chemistry,” the director explains.

“Kissing?” you repeat, jaw slack.

“We just want to film a few shots of you guys kissing to see if it’s a good match or not,” he explains further.

“I have to kiss him?” you clarify, trying not to portray your mortification on your face.

“Yes that is the general idea,” he deadpans at you.

“Oh,” you murmur.

“Will that be a problem?” he asks, judgmental eyebrows raised high into his forehead.

“Not at all,” Jameson almost sings, bearing his teeth for a witty smile.

“No,” you grit through your teeth.

“Brilliant, should we get started then?” the director asks.

You both nod, annoyingly in sync and then make your way to the bedroom set.

“Did you plan this?” you hiss, as you get set up, so no one else could hear.

You can’t help yourself. The curiosity was gnawing at you. Could he really have wanted a kiss that badly to plan all of this?

“Yes I came in here and told the director to change his whole schedule so we could kiss,” he rolls his eyes sarcastically.

You opt for silence.

“Obviously not!” he exclaims, “look I know you thought I was a creep but that’s a whole new level-“

“Sorry,” you blurt out, “I was only curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, did it not?” Jameson says, his mouth twisting into a familiar smile.

“Maybe it was a stupid cat,” you murmur.

“Or maybe it was a smart cat that was a little too curious,” he replies.

“I guess we’ll never know,” you say, your voice low and slow.

“I guess we won’t,” he murmurs back, a level of seduction in his tone, that causes heat to rise in your face.

You are directed to be positioned with your back on the make-shift set wall with Jameson standing over you. The cameras were twisted and turned around you, capturing all angles needed. You brace yourself ignoring how hard you are breathing and how much your heart is thumping in your chest.

“ACTION.”

He makes the first move and presses his lips onto yours, his hands cupping your face. The motion is very gentle, delicate almost, making you feel fragile. His lips so soft and smooth and you find myself not only kissing back, but wanting to. He tastes indescribably addictive and after that first gentle kiss you don’t think you can get enough. You want to taste this every day of my life. You close your eyes, discarding any previous hesitation you’d had about this experience and start to enjoy it.

Slowly his hands slip around your waist, his soft touch surprising you a little. Your arms meet around his neck. You don’t break for breath. You and him have come to the silent agreement that breathing doesn’t seem to matter anymore. You’ve never felt so positively sure of something that you want until this very moment moment. He pushes his lips harder against yours and you follow suit. The kiss deepens as he hums in pleasure. A low hum right from the back of his throat. It takes you off guard slightly but you move past it and keep kissing his pretty little lips. It’s like a dance, driven off of feeling for music and movement of the body.

You want to know every crevice, every morsel and every surface of his lips. You want to know what they desire and how to give it to him. You could feel his heartbeat thumping due to the closeness of your chests. He’s intense but you like it. You like the intensity of this moment and how your mind was so wrapping up in it you couldn’t think of anything else. You loved the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You kiss again, deepening it further and then…

Desperation takes over and suddenly you’re both ravenous for one another. Feverishly kissing rough and passionate kisses. His arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer to him, so you’re pressed right up against his body. Your hands now find themselves deep within his hair, clinging to chunks of it. You feel so violent that you fear you might pull some out. The kiss is now savage in a delightful kind of way that you never would have imagined. You wanted him to bite your lip so hard it drew blood, you wanted the heat, you wanted the frenzied feelings.

But then the movement slows again, he lets you know he wants a gentler approach. He slows down the kiss and really feels your lips, almost tickling them. It’s like he’s teasing you in the best way possible. His lips of velvety soft, brushing against your own. You let your kisses fall into a more soothing, delicate rhythm, tenderising each one’s, tailoring it to be even softer than the last and-

“CUT.”

You’d forgotten this was just a scene, just a chemistry test. You’d forgotten where you were or why you were there. Your mind had been paralysed by his lips. So lost within emotion and lust and love. Love? Suddenly you’re angry, angry at him for doing this to you, making you forget who you were for a moment, for having that kind of power. And yet, when the director yells cut, your lips still linger.

You finally break away, breathing heavily. You stare into his green eyes, your lips still tingling, your tongue still craving another taste. You look away, you can’t bear to meet his eyes for fear you might attempt something stupid. The devil is in his eyes and he’s reaching out to your heart. That isn’t a position you were prepared to be in

“Well if I’m not mistaken,” he grins, chest moving up and down as he too is out of breath, “that’s felt like chemistry to me.”

“Maybe you’re mistaken then,” you lie.

“I could feel your heart beating sweetheart-“

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” you almost yell.

“It was beating real hard,” he finishes, still not quite caught his breath back.

You finally look up and he is already there to meet your gaze. You don’t even bother to answer him. You just continue to get lost into the deep forests and the stories they told.

“Thank you guys, that was brilliant, absolutely spectacular, I could just feel the sexual tension through the screen, which is exactly what we’re looking for,” the director says.

You can feel Jameson smirking from behind and it’s bugging you. You don’t want there to be sexual tension between you and him, you don’t want there to be anything between you and him other than a brick wall right now. You hate the way your cheeks are ruby red and how your heart rate can’t seem to slow because you know he’s there, behind you.

“Would you mind both coming back in tomorrow so we can test out an actual scene rather than just a kiss?” the director asks.

You ponder it for a moment, you could decline, never come back, lose this job and never see Jameson again. But lose your dream role for a guy who’s pissing you off? Absolutely not. You didn’t get this far for someone like him to get in the way.

Jameson hasn’t replied yet. You assume he is waiting for you to answer first to make his decision .

“I’ll be there,” you say firmly.

“And so will I,” Jameson winks.

“Perfect, thanks you two!” The director smiles, walking back off.

Once he’s completely out of the way you let out a long breath and close your eyes. You’d gotten through yet another day of auditions and you would be back tomorrow. If this goes well then you get all that you want. That’s all that matters.

“See you tomorrow,” he grins at you, flashing his brilliant emerald eyes, “sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. You didn’t protest to the nickname this time. Lord help you tomorrow.

a/n: I can’t lie, I don’t really like what I’ve written here but thought I’d post it anyways. Something about it is just… bleh. I might do a rewrite at some point???

thank you to whoever requested this, sorry I took me a little while and also sorry it wasn’t that good… thanks for your patience 🤍🤍

TIG masterlist

[vetteltea]

Oscar Piastri and Snowball Fights [no warnings]

Day 9 of the Vetteltea Advent Calendar

Note: Juls, my dearest, darling @rose-tinted-juls, this is for you. Thank you for being such a ray of sunlight in every single day that comes past me. You are so kind with your words and in every single aspect. I am truly so lucky to have you around and I really hope I've done justice with Oscar! It's my first time writing him!

His eyes are wide, a blanket of snow settling over the Mclaren Headquarters rapidly. Nearly every employee had transformed into a child, scampering over to the window in order to watch the rapid snowfall over the rolling green scenery. 

You were no exception; the ever-growing minutes of the meeting you had been summoned to alongside Oscar were suddenly abandoned, standing at the large glass windows, a gaggle of different voices swapping. 

There was something so alluring about snow to the Australian; maybe due to the weather being almost non-existent in his home state, it had been a scintillating experience ever since moving to England. When you had mentioned it so nonchalantly, eyebrows had skidded up his face, in awe of your casual mention.

That was half of the reason the two of you had bonded oh-so-well. The two of you were old heads on young shoulders; with your recent promotion, becoming the youngest race engineer on the grid, it had only made sense that Oscar, the youngest driver, would be your partner in crime. He couldn’t have asked for a better partner, both on and off the grid. (The ‘off’ part was still pretty quiet; the two of you had been official for the better part of six months, not that anybody knew.)

The clock still remained ticking, though not even Zak Brown himself would refuse his staff at watching the first snowfall of the year. Oscar’s tanned arm nudges you gently, holding out his hand subtly; he didn’t need dating ideals suddenly sprung on him atop of the seemingly endless information which was barraged in his direction. You’re certain nobody clocks as you take Oscar’s hand, letting the Australian guide you through the corridors and down to the main Foyer, scanning your identification cards and heading out into the snow. 

It’s cold, it’s cold but so beautiful. Oscar feels his eyes widen, the snowfall drifting for as far as he could see. It lingers over the scenery, over each street, each road-

His inner thoughts are suddenly disrupted by a cold, rough snowball wedged into his back. Immediately, Oscar snaps around, the culprit- you- crouched in the snow, almost doubling over from where the snowball had caught your boyfriend off guard. His grin mirrors your own, scooping up and compacting a ball of snow into his bare hands. 

“Osc- No! I haven’t got a coat!” You protest, still giggling as his eyebrows cock, motioning to the back of his now damp shirt.

“Neither did I!” He grins, perfect aim and precision hitting you straight into the stomach with the Snowball. This time, he’s the one to laugh, though whilst crouched down, obtains a scoop of snow into his hands, keeping it cupped as he begins to quickly step towards you. 

“What are you-” you don’t have time to finish your own words, gasping as a wedge of snow is shoved down the back of your shirt, Oscar bursting into laughter as you slide around the place, determined to remove the snow from your clothing. 

“Oscar, you shit!” You squeal, finally wiping away the coldness from your skin. Your boyfriend can’t help but smirk, walking up behind you and circling your waist in comfort, his head resting on your shoulder. 

It’s nice; comforting. Your boyfriend leans, pressing a soft kiss to your jawline, Swift so nobody can see his affection. You let your body relax for a moment, simply inheriting the warmth, the comfort of his touch, completely ruined when he sticks his hand across your skin, wiping the remaining ice from his fingers and emitting a gasp from you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“ He can’t stop grinning now, pulling you tighter into his chest. Your futile attempts to push him away are stopped, eyes widening when you see a familiar figure step across from the snow-clad ground, his eyes widening in mock shock, smirking to himself. 

“Zak owes me £50.” He mumbles, patting his fellow driver on the shoulder and heading into the building, leaving both of you to stare at one another in shock.

[tr34sure]

You like that, huh? || Kang Yeosang

Warnings: Toxic!Yeosang x Fem!reader, protected sex, fingering, nipple pinching, (baby trapping), and impreg kink

Y’all I know, I know imma write something better soon trust!!

It's true. I hated how much I loved Yeosang. Every time we got back together, I told myself that this time would be different, but I still fell into the same old toxic patterns. I knew he was bad for me, but I couldn't stay away from him. I always found myself running back to him, no matter how many times he hurt me or let me down. It was like some kind of addiction.

I promised myself that no matter how much he called, texted, and showed up at my door, I would never give in again. I knew he was obsessive and controlling, and I couldn't keep allowing him to drag me into that toxic cycle.

It's now 3 AM, and I'm still awake. My mind is racing, thinking about everything that's happened. I can't sleep, and I'm feeling frustrated and anxious. Suddenly, I hear a knock at my door. Who could be knocking at this hour? I try to ignore it, but the knocking gets louder and more frantic, as if someone is desperate to get inside. I get up and open the door, only to find my ex-boyfriend Yeosang standing there.

His eyes are filled with desperation and pleading, and his body language screams of need. I try to keep my distance, but I can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. He's always been good at manipulating my emotions, and it looks like he's not going to stop now. I know I should send him away, but something inside me wants to give in to his pleas.

"Yeosang, I told you to leave me alone," I say, trying to sound stern. But my voice comes out shaky and uncertain.

He steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “Can I just come in please?" His words are like a drug, clouding my mind and making it hard to think straight.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing the risks and rewards of letting him in. On one hand, you were drawn to him, wanting nothing more than to feel his touch and taste his kiss.

On the other hand, you knew that once he was inside, there would be no going back. You bit your lip, torn between your desires and your fears. But as he took another look, his eyes filled with the promises he made you, and you found yourself giving in to temptation.

“Okay.. come in”

You opened the door wider, inviting him in, your heart raced with eagerness. You couldn't help but wonder what he would do next, how far he would take things. But you didn't have long to wait. He closed the door behind him, locking it with a soft click.

As the door clicks shut, the room falls silent. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. His eyes never leave mine as he slowly approaches me, his steps deliberate and purposeful. My heart skips a beat as he reaches out to touch my cheek, tracing the outline of my jawline with his fingers. I lean into his touch, unable to resist the pull. His hands move down my neck, tracing the line of my collarbone before moving lower, over my chest.

I gasp softly as his hands brush against my sensitive skin, my nipples hardening under his touch. He smiles, knowing the effect he has on me. His hands move lower tracing the curve of my hips moving higher up my thigh. I can't help but arch into his touch. He pulls me closer.

As he leans in to kiss my neck, his lips brush against the sensitive skin there, His hands continue to explore my body, tracing patterns on my skin that ignite a fire within me. His kisses become more insistent, his breath hot against my neck.

His lips move up to my ear, and he whispers, "Do you like that, baby?" His voice is husky, filled with desire. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my ear, I nod, unable to speak, lost in the moment. He chuckles softly and continues to kiss and nibble on my neck.

His lips move down my neck, trailing soft kisses and gentle bites. His hands slide up my sides, cupping my breasts through my shirt. I gasp as he lightly pinches my nipples, causing them to harden. He moans into my skin, and I can feel the vibration against my flesh.

I tug at his hair, urging him to look at me. Our eyes lock, and I see the desire burning in them. He pulls back slightly, his hands still on my breasts. He smirks before crashing his lips back onto mine, his tongue dancing with mine hungrily. His hands slide down my stomach, pushing my shirt up and exposing my bra-clad breasts to his touch. I gasp as he lightly pinches my nipples again, causing a wave of pleasure to wash over me.

His hands move lower, slipping under my shorts and onto my bare thighs. He groans against my skin, and I feel his erection pressing against my stomach. I arch my back, inviting him closer. He pulls away slightly, his eyes searching mine for permission.

I nod eagerly, and he slides his hands up my thighs, stopping just short of my panties. He looks at me again, his eyes full of lust and desire. I nodded once more, and he slowly pushed his fingers over the fabric, tracing the outline of my wet pussy lips.

He pushes my panties to the side and plunges two fingers deep inside me. I cry out in pleasure as he begins to thrust in and out, hitting my G-spot with each stroke. His other hand finds its way back to my breast, squeezing and massaging it roughly.

I grab onto his shoulders, digging my nails into his skin as I lose myself in the sensation. My hips buck against his hand, meeting his thrusts with equal force.

“Fuck Yeo-“

Unable to resist any longer, he pulls his fingers out of me and he reaches down and tugs at his belt, unfastening it before pulling it off. His movements are rough and urgent, mirroring the desire that burns between us. He yanks his pants down to his ankles, freeing his erect cock from its confines. The sight of him, naked and powerful, only serves to fuel my high .

Despite your impatience , you watched as Yeosang finally put the condom on, he took a moment to ensure it was secure and no air bubbles were trapped inside.

I feel the head of his cock pressing against my wetness, and then he pushes inside. I cry out in pain and pleasure as he fills me up. He starts to move slowly, his hips grinding against mine in a rhythm that sends shivers down my spine. His hands grip my waist tightly, pulling me closer to him. I moan loudly, meeting his thrusts with my own. The sensation of being filled and claimed is overwhelming.

“Fuck- m’gonna put a baby inside of you, make you all mine forever.”

“P-please Yeo, I need you~”

He picks up the pace even more, slamming into me with a force that takes my breath away. His hips slap against my ass, leaving marks on my ass . I cry out in pleasure as he hits my sweet spot over and over again. The sensation is too much, and I start to shake uncontrollably. My walls begin to tighten around him, signaling my impending orgasm. With a final thrust, he releases himself inside me, filling me with his warmth and seed.

————————————————————————

—— Time skip: A few weeks later

A few weeks after your encounter with Yeosang, you started to notice some changes in your body. Your period was late, and you were experiencing morning sickness. These symptoms led you to believe that you might be pregnant.

Despite feeling both anxious about the possibility you couldn't help but feel a bit suspicious of Yeosang's absence. He hadn't contacted you or made any attempt to contact you since the intimate encounter. As the days went by, your suspicions grew stronger, but you couldn't shake the hope that maybe this was all just a big misunderstanding.

Determined to get some answers, you decided to take a pregnancy test. The results confirmed your worst fears - you were indeed pregnant. Overwhelmed with emotions, you tried to reach out to Yeosang but his number was no longer in your phone.

You felt alone, scared, and unsure of what to do next. With tears streaming down your face, you made an appointment with a doctor to discuss your options.

“This motherfucker..”

[astroels]

request here!

a one-shot of ellie teaching fem!reader how to use her bow and arrow🥹

𝐀 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

a/n: TY FOR THE REQUEST<33 I'm actually so in love with the idea of Ellie teaching reader stuff !! (had to wikihow how to hold a bow, if ur a professional I'm sorry) also peep the arcane reference(I couldn't contain the urge)

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Ellie teaches you how to shoot an arrow

(Jackson ellie, and usage of babe)

You groaned in frustration from not knowing how to aim your bow correctly. There were targets set up just outside of Ellie's shed. With Ellie out on patrol, you had a ton of spear time and really wanted to learn to hunt so you could have a chance to go with her outside the gates. Plus, it wasn't entierly a bad idea to learn how to use a bow for fun. Either way, just relying on memory about how to use a bow was not helping.

You only remembered that Ellie had told you to hold it with the non-dominant hand and to pull back with your dominant, but so far all the arrows had gone to the ground in shame. You weren't sure where you were going wrong. Just one more and you'll head inside you thought. Ellie should be coming back in some time and you didn't want her to see how bad you were at aiming.

As you drew the bow back, you thought about the anchor point to make it go straight. You closed one eye in hopes it would get the arrow to shoot straighter. The string felt so tense as you held it back, near your chin. With the second you let the arrow go, there was a clash of a plant pot breaking. Well, oh shit you thought. Hopefully, Ellie-

"Won't be missing that one," you heard a voice say behind you in a joking tone. You turned around to see Ellie standing there laughing at you and walking closer. "Oh my god, I am so sorry, Ellie." All you could think to do was look down in embarrassment, hoping Ellie wouldn't totally hate you. Yeah, you were dating, but the embarrassment was too fresh right now.

Ellie placed her hand onto your shoulder and told you in a sweet tone, "t's alright, babe, I'll have Joel make me another." Her words were reassuring you to finally be able to look at her. "Let me see," She gestered to the bow and arrow. Giving it to her, she drew the bow and held it for a second. Soon after, she let it go and shot right on the bullseye. You just stared at her in shock, "You're such a show off," you scoffed. She turned around with one of her shit eating smirks she always gave. Curse her cockiness. "What can I say? I'm just a great shot." "Yeah, yeah, you always are, my love."

GIving you a lighter smile, Ellie spoke. "I can teach you now, y'know," The way her smiled complimented her eyes always made you feel warm inside. God, she was just perfect. "Well, after that performance, how could you not." You grinned back at her. You turned back to the target with the bow, so she could start her instructions.

"Alright, so hold it how I've said before." Fixing your grip on the bow felt so much more tense with Ellie eyeing your movements. "Was it like this?" You asked in a doubtful tone. "Mmm, fix your thumb into the slot, so it fits a little better." You got your thumb into the pre-dented spot as she said and looked at her for approval. She simply nodded her head and got an arrow. Ellie placed the arrow in the designated spot and gave you a pat on the back as a go to draw the bow. Before you could even think about the angle the arrow would be going in the position you had it, she intervened.

"Here, let me help you, babe." Ellie got behind you and put her hand on your dominant one, helping you put the anchor point at a straight angle. It was right below the top of your jawline. The closeness of Ellie made you flush. Her hair was tickling against your cheek, but the feeling went away as she stepped back. "You're good to shoot now." You took a deep breathe in, hesitating for several seconds.

You looked at Ellie again as she said "Don't stress too much about it, angel." Hearing her voice comforted your doubt and you let go of the arrow, feeling the tense of your hand lessen. Focusing your view on the target, you stared in astonishment at the arrow that was buried in the bullsye.

"See, you're not too bad yourself." The warm feeling in your heart grew as you walked towards Ellie. You loved your girlfriend so much, she always helped you out like this. Reaching her, you gave her a kiss on the cheek and leaned back to speak to her. "You're the best, Ellie."

"I think 'the best' deserves a little more than that, don't you agree?" She snaked her hands around your waist to pull you back in and planted her lips against yours. You deepened the kiss, enjoying the warmth that radiated off her. After a few seconds, you leaned out of the kiss, still grasped by her hands. "Now lets hope you're a 'great shot' at showering too, something is still lingering on you," you scrunched your nose. Ellie's face flushed, as she apologized while you both walked into her shed.

[your-divine-ribs]

White Wedding

Words: 2k (was supposed to be a blurb whoops!)

Van eats you out under your wedding dress right after the ceremony // Inspired by 🤍 anon’s horny thoughts… xxx

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

"Good afternoon Mrs McCann."

You didn't register for a second, didn't realise Van was actually talking to you, but as you lifted your head at the sound of his voice and saw him beaming at you, the realisation hit you.

That was your name now. You'd done it. You'd actually got married... to the love of your life.

"Mrs McCann," you whispered to yourself, an excited giggle bubbling up from the back of your throat and bursting free. You were giddy with it, drunk on the heady feeling of the love that you felt for the man who was standing before you, the one who you'd just vowed to spend the rest of your life with... for better or for worse... and if it got any better than this then you were in heaven for sure.

"Feels funny you calling me that," you laughed. "Doesn't feel like you're talking to me at all."

"Well you'd better get used to it love, 'cause this is it now... for the rest of our lives."

He reached out his hand to yours but didn't take it, he simply slipped it to rest under yours, your matching wedding bands on display, the polished gold glimmering in the sunlight which streamed in through the chapel windows.

The smile stretched wide on your face, you couldn't help it. Your cheeks were starting to ache with the way that you'd been grinning like a Cheshire Cat all day. "I'm such a lucky girl," you said, reaching up a hand to brush Van's hair out of his face, letting your fingers trail tenderly down his jawline.

"Reckon I'm the lucky one," he replied, leaning in close to you, your lips connecting in a soft kiss that rapidly became heated as your hands moved down to his bum, squeezing firmly as you pulled his body closer to yours.

"Mmm... keep that up and I'm gonna have to whisk you away somewhere and have my wicked way with ya!"

You both chuckled as you broke away, a little breathlessly. You were alone in the small country chapel, all your family and friends having moved on to the reception in a nearby hotel whilst you awaited the arrival of the photographer. The grounds here were stunning and you knew they'd make a gorgeous back-drop for your wedding photos.

"I'm sure you can wait," you tutted at him, hands resting on his hips.

He shook his head, still smiling. "That's just the thing, I really don't know if I can..."

You were sure he was only joking but as you looked at him that afternoon, all kitted out smart and handsome in his suit, eyes simmering with love and affection and just a hint of lust, you started to entertain the idea. It was just the two of you after all. No one would know a thing about it.

But you couldn't... you were in a church for gods sake... You pushed the inappropriate thoughts away, busying yourself with straightening his tie. "I'm afraid you're gonna have to Van... first it's the photos and then the car's coming to take us straight back to the hotel. We're not gonna have time for one of your quickies today!"

"Where there's a will there's a way," he smirked, a hand smoothing down over your hips to grab a fistful of the silky layers and netting of your wedding dress. "Don't tell me you're not tempted. I can see it in your eyes love, I know you're thinking about it. I know that look all too well."

He gradually began to lift your dress upwards, grinning mischievously.

"Oh my god! We're in church remember?" You giggled, not making a move to stop him, your breath hitching as his cool touch connected with your thigh, his fingers moving upwards to alight on the soft lace of the frilly garter you wore.

"What's all this?" He exclaimed, eyes widening in delight as he pulled your dress up higher, exposing your white lace-topped stockings. He tugged on the garter, letting it snap back gently against your skin. "Fuckin' 'ell, just look at you! Now I know I'm definitely the lucky one!"

"It's tradition," you grinned, laughing at his awestruck expression. "You know... something old, something new..." you indicated your grandmother's antique tiara and your dress in turn. "Something borrowed..." you slid a finger along the row of tiny freshwater pearls that you wore around your neck that your best friend had lent you. "And something blue..." you said finally, Van's eyes falling back to the garter and the delicate blue ribbon that was threaded through it.

"My beautiful wife," he grinned proudly. "You really do think of everything huh?"

Then all of a sudden he released your dress, firmly grabbing hold of your hand and pulling, urging you to follow him. "C'mon babe, come with me... I've had an idea."

"What are you doing now? Where are we going?" You asked, letting him tow you down the narrow aisle you'd just traversed nervously an hour previously, your satin-covered stilettos clacking loudly on the stone flooring.

"Reckon we've got about fifteen minutes before the photographer arrives," he called behind him as he pulled you into the far corner of the church and urged you to sit down on a small wooden pew pushed up against the wall. "Just enough time for a little appetiser..."

If his words didn't tell you what he had in mind then the mischievous smirk on his lips and his next actions certainly did. You watched on, excited and stunned as he quickly sank to his knees before you, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he looked up at you to gauge your reaction. He placed his hands on your thighs, easing them apart. "What d'ya say huh, Mrs McCann? We got time for a little bit of fun?"

"We can't do it in here! Are you bloody crazy?" You uttered in disbelief, imagining the wedding photographer arriving early and catching you in a compromising position, pristine wedding dress hitched up around your hips whilst Van had you bent awkwardly over a wooden pew whilst he pounded into you from behind. It didn't matter that the deliciously naughty thought lit a fire between your legs, there was no way you could risk it.

"I don't mean like proper shagging!" Van laughed, gripping the hem of your dress, bunching it up in his fingers and raising it, fixing you with a smouldering look. "Just wanna make my gorgeous new wife feel good don't I? You know I can't resist ya."

As he spoke he leaned in, pressing a featherlight kiss to the inside of your knee, eyes still on yours, your heart starting to race as his filthy intentions became clear all at once. "Can't believe you wanna do this now... in here of all places!"

"C'mon love," he pleaded, pausing to drag his soft lips up your inner thigh, catching the garter in his teeth to tug on it gently. "Now's the perfect time. I know what you'll be like after a few glasses of champagne at the reception, you'll be falling asleep before I've even got your wedding dress off. At least this way I can make sure the smile you wear for the photographer's genuine!"

"Of course it'll be genuine, silly!" You giggled, easing your legs further apart as he started planting warm, lingering kisses all over the skin of your upper thighs, his nose nudging temptingly against your lace covered core. "I just don't wanna get caught that's all. What would people say?"

"Not a problem... no one'll even know what I'm up to," he chuckled, and then to your surprise he pulled the voluminous layers of netting and silk up and over his head, nestling himself neatly into the small space between your spread legs.

"Ahhh shit..." you breathed, sucking in a gasp as you felt his fingers curl firmly around your thighs, his lips grazing over your covered clit. You couldn't quite believe what you were doing... and where you were doing it, but you shouldn't have been surprised. Van's fun-loving, reckless and incorrigible naughty streak was one of your favourite things about him, that and his ability to reduce you to a moaning, whimpering mess with his skilled fingers and tongue within minutes.

You could feel him under there now, his breath hot on your core, his tongue teasing you over the sheer lace of your panties, making you shiver.

"Van..." you sighed, an appreciation and a plea all rolled into one, your hands curling tightly around the edge of the wooden pew. You could just see his legs and his well-shined shoes sticking out from underneath the layers of your dress and the comical sight made you snigger to yourself, but your laugh was soon cut short when you felt him snare the lace of your panties in his teeth as he began to tug them down your thighs.

You were bare under the dress within seconds, fretting fleetingly that he'd torn the delicate lace in his haste, but you couldn't dwell on your inconsequential worries for long. Not when the heavenly feel of his tongue was a euphoric distraction, laving purposefully over your folds, seeking out your clit.

"You taste so good babe... so fuckin' sweet for me," you heard him murmur from under the layers of your dress, your cheeks flushing rosy red in response. There was something so deliciously naughty and arousing about not being able to see him but feeling his tongue fervently exploring you, every tender kiss and warm, wet lick intensified as you felt your toes curling, your eyes fluttering shut.

He grabbed harshly at the flesh of your thighs, fingers digging furrows into your tender skin, the roughness of his hungry touch a thrilling contrast to the soft blissful drag of his tongue. If he'd not been under your dress right now you'd have your hands buried in the roots of his hair, pulling and twisting his locks between your fingers. You had to settle instead for gripping the edge of the pew tightly, your fingernails digging into the wood as Van honed in on your sweet spot, tongue drawing slippery circles over your bud. He did it over and over, spurred on by the way the muscles in your thighs clenched up tight, the soft moans and sighs you tried so hard to hold back spilling forth anyway.

"Fuck... 'm gonna come," you squeaked out, your legs starting to shake. "Please don't stop... there... right there..."

You bit down hard on your lower lip to stifle your sounds, feeling Van press his face even further into your slickness, eager to lick up every last drop of your sweetness. Lightening bolts of pleasure coursed through you, zipping up your spine and radiating out along your limbs, your core on fire. You'd have screamed out loud if you weren't currently in a chapel, even the muffled whimpers you were making were amplified acoustically as they bounced off the stone walls.

"Shit... shit... shit..." you cursed as the waves of your climax peaked and then started to recede, your legs still trembling as Van released his grip to tenderly stroke your skin.

"Oh my god... that was unreal... now I know why I married you!" You giggled in between panting, your head tilting back to rest against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

There was a moment of fumbling under your dress, some incoherent muttering as Van manoeuvred himself out from beneath the silky layers, his hair all disheveled and his eyes bright, his red lips glistening with your arousal as he licked at them proudly.

"So it turns out my wife's a dirty little minx... who'd have thought it huh?" He smirked, giddily getting to his feet and brushing down his suit, adjusting his tie which was askew. "And there was me thinking you were all innocent in that pretty white dress."

"It's all you... you're the bad influence," you chided playfully, rising up on still shaky legs, reaching out to rest your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself.

The wedding photos taken that afternoon turned out perfectly, some would even go so far as to say they were magical. The photographer was overjoyed, enthusing about the pretty flush staining your cheeks and the sparkle in Van's eye, saying it added that extra little 'je ne sais quoi' that he always strived for when he photographed couples in love. Of course, you and Van knew perfectly well what the secret to that was... 🤍

[jdchicago]

Sometimes, the accounts you follow inspire you. This time I was inspired to write…and dream.

Having finished sharing a dessert, the waiter brings the check for our incredible meal. As he takes the bill back from me I say “keep the change”. I stand up from the table and take your hand, help you up and take your arm in and around mine. I want every person in this restaurant to see the beautiful creature I am escorting out and away from the crowd. A short stroll from the front door to the car, I reach down, open the car door for you and seat you inside. The swing of your legs into the car remind me of what I thought I’d seen earlier; this lady has revealed to this gentleman that she isn’t wearing any panties. I walk around the car and adjust the growing erection in my pants. I sit down, lean over and kiss you. The ride back to my hotel is surprisingly quick, the combination of our easy conversation and the anticipation must be the magic combination. As I lean in to take your hand and help you out of the car, I say “I was thinking we could have a drink, the bar here is quite nice.” You pull yourself up to me and reply, “whatever you would like”. I believe you. As the words are just finishing coming off your lips I kiss you again. What I want could happen now, here. in open public against this car door but it shouldn’t. “Fuck the drink, I have a better plan” we hurry inside, past the front desk and into a waiting elevator. My hand holding yours, i take my other hand and push the floor. We step out and I lead you down the hall towards the room. At the door, while I reach for the key in my pocket, I drop it. I drop to a knee to scoop it up, realize what I could do from here, put my hand on your lower back, push you flat against the door and run my tongue up the back of your thigh and straight up the cleft of your ass. My one hand is forceful enough to keep you pinned and stunned as you process the feelings of having me explore you. I find the key, slide back to my feet with my body pressed against yours. I swipe the keycard and thrust you into the room. No more than two steps inside and I am back against you, both hands now available to caress and undress you. My hands, although elegant in their actions thus far, are strong, you can tell, and you wonder just how strong. You stand naked in front of me and I must have you. My hands take your face, one hand , taking your head near your right ear. The other hand, lower, along your jawline, thumb across your throat and you feel just how powerful my hands can be. You marvel at how these gentlemanly hands that just opened the car door for you could now be so controlling of your every move and desire. You’re at my disposal, so I pull you close, kiss you again, then whisper in your ear. “I am going to pleasure you. Do not fight it, you are my good girl and I want to thank you for your company tonight. If you follow those conditions, like the good girl I know you can be, I am going to finish your last orgasm with mine at the same time. I will be deep inside you, pushing my seed because it is time for me to make a child and it should be with you. I am sure we need my baby inside you!” Your eyes glimmer and you say again through a happy smile, ”whatever you would like!”