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supernaturalistthings · 11 days

Text

Acts of Service

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester has been loving you for years in his own way and with a little help you finally realize it.

Warnings: soft core smut +18

You watch from across the bar as Dean sips his whisky from a short glass. You're on your third tequila pineapple and he looks as amazing as ever. His jaw is sharp and he has some slight stubble from not shaving for a few days. You, Sam, and Dean had just finished a tulpa case in Pennsylvania and had decided to celebrate with a few drinks at a local dive. You had worked with the boys for a few years now and it had become a tradition to celebrate after a win.

Meanwhile on your side of the bar you were starting to feel the bass of the music vibrating through you in a different way, the drinks were going down too easily, and the urge to dance was coursing through your being. You had sipped your thoughts away to your heart's content.

You had one too many to drink and you were starting to feel it. If you didn't watch yourself you were going to wake up in somebody's front lawn very shortly.

The feeling of warmth on your waist breaks you from your thoughts and you look up to see an unknown, attractive, dark haired, blue eyed man, with one of his hands on your waist.

“Sorry i didn't mean to startle you…” he says and then continues “Can i buy you a drink?” raising his to make sure you can understand what he's saying over the loudly playing music. It's not that he wasn't attractive, hell he was very attractive. But he wasn't Dean Winchester. He didn't have stubble, or piercing green eyes, or a gruff sultry voice that could make a girl melt. So you raise your full glass as an answer and in hopes to send him on his way but he doesn't budge. He leans in once again to make sure you can hear him and says

“Well, how about a dance?” He pulls back to see your answer but you look across the bar. Dean's eyes are locked on you and the dark haired man before you. If you didn't know better there was a twinge of jealousy behind his eyes. His jaw is locked and his hold on his glass is strong. You think back to all the times you had to watch him shamelessly flirt with local girls and even go home with them and something in you screams that this is your turn. Your eyes snap back to the man in front of you and you say

“Yes”

You down your drink and leave the glass behind. He puts his hand on your lower back and leads you to the part of the bar where everyone's dancing. You wrap your arms around his neck and start swaying your hips to the beat of the music. He's a pretty good dancer, but that drink you just downed starts to catch up with you and all of a sudden you feel hot, really hot. Your vision is slightly blurred and you can't tell if you're about to throw up or pass out.

You lean up to his ear and say that you'll be right back and start stumbling your way towards some fresh air. The walk to the exit feels like it takes a literal year but you finally get there and fling the door open. Little did you know there was a pair of eyes on you watching you your whole way out.

The familiar sensation of warmth on your waist once again breaks you from your thoughts as you've steadied yourself against the wall of the building. You look up expecting to see the newly met set of blue eyes but instead you're met with bright green ones. It's Dean. The confusion must've been written on your face so he clears it up for you.

“We’re going home” He wraps one hand around your waist and throws your arm over his shoulder so he can walk you side by side to his car. He opens your door and sets you in the passenger seat and buckles you in. He walks over to his side, gets in, and the next thing you hear is the engine roar to life. It hits you that you're leaving the bar without saying goodbye to the handsome stranger, or paying your tab, that you werent ready to leave.

“Wait, let's go back… i'll get the next round if we go back right now” You slur out. This makes Dean laugh deeply and he looks over briefly to take in your disheveled state. You never get like this so it's always hilarious to him when you do, and unbeknownst to you it amazes him how you can still look so beautiful.

“I don't think even the most careless bartender would give you another drink right now. You're cut off” He replies still laughing.

This makes you pout and you turn away from him and look out the window dramatically.

“Oh cmon sweetheart… you'll thank me in the morning trust me…” he breaks the silence

“The one time I find someone to take home…” you mumble out with an emphasis on “I”. He snaps his head over and looks you up and down. His grip on the steering wheel is turning his knuckles white. He lets out an unnoticed frustrated sigh and says

“You didn't really want him… did you?”

This causes you to slowly look over at him and he's already looking at you while momentarily darting his eyes back to the road. He wants an answer. But you don't give it to him, ashamed of how and what you really feel. You just bury your head back into the side of the door without saying anything until the motel comes into view. You're exhausted all of a sudden. You hear his door open and he opens yours which causes you to almost fall out of the car. He catches you and laughs and sits you back up straight. He unbuckles you and says

“Okay enough of this” and with that he scoops you up princess style and carries you to your motel room door. You're secretly thankful, as you are embarrassed that you're this drunk, you would've never made the walk. It feels like you're getting more inebriated by the minute. He puts the arm that was carrying your legs down gently and holds you there.

“I'm going to search your pockets for the key okay…” he warns you before gently diving his hands into your pockets until he grasps the key. He opens the door, swings it open, and then picks you up once again to carry you to the bed. He lays you down gently on top on the sheets and the next thing you know your eyes are closed and you have the deepest sleep of your life.

You wake up and the first thing you see is a glass of water on the side table. You reach for it and drink it like you haven't had anything to drink in days. You're pretty sure it was the best thing you've felt in a while, and this only reassures the notion that you are extremely hungover. You don't remember anything from last night other than dancing with some mystery man for a little bit while a pair of familiar green eyes watched you from across the bar. That's it. You lift the sheets that were comfily tucked around you off and see clothes laid out and tylenol behind the glass of water. You must've set yourself up for the morning once you got in. You're a genius is what you're thinking. You couldn't have been that embarrassingly drunk, that crosses your mind and soothes your conscience. You're thankful for the sliver of soberness in you last night and throw on the fresh clothes, brush your teeth and go to head over to Sam and Dean's room. You knock and Sam opens the door. The smell of greasy breakfast food hits you and warms your soul. It's exactly what you need right now.

“Tell me you got something for me” you ask while looking hopefully at Sam.

Sam laughs and says “Yeah Dean went earlier, he got your usual”

You look over at Dean who keeps his eyes on his food and say thank you. You take a seat at the small motel room table and start diving in. You look up and Dean is looking at you and smiling softly.

“What?” you say cluelessly

“Nothing” he replies, dropping his smile and focusing back on his food and you do the same.

“So how was last night? Was it epic” Sam says with a curious smile, eyeing the both of you.

“Not really, I was sober enough to set my clothes out and get under the covers so I'd say it was kind of a bust” You say laughing as you take another bite of your breakfast. Everything gets quiet for a second and you wonder what you said to cause such an awkward vibe.

“I'm going to shower” says Dean and he gets up without even looking at either of you, walks to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. You hear the shower start and that's when Sam leans in and looks at you seriously. You pause mid bite and look at him confused.

“What?” you say setting your plastic fork down

“You know Dean got you home last night right?” he says directly

“I figured…” you reply, “so?” you continue.

“So… Dean set your clothes out…” it's starting to hit you, he continues “He drove to get you tylenol because we only had the strong stuff…” It hits you, “He set out a glass of water… he tucked you in, he woke up early and got your favorite breakfast. Hell he even paid your tab” Sam says looking towards the bathroom.

It felt like the world stopped spinning, in that moment cars stopped driving, birds stopped chirping. Everything was still. The realization was flowing through every molecule of your being and you were absolutely frozen, other than your jaw dropping you couldn't move. Dean Winchester cares about you. He cares about you as more than a friend, he sees more. It keeps repeating in your head until hopefully it sinks in. He sees more.

How could you have not seen this before? Maybe it's because he knew the real you, he knew more about you than anyone else, and how could anyone love or care about you once they do? That question can no longer plague you because He sees more.

All you can say is, “Thank you Sam”

He replies with a nod and takes his breakfast and says that he'll be in your room. The door shuts behind him and you're left alone awaiting Dean to step out of that bathroom. You’re carefully forming your thoughts making sure what you say is exactly what you feel. It's going to be perfect. You hear the bathroom door creak open and you quickly stand and turn to face a half naked dean who's only wearing jeans and drying his hair with a towel. He pauses when he sees you're the only person in the room. You feel like you might explode.

“Where’s Sa-”

“I care about you… alot” you interject. The silence is deafening. So much for your deep thoughtful speech. You can't take the silence and break it by continuing “and I know you care about me too…”

He's absolutely frozen, cornered. It was now or never.

“How did you-”

“I can just tell” you cut him off. You smile proudly, only now realizing you have the ability to make the Dean Winchester speechless. You're scared you might’ve overstepped, might've been too enthusiastic when he starts laughing and smiling. Maybe Sam was wrong? But that all changes when he says “i don't just care about you… im in love with you…”

It was your turn to be frozen. “You don't have to be yet… but I want you to know that I've been in love with you for a while now. I love your laugh, your smile, hell I even love what you get for breakfast.” Your eyes are wide in disbelief, he walks forward until he's close enough to where he can reach out and brush some hair out of your face and then continues. “I'm painfully in love with you. With everything about you” He’s desperately scanning your face for any sign of reciprocation, any sign of hope. He gets his sign when your mouth curves into a bright smile beaming at him, and before he can even realize it he has one of his own shining back at you.

You don't know who leaned in first, but the next thing either of you know is that your lips are moving against each others. You're running your fingers through his still damp and already messy hair. His hands are at your waist and holding you there like fine art. You were to him, something timeless, thought provoking, head turning, beautiful. This kiss was the start of Dean Winchester's future and he knew it. It tasted sweet and he savored every movement of your lips with his own, grateful for anything you give him.

His hands were electrifying you with every soft touch. You were melting in his arms and you can't get enough of him. You were pressed flush against his bare chest and you can't help but run your hands over his broad shoulders while continuing to kiss him deeply. You can't help but still be in a bit of disbelief. You could kiss him for hours, and by the way he's kissing you, he could too.

He pulls back and says “I don't want to rush things…”

“I was thinking the same thing…” You say, but yet again you have no idea who leans in first but your lips collide once again. His hands are on the sides of your face and yours are resting on his stomach. The room is filled with the sounds of your kiss and occasional involuntary moans, this feels better than either of you had imagined and you can't help it.

“When did he say he'd be back?” Dean mumbles into the kiss referring to Sam.

“He didn't” You mumble back barely breaking the kiss to do so.

You both simultaneously pull back and look at eachother wide eyed and it's like a lightbulb goes off over both your heads, but you can still see the worry plaguing his eyes so you say. “It'll be perfect no matter what because it's us… You and me.” You lace your fingers with his and at that he smiles and pulls you to him and towards his bed. He picks you up and lays you on the bed with him on top of you and it makes you both laugh into the kiss. When suddenly a pang of worry hits you. The last thing you want is for Sam to walk in on what's about to happen. As if on cue you hear the door shut and both of your heads snap to a frozen and panicked Sam. Dean begrudgingly and with a groan stands up and off of you and you immediately sits up. You're utterly embarrassed but Dean is just annoyed.

“Really?” Says Dean

“I wasn't expecting that, I mean I was hoping things went well but… wow” says Sam while setting the remnants of his food on the table. Dean finds a shirt in his bag and throws it on along with his shoes and grabs your hand and starts leading you towards the door. “We’ll hit the road in 2 hours until then … stay here” Dean says to Sam and he rolls his eyes. Dean shuts the door behind you both and starts walking you towards your room with a grin like he's won the lotto, and in his head he has. You laugh and he says

“What? Checkout isn’t for another two hours, might as well make the most of it…” He leans over and places a quick kiss to your temple. Your eyes flutter closed for a second. You've never felt this type of contentment before. You realize you never said i love you back earlier and you immediately look to the side of his face and say

“I love you too by the way” He immediately looks over and smiles wider than you've ever seen him smile before. In the moment he feels the contentment the same as you. His life just got a hell of a lot better and he knew it.

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural headcanon #supernatural imagine #dean winchester headcannons #dean winchester moodboard #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean winchester one shot #dean #dean winchester smut

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siredtosturniolos · 2 months

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surprise!

paring: matt sturniolo x reader

summary: you visit your boyfriend matt on tour! (idk how the tour worked so let’s pretend im right for shits and giggles.)

warnings: suggestive but no description!

you and matt had been dating for a few months now, and he was currently on tour with his brothers. you missed him so much, but you were afraid of expressing that to matt in fear of coming off as clingy.

you had told matt and his brothers that you wouldn't be able to come to any of the tour dates due to work, but that was a lie. you had planned everything out with laura, flying to their boston show without them even knowing.

laura made sure the entire team knew you were coming, and to put you on the list so there'd be no hassle with getting inside. you were going to wait until the boys were on stage before letting your presence known. you and matt weren't exactly public as a couple, but you had appeared on their youtube channel a few times over the last year, as their best friend.

you were nervous for matt's reaction, if he'd be able to control himself on stage or if he'd say fuck it and let it be known you were together.

you were currently in an uber, heading to the hotel located a short walk away from the venue. once you arrived at the hotel, matt had called you. you debated on answering it but ultimately you did.

"hi baby." matt greeted you softly, sighing slightly.

"what's wrong love?" you immediately asked, while making your way to the bathroom. you needed to take a shower before you got ready for the show tonight, already dreading of having to think up an excuse to hang up on him soon.

"i just wish you were here, with me, in my home town." he quietly admitted, making your heart swell. if only he knew.

you hummed, "i wish i was there too, but this just means there's a third tour you gotta do so i can come to that one." you playfully replied, making matt chuckle.

"that sounds fair, but what are you up to? i figured you be at work right now." he questioned, making you freeze. you would be at work right now if you were back in LA. fuck.

"oh, yeah i'm just on break right now." you did your best to sound casual, but matt could read you like a book. he thankfully let it go, realizing he needed to get off the phone.

"baby i gotta go, we're 'bout to let the fans in for the first round of meet and greets." he replied reluctantly, making you smile.

"i have a good feeling you're going to win tonight, call me after the show?" you asked, as you usually do each night he's been gone.

"i will, love you." he replied, hanging up once you returned the form of endearment.

you quickly took a shower, seeing you only had about an hour until you absolutely had to go. you decided to wear matt's blue merch from the tour, with black cargo pants and nike air force ones. quickly doing your makeup and styling your hair, you were out the door 5 minutes earlier than you thought you'd be.

making your way down the street to the venue, approaching the door laura described to you and knocking harshly, praying someone was around to let you in. a few minutes passed and right before you were going to knock again, nate slowly creaked the door open, shock filling his feature's once he saw it was you.

"holy shit! laura told me you were supposed to come but i didn't think you actually would." he grinned at you, holding the door open while you shuffled inside. you shared a brief hug with nate, before he lead you to the side stage where you'd be standing for the duration of the show.

nick, matt, and chris were already on the stage, warming up the crowd before the fans were selected to come on stage with them. nick was the first to spot you, his jaw dropping as he froze in place. chris was next as he was standing next to nick, nearly breaking his neck in order to see what nick was freaking out over.

matt was facing the crowd as everyone started to freak out over what matt thought was nothing, but was dead wrong when he turned to face his brothers. his eyes met yours and the biggest smile spread across his lips as he let his eyes rake up and down your figure.

butterflies filled your stomach, a giddiness spreading throughout your body at seeing your boyfriend for the first time in over a month. matt shook his head, glancing towards the crowd before turning back to face you.

he quickly made his way over, nearly shoving nick and chris into the crowd as he barreled his way through them to get to you. wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as yours went around his neck, lifting you off the ground and spinning you while holding you close.

"i can't believe you're here!" he yelled into the hug, pulling the tiniest bit away to look you in the eyes.

you nodded, "good, it was supposed to be a surprise." you teased him, earning yourself an eyeroll in response. before you knew it, he had pressed his lips to yours, making the fans go absolutely wild.

"well i guess that cat is out of the bag." chris announced into his microphone, making you giggle into the kiss.

matt pulled away from you, "sorry, kinda forgot where we were." he sheepishly apologized, the tips of his ears turning pink. he gently shoved you backwards, turning towards the crowd and signaling he needed one minute before trotting back to you.

you shook your head, a grin on your lips, "it's fine matt, they were bound to find out." once you finished speaking matt was beckoned over by nick, who wanted to get the show started.

matt turned to you with a smirk on his face, "if i win tonight you gotta ride me." he murmured to you, loving the way your breath hitched at his comment.

you quickly composed yourself, "and if you lose?" you asked, softly biting your bottom lip, knowing that it drives matt crazy.

"i'm not gonna lose baby, have some faith." he grinned down at you, placing a quick peck on your check before joining his brothers on the stage.

you were lost in your thoughts for a moment, "you guys are disgusting." nate muttered from beside you, making you jump, not realizing he was even there.

"oops."

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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appocalipse · 3 months

Note

Congrats! How huge! Can I shop?! 🛍️

There's an antique lock and key set and a pair of velvet gloves that look like they have my name written all over them (or a smutty friends to lovers with Steve Harrington where maybe we're partners in a game - drinking game at a rager, yard game at a bbq, board game on a game night, chicken at the pool party...I'm not picky - and celebrating our winning streak gets...a little out of hand 😉😉)

thank you, angel ♥ i got more than a little carried away with this one lol 6.4k words | cw: fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex 18+ only! mdni! literally the smuttiest smut that ever smutted

amy's flea market ♥

"Ready?" Steve asks.

No. Fuck, no.

“Yeah,” you respond. Steve smiles that almost evil smile of his and dives down so you can climb onto his shoulders. Again. You can't believe you're doing this again.

It's the third round of chicken fighting that you and Steve are participating in, and as you climb onto Steve's shoulders, you try not to think that you're climbing onto Steve's shoulders.

Steve. Your friend Steve. The guy you have the world's biggest crush on...no, fuck that. It's more. You know it's more, but you're afraid to admit the stronger word.

Because Steve is Steve. He's off limits.

Which doesn't make it any easier for you to try not to think about the way his big, warm hands are now on your thighs, holding on tight so you don't fall off his shoulders, where you're sitting in nothing but a bikini, his head between your legs...

"1, 2,3...go!" Robin yells, sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water. You raise your arms as the team in front of you advances, the girl's arms stretched in hopes of pushing you off Steve.

But you and Steve are, apparently, invincible today.

It happens faster this time; next thing you know, the girl's grip slips, and you are the one who ends up pushing her into the water, her partner also losing his balance in the process. They laugh and the crowd — including Robin — goes wild. The adrenaline surges through your veins as you realize you've won. Again. Steve keeps you up there for one more moment, just so you can throw your arms in the air, giggling, enjoying your third victory in a row. Then, he carefully lowers you down into the water.

When he emerges again, wet hair sticking to his forehead, he's grinning at you as he grabs your wrist, making you raise your arm one more for the crowd.

You giggle.

Steve sighs. It's that laugh of yours, the one that makes his heart skip a beat every time.

"I think that's enough for today," you say, lowering your arm and grinning up at him, a bit dizzy from the adrenaline of the victory and the heat of the sun on your skin.

Steve suddenly feels dizzy too, for a completely different reason.

He unsuspectingly watches as a fat drop of water travels down your lower lip, to your chin, your neck... and then you turn around, moving in the direction of the pool ladder. Against his better judgment, he follows.

Once out of the pool, you look around.

"D'you want me to grab a clean towel for you?" Steve offers, ever the gentleman.

"Towel, yeah, that would be great..." you murmur, feeling ten times more self-conscious now that the two of you are out of the water. You don't even know most of the people here… "Can I come with you?"

Steve coughs.

The pool party had started earlier that day. The only clean towels remaining in that house now are in his bathroom.

In his room.

And you're all wet.

For God's sake. That's the last place where he should be alone with you right now.

But, like an idiot, Steve nods, "Sure, let's go."

He leads you through the living room, past a group of people who are sitting on the floor, drinking and laughing, to the stairs, taking them two at a time. You're a little out of breath, but manage to keep up with his long strides until he reaches the top. The hallway up here is a lot dimmer, but you can still see the soft, warm sunlight coming from beneath his bedroom door. It's strange how you've never been in his room before. Countless times in his house, sure, but never his room.

Steve clears his throat and then opens the door, stepping aside to let you enter first.

It's... not what you expected. It's not messy like the stereotypical rich boy's room, but it's not pristine either. It's neat, orderly, but... lived in. There's a king-sized bed in the center of the room, covered with a duvet that looks like it's been slept in. A small nightstand on each side of the bed, with a lamp and a few framed photos on top — you're even in some of them with him and the kids. The walls are painted a soft, warm blue, and there's a big window next to the bed, letting in the bright sunlight.

The air smells like... like him. Like soap and hairspray.

Steve clears his throat, drawing your attention back to him. He's still shirtless, so it's not like that's hard to do. "Here, take this," he says, tossing a towel in your direction. You catch it reflexively, feeling the softness of the fabric against your bare skin.

"Thanks," you murmur, rubbing your hair with it.

The sound of laughter from downstairs seeps in through the partly open window. Steve is standing on the other side of the room, a towel loosely draped around his neck, and maybe it's that mysterious drink Robin offered you earlier making you imagine things, but there's a strange tension in the air and you're under the distinct impression that Steve is consciously avoiding you as you dry off.

You wonder what he's thinking.

Steve clears his throat again, seeming to steel himself for something. "Um... I'm gonna go grab a drink. You... you want one?" he asks, not quite meeting your eye.

"Sure. And...can you get my dress? I left it downstairs earlier."

Steve nods, turning away from you so fast you almost wonder if he's mad. He disappears into the hallway, and you hear the click of the door being closed behind him, followed by the distant sound of footsteps as he makes his way downstairs.

Left alone in his room, you wander over to the bed and sit down on the edge, now wrapped in your towel. The duvet is soft against your bare skin, and the pillows smell like him. You can't help but wonder what it would be like to curl up here with him, to feel his warmth surround you as you drift off to sleep.

Probably not the kind of thought you should have in your friend's room.

The door opens again, and Steve steps back in, two glasses of something clear and fizzy in his hand. "Here you go," he says, handing you one of them. You take the drink gratefully, sniffing at it before taking a sip. It's some kind of spritzer, sweet and tangy. "And here's your dress."

It's draped over the curve of his arm. Steve sets his own drink on the nightstand before sitting down on the bed beside you, extending his arm so you could take the dress.

You do take it, but make no move to put it on. "I didn't know you were that good at chicken fighting," you say, trying to make it sound light-hearted.

Steve smiles. "Pretty sure it was all you."

"Of course not," you playfully nudge him. "We're a team."

He looks at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he reaches for his drink and takes a generous sip. "Yeah, a team," he repeats softly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He studies you for a moment, taking another sip of his drink. The silence stretches between you. You wish you knew what was going through his mind, if he was feeling the same things you were.

"It is something," you quietly insist.

Steve looks at you, his eyes flickering uncertainly. "I don't know what you mean," he says finally, but there's a catch in his voice that betrays him, a hint of vulnerability that you've never heard before.

You stand up. He looks at you like you had just slapped him.

"I'm still wet," you explain. Then, way too quickly for your embarrassment to go unnoticed, you add, "from the pool, I mean! Not...I don't want to make a mess of your bed or anything, you know...I mean, by sitting there while I'm wearing a wet bikini and-"

Steve cuts you off with a laugh. "Hey, hey," he says, reaching out to take your hand. "It's okay. You're fine. You can sit here." He squeezes your hand gently, and there's a warmth in his touch that sends a shiver through you. "And if you did make a mess, I'd clean it up. No worries."

You sit down again. Better than awkwardly standing there.

"Very gentlemanly of you," you murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Steve shrugs, returning your smile. "I'm not that bad, am I?" he asks, his voice teasing.

"The worst. But you're a good partner in chicken fighting, though."

Steve swallows hard.

"Just that?"

There is a moment of silence, as you and Steve stare at each other. You know exactly what he means, what's behind that question, behind the look he's giving you right now, studying your face like it's the first time he's seeing it. At least...you think you know.

He puts his glass aside again. You open your mouth to say something, but he's faster.

"I need to go."

"Wait-"

He doesn't wait. Steve is on his feet in a second, almost at the door in two.

But you, somehow supernaturally faster…you grab his wrist. You grab his wrist with both hands and oh God, Steve's not quite sure what to do with you now. He doesn't respond, doesn't move. You tug at his arm, wanting him to turn around, look at you. He doesn't.

"Steve."

His name feels like a whisper on your lips. It's not loud, but it's urgent.

Steve is having a hard time remembering why he's supposed to keep his distance from you. He turns around to look at you, your hand slipping down to his, still not letting him go…and he realizes it was a bad idea.

The desperation in your eyes mirrors his own, and before he knows what he's doing, Steve is leaning in, hands grabbing your face, mouth finding yours, lips parting.

He's not gentle, not soft.

You moan into the kiss and Steve kicks the door closed without looking, his hands finding your waist as you cling to his neck, the towel falling at your feet. Your lips part and he slips inside, tasting you, feeling the warmth of your breath on his skin as you gasp, stumbling back as he pushes forward.

The bed is soft but cold beneath you as you land, Steve on top of you, pinning you down."God," he groans into your neck. "Sorry."

You giggle. "God, sorry?"

He groans in reply, lips moving against your neck as he continues to kiss his way down your collarbone. "I mean it," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. "I shouldn't be doing this."

"M' not...complaining."

Steve laughs roughly into your skin, pressing his lips to the dip between your breasts and finally looking up into your eyes. He pauses for a moment, searching for something there. You can see the uncertainty in his expression, the fear of losing control, of what will happen if he really lets go.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you say automatically.

He chuckles at your answer, a soft, low sound that vibrates through your chest. "You're sure?" he whispers, leaning in to kiss you again, this time softer, slower. "Because I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to take advantage of you."

"How could you possibly take advantage of me?" you ask, sounding almost annoyed.

Steve smiles. "I don't know. I just..." He trails off, pressing a quick kiss to your chin. "I just want this to be right."

You can feel his hesitation, his worry, but you don't want to push him away. You reach up, gently cupping his cheek, and look into his eyes. "I want to."

"You want to?"

"Yes."

There's a moment where the weight of what you've just said seems to press down on Steve, making him pause. He looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of doubt or fear, but finds only the truth. He exhales shakily, looking like it takes every ounce of his self-control to do so. "Tell me you're not drunk."

You reach up, tracing his jawline with your fingers. "I'm not drunk."

"Fuck..." he mutters, trying to concentrate as you trail your fingers down his neck, over his collarbone. "Really? Don't lie to me."

You smile, shaking your head in disbelief. "I'm not drunk," you repeat. "I had like…two drinks. Are you drunk?"

Steve laughs, a choked-up sound. "I've had more than that," he admits. "But I'm…I'm okay." He looks at you for a long moment, like he's trying to commit your face to memory, just in case. Then he leans in, kissing you softly, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that belies his earlier urgency. "But even if I were drunk, you're welcome to take advantage of me anytime."

You smile against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'll keep that in mind," you whisper, feeling a rush of affection for him. Steve groans into the kiss, pressing your back against the mattress as his hips move between your legs. His skin feels hot against yours, his muscles tense, and with nothing but the thin fabric of your bikini bottom and his swim trunks between you, there's little left for the imagination.

"Steve," you breathe out as he kisses his way down your neck, nipping at your skin with his teeth. His name feels heavy in your mouth, like you've been holding it there for years and it's finally been given the chance to be spoken. "Steve…"

"You keep saying my name like that and I'm going to lose it."

You feel the wet heat of his mouth as he kisses his way back down your neck, over your collarbone. His fingers are patient, too patient as they trail up your sides, over your ribs, stopping just shy of your breasts like he's afraid he'll go too far, too fast, too soon.

"Can I-"

"Yes."

His laughter is soft as he pulls back to look at you, eyes half-lidded and mouth slightly parted. He brushes a strand of wet hair away from your face, tracing the line of your jaw with his thumb. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"What were you going to say?"

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Something about wanting you. About how I can't believe I'm finally here with you." His fingers drift lower, tracing the curve of your neck before one hooks playfully under the delicate string of your bikini top. "I was going to ask if I could touch you."

You nod, feeling the anticipation building inside you. "Yes," you breathe, arching into his touch. "Please."

His smile is slow, almost wicked. He lets go of the string and instead cups your breast, thumb tracing the hardening peak of your nipple through the thin fabric of your top. Your back arches further, and a soft moan escapes your lips as his fingers find purchase and squeeze. He pulls back slightly, watching as you close your eyes, your chest rising and falling rapidly. "Is this okay?" he whispers, tracing a circle around your nipple with his finger.

"Yes," you manage to choke out.

Steve hums in understanding, his touch growing more confident as he cups your breast in his hand, squeezing gently before circling your nipple with his thumb. The sensation is almost too much, making your hips twitch against his as you arch further into the touch.

He wonders for a moment if he should take it further, if he should untie the knot and push the bikini top down, revealing your breasts to his touch...would you be okay with that? Or should he keep going, teasing you until you beg? His eyes flicker down to your lips, watching as they part slightly with each shallow breath, how your tongue darts out to wet them.

You're so beautiful, he thinks, almost dizzy from the sight of you.

He can feel the warmth between his legs, the insistent pressure as his cock strains against the fabric of his trunks. You'll be the death of him, he's certain. He's already so fucking hard and you're not even naked yet.

He leans in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Can I?"

He kisses your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. And then his fingers slide lower, tracing the line of your stomach, pausing at your navel…

"Can I touch you here?"

The feel of his fingers tracing the line of your stomach, so close to where you ache for him to touch, is almost too much to bear. You chuckle as you arch your back, offering him more of your skin, more of yourself, then grabbing his wrist when he doesn't seem convinced, guiding his hand lower.

"Please," grinning, you run your fingers through his hair with your free hand, feeling the dampness there as it clings to the strands, "stop asking."

He smiles against your skin, his fingers finding the soft, warm skin of your inner thigh, tracing up and down, so close to where you're aching for him. "You're sure?" he whispers, his voice low and teasing. "You're sure you want this?"

"Steve Harrington, you-"

But you can't even finish the sentence before he's kissing you, his mouth warm and wet and demanding as his fingers finally slip between your legs, sliding beneath the thin scrap of fabric and you gasp into his mouth, arching into his touch, forgetting whatever insult you were going to say.

You feel the rough pad of his index finger against your clit, and then he's pressing, circling, teasing.

"Fuck."

"You're so wet," he breathes, watching your face. "So fucking wet for me, honey, God," His fingers move faster, his touch more demanding as he presses deeper, finding your entrance and circling, circling, wanting to push inside.

You grip the back of his head, your other hand clutching at the duvet beneath you, your hips arching off the bed as his fingers move in a blissful, insistent rhythm. It's been so long since anyone has touched you like this, since you've felt this kind of need and desire, but this…this is even better than you could have imagined. This is Steve, your Steve.

"I want you inside me," you pant before you can think twice about it, your words breathless and urgent. "Please."

Steve hums, his fingers still working their magic as he leans forward, kissing your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. "I want that too," he whispers, and then he's pushing the bikini bottoms aside, throwing them across the room, revealing your wet, aching folds to his gaze, moving to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, over your hip, and finally to the juncture of your thighs.

Shit. He parts your legs with his shoulders, bending his knees to kneel between them. "Let me make you come first."

With...his mouth?

You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at his face, more than a little self-conscious now. "Wait, but you...you're gonna...?"

He wraps his arms around your hips, holding you still as he leans in, his breath warm against your exposed skin. Curiously, he asks, "You don't want me to?"

You shake your head; no, of course you do. But the idea of him going down on you...it's so intimate. So much more than just having sex. "I just..."

He looks up at you, and there's something in his eyes that makes you forget whatever you were about to say. Something that makes you feel safe and wanted and desired. "You just...?" he whispers, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your inner thigh.

It's hard to concentrate when he does that. You squirm a little, but his hold on you is surprisingly firm.

"I just..." You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. "I just haven't had anyone do that for me in a really long time." It's true; the last time you can remember was with a boyfriend years ago, and even then it was more of a "be polite" thing than anything else. But with Steve...it feels different. "Do you *really* want to? Because you don't have to if-"

You feel him smile against your skin as he continues to gently kiss his way up your thigh. "I want to," he whispers, and the way he says it, the sincerity in his voice, makes you believe him. "I really want to. But, um…only if you want it too."

You open your eyes, watching as he looks up at you, waiting for your answer. He looks so hopeful, so eager. If he wants this, if he wants to make you feel this good...how can you say no?

With a shaky breath, you nod, your fingers threading through his hair. "Okay," you whisper. "Okay."

Steve hums in satisfaction. You feel a shiver run down your spine as he slowly pulls your legs wider apart, resting his elbows on the bed as he leans in closer, his hot breath fanning across your folds. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he gazes up at you, watching your reaction, almost daring you to tell him to stop.

You watch, mesmerized, as he tilts his head, licking his lips before he leans in, pressing a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to the very center of you.

Boy... does he know what he's doing.

Your eyes flutter shut as he begins to lick and suck, his tongue dancing over your most sensitive skin, his fingers curling into the flesh of your hips, urging you to arch into his touch. You gasp, feeling your whole body tense, your hands tangled in his hair, your nails almost digging into his scalp. He moans, his breath hot against you, and you realize he's watching your reactions, taking cues from your body.

"Good?" he asks, as if you're not already on the verge of coming.

But you can't answer, can't form a coherent thought, let alone a word. So you nod. Frantically so, head thumping against the mattress. He smiles against your skin like he's won some sort of prize, and then you feel the slip of his fingers, two of them easily sliding inside you, tight but wet enough to be ready. You cry out, his name a desperate plea falling off your lips as he thrusts his fingers deeper, curling them up to find just the right spot.

"Oh, God..." you moan, your hips bucking up against his hand. "Steve..." Your fingernails dig into the duvet, your back arching as he expertly works his fingers inside you.

Steve seems to sense that you're getting close, the way your hips are moving erratically against his hand, the way your breath is coming in short, ragged gasps. He looks up at you for a moment as if to gauge your reaction, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He keeps his fingers exactly where they are while he leans up over your body to kiss you, propping himself up on one elbow.

"You taste so good," his voice is a whisper against your lips as they part beneath his. "So wet. God, I want to feel you around me."

"Yes, please."

Your enthusiasm makes Steve grin against your lips. "Please?" he muses. He's hard, of course he is hard in his swim trunks, cock straining against the fabric as it leans against your thigh. But he doesn't want to rush this. Not with you.

"Steve," you admonish, sliding your hands up his arms.

His fingers are still moving, but more slowly now, less urgent. It's almost as if he's teasing you, drawing this out. Your hips rock up against his hand, and you feel a surge of wetness between your legs as you arch your back, seeking more contact. His lips find yours again, tongue sliding against yours as he thrusts his fingers deeper, curling them to hit just the right spot. You moan into the kiss, your body trembling as the pleasure builds, your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Oh God," you say in a shaky voice. "Steve, please..."

He groans against your lips, curling his fingers deeper inside you, searching. "Please what?" he whispers as he kisses along your jaw, teasing, not mean, never mean, but drawing it out just a little bit more.

In lieu of an answer, you find yourself arching your back in a desperate manner. His fingers brush against something deep inside you, something that has you gasping and tightening around him, close too close. His fingers find the rhythm you've been craving, your orgasm building, building, building.

"That's it," he whispers against your neck, his own breath hot and uneven. "That's it, baby."

And you do. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before, a rush of pleasure so intense it makes your vision blur, your skin warm all over.

Steve, watching your expression as you come apart beneath his touch, feels the warmth of your release coat his fingers, the tightness of your body around them. God. It's a heady sensation, knowing that he can make you feel this way.

His fingers are slick with your wetness as he pulls them free and gently pushes you back onto the bed. You're lying flat on your back again, and he's grinning as he looks down at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"You're...very good at this," your voice is a breathy whisper as you glance up at him, a flush rising in your cheeks. You chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him down for a gentle kiss. Steve's skin is warm beneath your fingertips, his kiss featherlight soft against your lips. "Do you want-"

"Yes," he cuts you off with a husky laugh, leaning down to nip at your neck. "If you do," His hand finds the string of your bikini top, finger following along it all the way up to the bow. With a practiced flick, he undoes it but doesn't yet pull the fabric away, watching your eyes as he lets the knot slide free, half expecting you to tell him to stop. You don't, though. You watch him, your chest rising and falling with every breath, and something in his chest aches at the sight.

"You can take it off," you reassure, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "It's just me."

You hope that comes across as playful and confident, but maybe you don't seem so convincing when you're still a little breathless, a little sensitive, so you decide to take matters into your own hands and reach up, fingers shaking only a little, to pull the cups of your bikini top down and away from your chest.

Steve watches you, his expression somewhere between adoration and awe as you reveal yourself to him like a fucking gift unwrapped.

"You're unreal," he breathes. "You're so..."

When he reaches out to touch, just the very tips of his fingers brushing against the sensitive flesh, you try to encourage him by arching into the contact.

"So fucking beautiful," he whispers, leaning down to kiss your collarbone. "I can't get enough of you."

His hands slide down your sides, over the smooth skin of your hips, and then lower still, cupping your ass. He pulls you closer, pressing your body against his, slowly grinding against you. "Do you want..." he tries, an urgent edge creeping into his voice. "Do you want me inside you?"

Steve looks like he's about to explode at the mere suggestion, his expression a mixture of raw desire and aching need. You're about to reply when he nips at your neck, his teeth grazing the skin there. You momentarily lose your words.

"You're killing me," he half groans, half laughs, his hips moving harder against yours as he pushes himself as close to you as he possibly can. You can feel him through the thin fabric of his swim trunks, hard and insistent, and you're sure it wouldn't take much more of this teasing before he loses control completely. "Just say the word," he whispers, kissing along the line of your jaw, "and I'll give you anything you want."

"Can I...can I touch you?"

You feel Steve stiffen at your request at first, his body tensing beneath your fingers. "Of course you can," he breathes, a shudder working its way through him. "You can do whatever you want, baby."

You reach down, fingers shaky in your eagerness to please. You grasp the hem of his trunk and tug gently, almost hesitant, but he's already cooperating, kicking them off and letting them fall to the floor without so much as a second thought.

"Oh," you breathe, eyes widening as you take in the sight of him, naked and perfect in front of you. Steve's cock is already hard, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip, and you can't help but reach out and touch it, tentatively at first, but then more confidently, wrapping your fingers around the base of him and waiting to gauge his reaction.

"Oh, fuck," he moans, closing his eyes as you stroke him. "That feels...that's so good."

Your fingers feel warm and soft around him, and with each gentle stroke, he feels himself growing harder and harder, unable to contain the pleasure building inside of him. He opens his eyes to look down at you, watching your expression as you touch him, your focus solely on the way your fingers slide up and down his length.

Before you can get too carried away, though, Steve's hands are grabbing yours, guiding them away from his cock rather urgently. "If you want me inside you," he pants, a strained smile tugging at his lips, "you're going to have to stop that." His voice is a little shaky, a little rough, and you can tell he's struggling to keep himself in check.

You grin up at him. "I...do want that."

Steve's answering smile is a little more confident now, and he leans forward, brushing the pad of his index finger across your lips, tracing the shape of your bottom lip as he does so. "I think you've had enough teasing today," he whispers, hand moving to cup your neck, his thumb rubbing gently over your pulse point. "You really want this?"

"Yes," you breathe, unable to keep the word from slipping past your lips. "Yeah, I do."

Steve's thumb continues to trace circles around your pulse point as he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. His kiss starts gentle, a mere brush of his mouth against yours, "Yeah? Can I?" sliding his hand down your stomach, between your legs, he adds, "Fuck, yeah, you're...you're wet enough."

You gasp into his kiss as he brushes his fingers against you. "Yeah," you moan, arching your hips up into his touch, with a grin, "Yeah, I am, I...you're gonna make me beg or something, huh?"

"I'd never make you beg for anything, sweetheart."

His fingers move in a slow circle, spreading your wetness around your entrance, making sure you're as ready for him as you can be.

You reach up, wrapping your arms around his neck. You pull him closer as he begins to shift between your legs, his hand coming back up to gently guide himself towards your entrance, and then he looks down at you, searching your eyes for some sign, some reassurance, before he's pushing inside, slowly, gently, taking his time to ease his way into you.

You gasp at the feeling of being stretched, filled, but at the same time it's perfect, it's...right.

He leans forward, bracing himself on his arms, and watches as you arch your back, your lips parted in a silent moan. "More?" he whispers, his voice a rough rasp. "Should I...?"

"More," you breathe, meeting his eyes.

And Steve gives it to you. He slides deeper, pushing in farther, stretching you just enough to make you feel so full of him. You're tight and he's impatient, but he makes sure he doesn't rush, doesn't force it. You feel the muscles in his back and arms tensing as he fights against the urge to go harder, how much he wants to lose control and just fuck you into the mattress.

He takes you like he's been dreaming of it for years, like he's never going to get the chance to feel you like this again. Slowly.

"Steve," his name rolls off your tongue like a sigh the moment he's all the way inside you, your muscles clenching around him in an attempt to hold him close.

He tries to remember how to breathe, pressing his lips to your shoulder. He feels you squeeze around him and muffles a sound between a moan and a growl against your skin, "Can I move?"

"Yes, I...yes."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to adjust his angle, and then pushes back inside you. The sensation is almost too much, the way your body seems to fit so perfectly around him, the way your muscles clench and release, drawing him deeper still. Fuck. You're so wet that he can feel himself sliding easily in and out of you. The sounds of your skin slapping against his is a perfect counterpoint to the gasping, keening noises you're making into his shoulder.

He knows he won't last half as much as he'd like if you keep that up.

"God, that's it," he growls, the words lost in the movement of his hips against yours. "Tell me how it feels, sweetheart." One of his hands slides down between your bodies, cupping your aching clit, rubbing in a tight circle as he thrusts into you. The sensation is overwhelming, too much and not nearly enough all at once.

Your legs twist, one hooking behind his back for leverage, and you arch into his touch, your nails digging into his shoulders as you feel the tension building, the familiar tightness coiling in your core. "So good," you moan, thrusting your hips up to meet his, wanting more of that friction, more of his skin against yours. "Can you go...faster, please?"

He's lost to the sensation of your body moving against his, the feel of you slick and hot and tight. He's close, so close, but he doesn't want this to be over yet. He pulls back slightly, only to slam back in harder, the head of his cock hitting the spot inside you that makes you arch your back and gasp.

His hand moves faster on your clit, circling and pressing, and you're so close now, so close, you can feel it building, making you shiver and writhe underneath him. Steve leans down, lips finding the skin of your neck, sucking and nipping as he thrusts harder, deeper, faster.

"Yes," you moan, arching into his touch, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Fuck, yes."

Steve lets his hand move from between your legs to the back of your knee, hooking it there, holding you open to him as his cock slides in and out of you with a harsh, wet sound. You feel so full of him, stretched and sore and aching in the best way possible.

He's so close now, the tension in his body almost painful as he fights against the urge to come before you do. Steve watches your face as you writhe beneath him, lips parted and flushed, eyes glazed over in pleasure like you can't quite focus. It's the most erotic thing he's ever seen. He doesn't want this to end. Being inside you like this, feeling the way you move against him...he doesn't think he'll ever get enough.

Your nails scrape down his back, leaving little red lines in their wake. Steve thinks he's going to lose it every time you do that.

"Fuck," he groans, the word caught in his throat as he thrusts harder into you. The sounds of your skin slapping against his makes it almost unbearable and he has to think of something else, anything else, to keep from coming. "Feels good, sweetheart?" he whispers, his hand moving between your legs again, this time finding your clit and rubbing in a steady, circular motion.

You arch into his touch, your hips moving in time with his thrusts. "So close," you moan, your voice shaking. "I...I..."

Steve feels the tension building inside you, knows that you're close. He watches your face, the way your eyes have almost rolled back in your head, the way your lips are parted and your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

He leans down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing as pushes inside to the hilt, holding you there, feeling your body trembling beneath him. You cry out then, your back arching off the bed, and Steve feels you tighten and pulse around him, gripping him like a fist as you come.

The sensation is almost too much, but he somehow manages to ask, "Can I come inside you?"

You nod, your eyes closed tightly, and he thrusts once, twice…then one last time, feeling himself spill inside you as he moans, body tensing and then relaxing, spent.

Steve collapses on top of you without pulling out, sweaty bodies sticking together. He somehow finds the energy to kiss your shoulder, your neck, your ear, nibbling and sucking until you laugh, shifting beneath him.

"You're heavy," you tease, but you don't really mind. It feels right to have him pressed against you like this, his heart thumping against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

He chuckles, nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck. "Sorry," he mumbles, before pulling himself up enough to look down at you. You're beautiful, even with your hair tangled and your lips swollen from his kisses. "Do you want to get cleaned up?" he asks, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

"I think I love you."

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and for a moment, you're not sure if you should take them back. But then Steve's eyes widen, his lips part in surprise, and you know it's too late. You've said it.

"Sorry, I shouldn't...I mean, I-"

Steve cups your face in his hands, his eyes wide and serious. "I love you too," he says, his voice a little unsteady. "I have for a long time."

He leans in, pressing his lips to yours gently, then more firmly, as if he's making sure this is real, that you feel it too.

But you feel it too.

God, you feel it too.

#🏷️ amy's flea market #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve x you #steve x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington drabble

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hotvintagepoll · 2 months

Text

hotvintagepoll Hot Men Tournament rundown thoughts

I promised a final recap post and here it is! I'll try to cover the questions I saw the most as we closed out the bracket, reveal my ✨secret faves✨, and talk about the biggest surprises and turnarounds I saw in the brackets.

Yes, this will get silly.

ROUND 1

As I've mentioned before, I worked off submissions for who to include in the bracket, so if your fave was missing—that's why. I used submitted pics when I could, but many submissions didn't have one, so I tried to find decent ones in the couple of days I had to prep the first round (I didn't always succeed). By decent, I mean pics where 1) I could see the hot man's face, so not too much moody lighting, and 2) hopefully conveyed something about his vibe, even if it was a funny thing (yes, I showed Howard Keel in full Shakespeare get-up—I'm not beyond putting up a pic because I think it's funny). I didn't know all of these hotties going in, so some I had to guess with, but when I could I tried to pick shots that had a touch of the humor, class, or genre of the hot man.

For Round 1 and Round 2, I grouped the hotties by each decade, so only '60s actors ran against '60s actors, '50s against '50s, etc. Male beauty standards shifted pretty dramatically over the sixty years this tournament covers, and I didn't think it was fair to pit dramatically different styles of beauty against each other immediately.

I pitted hot men against each other based on opposing energies—hot vs cold, elegant vs rough, comedy vs drama, etc.. I wanted the polls to be interesting and I've never liked brackets where everyone is clearly in different "lanes" until the finals! I also wanted to make polls where I couldn't tell which way they would swing, so by setting matchups that felt opposite but equal, I got to be surprised by the bracket results too.

The only reason we had any three-way matchups is because the amount of men submitted didn't round to a nice bracket number. I don't like them generally and find them really hard to balance.

Secret faves from Round 1—I am a James Coburn girlie and knew he would die immediately, so that was not a shock but a bummer. I similarly knew Robert Preston is only magical to people who have seen him do His Little Dance Routines in That One Iowa Musical, but it would have been nice for him to last longer.

Surprises—Jeremy Brett was a last-minute add and I didn't think he really had a shot, so I put him in as a third wheel on the Sean Connery/Dean Martin matchup. Little did I count on the Granada girlies. (Always count on the Granada girlies.) The Elvis/Peter Falk poll was the first one to gain any momentum—Elvis was winning for the first 24 hours but then, my god, did Peter fight back. I didn't expect the Tab/Toshiro poll to make that bad a mincemeat out of Tab—people have different tastes, and I thought the people who like blonde sunny All American white boys might turn out for The Blonde Sunny All American White Boy. Sorry, Tab. I hope you've peeled yourself off the sidewalk by now. And, of course, I was SHOCKED and APPALLED that James Cagney would be obliterated by, of all people, Mr. Bing Crosby.

SHADOW BRACKET

The fervor of the Harold Lloyd and Fredric March people inspired the shadow bracket, and I couldn't be happier at the way it's gone. You were right, the original photos I had for them did suck. Cunty Harold Lloyd in his little life guard uniform was a revelation.

ROUND 2

For Round 2 I'd gotten a better sense of who was doing well and who was not, so a little of that came into play, but I mostly paired on vibes again. (I genuinely think this is a good way to make a fun, challenging bracket.)

Secret faves—Noooo not hot dilf Dick Van Dyke don't take my hot inventor dilf away uwu!!! (He was up against Marlon Brando. I would have been shocked if he'd won but for a minute there, a glorious second, it was possible.) I am also a big old softie for David Niven's particular brand of repression to the point of volcanic rupture, but he is one of many hotties who does not look good without moving and speaking so I figured he would be going.

So much beef—hey! hey you. I ran a poll asking if we are horny for dancers. Yes, was the resounding poll response. Where, then, did all the fucking dancers go? This round we lost Donald O'Connor, Fred Astaire, Harold Nicholas; Sammy Davis Jr., Danny Kaye, Frank Sinatra, and Bing Crosby all sneak into this category as well, by token of having been in the kind of big MGM bang-a-pan-and-put-on-a-show beloved bedlams we all watch at Christmastime. Round 2 voters HATED musical matchups. Except for one.

The one—SOUND OF MUSIC, the voters said, WE LOVE SOUND OF MUSIC. we will KILL the man responsible for salad dressing because of the SOUND OF MUSIC. every other dance man can die but THIS man dances a FOLK DANCE with JULIE ANDREWS in a GARDEN. I did not go into this poll with strong opinions about Christopher Plummer or Paul Newman but my god did I leave having heard all of them.

Surprises—James Edwards/Anthony Perkins matchup was a nail biter! Conrad vs Oscar kept me up at nights. Surprised to see Basil Rathbone survive against Sabu Dastagir—both very fetching, but Sabu had some top-tier propaganda. Cesar Romero put up a surprisingly stiff fight against Cary Grant (an omen for things to come).

Oh horrors—horror heroes surprisingly fell all over the place. I was sure either Bela Lugosi or Turhan Bey would sweep their three-way matchup, but Michael Redgrave of all people carried through; Boris Karloff went down against Johnny Weismuller (while holding hands with fellow fallen hottie Fred Astaire), but at least we got his guacamole recipe before he went. Delighted to see that the Venn diagram of the coalitions who support horror hero Vincent Price and funny lil guy Donald O'Connor is a circle.

Secret faves pt 2—oh yeah, I fucking love Danny Kaye and Donald O'Connor. RIP funny lil kings.

ROUND 3

For some reason this was the hardest one to make matchups for. Oh no, all the men are hot.

Secret faves—Michael Redgrave i love you SO much you're SUCH an idiot, how did you make it as far as round 3. I want you to sweep the whole thing but you should NOT be surviving this. I love you, here's a kiss, go home.

Surprises—Marlon Brando is gone! Errol Flynn is gone! Christopher Plummer exhausted himself beating the organic oreos man to death and goes out with a whimper. Beginning to actually see the roots of #mifunesweep as Tyrone Power, a hot man very different from Burt Lancaster, who was in turn very different from Tab Hunter, also gets swept under the wheels of the unbeatable toshirobus. Conrad Veidt finds that no amount of purring svelte eccentricity compares to the people who will fuck a young Lt. Columbo.

SHADOW BRACKET 2

Cannot believe it but Veidt loses this one too. Perkins sweeps and becomes Prince of the Shadow Realm!

ROUND 4

At this point I've set a formal bracket that I'm following.

Secret faves—this isn't secret anymore, but losing Jimmy Stewart hurt.

Surprises—The Gene Kelly/Jeremy Brett matchup was the diciest one all round, moving back and forth between the two by sometimes .01%. Far more surprising, however, was Cary Grant getting eliminated before the quarterfinals. Grant has never been my type, but he is famous for being THE type, so while the writing had been on the wall the whole tournament—how on earth did Michael Redgrave even get 36% in his matchup?!—seeing Grant go down was a SHOCKER. Other fallen hotties included Gregory Peck, James Dean, Harry Belafonte, and Sessue Hayakawa. Peter Falk finally met his match in Omar Sharif.

QUARTERFINALS

Secret faves—I don't know if it counts as a secret fave, tbh, as my horses in the race really went out with Stewart, but I do have a soft spot here worth mentioning. Here's my childhood dog, Keaton.

The resemblance is truly striking, and yes, he was short, fast, and not prone to smiling.

Surprises—I couldn't predict how any of these matchups would go down, but I was most interested in Keaton vs Sharif, as they are both SO hot in SUCH different ways.

SEMIFINALS:

This was such a good batch of semifinalist contestants. By this point I think we could all tell Mifune was unstoppable (though I thought Sharif might give him a run for his money), but I really didn't know which way Robeson vs Poitier would flip.

FINALS:

I wanted Sidney Poitier to pull a last-minute sweep out of nowhere, but alas, Toshiro is just THAT GOOD (maybe. I will admit that I find Toshiro's domination a little hard to believe, given the variety and hotness of all his competitors; the man is hot but all these men are hot). I'm still happy with how the tournament went.

FINAL MEDITATIONS:

Biggest shock of a dropout: the loss of Paul Newman

Biggest "you people have no taste": the loss of James Cagney

Biggest victory: Paul Robeson making it to the semifinals over often-assumed champion Gregory Peck

Biggest coalition who deserve justice: dancing men

Biggest ask character: vents anon (currently eating Laurence Olivier)

Biggest, uhh, anything: how many of you are here! I genuinely thought it would be me and 10 other people voting for the whole tournament. I'm thrilled it took off like this!

I think that's everything, but I'm happy to answer addl asks. And THANK YOU to everyone for your tags, rants, impassioned propaganda, beautiful pics, and love for the hot men! See you for the ladies!

#hotvintagethoughts

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fireflysymphony · 3 months

Note

Oh my god your Aventurine x Bodyguard!Reader so good I have to give you so many praises for that! But I have to ask… if you can may I please hear your thoughts on Aventurine with a Reader that he adores to take with him to the casinos as like a lucky charm but in reality he just absolutely loves to show off that they are partners, if that’s alright please and thank you! I hope you have a wonderful day today!

Aventurine showing off reader

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! I really enjoyed writing it, and seeing someone else appreciate it makes me really happy. Here are some of my thoughts! I just love this man an unhealthy amount. I hope you enjoy this <3

Word count: 1.6k

Content Warning: GN! Reader, suggestive but mostly a crazy blond and some fluff, mentions of alcohol, not proofread, hope you enjoy <3

Headcanons

Long before the two of you began to date, he’d take you to his casinos with the intention of scamming you out of your money and possibly getting you drunk and taking you home with him later that night.

He got it in his head that it would end up like one of those sexy pornos where once he gambled you out of all your money, he’d seductively lean down and whisper in your ear “All your money’s gone, a shame angel, but let’s have one more round, yeah? If I win again, you’ll have to pay me back with something more… intimate.” And then he’d win and take you home with him to get his “payment.”

It never ended like that though. You were either too smart to gamble with him, or your teary eyed, defeated face once he won for the third time in a row would break his heart in a way he didn’t like or fully understand, so he’d stop himself from sucking you dry of anymore cash. And the next day you would find the money you lost plus some extra back in your bank account. He hoped you never found out that your tears were the only thing to melt his heart in a long time.

If you so much as mentioned not going with him one day, you’re in store for another one of Aventurine’s famous tantrums. This is when the phrase “good luck charm” started getting thrown around. You jokingly told him to get another person who throws themselves at his feet to be his lucky charm, and he lost it.

“No, no, no! It’s you that I want with me, nobody else! You're my good charm, singular! Please, come with me, angel, please!”

You didn't know why because you thought that’s what he was doing anyway since he often canceled your casino dates. In reality though, when you weren’t with him at night, it was because of dangerous work he didn’t need you getting involved in.

Most people who visited the casinos regularly already thought you and Aventurine were dating for multiple reasons. He always had some part of him touching yours whether it be a hand on the small of your back or him leaning on you whenever he was a little tipsy or bored of a game. He never let you pay for anything while you were with him, and despite being a rich man who could definitely afford two cocktails, he’d much rather hold his up to your lips and watch you drink from his glass. Aventurine wouldn’t let anyone approach you, especially if it was someone he had to confront for work that night, and if anyone tried flirting with you, they’d be out of luck, out of money, and out of a life depending on Aventurine’s mood. He didn’t like things that belonged to him being touched or stolen.

Safe to say, most people had pretty good evidence to conclude that you and him were together.

As you can imagine, this only got worse when you became official partners since Aventurine didn’t have to hold anything back. Your seat wasn’t the one next to him anymore, it was in his lap. He didn’t need to hold himself back from kissing you, and conveniently he mostly did it when other people were watching him. Before each round of poker, he’d ask you for a good luck kiss to bless his hand which lasted a little too long for everyone’s— but his— comfort.

Pretty much everyone knew that you weren’t just a good luck charm but a prize for him to show off, and he wasn’t letting you go anytime soon. Anyone who knew what was good for them backed off from trying to pursue you, and those brave souls who didn’t were in for a treat because Aventurine LIKED having them stare…. When he was in a good mood anyway. Bad mood, jealous Aventurine was a different story, but he’s for another day.

“I like it when they look at you, dove.” “But they look at me like you do.” “Exactly. But I’m the only one who gets to have you, pretty thing.”

Right after kisses, his eyes go straight to find the men he knew were into you, wanting to see their disappointed faces. He’ll even let them chat you up before pulling you onto his lap and kissing you. To him, crushing them emotionally was far more entertaining than outright killing them. This only goes for when you’re dating though. As stated before, Aventurine hated the thought of someone taking what he owned, and since you didn’t know you were his yet, he had to dispose of anyone who thought they had a chance.

It hurt him that the only place he could show you off was at the casinos. He owned them, so nobody was going to try to harm you unless they were prepared for the weeks long torture he had in store, not even the IPC spies he knew were around were safe from his wrath. To the IPC, you were nothing more than one of Aventurine’s ordinary flings, and he wouldn’t let anyone see past that facade, even if he wanted to rub his relationship in Topaz or Ratio’s face.

—-

“You always win, so I don’t understand why you need me here every night, wouldn’t you rather bring someone who’s unfamiliar with your tricks to scam?” You asked him one night before the two of you were officially a couple. He took you up to one of the VIP rooms, a few people mingling and chatting over cards around you. The two of you got a couch to yourself, yet Aventurine had an arm around your waist, not allowing an inch of personal space despite the size of the sofa. Aventurine was bored of the easy fish at the casino tonight. The card shark didn’t like his prey to fall too easily unless it was you, but you weren’t interested in losing any more money to him tonight..

“No, I’ve told you before! You’ve never seen me lose before, doll. Isn’t it obvious why? Because you’re lucky!” He answered, taking a sip of his third glass of champagne. He acted a lot more honestly when he was tipsy, his conniving grin never left his lips though, so nobody could tell how serious he was. That was if he let himself get tipsy in front of anyone but you— which he didn’t. You were the sole one who got to hear his slightly slurred speech and, on particularly rough nights, his lack of inhibitions.

“If I’m so “lucky,” why haven’t I beat you yet?” You hummed, shivering at the amount of money he’s coerced you into betting, yet somehow you’re more well off now since you met him than ever before.

“Because you’re my good luck charm, you have to find your own; I’ve sucked you dry of all your lucky, so nobody else can have you.” He waved his hand in the air like it was the most obvious explanation in the world before leaning his head on your shoulder, his glasses sliding down his nose and letting you see his pretty shining eyes. “You’re only mine to have, do you understand that?”

All you could do was sigh and fix his glasses. He was prone to say stuff like this when he was drunk and when he was sober too but it was worse when you had a little alcohol in his veins. Aventurine’s normal flirting was so teasing that you could chalk it up to him being just that, a teasing flirt who did this with everyone, but when he was tipsy or drunk, a serious edge pierced his words, a large contrast from his usual over-the-top teasing. You couldn’t trust that either. “You’re drunk, Aventurine.”

“Maybe so, but you still don’t understand, doll.” He took off his glasses, tossing them next to his empty glass on the table. He laid himself down on your thighs, his head turned away from you to face the rest of the room. When he was normal sober Aventurine, you didn’t take his advances seriously, and when he was drunk, you still didn’t take him seriously. It was annoying! Did he just give up? Was this a bet lost?

Sensing an incoming tantrum you set your hand on his hair, playing with his blond locks. You bit your lip, already regretting the ego boost you were about to give him. “…Now that I think about it: maybe I do have a good luck charm.”

The way he jolted up gave you an idea of where this was going, so you braced yourself for the storm about to hit. Shit, pouting might have been easier to sit through.

“D’awwww! Lovemuffin, do you mean it?! Really?! Say it again! Come on, say it to me again!” He somehow wormed his way onto your lap, poking at your cheek in eagerness. His legs straddled your waist, and everyone in the small quiet space turned their heads to look at you.

“What are you doing? Stop, get off of me! no-no it isn't you!” You shrieked, batting his hands away from your face as you shook your head. Now you really regretted saying anything. “You’re making a scene!”

“Sure it isn’t! Aren’t you just the most adorable thing, such a sweetheart to little ol’ me!~” He threw his arms around you, resting his head in the crook of your neck. He took back everything he previously thought. No matter what you were going to be his! “But if I am your lucky charm, I don’t think I’m working. You always lose!”

“Shut up, Aventurine!�� You grumbled, hugging him back with a tenderness your words didn’t hold. Was it possible his words weren’t all faked?

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this more fluffy Aventurine post! Whether it be the sexy or scrunkly menace, I hope you enjoy him! <3 thank you to the requester for this idea

Requests are open!

#star rail aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #fluff #suggestive #aventurine #honkai star rail #star rail x reader #star rail

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wileys-russo · 3 months

Text

washing machine malfunction II m.earps x reader

based on this request here washing machine malfunction II m.earps

"taking footage to scout with are you?" your best friend teased as you filmed a clip of the game, smacking her knee and sending her a playful glare. "no! proving to mary i sat through the entire game." you quipped back, sending the video to your girlfriend and pocketing your phone.

"oh sorry are we not up to your standards? do you only watch games at old trafford or wembley now?" your best friend cooed pinching your cheek sharply. "yes actually, or at least where they have actual toilet blocks and not portaloos." your face scrunched up with disgust.

"hey if you'd like to donate some money toward that we'd be very grateful, not every womens team gets funding you know." your best friend huffed as you frowned and squeezed her knee.

"i'm only teasing. you know i'm happy to be here, just wish i was watching you yell at people on the pitch and not at me for once!" you sighed as the girl scoffed and smacked you, she was normally the captain but was out in a boot having sprained her ankle last week.

"so where are you coming on the table?" you clarified, eyes set back on the match unfolding in front of you. "third, but its only the fourth round of the season. lots can change!" the brunette admitted as the two of you fell into a comfortable silence.

"okay no offence to you and your entire team but your keeper kept you all alive this game, it should be 5-0." you whistled as the second half started to wind down.

"of course you favour the keeper, what a shock!" your best friend drawled sarcastically with a roll of her eyes as the whistle blew for full time and a 0-0 draw.

"hey just because my girlfriend is a golden glove holding, bbc sports personality of the year winning, world cup finalist and champion of europe with a tram named after her doesn't mean im bias to keepers!" you grinned holding your hands up as your best friend rolled your eyes.

"oh but you don't brag about her right." the girl mocked with a pout as your grin grew. "only to those who have no choice but to listen, i'd like to see you try and run away from me." you gently nudged your toe against her moon boot as she shoved you.

"you know you could always play with us next season! reallyyy make the girlfriend proud, i can see mary being a very loyal wag." the girl teased as you laughed sarcastically. "you couldn't afford my salary." you shrugged with a click of your tongue.

"more like we couldn't afford your two left feet and lack of hand eye coordination." the girl snickered gesturing for you to help her up. "yeah that too." you had no choice but to agree with a grimace, tugging her up and carefully helping her down toward the barrier.

you stood by as she gave a speech, commending the girls on their efforts as your phone buzzed and you looked down with a smile seeing it was a few messages from your girlfriend.

"god you're so in love its disgusting, get a grip!" you glanced back up and pocketed your phone, playfully punching your best friend in the arm as you waited for her to finish speaking with some of her team, having driven her to the game.

"you can tell us all about what we did wrong at training! stop making your poor mate wait around for you to run your mouth." the keeper from the game warned with a grin as she joined the small huddle you were in.

"you were perfect as per usual, only feedback is maybe score from the box next time? make the game a little spicy!" your best friend teased the taller girl who rolled her eyes. "no seriously you played great! that dive in injury time was textbook and that penalty save? world cup stuff." you complimented with a wide smile.

"and she'd know, her girlfriends played in one so thats high praise." your best friend interjected shoving your head playfully. "wait seriously? talk about a dream!" the girl exhaled with a whistle and a grin.

"well then since you clearly have a good eye for talent-" the girl paused to tug off her jersey, handing it to you with a grin before hugging the girls goodbye and heading off. "we best be off to, i'll see you all monday. i'll bring my whistle!" your best friend teased as the girls groaned, you waving goodbye as the two of you headed off to your car.

"i'd be leaving that in the car if you know whats good for you." your best friend nodded to the jersey on your back seat as you pulled a face and started up the car. "what! why?" you laughed as you drove off.

"umm because your girlfriend is a world class keeper and you just took a keepers jersey from someone else." your best friend hinted. "mary won't care! she's all for more girls wanting to be keepers and she loves the womens game." you rolled your eyes as your best friend only hummed, swiftly changing topics.

"maz? baby i'm home!" you called out as you let yourself in, unwrapping your scarf and hanging it up on the hook. "two seconds love!" you heard your girlfriend call out from the laundry as you took off your shoes.

"hello beautiful!" the brunette appeared with a grin, placing down a basket of clean laundry on the sofa and opening her arms as you melted into them. "you smell nice." you mumbled into her shoulder making the taller girl laugh.

"ah yes the wonders of soap and shampoo!" the keeper teased, kissing you hello before pulling away. "and she's doing laundry? house wife in the making over here!" you teased, smacking her playfully on the bum with a wink.

"oi! watch it cheeky." mary warned with a point, sitting down on the sofa as you leant over the back of it to peck her lips several times. "whats that babe?" mary noticed the jersey tucked into the back of your pants as you walked into the kitchen.

"oh! well the keeper of saf's team is like insane for the league level they play. i'm serious it could have been like twenty to nothing if she wasn't on her game. we were talking after the game and she gave me her jersey!" you shrugged, dropping the item onto the counter as you rummaged through the fridge, missing the look which crossed your girlfriends face.

"oh? thats nice." mary replied bluntly as you glanced at her with a small frown. "yeah it was." you shrugged it off, grabbing it and tossing it into the dirty basket of laundry.

"how was your afternoon?" you changed topics, grabbing out the stuff to make you and mary a cup of tea. "yeah fine, went shopping with tooney and had to make a last minute excuse to leave because she takes forever! so on the rare chance she asks, you're deathly ill and needed me back home." mary groaned dramatically, head thumping back against the sofa.

"like worse than you and thats saying something!" mary tutted as you made a noise of offence. "hey! if i have to sit in a sports store for two hours while you try on every fucking pair of gloves known to man and then buy none of them, you can carry my bags and sit on a comfy little waiting chair while i try a few outfits." you warned seriously as your girlfriend held her hands up in surrender.

"especially when some of those 'outfits' i spend hours trying on are for you." you hinted, handing her the mug of tea as a smug smile settled on the keepers lips.

"mm yeah we haven't been that sort of shopping for awhile, you free tomorrow baby?" mary grinned wolfishly as you flipped her off and settled into the section of the sofa that wasn't covered in laundry and flicking on the tv.

"change, put this on please babe." mary tugged on the bottom of your shirt, dropping a new item of clothing onto your head. "urgh mary!" you huffed, pulling it off and sending her a glare as she grinned at you with a mouthful of toothpaste.

"why do i need to change?" you noticed what she'd given you and asked with a knowing smile. "i don't like that shirt." mary shrugged pointing to your current top with her foot as she sat up on the counter brushing her teeth.

"its your shirt!" you laughed with a shake of your head. "then i want it back, so change." mary ordered, leaning over the sink and spitting. "what if i don't want to wear this?" you egged her on, holding up the jersey inbetween your fingers like it disgusted you.

"then go pick another one, theres about twenty or so in there you can choose from." mary shrugged nodding to her side of the closet where the jerseys she'd chosen to keep over the years hung proudly, rinsing out her mouth and stepping out of the bathroom.

"mmm i actually think i might go put on that jersey from today, saf's team just played so well." you stripped off your top and took a few steps back, watching your girlfriends eyes drop immediately to your chest.

"you know on second thoughts love i actually don't think you need to wear anything at all." you laughed as mary tackled you to the bed, attacking your face with kisses as you squealed and pushed her off. "you hate that i took that girls jersey today don't you?" you moved to sit on top of her with a grin.

"no!" mary rolled her eyes, reaching out for you as you grabbed her hands and pressed them into the mattress. "yes you are, admit it. you hate it, the thought of me wearing someone elses kit!" you teased with a smirk, pressing down her hands harder.

"okay well can you blame me? you're my girlfriend and you wear my jersey. nobody elses!" mary huffed with a frown as you smiled and leant down to kiss away her pout. "you're such a baby, its adorable." you mumbled against her lips.

"i am not! god you're such a wind up." mary pulled her hands free and flipped the two of you, hovering over you now as she ducked her head and started to gently kiss at your neck.

"and tomorrow the washing machine is going to malfunction and that girls jersey will sadly be gone."

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #mary earps x reader #mary earps #woso community #engwnt #woso blurbs

546 notes · View notes

sebscore · 11 months

Note

if you feel comfortable doing so, how do you think the grid would react if gzd was going through a rough patch and she’s being like really quiet and in her head?

i’m kinda slipping back into this era and i just need the grids comfort

THIS IS ALL I NEVER WANTED

pairing: lando norris x driver!reader / daniel ricciardo x driver!reader / sebastian vettel x driver!reader / lewis hamilton x sebastian vettel

warnings: reader feels defeated and is ready to give up. swearing. mention of sexism.

author’s note: the comfort fic is finally hear, lmao :) sorry that it took me this long, got caught up with gentle hit, but it’s here now !!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''That's the car of Y/L that goes into the gravel- another DNF for the young driver.'' Crofty commented as he watched her retire from the fight for the third consecutive race.

Meanwhile in the car, Y/N's radio was bombarded by her engineer. ''We're so sorry, Y/N. A podium was possible, but we'll keep pushing harder for next time. We'll debrief.'' Marco apologised, frustration and guilt audible in his voice.

''Understood.'' The indifferent tone came as a surprise to the team and viewers, but it was understandable as the driver hadn't been able to finish a race in over a month.

The ride back to the paddock was humiliating to say the least. The pitiful looks from fans, the judging eyes of critics and the loud whispers didn't do much to brighten the dark cloud that was her mind.

Her post-race interviews also weren't a great help to her already declining confidence.

''It's the third consecutive DNF for you- how are you managing to stay positive and to not lose hope in the car?'' Nathalie asked her, sounding compassionate.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. ''Nothing is positive at all,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I think I'm doing everything right and then it all goes wrong for some reason.''

''I'm working hard with the team, but it doesn't seem like it's paying off at the moment. I'm just very disappointed and I- yeah, well, I hate the car.''

The reporter in front of her wasn't used to the visible pessimism of the female driver. Y/N was known for her cheerful and up-beat character, always open for a chat and ready to take on any challenge. That figure seemed to be missing at the moment.

''I hope it gets better for you, Y/N. You're an amazing driver and I wish you good luck for the next race weekend, thank you so much for talking to us.'' Nathalie rounds up the interview before signalling to her cameraman to stop the filming.

Y/N was about to leave, but a gentle grab of her wrist stopped her. ''Hey, darling- don't let this get you down, alright? There are many people rooting for you here, me included, and we all want to see you do well. You have incredible talent and we know these lasts results aren't a reflection of that.''

The Sky Sports presenter had a soft spot for the young woman ever since her arrival to the paddock. Nathalie has always been amazed by Y/N's ability to shrug off all the sexist remarks and to prove the people that doubt her wrong.

''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' The soft smile on Y/N's face was a fake one, even a child could spot that. However, her words and gratefulness were genuine and that's all that mattered to Nathalie.

The driver moved quickly between the different journalists, not in the mood for the long and lovely chats that would have happened had she crossed the chequered flag. ''If one more person reminds me of all the DNF's, I'm going to knock myself out with one of these microphones.'' She mumbled to her team's press officer, making the woman laugh but also look at Y/N with a bit of concern.

Luckily for her, all the media responsible people must have listened to her prayers and went easy on her- maybe sensing her agitation and worsened mood. She and her press officer moved back to the team's hospitality, where a dreaded team briefing would take place.

''Obviously these aren't the results that we want. We want wins, podiums and points.'' Her team principal started off the meeting, standing at the head of the table. ''It is clear that changes need to be made, whether that be the car, the strategy or the driver even.'' The eyes of the team shifted from their leader to the young woman staring daggers at him.

''It's not my fault that the fucking engine blows up or that another drivers decides he wants to play bumper cars.'' Y/N defended herself, not seeing why she should be replaced.

He shook his head. ''I didn't say it was your fault, but we have to look at all the options and that includes you, Y/N.'' The man clarified, taking a deep breath.

The woman rolled her eyes, causing Marco to send her a stern look that said ''Please, don't make this harder on yourself.'' She got his sign and sat up straight in her chair, figuring her slumping didn't give off a great impression.

The briefing continued for another hour, going over all the alternatives they had and all the work they had to do while waiting for the next race weekend. ''Alright- thank you, everyone! Have a great break.'' The team principal dismissed the team.

Y/N was the first one to get up and leave, debating if she would slam the door, but she didn't want a Kevin x Guenther moment with her boss.

By the time she was on her way to her hotel, most fans had gone home themselves and the paddock was occupied by crew members cleaning the place up. Y/N had a slow pace while walking, not in any hurry to leave the circuit.

''You're going back to the hotel?'' A voice behind her spoke up, making the female driver yelp as she didn't expect someone to walk up on her.

Y/N turned around, Lando looking at her with a grin. ''Did I scare you?'' He laughed, finding amusement in making his friend flinch.

''You could have been a serial killer for all I know, you idiot.'' She slapped his arm, the tension leaving her body as it was only Lando and not some creep.

''Only on track.'' He winked.

The young woman frowned at his action. ''Please, never do that again.'' Her feigned disgust with his wink resulted in a light push from her friend.

''So… you're going to the hotel now?'' Lando asked her again, not having received an answer yet.

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, I could use some sleep before the flight tomorrow.''

''You, uh, wanna take a car together to the hotel? You know- that way we're not wasting gas, I guess.'' He nervously asked, mumbling the question almost under his breath.

''Sure,'' Y/N chuckled, ''Seb will be proud of us.''

They decided to take his car as she wasn't in the mood to drive anymore and Lando didn't seem to mind. She was grateful for Lando's company, at least her bad day would end on a good note.

''Sorry about the race today, I know you could have done more.'' Despite being competitors, they were also great friends and it's not fun seeing your friends have bad results.

Y/N sighed. ''My team- they're, uh, thinking about replacing me.'' She wanted to get her worries off of her chest and Lando bringing up the race seemed like the perfect oppurtunity for it.

''What?'' He exclaimed, not anticipating that sentence to come out of her mouth.

''They say they just have to think about all the changes they could make to get better results, but they've been talking an awful lot about the junior drivers so I'm just preparing myself for it.'' She clarified for him, resting her head against the window.

Lando let her words sink in. ''They- they can't possibly do that, you're one of the best drivers on the grid.'' It came out louder than he intended, but the thought of one of his best friends not being with him on track anymore upsets him.

''They can do that,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I'm impressed I lasted this long- I just know the FIA will be throwing a party now that they don't have to be feminists anymore.''

''What do you mean 'lasted'? You're not going anywhere, we have enough races left where you can show your true skills.'' Lando took his eyes off the road to look her in the eye, perhaps wanting her to see how serious he was.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to talk about it any further.

The car stopped in front of a red light. ''Hey,'' Lando put his hand on top of hers, ''I'm being serious. We've been racing against each other for over 10 years now- you're a good driver. You'll probably be a World Champion one day.''

''You really mean that?'' Her usual confident demeanour had been traded in for an insecure one, her voice coming out smaller than normal.

He chuckled, nodding his head. ''Of course, I wouldn't lie to you.'' The gentle way he was looking at her assured her that he was in fact being serious and meant everything he said.

''Thank you,'' Y/N turned her hand and squeezed Lando's, ''now, shut up and drive me to the hotel!'' She pushed his hand away. ''Enough of this emo shit.''

''This is the one time I am being nice to you and you just reject my love.''

''Stop being so emotional, Norris.''

''There she is!'' Daniel loudly announced as Y/N stepped onto the plane, his hands up in the air.

She tiredly waved at everyone, exhausted from the lack of sleep she had gotten. The young woman groggily sat down next to her Australian colleague, Michael sitting in front of them.

Daniel snickered at her disoriented state. ''Good morning to you, mate.'' He greeted her, his infamous bright smile on his face.

''It's fucking early, what are you so happy about?'' She mumbled, while trying to find a good sleeping position.

''I'm grateful that I get to live another beautiful day, Y/N! We don't appreciate our existence enough, we need to-''

''I'll be grateful for my life when you shut up and let me sleep.'' She interrupted him, closing her eyes and pulling her hat slightly over her face.

The McLaren driver opted for another teasing comment, but he could see the obvious exhaustion she had going on and let her be, a light pat on the shoulder working as his way to say ''have a good nap''.

About an hour later the turbulence of the plane woke her up from her much needed sleep. Y/N took her hat off and noticed Daniel still awake, scrolling on his phone while listening to music through his headphones.

A soft push against his arm brought his attention from his device to the woman next to him, immediately smiling upon seeing that she's awake. ''Sleepyhead.''

The beam on his face slowly changed into a nervous frown, worrying his friend. ''What is it? The reality of life finally settled in?'' Y/N awkwardly said, trying to cheer him up.

''No, uh, it's just that uhm interview you did with Nathalie yesterday- I watched it.'' He answered, sympathy written all over his face.

''Oh,'' she sat up straight in her seat, ''well, you know it was just after the race so obviously I was very frustrated. You know how it is.'' The driver tried to come off as nonchalant, failing horribly.

''Lando told me, Y/N.'' Daniel revealed, wanting her to drop the 'it's not a big deal'-act.

She sighed. ''Oh, that little snake.'' She muttered under her breath.

''No, I'm glad that he told me. He said he's never seen you so defeated and the way you were talking to Nathalie- you haven't given up, have you?'' Daniel had seen how her recent race results had affected her, but he wasn't aware how deep her frustrations and insecurities had settled in.

Her silence to his question was an answer in itself.

''You've been working your ass off since you were like what? 5-6? You're not gonna throw all of that away just because of 3 bad races, right? That's nothing like you.'' The Australian ranted, baffled over her ruined confidence.

Y/N glanced outside her window, seeing they were high above the clouds. ''I'm not throwing anything away, it's just… my teams seems to have already made up their mind and are just waiting on the right time to tell me that someone else is taking my place.'' The young woman clarified, her words not helping Daniel's growing worries.

''They would be fucking idiots to replace you, you know that.'' He sneered, rolling his eyes at the thought of another person driving in her seat.

She weakly chuckled at his response, not finding much humour in the insult to her bosses.

Daniel's shoulder gently pushed against hers. ''Hey, maybe you need to talk to Seb or Lewis, they're better at this pep-talk shit than I am.'' He suggested, figuring the two older men might have more of an influence on her.

Y/N let his words process for a few seconds, considering seeking a listening ear in either of the world champions. ''I- I don't know, Dan. They probably have better things to do.''

''Like what?''

''I don't fucking know- planting trees, feeding Roscoe, whatever.'' She blurted out, making both of them laugh at the random activities they could be doing.

''Just think about it, I think you'd feel a lot better after talking to one of them.'' Daniel didn't want to push her, knowing it would have the opposite effect on what he wanted for her.

A tired smile made its way onto her face. ''I will, thank you.''

''Good,'' his face mirrored hers, ''and if they do replace you, they're just like Netflix.''

''Like Netflix?''

''A bunch of cunts.''

''I've never seen her that quiet.'' Sebastian mumbled to the Brit next to him, observing the young woman who sat slumped over in her chair.

Lewis looked over at her, being as equally bewildered as his German colleague. ''I don't blame her, all the stuff they've been saying about her is awful.'' He whispered back.

''What do you mean?'' Sebastian frowned.

The Mercedes driver uncomfortably shifted in his head, leaning more towards his friend. ''People have been saying a lot of shit on social media and those fucking annoying journalists certainly don't help. Also, that interview their team principal did.''

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the mention. ''Hanna showed me, that was so out of line. He knows people have been wanting her out since the day she got in- shame on him for making all of that so public.''

Her team principal had given a quite lengthy interview over the break between the race weekends, publicising the team's problems and their possible solutions, which included a hint to a potential driver change-up.

''None of the DNF's were even her fault, it's absolutely ridiculous.'' The slander on her name greatly upset Lewis, aware of the talent she possessed and it made him angry that there was even a chance that she might not be on the grid with them the next year.

''I know and it has taken such a toll on her, Daniel said he talked to her, but I'm a little worried.'' The Aston Martin driver told Lewis, his puzzled look turning into one of sadness.

The Brit scratched his voice. ''Maybe you can give her some confidence? You've known her for a long time, I'm sure she'll appreciate it.''

Sebastian slowly nodded his head, figuring the World Champion might be right. ''Yeah, I'll talk to her later.'' He confirmed, still watching the obvious daydreaming woman from across the room.

The driver's briefing went on for about half an hour more, the director seeing the visible boredom on every person's face and calling it a day for everyone.

Y/N couldn't have been more relieved that the meeting was finally over, wanting nothing more than going back to her own hospitality and figuring out ways to make the car work, and actually finish this time around.

She was one of the last people to leave the briefing room, only George, Lewis and Sebastian walking behind her. The latter tapping her shoulder. ''Hey, haven't talked to you today.''

''Yeah, lots of briefings with the team, you know.'' The younger one responded, giving him a quick glance.

''How's that going?''

The woman remained silent for a few moments, considering how much she should tell her mentor about the current state of her place in the team. ''Uhm, well, it's going… decent, I guess.'' Y/N muttered, trailing off.

''Decent?'' Sebastian repeated, as if asking ''are you serious?''

''There are like a bunch of reporters around us, what do you want me to say?'' She replied, a defensive tone to her voice.

The German patted her back, sensing her agitation. ''It's okay, let's discuss somewhere private.'' He calmed her down, suggesting a different place to have a conversation.

''Okay.''

They opted for her personal driver's home, that being the closest space where they could talk with just the two of them. Some of her team's staff had given the Aston Martin driver some weird looks while they walked through the hospitality, but he brushed them off.

The pair sat down on her small couch once they arrived, not much space between them.

Y/N felt some nerves settling in her stomach as she waited for Seb to start speaking, not knowing what he was going to tell her.

''I'm just gonna be straightforward,'' he started off, ''you can't continue with this attitude, cause you're only setting yourself up. You are a great driver, Y/N. We all have our off weeks, we're not perfect.''

''I understand that this isn't a nice situation to be in. Trust me, this green vegetable that I'm driving isn't doing much better at the moment,'' he chuckled, making her crack a smile, ''but if there's one person that can completely turn their season around, it's you.''

Y/N avoided eye-contact with him, not sure how to respond to his kind and encouraging words. ''I appreciate that, Seb. I'm not giving up, it's just… very difficult and people are constantly bringing it up, and making articles and shit- that doesn't help me at all. I'm still gonna do my best, but… yeah- it's just difficult.''

''I know it's hard and I've heard the media has been hard on you. That's what they do and they see you as an easier target for clicks and whatnot,'' Sebastian rolled his eyes at his own mention of the media, ''But you're better than believing their words.''

''You are a talented driver, you have so much potential. Do you think I would have spent all these years with you if I thought you shouldn't be in F1?'' He asked her, a look on his face that told her he wanted an answer.

The young woman timidly shook her head. ''No, you wouldn't have done that.''

Sebastian smiled at her response. ''See?'' He put his arm around her, pulling her closer into him. ''Whether you believe it or not, you're leading this new generation. You're a decent car away from being a World Champion, you know that right?''

''Did you talk to Lando? He also said that.'' Y/N nervously grinned.

''Just accept the truth!'' The German squeezed her shoulders. ''You've proven that you can do anything. You don't want to let down all those young girls that started karting because of you, right? What message would it send to all of them that their role model quit, because she got bumped off the road or her car simply decided to turn itself off.''

''You're right,'' she sighed, admitting to herself she needed to drop the pessimistic attitude, ''I don't just owe it to myself, but also to them.''

Sebastian nodded along to her words, letting out a deep breath. ''I'm relieved you're seeing it, I don't like seeing you like this. It's weird not seeing you smile or making fun of the drivers.'' He smirked, patting her shoulder.

''I guess everyone deserved an off-day, tomorrow I'll start again.'' Y/N grinned, laughing at Sebastian's reminder of her fondness to poke fun at their colleagues.

The senior driver gave her one last squeeze and stood up from the couch, adjusting his pants. ''No more frowns, alright? You're gonna do great this weekend and you're gonna show everyone why you deserve your seat.''

Y/N nodded, more confident than when she first walked back into her driver's room. ''Yes, I'm gonna do my best, Seb.''

They bumped their fists as if to solidify it was going to be a great race weekend for them both.

''And go easy on me tomorrow with the teasing.''

''I'd rather be run off the track again then let that happen.''

taglist :: @cl16version @missskid @missthem @rosesintj @evans-dejong @thehistoryone @dreamycloudsworld @alonsogirlie @muushmeg @topguncultleader @the-great-adventures-of-me @love13tter @xcharlottemikaelsonx @kiwisa @starkwlkr @nora_moon @princesselle2111 @valluvsu @thatsadsmallchild @babyyoda89 @milkbreadforlife @fxllfaiiry @hc-dutch @its-ash-not-grey @princessbetsy123 @mehrmonga @nyenye @screechingtrashkid @ahnneyong @holybatflapexpert @itsnotgray @beautycinders @rowansshit @uhhevie @revengze @nylaslife @majx00 @multi-universe21 @jaydensluv @isasalom @gentlemonsterjennie1 @appledashhh @breathinfive @lighttsoutlewis @champomiel @ooooohmicky @koufaxx @flannelforthetoads

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#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #f1 x you #f1 oc #lando norris x you #daniel ricciardo x you #sebastian vettel x you #formula 1 fic #female f1 driver

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kaiijo · 11 months

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FIRST DATES — [HONKAI: STAR RAIL]

characters: welt, gepard, sampo, jing yuan, tingyun, kafka content: gn! reader, food/eating in jing yuan’s and kafka’s, mentions of drinking (tea!) in tingyun’s

welt yang ✶

you love the way the lights of the stars reflect in welt’s eyes as the astral express rockets through the galaxy. he points out a line of stars, telling you, “that’s lan the reignbow’s constellation.”

the observatory car on the astral express is surprisingly underutilized. You figure it’s because you can see the universe through every window of the train. but the observatory car is special; the windows stretch from the ceiling to the floor and the seating is oriented to face outwards. there’s a robotic guide that you can ask questions to, but you turned it off when welt and you settled into the car. he’s better than any automated infobot.

you blink at the thousands of stars that dot the sky and squint. “i don’t see it.”

welt chuckles and stands, holding his hand out. you take it and he leads you to the window, using your intertwined hands to trace the outline of the constellation. “see?” he asks, as patient and affectionate as ever. “there’s his arm and his bow stretched to the sky. it’s quite an extraordinary sight.”

you know it’s a damn cliché, but you’re only focused on the calm on welt’s face and the glimmer in his eye as you reply, “yeah, it is.”

when you turn to face the constellation, you don’t realize that welt does the exact same thing.

gepard landau ✶

this is actually your third attempt at a first date with gepard. the first two were, unsurprisingly, interrupted by an urgent matter he had to attend to with the silvermane guards and pela calling because she needed help getting a drunk serval home safely. (serval felt so bad about stealing her brother away that she sent you a pretty bouquet of flowers the next day.)

you figure out that paying for movie tickets and making reservations is pointless, given the unpredictability of when gepard will be needed again so you decide instead to just take a walk around belabog.

your walk quickly turns into a game of ‘stay away from the silvermane guards because you know gepard will rush to fix any problems they have and you’ll be damned if he’s taken away from you again.’

“i’ve never actually read these before,” gepard admits to you as you stand in front of the wall plastered with posters of famous belobogian plays and movies. you stand close together, arms brushing, as he pauses to read the captions.

out of the corner of your eye, you see the familiar glint of silver and blue armor and you quickly slip your hand into gepard’s. “let’s go make a wish in the fountain.” you drag him along, praying that he doesn’t see dunn on patrol. that guy always has something to say and it’s usually asking about serval.

when you glance back, your pleasantly surprised to see dunn nowhere in sight and a pink tint to gepard’s face.

sampo koski ✶

leave it to sampo to take you to the fight club on your first date. “got us premium, front row tickets to the hottest fight in town,” sampo says as he leads you with a hand on the small of your back into the fight club.

“can’t anyone just walk in?” you ask him.

he wags his finger at you, smile broad and blindingly white. “not this one!”

you find yourself smiling at his enthusiasm. “alright, well, thank you for bringing me then.”

sampo replies, “anything for my favorite person.”

when he walks in, dr. dig rushes up to him. “where’ve you been, man? you’re ten minutes late!”

“sorry, sorry,” sampo says, though he doesn’t sound apologetic in the least. he nudges you towards dr. dig. “take care of this one while i’m occupied.”

you raise an eyebrow. “and where are you off to?”

sampo’s smile only widens. “didn’t i tell you? i’m fighting in this tournament.” your eyes widen and sampo continues, “and if i win all my rounds, you’ll go out with me again, right? please say yes or else you’ll break my fragile little heart.”

jing yuan ✶

jing yuan’s already lounging on the picnic blanket when his secretary shows you to the gardens. his eyes lift and a slow smile spreads across his face. “a sight for sore eyes,” he says as you sit down with him. there’s an array of xianzhou delicacies like berrypheasant skewers, songlotus cakes, and tuskpir wraps.

you’re a little shy under jing yuan’s gaze, carefully lifting a cake to your mouth and taking a bite, the cake making its signature laughing sound as you do. as you chew, jing yuan reaches over and tilts your chin up with his fingers, thumb coming to graze the corner of your mouth.

your face explodes into flames as he says, “just some crumbs,” in that low drawl. it sends pleasant shivers down your spine.

as you finish your cake, jing yuan stretches up with a groan and looks at you with half-lidded eyes. “would you mind if i rested? i’m quite tired from the day.”

“not at all,” you reply but you don’t expect him to lay his head in your lap. your face feels even hotter but you choose to rub your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. you swear you hear jing yuan purr.

“tell me about your day,” he says. “i like hearing your voice.”

tingyun ✶

tingyun’s fluffy tail brushes against your leg as mengming leads you to a table. “do you come here often?” you ask her.

she giggles, “i think you need a better pick up line.”

you pout a little. “it was a genuine question, tingyun.”

“i know, i’m just teasing,” she says. “yes, i come here when i need a break, which doesn’t really happen often but mengming has the best tea.”

“what do you like here?”

she hums and says, “i like their immortal tea. it’s a good amount of sweetness and a great price too. it’s definitely a favorite.”

you nod, glancing at the menu. then, you look back at her sitting across from you and say, “did you do something new to your ears? they look extra soft today.”

“oh! you noticed! yes, it’s a new shampoo,” she says. with a wink, she tells you, “keep talking like that and you’ll be a favorite of mine too!”

kafka ✶

you narrowly dodge an attack from one of the citadel’s soldiers, instead dropping down and using your momentum to kick out the soldier’s leg instead. they drop instantly and it allows you to dive off the side of the municipal building, opening up a portal.

you land besides kafka, who’s already inside the building’s main ballroom. all the entrances and exits are sealed off due to the lockdown protocol, and you have no doubt that kafka incapacitated all the soldiers who had the misfortune of running into her.

you look around the grand room, then at her and say, “this is an odd place for a stellaron.” even odder, there’s a table in the middle of the room with lit candles, glasses of red wine, and plates of rich pastas. the gramophone in the corner plays a languid, elegant violin concerto.

kafka says, “that’s because there isn’t one here.”

you tilt your head. “come again?”

she chuckles and pats your cheek. “you’re so cute. i made the whole thing up. apologies but i wanted to surprise you for our first date.”

you blink owlishly at her as she sits down at the table, placing the napkin delicately on her lap. she looks at you expectantly and you snap out of your surprise, a small laugh leaving your own lips. you slide into your own seat. “you certainly have a flair for the dramatics, kafka.”

she smirks. “had to make an impression.” she lifts her wine glass and you do the same, clinking them together. as always, kafka achieved her goal. you don’t think you’ll ever forget this first date.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai: star rail x reader #welt yang x reader #welt x reader #gepard landau x reader #gepard x reader #sampo koski x reader #sampo x reader #jing yuan x reader #tingyun x reader #kafka x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail scenarios

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dawnbreakersgaze · 1 month

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All's Fair in Love and Kitty Cards:

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓐𝓻𝓮: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓕𝓪𝓵𝓵

❥ ┊𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; You've decided to bring home an electronic board game of kitty cards, and make the oh so simple suggestion of playing strip kitty cards to entice your work weary boyfriend Zayne into trying it out with you. After all, you're THEE Queen of Kitty Cards herself- it's not like you could lose, right?

❥ ┊𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; bullet fic format (sorry, don't have the energy to devote to full fic rn 😅), reader referred to as you/your and she/her, this one really got away from me omf it's longer than I mean it to be eek, not proof read, written in a whirlwind bc this idea would not leave me be until I got it out, not full smut but very suggestive, just good ol' fashioned romantic fun. Zayne thinks you're hot ♡

Yes, I will be doing Xavier and Rafayel as well

Zayne rarely got too serious with kitty cards. He'd rather watch you have fun than engage in a real competition. Your smile and serious expression were far more entertaining than any game, and the delighted light in your eyes after a victory (no matter how wide or narrow) was always his most welcome reward.

That was, until you brought home that new electronic board game version, setting it up before he'd gotten home and surprising him with it only moments after he'd taken off his shoes and coat.

At first he wasn't that interested. I mean the cats where half the fun of kitty cards lets be real, plus he was tired.

But when you suggested (with a wicked little glint in your eye that had his heart stop momentarily, mind you) that you guys play strip kitty cards, he stood there blinking in silence for a solid 15 seconds, just processing.

"How upset would you be if I won, though?" He carefully asked once he finally came out of it, that little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. God he can be so smug sometimes.

You of course tell him that you're the literal Queen, Her Meowjesty the First, and this is your domain. You demand he put respect on that name and remember it well.

You'd come to eat those words later.

The first round you win easily. Just like every game before, it would seem the kitties favor you above all else (why wouldn't they, you were their Queen after all). He gives a soft chuckle, removing his vest and placing it over the back of his couch. "Round two, then?"

Round two seems to take a similar route. You almost feel bad for Zayne. He's always been a bit of a pushover when it comes to kitty cards, and as you fill the final cup cementing your victory 23-10, you watch as he loosens his tie tossing it aside and removing each sleeve garter, laying them on the table next to his vest chain. Zayne doesn't say anything this time, only watches you as you reshuffle the cards and get the board cleared for a new game.

Round three is where you finally start to feel him trying. It's a bit like reeling in a fish. You feel like you're making some headway and and then he'll pull out a Bye Bye on your double point kitty, or use a Purrcieve and discard your pink 6 kitty when there was an open pink cup. Nothing earth shattering- you could and did still wipe the floor with him, but the way Zayne watched you over the tops of his cards as he did so started to make you feel... vulnerable, despite all your layers.

When he finally sheds his third layer- his shirt- you realize all too late that you've fallen into the spider's web. With his broad, muscled shoulders, sharp collarbones that crowned his perfect pecs, and strong biceps corded with beautifully laced veins that traveled down his scarred forearms to his large hands that currently rested against those masterfully made lats and abs and.... oh.

Oh no.

Zayne catches you staring (how could he not, honestly. You were practically drooling), and regards you with that little quirk of his lip and raise of his brow. "Everything alright? Ready for round 4?" Worry starts to eat at you when you realize he doesn't sound at all worried. He's already shirtless only 3 layers from being completely nude, and he sounds like he's already won.

Not one to accept defeat so easily, you swallow, set your expression in determination, and deal the cards.

And yet

4 rounds later and Zayne had yet to remove another article of clothing.

Your clothes (and your dignity as The Queen) lay tossed about the room in a perfect metaphor for your current emotional state.

This man. THIS MAN. Despite all your usual tricks and banter, Zayne had refused every single one of your pleas to trade cards. No amount of begging or bargaining would be accepted tonight, and during your last attempt he'd made it very clear that should you ask again, he'd put the game away since you obviously weren't interested in actually testing your skills.

So here you sat. In your bra and panties, your metaphorical crown plucked from your head and reshaped into a dunce cone.

The kitties had forsaken you.

It had started out so well, but once that shirt came off it was suddenly so hard to focus. You'd find yourself watching as he'd roll his shoulder, gazing as his chest or ribs expanded with a particularly deep breath. Let your eyes linger on each and every scar that dappled his hands and forearms. Watch his Adam's apple bob as he'd take a particularly long drink of the water at his side.

Honestly, it seemed like the more layers you lost, the harder he was to ignore as well.

Little did you know the absolute torment this man was going through on his end.

Sure, setting the trap was easy enough. You were always so sure of your kitty card playing ability, and he so rarely put up a fight when you begged for mercy. However, turning your pleading down each time as you sat across from him in less and less clothing, looking at him with those big teary eyes was threatening to completely undo him. Listening to you whine his name and watch as your perfect lips pouted so full and glossy in the lamp light was too much, he couldn't take it.

You and your games would be the death of him, surly.

Round 6 is where his empire fell.

Your defeat was swift, of course. Zanye had struck gold with 4 Meow This in his hand, and pulled a complete shut out. It was like in the movies when the character watches in slow-mo as their impending death rushes towards them, and as you were left with no number cards to fill the last cup on your turn, you watched as Zayne placed his.

"I believe that's another win for me." His tone was proud- joyful, even. Typically one of your favorite expressions he made, if you were being honest. Something about Zayne's smug, rather cocky attitude really got you going sometimes, and sitting here for the last hour, ogling his shoulder and arms and hands and abs... well... that hadn't been helping the literal ocean between your thighs either.

Your silence (and likely the deer in the headlights expression you wore) spurred a warm chuckle from him, the sound both rich and comforting, yet still strange enough to snap you back to reality.

"I believe I've earned my next reward, correct?"

Oh... this bastard. This beautiful bastard.

Puffing your cheeks at him in a pout, you consider accusing him of cheating (partially in jest, you know he wouldn't, but also why is he SO DAMN GOOD all of a sudden??), but in the soft glow of the lights, your eyes catch his, and you see something darker. Immediately, your heart begins racing, skin prickling with the familiar feeling of anticipation in battle.

Wait, in battle?

This wasn't the first time you'd have taken your bra off in front of Zayne, so why did you feel so much like... prey in this moment? As your hand slowly reached behind you to find the clasp, it was apparent you weren't the only one feeling the weight in the air. The subtle creak of the couch let you know he'd leaned forward, eager to watch and enjoy the prize he'd rightfully won.

"What are you waiting for?" The subtle tilt and bob of his head mirrors the quick uptick at the corner of his mouth, a motion you're so familiar with by now. A playful gesture of his, reserved for those moments when he's feeling particularly teasing or goading.

It only stokes the fire in you, of course. The amber hues in his green eyes, further illuminated by the warm lamplight, bore into you despite his otherwise neutral expression.

With a flick of your wrist, the clasp is undone. You consider playing a bit, slowly sliding the straps down to tease and tempt, maybe using your arms to cover what he desired to see most. Surely he deserved a taste of his own medicine after obliterating you like this tonight, but his intensity is already near suffocating.

Instead, one at a time, you slipped your arm from each strap, and gently placed it at your side. The moment you felt the chill air hit you, it was audible that he'd noticed.

Oh sure, he tried to keep quiet. Tried to stop himself from letting out that small, strangled gasp when he watched your nipples pebble. Tried to still his thundering heart when your reactive shiver cut across you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Tried to stop himself from whispering your name in a thick voice, telling you how beautiful you looked in the warm-glow lighting. At least he managed to temper his hand and hold it back from palming his quickly stiffening cock. Thank God for the small mercies.

His reaction was so much more than you'd been expecting. You'd been nude plenty of times before, like showering together, or that time you'd shared a hot spring once on vacation. Not to mention all the THE SEX. But this??

He had your body memorized at this point, but watching you strip layer by layer as you lost each round was really doing it for him?

The way his voice caught when he said your name, the way the muscles around his ribs stretched and relaxed as he took deep breaths to calm himself, the dilation of his pupils as his eyes trailed you from navel to nose, finally making eye contact after a lengthy pause on your lips.

Zayne might have been winning at kitty cards, but you were starting to get the feeling your luck was about to turn around.

"I forfeit." His normal, rational tone returns, albeit with great strain.

You sputter out a few expletives, dropping the stack of cards you'd started to shuffle. "What?! But we weren't- I was going to- I didn't even get to-!" Too many thoughts at once try tumbling from you, tangling on your tongue. How dare he! I mean sure you won, but a victory of forfeiture was hardly a victory worth bragging about.

Standing from the couch you watch as Zayne extends a large hand towards you, that same hungry look in his eye again that has you feeling small and vulnerable, and reminds you that you're very exposed.

"I've had my fun hunting the hunter. I think it's time I reward her for her win."

ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈᵎ ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ʳᵉᵃᵈᶦⁿᵍᵎ

#love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #lnds #love & deepspace #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #kay writes #god i love him #the thought of Zayne laying out the perfect plan only for it to completely backfire on him is just so canon at this point #Like hes so MAX intelligence DUMP wisdom #it makes for such a wonderful combo lmao- walking into his own trap like “oh no who could have predicted this”#zayne x you #zayne x reader #zayne x y/n #zayne x mc #zayne smut

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weird-an · 3 months

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The door bell rings. It's the new gardener, Steve's mom informed him a week ago and fucked off to New York. Like she'd be around to watch the roses bloom this year.

This has to be a joke, Steve thinks numbly, when he opens the door.

"Hey, Harrington." Billy Hargrove grins at him, a toothpick between his lips. He's wearing a black overall - and nothing underneath.

Steve stares at the tanned skin and wonders if saving the town from monsters and a whole ass apocalypse isn't enough and he's being punished instead.

"Hey!" Billy snaps his fingers. "I'm talkin' to you, pretty boy."

"Oh." Steve blinks. He knows his attention span is fucked, but Jesus. To be honest, Billy is in good shape. Steve can almost see him lifting weights and wiping the sweat off his face -

"For the third time. Where are your mother's fucking roses, Steve?"

Steve absently points behind himself. "In the garden."

"No shit." Billy laughs. "Show me, then."

Steve does show him. Billy makes a face.

He mutters something that vaguely sounds like "what a dump", but Steve is too busy to stare at his ass when he's kneeling in front of the first flower bed.

Billy actually works. His golden hair up in a bun, chewing on the toothpick. His chest is shining from sweat and Steve watches his biceps curl. His left nipple is peeking out of the overall. Fuck.

Billy also yells. At the plants. Calls his mother's favourite hibiscus a stupid motherfucker and flips off the oak tree.

Steve is watching him, torn between annoyance and the tightness of his jeans. Billy's hands are dirty from the earth and he's panting when he digs through a flower bed no one has cared for in an eternity.

"Does your bush need trimming, too?" Billy asks, raising a brow and waving the clipper at him. There's a leaf stuck in his tousled bun.

Steve's face glows and it's not because of the heat.

"Uh..Do you want... some water?" Steve asks mechanically. That's something he should have asked two hours ago. Instead he was busy... staring.

"Yeah, thanks, pretty boy." Billy grins, teeth shining bright. He's got dimples and his face is sprinkled with freckles. Shit, shit, shit.

Steve watches Billy down a glass of water, Adam's apple bobbing. He's so fucked. He hides in the kitchen until Billy comes in to wash his hands.

"Done for the day. Can be 'round tomorrow. This shit show of a garden will take some time to get finished."

Steve imagines his mother hearing her garden called a shit show and literally clutching her pearls.

"Alright." He doesn't try to sound too eager.

When Billy is gone, he inspects the garden. He can't believe that Billy fucking Hargrove is his gardener. That he's actually doing his job.

The roses look okay. So does the rest of the garden. From what Steve can tell. The bush next to the pool... is shaped like a dick. Great.

Steve gets himself a beer. Desperate times call for desperate measures. He's half hard in his jeans. He hates himself, because he's about to jerk off to Billy Hargrove.

There's a note on the table. It's a phone number.

"You're so fucking obvious," Steve reads. "Luckily you're hot."

Well. It's a win, Steve guesses.

#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy #gardener billy #not only crowley deserves to yell at plants #anger management at its best #i love the distracted by billy's hotness steve trope tbh

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wenigstenshabeichesversucht · 2 months

Text

All is fair in love and war

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Ares kid!Reader

Summary: Where Luke is your biggest rival, and what better way is there to settle your rivalry once and for all than with a bet on who wins a game of Capture the Flag? The stakes are higher than ever before.

Warnings: none besides kissing, english is not my native language

Word Count: 1.8k

It was Friday morning; the Ares cabin was already filled with excitement when you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. Most of your siblings were sharpening their weapons or polishing their armor. Fridays were Capture-the-Flag-days, the only day of the week, where you siblings forget about arguments with each other all in favor to fight the other campers. It was the only day of the week, at which your cabin went as one unit to breakfast without bickering.

At breakfast, you would find out the team division for the game and after that the counselor and who they seemed worthy would round up for a strategy meeting.

Although you couldn't see the future, you were pretty sure that Clarisse would choose you, she always did. Not because you were her favorite sibling, you were far from it. But you were the strategist of the cabin.

More time than once, some other campers had suggested that you were behaving more like a child of Athena than Ares. But they didn’t know the fury and hunger for blood you felt when you came face to face with Luke Castellan. In these moments you didn’t doubt, that you were your father’s daughter. Every time you saw him you had the urge to slap this stupid smile of his off his face. The others called him the greatest swordsmen the camp had seen in 300 years, and you hated him for that. This title should belong to you or one of your siblings. He had no right to claim the one thing the Ares cabin was expected to be good at.

Therefore, you were all the happier when you learned at breakfast that you would be competing against the Hermes cabin in this game of capture the flag. A cruel smile danced around the corners of your mouth just when you thought about how you would defeat Castellan.

“Do you already have a plan for us to win?”, Clarisse, who was sitting next to you, asked between two bites of bacon. Eagerly you nodded.

“With the Apollo and the Hephaestus cabin we almost have the victory safe.”

The Apollo kids were in general great archers, combined with your siblings you had good long-rang and close-rang fighters in your team. The Hephaestus kids were a great bonus, certainly they had one or two traps up their sleeves that you could use. The Dionysus cabin was also in your team, not exactly known to be good fighters, they could be useful as cannon fodder.

“I hope so, we can’t lose a third time in a row against the Athena cabin.”

“The last time we lost was totally Castellan’s fault”, you reminded her.

“So should I be glad, that this time he isn’t in our team?”

“At least this time he and Y/N can’t cost us the victory with their fighting”, a half-brother of yours chimed in, and your other siblings snickered spiteful. If looks could kill, he would be six feet under.

“Just finally kill him or snog him, we don’t care”, he added, without being intimidated by your gaze.

“I would rather die than kiss him” you protest, to which he shrugged his shoulders.

“Then that’s settled.”

On your way to the strategy meeting, you and Clarisse ran into Castellan and one of his half-brothers, Chris Rodriguiz.

The words of your brother still echoed in your head. Maybe killing him was worth giving up dessert for a week?

“Ready to lose, Castellan?”, you teased and like a bull being held up with a red rag, he couldn't ignore you.

“The only person here who is used to losing is you, Violence.”

You hated the nickname he had found for you, hearing it now, made our blood boil. Looking up to him, you snarled. Yes, today was the day, you would kill Luke Castellan.

“We will stamp you into the ground that you will cry for your daddy.”

“That will not happen, sorry to disappoint, Violence.”

“Should we bet, Castellan?”, with a dangerous gleam in your eyes, you took a step in his direction, till you were standing face to face. “If I win you will announce to the whole camp, that I’m a better sword fighter than you are. And if you win, what not gonna happen, you can get anything you want.”

“Anything?” Luke’s lips curled to a sly smile.

“Anything”, you confirmed.

“If I win, what I will, you will openly admit, that you need tutoring in sword fighting by the best swordsman, and we will do five lessons for everyone to watch.”

Oh, that was good, you had to give him that. That would be so humiliating.

“Do we have a deal?”, like he already had won, he smirked down at you. But you wouldn’t back down, not now, not ever.

“Deal!”

“You know that there are easier ways to resolve the tension between Castellan and you?”, Clarisse provoked you after the strategy meeting as you put on your armor.

“Easier than a bloodbath?”, you questioned doubtful.

“I mean Carter wasn’t wrong. You could make out.”

As response, you just made gagging noises. Like you said earlier, you would rather die than kiss him.

“Think about it, it would distract him. Without their best fighter, we will totally win.”

“Are you suggesting that I hook up with Castellan so we can win Capture the Flag?”, flabbergast, you looked at your half-sister. That wasn't typical of her at all. Since when did she think about a winning strategy other than just charging in?

“We aren’t children of Aphrodite, we don’t do stuff like that”, you objected, while tightening your breastplate. “Besides, it wouldn’t work”, you added after a thoughtful moment.

“And why not? He literally undressed you with his eyes earlier.”

Aghast your mouth felt open. He totally didn’t and if Clarisse though so, she needed to get her eyes checked out. You still had half an hour till Capture the Flag started, enough time to find an Apollo kid for an eye test.

“He did not, we hate each other!”

“Hate and love are closer to each other than you may think.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. That was bullshit. But you were tired of debating whether Luke was interested in you. To be honest, you couldn’t imagine it. He was the kind of guy who would fall for a pretty Aphrodite kid, not for someone like who, forged out of anger and bloodlust. The only thing Luke was interested in, was to humiliate you, that you were sure of.

“Even if you were right, what I strongly doubt, it wouldn’t be fair to use his feelings against him just to win the game.”

Surprised Clarisse stopped fixing her armor, that didn’t sound like you. You siblings knew you as somebody, who would do everything to win. But even you had a moral line, you wouldn’t cross. And it seems you had found it.

“All is fair in love and war”, Clarisse protested, and you grimaced.

“And which of the two are we dealing with? Love or war?”

“That’s for you to decide.”

You should be concentrating right now, and you were trying, really. But you couldn’t help but think about Clarisse words. So, if you lost because of your inattention, it would be her fault.

Leaning against a tree, you took a deep breath. You had to get your head in the game. You were part of the defense. While two of the Apollo kids were guarding the flag, it was your job to stop anyone who was trying to get to them. You would rather be on the attack, but you were one of the few Ares children who were patient. But not patient enough.

Bored you twirled your sword in your hands, hoping that something exciting would happen soon. Some god must have heard your prayers, because you heard rustling in the bush and shortly after none other than Luke Castellan step into the small clearing. Seeing him you couldn’t suppress a wicked smile.

„You took your time.”

“If I had known that you were eagerly awaiting me, I would have rushed here.” Lazy stepping in the middle of the clearing, Luke drew his sword.

“So eager to get another scar, Castellan?”, you mocked as you pushed yourself off the tree. You met in the middle. Your swords clashed together, and you could feel the impact right up into your shoulder. It had been two weeks since you last had the pleasure of fighting him, and you missed it. A genuine smile appeared on your lips, while you both moved around the clearing like you were dancing to music only you could hear.

But sooner than you wanted, your little dance had to come to an end. Even if you would never admit it, Luke was simply the better swordsman of the two of you. In one moment, you wanted to block his swing, the next your sword was flying out of your hands, and you were cornered against a tree. Gasping for air, you gazed at Luke, who bridged the last few meters panting and pressed you against the tree. Through your shirt you could feel the hotness radiating from him. Confused you could just stare.

“This is a position I've wanted you in for a long time”, he muttered, and his eyes were looking teasingly down at you.

Was he flirting with you? You weren’t sure. But there was one thing you were sure about; you wouldn't lose to him again.

“Same for you”, giving him a cocky smile you pressed your dagger against his throat. You couldn't describe the feeling of satisfaction that filled you when he opened his eyes in surprise. But faster than you would have liked, he slipped back into his far to arrogant self.

“Violence you live up to your name, good thing I like it.”

Before you could react, he pressed his lips on yours. Losing no time, you kissed him back. Wasn’t this how every girl imagines their first kiss? After a sword battle with their biggest rival? His big hands roamed your body, and yours clawed themselves in his hair. It seemed that you had exchanged your swords for other, no less sharp, weapons.

Only when cheers filled the forest did you separate from each other, gasping for air. Luke’s lips were swollen as he looked at you like he saw you for the first time. You were only able to tear your eyes away from him when a group of Athena kids broke through the trees with the red flag. It looked like your team lost, but for the first time you weren’t angry about it.

“Looks like I won our little bet”, Luke whispered way too close, and you could have cursed. You totally forgot about the bet. To safe a little bit of face, you pressed against the tree behind you to create some space between you.

“I totally won our fight!”

If you had wanted to, you could have slit his throat with your dagger.

“Maybe you won the fight, but I won the war.”

Sending you one last cheeky grin, he joined his team to celebrate their victory. And surprisingly, it didn't feel like a total loss.

#luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #pjo tv show #percy jackson #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x fem!reader #pjo series #pjo

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beepboopkek · 3 months

Text

— Strip Starchess Part 2 (F!Reader)

Including: Jing Yuan x AFAB!Reader amab version has been posted! cw: !! NSFW !! , afab!reader, pwp but barely, Jing Yuan is a little bastard (affectionate), stripping (who would've guessed), possible grammatical errors(I tried), Jing Yuan calls you pet names (dear), no use of y/n, kind of . left at a cliffhanger, pu$$y eating, 0rga$m denial (only one time), edging, possessive jing yuan, he goes a little feral, safe sane and consensual w/c: 2.2k a/n: hello I'm back with my jing yuan word vomit I hope u guys like this... i forgot anon's name but they gave me the idea so I went with it but after some time it was getting too much so I'm jus leaving it at this.. don't need to make full-fledged smut drabbles anyway :D thank u anon u a real one fr fr also amab version is also posted !!!!! hope u guys like this :3

The conditions for this game of Strip Starchess were different.

Way too different.

You had established a few rules between the both of you, the main one being that— accessories or anything removable on your or the general’s body were officially counted as an article of clothing and,

The winner gets to do whatever they want with the loser.

Jing Yuan's smug suggestion, much to your annoyance.

Yet, you reluctantly ended up agreeing.

You sat comfortably on the floor cushion as you waited for your husband to come home, excitement bubbling through you as you thought of your little plan.

You're going to win this time.

To start the plan, the first thing you did was to wear as many accessories as possible, you're sure you'll one-up him this way.

The second phase of your plan, however, would begin during the game.

You busied yourself on your phone when you heard the door to your house shutting close and the rustle of clothes.

Jing Yuan rounded the corner and smiled at you, noticing the anticipation on your face and the impatient tapping of your hand.

“Well, someone's excited to lose.”

“You bet! Wait, who said I'm losing? We're on equal footing this time, you're not getting out of this one.”

You folded your arms and huffed proudly, so sure of your upcoming victory.

“I'm not going to go easy on you.”

“You said that last time, dear, do you need a reminder of how that ended up for you?”

The game hadn't even started and he was already pulling out his tricks.

You were not going to lose.

Jing Yuan quickly settled down, listening patiently as you stated all the rules this time, not wanting to repeat the mistake you made in the previous game.

There were only 2 matches this time, a third only if there's a tie which made it a bit … difficult for your husband.

Not because he thought he would lose but more so because he loved your enthusiasm to beat him in the very game he had mastered since a young age.

… He'll go easy this time, that's decided.

The first match started with vigour, both of you moving your pawns back and forth to avoid losses.

Eventually, the match ended with you as the loser, even though Jing Yuan tried to leave obvious spots for you, he still got you in a checkmate.

You were down a few accessories, nothing too bad,

The second phase of your plan to win begins soon.

With the second match starting, you decided to be more aggressive while playing, granting you a few of Jing Yuan's pawns and of course, the sight of a-few-trinkets-less General.

Your luck ran out just as fast as it came, though.

In Jing Yuan's words, time for the Masterstroke.

“Oh, looks like I have to remove another accessory, that's a shame.”

You looked at your hand, excitement bubbling in your chest as you tried not to giggle at what you were about to do next.

You raised your dominant hand where your husband could see it and slipped off your wedding ring, before looking him right in the eye.

“Is it my turn?”

Jing Yuan narrowed his eyes.

“ …Yes.”

You played excitedly, this is going just as planned.

You knew that if you took off the ring, his attention would immediately be drawn to why you took it off and leave him more susceptible to losing.

Turns out, you were very wrong.

Jing Yuan straightened up, his once pleasant smile drawn into a frown now, he looked at the board for a second and before you could blink, he played his move.

You were taken aback, definitely, you hadn't expected him to be paying more attention to the game now.

Not a problem, though. You had a few other tricks up your sleeve.

You took a while to play your move as Jing Yuan stared at you silently.

He lost a pawn.

Jing Yuan removed his hair ribbon and played his move before you could even process the fact that he had his hair loose.

This being the last game, you played as cleverly as you could, dodging his attacks to the best of your ability. However, when you lost a pawn you would deliberately remove the specific accessories that your dear husband had lovingly gifted you.

But, somehow— your plan was working against you.

Jing Yuan had barely spoken a word since you took off the wedding ring, only giving you a tight-lipped smile when you made a joke, nodding or replying in hums when you talked.

The second match ended just as quickly as it had started and to no one's surprise, you lost.

Is it too late to start rethinking your decision?

You glanced at the board and back at Jing Yuan, who finally smiled at you warmly.

“The winner gets to do whatever they want with the loser.”

You paused.

“Those are the rules, yes, but! You forget that the winner is decided by how many accessories or clothes they have on.”

“Count.”

You began tapping the few garments and trinkets around your body, silently counting them in your mind.

“Loudly.”

“ … There's six in total.”

“You've lost.”

“No way! Count everything in front of me right now, I know you've cheated!”

You were exasperated, there's no way you lost, Jing Yuan looked empty enough.

Right?

“Nine in total.”

The winner gets to do whatever they want with the loser.

You sighed as Jing Yuan only smiled back at you in pure amusement. Damnit. You can't be a sore loser.

You raised your hands in defeat, pouting as you saw his face light up.

“Do as you please, general.”

Jing Yuan chuckled at that, moving across the floor and picking you up, standing as he slung your body over his sturdy shoulder and moved towards your shared bedroom.

“Oh, wow! Do I get the privilege of a bed this time? I am most grateful, general.”

You teased playfully, grabbing at his loose hair and gently tugging a few strands.

There was a light slap to your ass, you squeaked in surprise— just about to start voicing your complaints when Jing Yuan spoke first.

“Trying to butter me up, hm? I'm afraid you won't get anywhere with that. You've invited more than enough trouble for yourself already.”

You huffed, he saw through all of your tactics.

“By doing what, exactly? Losing? Shouldn't you be happy about that?”

Jing Yuan gently dropped you onto the large bed, your soft body sinking into the mattress as your legs dangled off the edge.

He towered over you, placing his hand in his pocket, digging for something.

“No.”

You folded your arms to your chest and raised an eyebrow– probing him to speak more.

He dug out a ring from his pocket, along with the long red ribbon he had taken out of his tied hair earlier and held up both items.

“You took off your wedding ring.”

Jing Yuan got onto the bed on his knees, leaning down to cage you between his arms as he looked into your eyes.

“—and I will not let that pass.”

You laughed, throwing your head back on the bed as you struggled to breathe.

“So, that's what you're upset about?”

Jing Yuan pouted, his long hair pooling over his shoulders, almost touching you.

You giggled as you clasped your hands behind his neck, pulling his face down and stopping it right before your lips touched.

Jing Yuan’s breath hitched at the action, his face dusted with a light shade of red.

“What are you going to do about it, general?”

You smirked as you saw his eyes narrow, just about to give another snarky remark when he sealed your words with his mouth, kissing you passionately. You fisted his hair and kissed him back, heat simmering through your body as thoughts flooded your mind.

He pushed you further up the bed as he settled in between your legs and kissed you like he needed air, departing from your lips with heavy pants and creating some distance between the two of you to pull you to sit up.

“Hold out your hands and cup your palms together.”

You obeyed instantly, unsure of what he was about to do but not willing to test his patience further.

He placed the wedding ring in your hands before speaking again,

“Now, interlock your hands.”

You did as you were told again, the cold metal biting into your skin, you looked at him with confusion written all over your face.

Before you could speak, though, Jing Yuan raised the hand holding his hair ribbon and wrapped it around your wrists.

“Jing Yuan!”

He ignored your exasperated voice as he continued to bind your forearms together.

It didn't really reach your elbows, it wasn't long enough for that but it definitely restricted your movement, especially with the tightness Jing Yuan had kept.

Satisfied with the makeshift arm bound he had made, he sat back on his knees and looked at you with amusement.

“If that ring slips out of your hands, we'll stop.” Jing Yuan sealed your lips with a devouring kiss again, pushing you back to lie down on the bed as he tore the few clothes you had of your body, throwing the shreds as they scattered around your room. He pushed your bound hands above you, kissing down your throat and sucking in all the places he knew you wouldn't be able to cover up the next day.

“Jing Yuan— My clothes! They’re my favourite—fuck— why did you tear them off?” You could barely concentrate, your husband's hands roamed your body like they were almost destined to do so— touching, groping and feeling each part as you shuddered in his hold. “I’ll buy you new ones—”

He bit down on a nipple, eliciting a sharp cry from you. “—I’ll buy everything for you so that you can wear it and everyone knows you’re mine—mine and only mine.”Oh, you fucked up. Big time. You had never seen Jing Yuan this possessive over you. Over the wedding ring?

Your string of thoughts is cut off as you feel Jing Yuan grab the back of your thighs and curl his hands around them, proceeding to lick a wet stripe up your sticky folds, a gasp leaving your mouth at the sudden contact.

When exactly did he get down there? Jing Yuan buried his face into your pussy, moaning at the tangy taste as he dipped his tongue inside you. Your bound hands came down towards his head, just about to release them from the firm hold you had kept them in for aeons-know-what reason when your husband pulled away completely.

“Watch the hands, dear.” You groaned in frustration this time, pouting at him as best as you could being completely at his expense. “C’mon, Yu! You weren’t serious about that, were you?” “Oh, very serious.” Jing Yuan dipped down again to kiss the inside of your thighs, moving his face closer. “If that ring slips out of your hold, I’ll leave you here.” A blow of cool air on your clit made your body jerk in response.

“I'll untie your arms and bind them to the bed instead. So you'll be left here, dripping onto the sheets while I go cook us some dinner. How does that sound, hm?”

Jing Yuan spoke in a low voice, right against your pussy, which was, to your annoyance, visibly wet.

Bastard.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

You grumbled something back in response.

A nip to your folds, granting him another jerk of your body.

“I didn't quite catch that, dear.”

You whined and clasped your interlocked hands tighter, feeling the metal of the ring that had now become warm from your heated skin. You moved them back to their original position– above your head. “I'll be careful— Just– don't stop, please.”

You could feel the general's smile before he placed a gentle kiss on your clit.

“Good job.”

Jing Yuan went back to enthusiastically eating you out, dipping only the tip of his tongue inside you before pulling his mouth back up to stimulate your clit.

You were beyond embarrassed, having no way to cover your moans. You still tried to suppress the sounds, biting your bottom lip as you threw your head back.

Jing Yuan was having none of that, though. After being with you for so long he knew you had a habit of shying away from making noises.

Making noises for him.

He gripped one thigh harder in warning only to feel your pussy clench around his thick fingers at

that.

A warning.

Your climax was building up rapidly, your ability to soften your moans reducing as you unabashedly whimpered out Jing Yuan's name.

“I'm about to—”

and suddenly, it's like Jing Yuan never existed between your thighs, eating you out like a starved man.

…Fuck.

Your body heaved as your ruined climax started simmering down.

“Jing Yuan!”

“Yes, dear?”

His sing-song voice came out above you, he was still seated on the bed, right beside your spread legs. The only difference? He had taken away all the stimulation right before you came.

You panicked for a second, thinking you lost the ring and opened up your palms a little to see if it was still there.

Yep, still there.

Jing Yuan laughed, moving to place a kiss on your head as you pouted at him.

“Such an obedient little thing, aren't you?”

“The ring is still there, why did you—”

Jing Yuan gave you a smug smile this time.

Oh dear.

“The winner gets to do whatever they want with the loser.”

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan the man that you are #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x you #going insane #afab reader

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its-time-to-write · 9 months

Note

ugggghhh I love your writing! your style and just voice are outstanding!

could you write something with Jamie and a professional footballer (female reader) who are dating (but no one knows) and they are doing a PR thing for England or some ad campaign? And they have to do silly things and show how much they know about each other (like they have known each other since they were in school and have been friends for a while) but then Keeley catches on or something. Sorry if this doesn't make sense, but essentially it is Jamie and a professional footballer (female reader) relationship, thank you! <3

✌️😗

you’re a mansion with a view

There’s an insistent knocking on the door. It’s who-the-fuck-knows o’clock Jamie has been inside all day, lights off and dealing with a wicked hangover. The pounding on the door syncs up with the pounding in his head, and he Jamie shuffles to open it so the person on the other side can shut up.

He opens it to find you, mid-knock.

“Put a shirt on, Tartt,” you say as you push past him, grocery bag in hand. Jamie looks down. He’s just in his trousers, and for once he’s grateful that it isn’t the other way around.

“Fucking hell, Killer,” he groans. “Shouldn’t you be at training?”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that he used your football nickname as opposed to your actual name. “Nope. It’s five. Training’s done for the day.”

Jamie follows you to his kitchen. Why you’re walking around like you own the place, he has no idea.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks. “And how do you know where all my stuff is?”

You tap your head. “Our houses have the same layout. I can see yours from across the street, and noticed you haven’t been out in like, a week. That’s a record for you.”

Jamie rubs his face. “Fucking hell,” he says again. “So why are you here?”

You turn around from the fridge. “Figured you haven’t had a decent meal besides vanilla vodka.” You make a face. “Disgusting. Just because you’re not playing football doesn’t mean you can neglect nutrition, Tartt.”

“I ain’t neglecting my nutrition,” he replies. “Just…” he trails off.

You smirk. “Uh huh, that’s what I thought. The great Jamie Tartt, drowning his sorrows in vanilla vodka and becoming a couch potato. You haven’t even had any women ‘round to numb the sting. That’s new.”

You flip on a light to which Jamie groans. You flip it off. “So are you going to put on a shirt, or..?”

“Killer,” Jamie says for the third time, “the fuck are you doing in my house?”

You pretend to be digging in the grocery bag so you don’t have to look at his face.

“Saw your interview,” you reply as nonchalantly as possible. “Thought you might need someone to make sure you haven’t, I don’t know, died.”

Jamie knocks his head against the wall. “Has everyone fucking seen that?”

You shrug. “Personally, I liked it a lot better than your season of Lust Conquers All. Lot more feeling in that one interview than the whole show, if you ask me.”

“So you saw that,” Jamie comments. This is far too many words for the headache he has.

“Yup.”

“And you’re still here.”

“Uh huh.”

Jamie is at a loss for words. Everyone else has left him because of that fucking tv show, where he acted like the worst version of himself and didn’t even fucking win.

Doesn’t make sense that you, a midfielder from some women’s FC, would be in his house pulling out real food and making sure he’s alright.

For a moment, Jamie feels bad that he can’t remember what team you play for.

He thinks that this goes beyond neighborly duties. Sure, you live across the street from him and you’ve seen each other at various events, but this is probably the first real conversation you’ve ever had. He has no idea what to make of it.

He asks, “Why do you care?” then immediately cringes at the harsh tone of his voice.

You slam the fridge door harder than you anticipate, making you both jump.

“Because,” you say, then you sigh.

“Footballer life off the pitch sucks sometimes. I wish someone had checked on me.”

“I ain’t a footballer,” Jamie points out, vaguely remembering something about your name in some less-than-friendly headline.

You roll your eyes. “Whatever you say, Tartt.”

—

Five months later, you’re at some random football pitch in your full kit and far more makeup than you’d wear to a match.

Some magazine is doing some profile on different footballers, taking photos with different men and women from all kinds of teams together. You’re not sure why you, a midfielder, are here with Tartt, a striker.

You’re not complaining.

“Oi, Tartt,” you call, “how does it feel to be scored on by a girl?”

(The photographer wanted some action shots of you and Jamie playing 1 v 1.)

Jamie scoffs. “My masculinity ain’t fragile, Killer. Just lucky you didn’t break any of my bones.” He says the words carefully, as if they’re unfamiliar to his tongue and he wants to get them just right.

“You know I have a name, right?” you ask, breathing hard. You’ve dribbled the ball back to Jamie and are standing practically forehead to forehead. “Like, a real actual name that you’re allowed to use?”

Jamie grins and drops his voice to a near-whisper, “Oh I know how to use your name, love.”

You shiver, trapped in his gaze for a minute.

The spell is broken as the photographer shouts, “Alright loves, let’s stage some of you two together.”

You both turn to jog to the sidelines, where she begins posing you.

“Wow,” she remarks, “you two have great chemistry. Usually I have to tell you footballers to act like you like each other.”

Jamie grins and knocks his shoulder into yours. “Hear that, Killer?” he asks, “She thinks we have good chemistry.”

You roll your eyes and feign annoyance. “Be professional, Tartt.”

The photographer asks, “How long have you known each other?”

You and Jamie say, “Two years,” in perfect unison.

“My goodness,” she laughs, “you two are just in sync today! How’d you meet?” You say, “we’re neighbors,” at the same time Jamie says, “at a party.”

You both look at each other. “We met because we live across the street from each other,” you say.

Jamie shakes his head, “No, we met a week before you moved in at a party.”

“What party?” you ask. “Pretty sure I would’ve remembered meeting you.”

“Nah,” Jamie replies, “You were too busy getting sloshed with your teammates while they all hit on Keeley.”

You scrunch your nose. “Was I sloshed?”

“Yep,” Jamie says. “Properly. It was the end of the season, so makes sense.”

“Weird,” you reply. “My first memory of you is when you tried to break into my house because you were too busy snogging this model to figure out you were on the wrong side of the street.”

“Oi, it could happen to anyone!” Jamie says defensively.

“Sure,” you laugh. “Happens to me all the time.”

You reach out to steal the football that’s tucked under Jamie’s arm, but he’s too quick for you.

“Give it!” you say, still laughing.

He holds it above your head. “Give what?” he asks innocently. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You’re jumping and trying to pull his arm down to where you can reach and are almost successful when he tosses it to his other hand.

“No fair!” you cry, “You’re taller than me!”

Jamie grins. “Oh, you want the football then? Maybe try asking nicely.”

You still. “Jamie,” you begin, “could you please give me the football?”

He’s still holding it high above you as he considers. “Hm.” He pretends to think for a moment. “No.” He breaks away from you and kicks it into the goal across the field.

“You can have it now,” he says when he returns. You’re trying so hard to be mad at him, but he has that silly little grin he gets when he’s trying to make you laugh and you just can’t fake a frown.

“Screw you, Tartt,” you laugh.

Jamie raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to reply when he’s cut off by the photographer.

“You two get along really well,” she says. “I think you’d be cute together.”

You blush and Jamie says, “I fucking hope so. She’s my girlfriend. Oi, d’you want a picture of us kissing?”

“No she doesn’t,” you say.

“Yes she does,” Jamie says. “We’re fucking adorable, babe. Football’s power couple. Behind Posh and Becks, of course,” he says as an afterthought.

“Fine,” you say, “One. Then I’m getting that football and your ass is grass, Tartt.”

Jamie grins. “Fine by me, love.”

He leans in to kiss you but you pull away at the last second, sprinting toward the football still under the goalposts. Did he really think you were going to play fair?

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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villain-apolog1st · 9 months

Text

Satisfied (David Rossi x BAUAgent!Reader) Pt. 2/2

Summary: the tension building between you and Rossi becomes hard to ignore when he invites the team over for dinner

Tags: NSFW, oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected PinV sex (let’s assume reader’s on the pill), couch sex, dirty talk (praising, pet names), (fem!reader)

Translations: stella (star), bella (beautiful), gattina (kitten), dolcezza (honey)

A/N: this ended up being so long omg but something about this man gets my [creative] juices flowing

Read Part One

You made your way over to an empty seat next to Emily, desperately trying to ignore her knowing smile. Thankfully, the rest of the team seemed to be none the wiser, much to your relief.

“Alright, let’s play,” Rossi said, taking a seat on the couch across from you, next to Hotch. “As long as boy genius over there agrees to be dealer.”

Spencer sighed, once again banished from playing because of his ability to effortlessly win every time. However, the young doctor did enjoy keeping track of everyone’s cards nonetheless, trying to determine who would win before the round was even over.

And so began a friendly but competitive game of poker. Your head wasn’t exactly present as you kept replaying what had happened in the other room. It also didn’t help that you kept catching Rossi’s intense gaze throughout the game, the smirk on his lips indicating he knew exactly where your mind was.

Rossi won the first round (“nothing beats years of experience” he claimed, with a pointed look at Reid). Emily won the second, after which Hotch and JJ went home to their respective families as it was getting late.

Penelope won the third. You weren’t doing great at the game and also took pity on Reid, so for the fourth round you were the dealer. After he inevitably won, he also headed home. Another round later (which Rossi won again) and the rest of the team decided to call it a night. Derek offered to drive Penelope and Emily home, as the two winners had had more than their fair share of drinks.

Penelope and Emily chanted a drunken rendition of “We Are The Champions” as they struggled to put their shoes and coats on. You nearly bent over from laughing as they sang loudly in an exasperated Derek’s face. Rossi, fighting laughter himself, offered to help the poor guy. Taking hold of Emily’s arm while Penelope grabbed Derek’s, he walked them out to Derek’s car, leaving you inside.

Smiling to yourself, you began clearing up the glasses and the remainder of the plates, walking them over to the kitchen. You tried not to think about how it was going to be just you and Rossi left in his house, but you couldn’t help the butterflies low in your belly. After placing the dishes in the sink, you noticed a bottle of wine off to the side, still half full. Why not?

You pulled two glasses from the cupboard and opened the bottle as you hummed along to the music that played. Caught up in your own thoughts and with your back turned, you hardly noticed that Rossi had returned to the kitchen.

“What’re you up to, stella?” He asked, making his way over to you.

You turned and handed him a glass, staying leaned against the kitchen counter, almost mimicking your position from earlier. “Did you manage to get the girls in?”

“Barely,” Rossi chuckled, accepting the glass gratefully. “Morgan’s going to have his hands full.” He placed himself directly across from you, leaning against the island and studying you with dark eyes. There was a moment of silence as the two of you sipped your drinks, each watching the other.

“Now, tell me something, Y/N,” Rossi said, breaking the silence and slowly approaching you. He gently took the glass you were cradling and placed it on the counter along with his before his hands came to rest on either side of your hips. “What exactly was missing from my dinner that left you less than satisfied?”

It was impossible to ignore the heat between your legs now, your body thrumming in anticipation. You took in the sight of Rossi’s parted lips and slightly dilated pupils as he waited for your answer.

So you gave it to him. “This,” you stated simply, before closing the distance between the two of you and pressing your lips to his. Rossi immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. Soft sighs and moans escaped both of you as your tongues explored eachother’s mouths.

You pulled away to catch your breath and Rossi effortlessly moved to place kisses along your jaw, not wanting to take his lips off you for a moment. “Dave,” you sighed as he reached the sensitive skin of your neck.

One of his hands remained wrapped around you while the other gently kneaded your breasts through the fabric of your dress. He brought his mouth back to yours, mumbling “Beautiful,” before capturing your lips again.

Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair as you pushed yourself tight against him, feeling his erection pressed between the two of you. You reached your hand down and rubbed him over his pants, making him open his mouth against yours in a sharp gasp. “Y/N,” he groaned. “Couch, now.”

Giggling, you let go of him and walked over to the couch, pausing as you reached behind you to tug the zipper of your dress down.

Rossi beat you to it, coming up behind you and unzipping your dress. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night.” His breath tickled your neck, leaving goosebumps behind as he helped you out of your dress.

He all but pushed you onto the couch, your back against the arm rest as he knelt on the couch in front of your legs. You could see his breathing was erratic as he admired your figure, scantly clad in your matching underwear set. You trailed a hand down towards your panties, spreading your legs while Rossi watched you like a hawk.

His breath hitched as you pulled your panties to the side, exposing your glistening folds. Unable to help himself, he palmed his hardened cock through his pants, watching as you slid a finger down and collected your juices before bringing your finger to your mouth. “Mm,” you moaned, sucking on your finger earnestly. Rossi’s mouth parted in surprise at the salacious act.

“You dirty girl,” he grinned before he quickly moved to position himself over you, his mouth back on yours in a deep kiss. His hand pulled the cup of your bra down so he could pinch and tease your nipple with his fingers, making you moan against his lips.

Rossi moved his mouth down, pausing to unclasp your bra and free your tits before attaching his mouth to your nipple, sucking and biting as you threw your head back. As he alternated between your breasts, you found yourself lifting your hips to grind your mound against him.

Rossi moved to press his mouth against your ear. “Desperate, are we?”

You whimpered as he nibbled at the shell of your ear. You were desperate; your clit throbbed and you could feel your wetness slowly leaking into your panties.

Rossi moved himself off you suddenly, making you whine at the loss of contact. He unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it to the side before bringing his hands to your hips and sliding your panties off. He lowered his head between your legs, placing kisses up your thighs until his mouth was inches away from your centre.

“Dave, please,” you moaned, lifting your hips to get him to give you attention where you needed it. You could feel his breath against your clit and it was driving you crazy.

Rossi used his fingers to spread your folds apart, allowing him to admire the way they glistened with your juices. “Please what, gattina? Use your words.”

“Please eat me out,” you practically begged, unable to handle more teasing.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he hummed before bringing his mouth to your centre.

“Fuck!” You groaned. His tongue was nothing short of heavenly; circling your clit before sucking it into his mouth. He alternated his attention between your clit and your opening, using his tongue to slurp up the juices that collected between your folds.

You could feel your orgasm approaching as Rossi continued his ministrations. You buried your fingers into his hair, pushing his face against your core. You could feel him moan against you as he sucked your clit back into his mouth, his eyes focused on you panting above him. Your legs clamped around Ross’s head and you cried out as waves of pleasure rocked through you.

When you finally relaxed, Rossi brought his mouth back up to yours. “I love the way you taste,” he mumbled against your lips. You moaned into his mouth, already feeling warmth pooling low in your belly once again.

Rossi lifted himself from between your legs and stood in front of the couch. He helped guide you onto all fours, your hands now gripping the back of the couch while he stood behind you.

You were practically dripping in anticipation when you heard the sound of Rossi unbuckling his belt and his pants dropping. His hand gripped your hip to steady himself as he slowly rubbed his cock along your slit. “You’re so wet for me, bella,” he husked as his cock dragged through your folds, pressing against your clit.

“Please, Dave,” you pleaded, making the agent’s cock twitch against you. Your grip on the couch tightened as he nudged your clit repeatedly with his cock. “I need you in me.”

You gasped as he suddenly slid into you, his thick cock filling you right away. “God, Y/N,” he hissed as your walls clenched around him. “It’s like you were made for me.” Both of his hands now gripped your hips as he let you adjust to his cock before starting to thrust into you slowly.

You groaned at the feeling of him sliding in and out, and he picked up the pace as you relaxed around him. Rossi seemed to know just how to make you cry out, his cock repeatedly hitting the sweet spot inside of you.

One of Rossi’s hands left your hips to grab your shoulder, pulling you flush against him. You were now kneeling on the couch as he continued fucking you from behind, the new angle even more pleasurable.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room, your bodies sticking to each other as they became slick with sweat. “Fuck,” you cried out, your voice shaky as he pounded into you. “Your cock feels so good.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say those words out loud Agent L/N.” Rossi husked in your ear. He was close, and judging by the way you were milking his cock, so were you. He pulled out suddenly, grinning at the frustrated sound you let out.

“Come here, gattina. I’m not done with you yet, don’t worry.” He sat down on the couch and pulled you over so that your legs were on either side of him, your dripping cunt hovering over his cock.

Rossi guided his cock back into you and you sank down until you were completely filled by him again. You leaned forward and placed your hands on his shoulders for support as you began moving your hips up and down his cock.

Rossi began matching your movements, thrusting upwards into you. You watched with pleasure as he groaned at the feel of you clenching around him, the knot within you tightening with every thrust.

“That’s it, ride me, dolcezza. Ride my fucking cock.” Rossi grunted as your hips snapped against his, tits bouncing in his face. He took one of your nipples into his mouth while his thumb began rubbing circles around your clit. Your head was cloudy with pleasure, making it difficult to speak. “Dave,” you cried out, the wave building inside you on the brink of crashing.

“Come for me, gattina. You can do it. I want to feel you come all over my cock.” Rossi panted below you.

His words were all you needed to go over the edge; you let out a groan, rocking your hips against him as your hole clenched around his cock. You moaned his name over and over, your nails digging into the bare skin of his shoulder as your orgasm rocked through you.

“That’s it, Y/N, good girl.” Rossi moaned as his cock twitched inside you. He captured your lips with his, groaning into your mouth as hot spurts of his cum shot into you.

You slumped against him, both of your foreheads pressed together and damp with sweat. Rossi pressed a soft kiss against your lips before gently helping you off him.

He stepped back into his boxers before disappearing. In that moment, the couch felt like the comfiest place in the world and you felt your eyes closing.

Rossi returned with a damp cloth and a glass of water. “Up, bella,” he said, handing you the water as he helped you up. As you soothed your parched throat, he used the cloth to wipe down your skin and between your legs.

Satisfied with his work, he pressed a kiss into your hair. “You were amazing, Y/N.”

You smiled up at him before meeting his lips in a kiss. “So were you.”

Rossi took his shirt from the floor and gave it to you to put on before walking with you upstairs. You used his bathroom, smiling to yourself at your ‘just fucked’ reflection: hair messy, makeup smudged, and lips swollen.

You returned to the bedroom and joined Rossi in his bed, sighing as he pulled you close. Your head rested against his chest, his own head over yours while his arm was slung over your waist.

As you closed your eyes and snuggled into him, you heard his voice from above you. “Well? Are you satisfied now?”

You laughed into his chest at the question. “Yes, Dave. I’m satisfied.” You answered, pressing a kiss against his skin before the two of you gave in to the pull of sleep.

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