#with their matching boots and jackets and hats

[muzaktomyears]

We all fell in love with Astrid’s black leather outfits. Influenced by her, Stu was the first to appear in a black leather jacket. George soon followed suit in a jacket bought off a waiter for £5. Then the rest of us got into line; buying cheap bomber-style models which we wore with the tightest of jeans and cowboy boots. George also discovered the cowboy boots shop on the Reeperbahn, creating some envy when he first turned up in a black and white pair. John and I hared off at the earliest opportunity to follow suit; Lennon chose a pair of gold and black, mine were red and black. Paul, who had a reputation amongst the group of watching his pfennings, stood out for some time but eventually conformed with a black and blue pair. To top off the whole ensemble we bought pink flat caps! These seemed necessities at the time and were primarily intended to be stage outfits, although they became our everyday wear too. No wonder we were becoming poorer by the minute.

Beatle! The Pete Best Story, Pete Best and Patrick Doncaster (1985)

[phantasm-ae]

cw: fluff, cowgirl afab reader x ghost, grumpy x sunshine, clumsy reader

HEADCANON: the team meets Ghost’s little bird

PAIRING: Simon Riley x reader

It all started when Soap, half-joking -- not really -- asked over a pint of that terrible guinness that one of the recruits mentioned that he voiced out a lingering thought out loud,

"So, Ghost. Ye ever gonna introduce us to yer missus? Or is she just some hallucination ye made up tae wind us up aye?"

Ghost, who had never confirmed nor denied anything about his personal life, simply shrugged. "Pub. Friday. Seven."

Soap thought he was joking.

At exactly Friday, seven-fucking-pm though. Soap. Soap realized he was wrong.

They met at a grimy pub near base. Price was wary. Gaz looked openly curious. Soap just looked excited, because how normal could Ghost’s wife possibly be? Some goth lady with a death glare? A sniper with a scar over her eye? A shadow in human form?

None of the above.

What actually walked in was—

A tiny woman in a beat-up leather jacket, dusty denim jeans, a battered cowboy hat tilted low over her messy braid. Coupled with a pair of cracked leather boots that clomped across the floor like she owned the place.

Holy shit

She looked like she could ride a bull, shoot a rifle, and kiss you breathless — not necessarily in that order.

She waved frantically the moment she spotted them though — knocking over a chair and nearly tripping over her own boots as she did.

"HEY, SI" she yelled across the entire bar.

Ghost — stoic, terrifying, 6'4" Ghost — immediately straightened in his seat like a teenager seeing his crush. He actually moved. Stood up. Went to meet her halfway like she was the only thing that existed.

Soap’s jaw was physically on the table.

This tiny woman. Small. Wiry. Sun-kissed and with the greatest pair of tits Soap has ever seen immediately launched herself into Ghost’s arms like a missile. He caught her easily -- of course -- one hand on her lower back, the other ruffling her tousled brown hair with ridiculous tenderness.

Leaning down to let her smack a kiss right onto the cloth of his mask like she couldn’t give a single shit about what people thought.

She yanked the brim of his hat down over his eyes — wait! when had he gotten a hat?? — and laughed that big, reckless, wild West laugh that turned every head in the pub.

The team stared in horror and awe.

"This can’t be real," Gaz muttered. "I’m dreaming. I died in Syria."

"She's so small," Soap whispered back, scandalized. "And she’s—she’s—hot??"

They made it back to the table, Ghost’s hand resting casually on her hip like a leash.

When they made it back to the table, she shoved Ghost into a chair, plopped herself onto his lap without ceremony, and grinned at the rest of them.

"Howdy, boys," she said, tipping her hat.

Soap almost cried.

She was absolute chaos. Stole the darts right out of the wall and challenged Soap to a game ("loser buys shots, city boy" "'m from Scotland, lass" "Cattle country ain't like sheep country, sugar" "we have cows. They moo too").

Gaz: "You're so fucking stupid mate"

Soap: "Shut it aye?"

Flirted shamelessly with Ghost across the table — calling him "sugar," "cowboy," and "my big strong man" with zero shame in her Southern-twanged voice. Told Price he looked like a "sheriff with a broken heart."

Somehow wrangled Ghost into a pool match where she used him as her pool cue guide — pressed up against him, his huge hands guiding hers, while she winked at the others over her shoulder.

Ghost never smiled. Never joked. Never talked much. But with her? He was... different.

Softer. More human. Maybe even a little helpless, the poor bastard.

Price, to his credit, kept a straight face. Barely.

Soap, meanwhile -- after losing to her on those stupid darts and took on the challenge of guzzling down the said shots -- was vibrating with suppressed laughter.

She was chaos. Pure, distilled chaos — loud, funny, mean, fun, but also wildly affectionate. She stole a chip off Gaz and a stranger's plate without asking. Shooed off two creeps with a death glare who wouldn’t stop pestering the girls at the counter. Challenged the bouncer -- a hulking and massive bloke -- to arm wrestle and actually fucking won! Spent half an hour helping to take pictures of an old couple on a vacation to send to their grandkids. And started a chant for Price to shotgun a beer (he declined, though grimly but... endeared).

And through all of it, Ghost just... watched her. Silent. Steady. The same way he’d scan a perimeter — except more devoted. Soap swearing that he could even see him smile behind the mask.

At one point, she tugged on his sleeve and whispered something in his ear that made him let out a genuine, low chuckle. An actual laugh. Gaz's drink came out of his nose at that and Soap almost passed out from the shock.

By the end of the night, they were all completely obsessed with her.

(And slightly terrified. She challenged another guy twice her size to a pull-up contest and won.)

As they stumbled out of the pub, she looped an arm around Ghost’s waist and shouted, "THIS IS MY HUSBAND! HE’S BIGGER THAN YOUR HUSBAND!" at absolutely no one.

Ghost didn’t even blink. Just tugged her closer and murmured, "Alright, birdie. Inside voice yeah?."

"YOU LOVE ME BABY," she hollered back.

"Yeah," he said simply, not caring who heard. "I do."

And if anyone at the pub dared to stare — well, nobody wanted to make eye contact with a man wearing a skull mask who looked like he could bench-press a car and the woman who looked like she could drive said car through you and still smile while doing it.

Soap later: "Lass is unhinged aye?." Gaz: "You’re just mad she drank you under the table, mate." Price: "I like her. She’s good for him." Soap: "Naw, like... she’s pure mental. He’s just as daft. It’s a match made in hell, I’m tellin' ye.

Ghost, hearing them gossip: (Just shrugs.) "I like her loud. Makes it easier to find her."

masterlist

[simder-talia-blog]

oooooooo!

Hazelnut Set by Serenity (12 items)

T-E

BGC

Custom thumbnails

You can find my socials here: 🌳 Linktree

DOWNLOAD (Early access on my Patreon)

Public access: 07.28.23 (22h00 UTC)

[die-auster]

Some "if Yue is alive and went travelling with the Gaang" designs

With a ton of text about cultural inspiration.

The main book 2 look

I wanted to show cultural differences between the tribes, so Yue's look is sort of Mongolian. There were Mongolian-styled hats in the Northern tribe, and Yue's dress under the coat looked like a Mongolian deel (thanks @atlaculture for all these posts about clothes and everything else!), so it's not much against the canon information.

So she's wearing a deel again with a second layer - there are chinese actors on photos as far as I know; I hope it's okay. One-shoulder silhouette refers to later Aang's clothes because Yue is still kind of a spiritual person (she wasn't a fighter, so I want her to have some other useful talent – not a bender or healer like Katara or a non-bender warrior like Suki). Violet, pink and white were originally her colors, no changes here. Three blue characters would be too much for a group of five, and total white is not practical at all. I like to think that violet color shows high rank in the Avatar universe; in the original series it was only worn by princess Yue, Kanna, the chief Hakoda's mother, and by king Bumi.

Yue's boots here are mongolian gutals/gutuls (the collage is already big, but I used them again for one of Book 3-looks).

Her hair become simpler – just two braids and a hairpiece, to match her previous decorated hairdo. I guess if she's travelling with the Gaang she's not that much of a Moon Spirit anymore (maybe she returned the part of the moon spirit that saved her and was healed other way?), so I decided to forego the moon-referring part. Also it will be easier to do by herself since she has no servants now... The headdress I took from modern Mongolian dancers; the front part is crescent-moon-shaped.

The Ba Sing Se dress

I fell in love with this Ao Dai dress, it's simple, long and elegant. But... it's mostly Vietnamese… and I'm afraid that it's modern and not historically accurate. Also it does not really go together with other Ba Sing Se dresses :( because I did not want to just copy-paste some background look. But there is at least one dress with a tail, thigh high slits and a standing collar on the dress underneath, so... I guess my choice is not that bad? The tail makes her look more royal. The fan is the same which Toph and Katara had. For the palette I chose Yue's white color with EK greens and warm yellow/ochre to match Katara and Toph. The hairdo is copied from the series; I chose one with the tassel on the right, to refer the NWT/Korean accessories.

The Fire Nation disguise

A confession – I don't like FN clothes. I wasn't sure if I would be able to do it properly, so I almost copied that attire (left one) – asymmetry, as a Thai touch, which again matches Aang's Invasion Buddhist-like clothes. The palette keeps Yue's signature white, with some pink of a warmer shade, as they wear it in the Fire Nation. And the "royal" long skirt, 'cause she's still not a fighter. The look is simplified so I could not keep zigzag ornament on her longyi skirt, therefore I moved it onto the top part.

I used Thai dancers jewelry and... flip flops? idk how they are called in Southeast Asia (don't like Sokka and Katara's FN shoes at all, why the design is so complicated?).

For covering her hair I used a turban, inspired by Myanmar turbans; a white one, so if some hair will show, it won't be too noticeable. Also Yue could still be easily recognised on screen/page by her white head. The long end of the fabric on her right resembles burmese hairstyle silhouette.

The Invasion-and-till-finale look

For her dress I used a deel (again); the sleeveless jacket is an hommage to her original design and has some Korean vibes, like Toph's Ba Sing Se dress (at least I hope so). Katara and Sokka's season 1 looks have Korean influence, so I guess it's okay. Gutals are from her Book 2 main look. I have a soft spot for them.

My favorite thing is her hair :)))) It's a mix of Inuit/Mongolian braids and a hairpiece, also from the Book 2 look. This time there will be more braids. Two on the front – I wanted to keep them from her original hairdo, but now they are braided together (I saw this on the Alaskan Inuit women photos). On the back there are five, inspired by a Mongolian hairdo for young unmarried girls, who wore multiple braids. I decided to make five, because Alaskian Inuit language uses this amount for counting and with two front braids it'll make seven, which is a lucky Mongolian number. And in theory a limited number should be easier to animate.

The post-canon noble look

After the final battle I thought Yue will come back to Agna Qel'a and become a more active political figure. I chose a white kuspuk (blue color is still for Katara and Sokka), showing that she is ready to lead her tribe after this journey, not the passive perfect princess she was before. "She is associated in canon with the masculine yang of the yin and yang and the moon which, in most Inuit and Eskimo cultures, is considered masculine as well. While white kuspuks are associated with men and specifically family patriarchs, a feminine kuspuk in white makes plenty of sense for Yue's character" – @mostly-mundane-atla helped me a lot with the cultural meaning of the clothes (I am so grateful!). Also it's an hommage to her total-white Moon Spirit look. And I changed her hair again to Greenland updo with two tied braids on the front – more complicated than the simple braids she wore during the journey. It looks formal.

NWT is less Inuit-inspired and has a strong Mongolian touch (to make them look more "modern"? dunno) but I guess the formal wear for the spiritual princess could refer to older traditions. Which should be the same with SWT, 'cause SWT was originally a part of NWT – or so I heard. For example, Kuruk, the NWT Avatar who lived about 400 years ago, has nothing Mongolian in his look.

All the looks are simplified to match the style of the original cartoon. I know there should be more details and embroidery, but my goal here was to draw something (at least theoretically) applicable for animation. And no Hahn's betrothal necklace of course.

Also I want to mention here other great Yue designs, since they are the inspiration behind the overall idea of the post – the moon looks and "Yue joins the Gaang" outfits by amazingly talented @chiptrillino.

P.S.: an important note

This is my first attempt ever to design outfits that could fit the world of A:tLA. I am not Asian or ingenious, not an expert in their cultures or costume history at all, not a professional character designer. I am just a fan who tried to create designs with respect to real cultures and people. Nothing here was supposed to be offensive in any way. If something still is – please inform me so I could fix it as soon as possible.

I hope, as a fan, I have the right to draw fanarts looking for an inspiration in the cultures that inspired the original cartoon.

If you see mistakes in my post, be it in drawings or a text, also feel free to tell me. I will deeply appreciate it.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Perfect: Christmas

Alexia Putellas x Baby!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Mija

"I've got a present for you."

Alexia flips another page in her book. "Put it under the tree."

"No," Olga says," I'm giving it to you now."

Alexia frowns, finally putting the book down. "It's still a few days before Christmas. Why give it to me now? We're going to my mother's soon."

Olga huffs, rolling her eyes. "Can you play along for just a minute, please?"

"Fine. Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Close your eyes."

Alexia does as she says, closing her eyes.

She can hear Olga moving about.

"And now hold your hands out."

Alexia holds her hands out and a weight is put into them.

"Open!"

You're in her arms, in a new sets of Christmas-red pyjamas with Santa's face in the middle and a big red bow placed on your head.

You're beaming, fingers pressed into your mouths as you kick your legs happily the moment Alexia makes eye contact.

"Well..." She says," If it isn't the best present in the world! Did you finally wake up from your nap, Mija? I think you did!"

You giggle hysterically as Alexia kisses your tummy and then your cheeks.

"Are you energised to see your Abuela and your Tia? All happy and excited?"

You keep giggling, going all limp in Alexia's arms as she draws you into a little cuddle that has you melting against her.

"A good present?" Olga teases as she pulls on her coat and shoes.

"The most perfect present," Alexia agrees as she forces your wiggling little feet into the cutest pair of boots she's ever seen.

They were a gift from Jenni, an old pair of Osita's that never once got worn because Osita cried the first time she'd tried them on. But they were perfect on you and you wore them happily.

Your little matching jacket is equally as perfect, the same as your little hat and your little scarf that Alexia gently readjusts as she pulls you out of the car while Olga goes up to knock on Eli's front door.

Alba's the one that opens it, allowing Olga in happily before blocking Alexia's way.

"Oh come on," Alexia says with an eye roll," You can't be serious."

"The baby," Alba demands, hands out waiting," I've been deprived of y/n cuddle for ages."

"What do you think, Mija?" Alexia teases, bouncing you softly," Cuddles with Tia Alba or cuddles with Mami?"

You say nonsensical words, nothing more than a string of babble and weird noises but Alexia nods along seriously.

"Sorry, Alba, she wants to stick with me."

She all but shoves past her sister on her way into the house.

"Finally!" Eli, like normal, is a bustle of activity and commanding her household likes it's a military barracks with members of the family sticking closely to the roles she's given them. "I've got a nice little area set up in the sitting room for you to help Mija make some Christmas decorations."

"Mami, she's only little-"

"And I did the same with you and Alba!" Eli waves away Alexia's concerns. "There's instructions on the table so follow them! She'll be making a paper snowflake."

Like Alexia had predicted though, she's doing most of the work. The folding and the cutting and making a little hole at the top so she can thread a tiny piece of green ribbon through it to hang on the tree later today.

You get to have the crayon though.

Eli, like her militarised conveyor belt of aunts and uncles making deserts in the kitchen, had already thought of everything so had preselected the green and red and silver and gold crayons for you to use so it's sufficiently Christmassy.

So, there you sit with the little paper snowflake Alexia made, clumsily scrawling on it with a crayon that you don't even really know how to hold properly while Alba attempts to coerce you into her arms.

You ignore her though, happy sitting on your Mami as she readjusts one of the bows in your hair and straightens out the little outfit you're wearing.

"And what do we do when Tia Alba's being pushy? We stick out tongues out at her!" Alexia demonstrates but you seem more interested in grabbing her tongue in your little finger than you are imitating her.

Before the end of the evening, Alexia manages to make you at least four snowflake decorations for the tree and you take great delight in scrawling over all of them in crayons that Alexia's sure Eli bought just for you.

The decorations hang on the Christmas tree right up until the special day and Alexia takes a moment to smile at your colouring before she sets you down in front of your mountain of gifts.

Perhaps she had gone overboard with the Christmas shopping this year but it was hardly her fault when everyone else had gone overboard too.

Your pile of presents is large and, settled amongst the very middle of it, Alexia can barely see your head poking out from the mountains of boxes surrounding you.

You're not very good at tearing open your gifts so after several minutes of watching you struggle, Alexia settles on the floor with you to help.

"Look, mija," She coos," Another football for you! And a jersey from Ingrid and Mapi. It's got your name on it!"

Most of your gifts have been football related making you the most kitted out baby Alexia's ever seen.

But there's also a toy puppy amongst all the football stuff and cute little outfits that matched many of Alexia's and even a cute little chalkboard and coloured chalk for your bedroom for when you got a bit older.

"And this is from me," Alexia says as she gently unwraps a photo frame," That's you and me, Mija. On adoption day. Look at how happy we are."

You clumsily slap at the picture before forcing it out of Alexia's hand to smack against your lips in a clumsy version of a kiss.

"Yes, Mija," Alexia laughs," That's exactly what I'm doing to you!"

[choochooboss]

Sketch dump! Vol. 5

September 2022 (Part 1/2)

The first piece on top summarised my cosplay rush for Tracon 2022! The second is an old idea for a charm.

"SURPRISE!!"

Back in 2022 I hosted an art raffle for reaching 777 followers on Twitter! The winner would get their submas themed idea realised (which was their friends throwing a surprise party for the twins!). I wanted to make a little comic and have the bosses walk in their office where depot agents, Elesa, Drayden, Skyla, Clay etc. would be waiting with decorations and treats and games.

Emmet is all smiles of course while Ingo gets so emotional he could only whisper a "super bravo".

Not really headcanons anymore but still funny ideas.

1. Emmet gets clumsy when off-rhythm! He starts walking in curves if there is nobody else around to match his rhythm with.

2. Emmet spaces out/forgets to say things aloud when someone speaks too long or when things go off-script! His thinking gets interrupted easily.

3. Ingo sometimes bumps into doors because he is too used to automatic doors!

4. When things go off-script Ingo speaks too much and rushes in straight lines"

Also my little inexpensive sketchbook & my trusty tools! Mechanical pencil and eraser pen are life when scribbling my skrimblos smaller than a postage stamp!

More Ingo~ I utilise a wide range of sources for references, including CSP's poseable 3D models, they can come really handy with perspectives and proportions!

The second piece is my very first attempt at cosplay in Tracon 2022: Blingo! I walked in with a sequin hat, leather jacket, leather pants and high heel patent leather boots.

The hardest part of cosplaying Ingo is remembering NOT to smile ahaha!

Some hairstyle tests

I drew these for a huge submas art collaboration over Twitter hosted by @/mimizukeii!! It was technically my first art collab before I started arranging them myself with Aggie/Magma.

While looking for train related songs I found this cute nursery rhyme to go with the marching:

"Over the mountains,

Over the plains,

Over the rivers,

Here come the trains.

Carrying passengers,

Carrying mail,

Bringing their precious loads In without fail"

I wanted to compare these silly twins, planning to do something more silly with them later. Also a sketch of @/fukurow's butler designs I never finished.. The capes compliment them so well, I love them!!

Prequel to this piece! Emmet is so confident in himself he thinks Pierce wants to learn from him but is invited for a duet on the stage instead!!

Emmet has really great voice actors in Pokemas! I especially love how his english VA gives him that bri'ish/posh/sophisticated vibe while also soft and melodic! I know for SURE this VA/Emmet can sing, I can show you later!

One of my favourite sketches!! I wanted to add a bunch of characters in the BG reacting to this sonic blast of emotion over a performance!

Heyyy it's the smile buddies comic!! I really hope Ingo gets to interact with Marnie in Pokemas one day!!

I feel Ingo's eyes in the mirror panel is a little off in the final comic, I meant to keep it softer like in the sketch!

It's Nimbasa trio!! Idea inspired by submas EX uniform colors. Might continue this later!

Some BG tests for this piece! Compositing is hard but absolutely worth the effort, it can make a huge difference in the appeal of your piece!!

Practise piece drawing over a photo I thought was cool! I want to get more experimental with lighting and perspective!

'How's it hanging bro?' Who hung him up there anyway??

Sketch for this arguing scene! Something REALLY BAD needs to happen for them to end up that tense! Even if I want to present them close to the canon material I still want to put them in really challenging situations to see how far I can push their emotions!

Thank you so much for coming all the way down here!! This set was pretty loaded, I hope you enjoyed scrolling through all this ahah!

Previous posts:

Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 3: August 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 4: July 2022 Part 2

[lewisvinga]

around the world | lewis hamilton x fem! reader

summary; influencer y/n decides to do the trend of showing off her outfits with lewis as they traveled around the world.

warnings; none ??

word count; 815

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; requested! this was longer than expected😭😭

masterlist !

“Okay, ready?” Y/n questions after setting up her phone on the desk in their room. They were currently in their hotel room in Las Vegas, almost ready to leave for the opening of the Las Vegas Grand Prix when she got the idea to shoot the tiktok.

“Wait, what do I do again?” Lewis asked with a chuckle, smoothing down the long black coat he wore on top of a black top with a deep v-neck.

“I showed you like 20 times, Lew.”

“Was too distracted by your pretty face.”

Y/n playfully rolls her eyes, ignoring the blush on her face as she holds one hand out. “Just clap my hand while crossing your legs at the same time.” She explains while copying the motion.

Since they were known as a fashionable couple who always matched, she wore a similar outfit to his but in a dress form. She wore a midi tight black dress with a v-neck and a matching black coat. They both wore their matching pearl necklaces from Valentino and even had matching sunglasses. She of course had her black mini Kelly in hand, an anniversary gift from him from a couple years prior.

“Ready, Lew?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, gorgeous.”

Y/n puts on the countdown and takes a couple steps back to make sure their full outfits are in the frame. The moment the song began, she held her hand out and Lewis did exactly what she explained to him.

“Perfect, now I just gotta remember when we go to Abu Dhabi.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Okay, now we do the same but in these outfits,” Y/n explains again, adjusting her phone in his driver's room. Fortunately, she was quick to remember to record the next part of her TikTok.

They both wore baggy red pants but Lewis wore a white Mercedes shirt while she just wore a plain white blouse with a white Lady Dior in hand.

“Same thing as last week, right?” He asked with a smile as she began the timer.

“Exactly!” She nods in reply, her smile matching his. The song began to play and they copied the same movement they did the week before. Once it was over, she quickly grabbed her phone to check the footage. “Oh, this is gonna be amazing once we finish!”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Roscoe, sit,” Lewis tells the bulldog who wore a wide smile. They both watch as Y/n props up her phone on the front porch of their home in England.

The ground was white with snow and the sky let more snowflakes fall. They were wearing layers upon layers due to the freezing temperatures. Of course, they had matching navy blue jackets, and even Roscoe wore a matching vest. Their pants were both black but he wore black boots while she opted for navy boots.

She adjusts the grey scarf she wore that matches his as she starts the timer. “Roscoe, smile for the camera!” She exclaimed, rushing over to stand on the other side of the dog.

Roscoe was seemingly posing as the song began once again, and again Lewis and Y/n did the same movement.

“Roscoe is gonna look so good in that one!” He lets out a laugh, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he bends down to pet his bulldog’s head.

“He’s such a good boy, aren’t you, Roscoe?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Ending it with Brazil?”

“To let the fans know it’s our honeymoon.” Y/n replies in a ‘duh’ tone. She smiled at him and glanced at their matching outfit once again. Lewis had decided to take his braids out and wear his natural curls for the summer, something he usually does when he isn’t racing.

His honey-brown curls were tied into a low bun and covered by a blue hat. He wore an oversized yellow Nike shirt and an earth-green tone pair of baggy pants. Y/n opted for wearing a skirt the same color and a blue Christian Dior tote bag instead of the cap. She also wore a yellow Nike top but it was fitted instead of loose.

It was one of her favorite outfits in one of their favorite countries. Brazil was always special to him and it became special to her, hence their honeymoon location.

“Okay, last one, and be ready!” She exclaims, pressing the countdown once again.

Lewis couldn’t help but stare at her with adoration in his eyes and a loving smile as they did the same moves for the last part of her video. He can already see all the comments they’d get on how he stared at her but he honestly couldn’t care.

He zoned out as he watched Y/n get excited over the video. He was eternally grateful that he was able to go around the world with his wife by his side.

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Save a horse, ride a cowboy- H.HJ

Call me miss self indulgence but today is my bday and I have a thing for cowboys since forever 🤭 (also, I don't like rodeos so I didn't describe it much)

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: smut, dom!hyunjin (subtly, I guess)

Alexa, play Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy) by Big & Rich

You jump out of the car with your best friends, boots crunching on dry dirt, laughter spilling into the warm night air.

 The rodeo’s already in full swing— country music playing in the background, the scent of beer and barbecue floating heavily through the crowd. You're buzzed on excitement and nerves, 21 today, first legal drink waiting, heart beating a little too fast under the denim jacket you chose for matching the vibe.

“You look hot”, one of your girls grins, tangling her arm through yours, “We’re getting you drunk and laid tonight”

You laugh, brushing dust off your skirt, not even sure what you’re hoping for— until you see him.

Hyunjin, the rodeo star.

His muscles are lean and his legs are long and he looks way too sinful in those goddamn jeans and black shirt rolled up to his elbows. The charming cowboy hat shadowing his eyes makes him even more mysterious.  

He’s leaning against the fence, watching the arena with one hand hooked into his belt buckle, chewing on a toothpick like every wet dream you've never admitted out loud.

He doesn't say a word when you pass, just tips his hat— barely, with two fingers— and gives you that look and a  smirk that curls slowly at the edge of his mouth like he already knows how you sound when you moan.

You nearly trip over your own feet.

“Holy shit”, you whisper to your friends.

Then the announcer calls his name. 

Hyunjin rides the horse like he was born to ride— fluid, confident, the muscles in his thighs flexing as he adjusts in the saddle. The crowd roars, but you barely hear it. All you can pay attention to is the way his hips move, how his broad back stretches as he leans into the ride, how controlled and powerful every motion is. And when his eyes find yours from the arena, just for a second— he smirks.

That damn smirk.

Your thighs squeeze together on instinct, wondering how sex with him would feel like.

He rides like sin and of course he wins.

You’re still catching your breath when he hops the fence, sweat slicking his neck, hair sticking to his temples. He comes right up to you,  like he knows exactly where to find you in the crowd, and hooks his thumbs into his belt.

“You drink, pretty girl?”,  he asks, voice low and teasing, eyes burning into yours.

Your mouth goes dry, “Just turned twenty one”

“Well then”, he grins, stepping closer, “Happy birthday, beautiful. Let me buy you your first beer”.

And all you can do is  follow him to the bar— a small  place that smells like whiskey and wood. The chatter and clink of glasses surround you, but it feels like it's just you and him. 

Hyunjin leads you to a quiet corner, sliding into the booth with that relaxed, cocky demeanor of his. His cowboy hat’s back on, and his eyes follow you with an almost possessive gaze as you sit down across from him.

"Two beers", he asks to the bartender

He leans back against the seat, stretching his arm along the backrest, casual like he owns the place. The way his muscles flex under his shirt makes you swallow, and your fingers tap nervously on the table.

"So”, he says, tilting his head and looking at you with that devilish smirk, "Tell me, what was your first impression of me?"

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel heat rush to your face. You could pretend to be indifferent, but  the way he’s looking at you makes your body betray you.

"That you’re a total asshole", you say barely above a whisper.

His smirk deepens, and his eyes darken with amusement. "Oh yeah?", he leans in closer, his voice dropping low, "I think you're lying"

The beers arrive, two bottles clinking softly on the table. Hyunjin grabs one, uncapping it and handing it to you. His fingers brush yours, and you feel an electric shock.

“Cheers to your birthday”, he says, raising his bottle, eyes never leaving yours.

You clink your bottles together, watching the way his lips curl around the edge of the bottle. 

"Cheers", you murmur, taking a sip, feeling the beer cold on your tongue.

You sip a little more, gathering your nerves. The alcohol is working its magic, loosening your tongue. 

"I thought you were hot", you finally admit, your voice unsteady, but you hold his gaze, “But didn’t think you’d be so... cocky”

Hyunjin’s lips twitch in amusement, "Cocky?”, he asks, taking a slow drag from his beer, “That’s a word you could use”

He watches you over the rim of his bottle, eyes dropping down to your lips, and you swear he’s savoring the sight of you. You shift uncomfortably, your thighs still squeezing together, the tension between you both thickening with every second.

“So”, he continues, leaning in, eyes glinting with a challenge, “Are you gonna tell me what you really want for your birthday?”

You bite your lip. The heat of the moment makes you bold.

“I don’t know”, you say, voice low, teasing him just like he’s been teasing you, "Maybe something I didn’t expect...?"

He leans in closer, just enough for you to feel the heat of his breath on your skin, his hand reaching across the table to brush against your fingers again.

“Well, I got a few ideas”, he smirks, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable.

You swallow, your body pulsing with anticipation. You glance down at the menu in front of you.

 “Actually”, you say with a small laugh, “I don’t eat meat”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his gaze, “So you’re one of those, huh?” he teases, “Saving horses and all?”

You grin, leaning in just a little, matching his playful energy.

 “Yeah", you say with a wink, "Maybe I could ride a cowboy too. Like in the music, you know?”

His lips curl into a satisfied smile, and you know he’s already imagining exactly what that might look like.

Before you can say anything else, he stands, extending his hand to you, cocky confidence never leaving him.

“Let’s get outta here. I know a place where we can really make it a birthday you won’t forget”

You take his hand, letting him pull you toward the door, heart racing in anticipation. The night’s only just begun.

The cool night air clings to your skin as you step out of the bar, Hyunjin’s hand still holding yours as he leads you to his truck.

You can feel the excitement between you two, crackling in the air, and it only gets more intense with every step.

His truck is big, dark and intimidating, just like the man standing beside it. 

He opens the door for you, and you slide in feeling the leather seats beneath you. The truck smells like him— sweat, cologne and danger.

You’re barely settled before he’s already climbing in beside you, the door slamming shut with a thud. He turns the key, the engine roaring to life, but all you can hear is the pounding of your own heartbeat.

You glance at him, and he’s watching you— eyes dark, jaw clenched, like he’s just waiting for something, maybe an excuse to pull you closer. Then, he slides a hand up your thigh.

You breath hitches.

He pulls out onto the empty road, the headlights cutting through the darkness as you drive further into the countryside, away from the lights of the town. The anticipation in the air is thick, and your mind races with thoughts of what might come next.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence that feels like it could break you, he pulls off the road and parks. The truck’s engine goes quiet, and he turns to you, eyes glowing with exploding desire.

“So” he says, his voice a low growl, “Ready to get your birthday really started?”

Before you can even respond, he’s out of the truck, pulling you out with him. His hands are warm and firm, and you feel like you might melt under his touch.

 He guides you to the back of the truck, lowering the tailgate, and you’re left breathless as you watch him climb up and sit on the edge of the trunk bed.

“Come here” he says, his voice seductive, “I think you know exactly what to do”

You climb up next to him, barely thinking straight with the way his hands are on you— strong, possessive, guiding you closer until you’re straddling him, your thighs pressing against the rough denim of his jeans.

“Is this what you had in mind for your birthday?”, he asks, his voice teasing as his hands roam over your skin. 

He drags his lips down your neck, making your body shiver with pleasure. You bite your lip, nodding, your hands working to pull his shirt off, revealing the muscled chest beneath. Your breath hitches as you feel the heat of his body against yours.

"No”, you whisper, the words coming out like a challenge, "But I think that’s even better"

A smirk curls on his lips as he pulls you closer, his lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that burns like fire. His hands grip your hips, pulling you down against him as he adjusts beneath you.

You can feel his pulse under your fingertips, the way his breath comes faster when you grind down on him. 

Every shift of your body against his feels like a new level of pleasure, and you can feel his control slipping as you push him further.

“Fuck”, he groans, eyes dark as he pulls away just enough to look at you, “You’re perfect”

You smile, a mixture of sweet and sinful, “Show me just how perfect I am, cowboy”

His smirk turns into something more dangerous.

 “Oh, I will”, he says, his voice rough, as he pulls you into another kiss.

The truck rocks under your hips.

Hyunjin’s hat is off, thrown somewhere near the tailgate, and his hands are firm on your waist, guiding you with firm hands as you ride him. The worn denim of his jeans is pushed just low enough, your panties lost somewhere in the frenzy of his mouth on yours. He groans when he first slides into you.

“Fuck” he breathes, head thrown back, sweat glinting on his neck, “You feel like a dream, birthday girl”

You’re trembling, thighs burning as you move on him, the stretch of him inside you deep and perfect. The air is heavy with heat, your moans, and the creak of the truck’s suspension with every bounce of your hips. 

He palms your ass, smirking through a groan.

 “You said no meat,” he pants, thrusting up hard, deep, “But you’re eating’ this up, ain’t you?”

You gasp, nails digging into his bare shoulders, “Shut up…”

He grins, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat— not choking, just holding, just owning you— as he jerks up into you, faster. 

“Nah”, he whispers, voice dark,  “Not on your birthday”

Then he flips you.

You land on your back, legs spread wide before you even catch your breath, the cool of the trunk bed metal kissing your spine. He kneels between your thighs, cock glistening as he strokes it once, devouring you.

“You want it like this?, he murmurs, dragging his tip through your soaked folds, teasing your clit before nudging at your entrance

 “Want me to fuck you like a real cowboy?”

You nod, frantic, your fingers curling in the crumpled flannel beneath your hips,  “Yes… Hyunjin, please…”

He pushes in again, brutal, all the way in until his hips crash with yours. Your mouth drops open in a silent cry.

“That’s it”, he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your throat as he begins to move in long, deep thrusts that make your body twitch under his.

 “Feel that? That’s me splitting you open like you’re mine”

You moan, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him in deeper. His pelvis grinds against your clit, each thrust perfectly  slick, obscene.

“You gonna come for me?”, he murmurs against your jaw, licking sweat from your skin, “Gonna soak my cock as a good birthday girl?”

“Fuck… yes… yes, Hyunjin, I…”

But you shatter first. Back arching, toes curling, body shaking with tremors as you come around him, walls pulsing tight, milking him. You cry his name, hands clawing at his back, and he moans, wrecked, before slamming into you one last time.

“Gonna fill you up, baby”, he growls, voice cracking as he comes, “Gonna shoot it deep, fuck…”

He let out a strangled groan as his cock twitches inside you, warmth spilling into your core. His body trembles against yours, fingers trembling where they hold your hips and thighs.

You lie there together, tangled and panting under the stars, your skin slick with sweat and his cum, your chest rising in sync.

Hyunjin laughs softly, nose buried in your neck, “You’re trouble, birthday girl”

You smile, drunk on him instead of the beer, “You started it, cowboy”

He chuckles again, rolling off but pulling you with him, wrapping his arms around you tightly, tucking you into his chest. He finds his flannel shirt and drapes it over your body.

“You okay?”, he whispers.

You nod against his chest, body completely wrecked.

“Good”, he smiles, wicked, “Next time, I’m bringing rope. And maybe a gag”

You laugh breathlessly, “Already planning next year?”

He smirks, “Nah, babe. I’m talking about tomorrow”.

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

taglist: @hyyunjinnn , @jehhskz , @mbioooo0000 , @nightmarenyxx , @rozsdascsaptelep @thatonegirlonhere , @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy , @jeonginsleftcheek , @yelhsaa , @my-neurodivergent-world , @hyunles , @lexlikesbts @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold , @teenagepeterpan , @hangonhyunjin

[yzzyhee]

flamin’ hot lemon — lhs

bf!heeseung x gf!reader

warnings: established relationship, suggestive (blowjob— minors dni), kissing/making out?, petnames (baby), lowcases written

wc: 3.8k~

synopsis: you know how the saying goes… save a horse, ride a cowboy… or do something about it as long as it’s saving the horse…

now listen to: flamin’ hot lemon — jaehyun

a/n: now. this song was on repeat ever since the release so obviously, it had to happen as i remembered the sweet venom stage— also ! first time writing smth that’s like not fluff / small suggestive and actually going almost all the way in but well, this was heavily saved by my beloved precious @ja3yun — a big round of applause cause without her this fic would’ve never seen the daylight 🙂‍↕️ anyway, feedbacks & constructive criticism is appreciated ✌🏻

ps. my wife said to make it clear there won’t be a part two so i’m saying it — there won’t be a part too.

you blink. and then you blink again, and again, and again as if each time you won’t be met with the same view, thinking it must be your eyes playing tricks with you.

“baby? you okay?” heeseung asks, a slight hint of worry in his eyes though his tone gives him away. he knows. of course, he knows why you’re suddenly speechless, staring at him as if he came out of your shared bedroom completely naked.

your mouth parts, forming an “o” as you try to wrap your mind around the view before you. and what a beautiful view… there he stands, your boyfriend, in all his denim-clad cowboy glory.

the fitted jacket hugs his frame in all the right places, highlighting his broad shoulders and the way the jeans cling to his legs is almost unfair. a silver belt attached to his jeans that accentuates his pretty tiny waist. and of course, the most important part of it all, the cowboy-denim hat that sits low on his head, casting a shadow over his mischievous eyes.

you knew you were going to match — a cowboy always has to have his cowgirl after all. you have the perfect blend of casual and playful; a fitted, deep red plaid button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up just above your elbows, high-waisted denim shorts that hug your hips perfectly, a fringed brown suede vest that you wear over your shirt, and a pair of scuffed-up cowboy boots completing your whole look.

“yn?” he smirks, his voice low as he takes a slow step toward you. “cat got your tongue?”

you blink again, the heat rising in your cheeks as your brain scrambles to catch up. your mind isn’t cooperating with you, struggling to string together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. you try to focus, but the way heeseung is standing there — all cocky and confident in that ridiculously attractive cowboy outfit — has your nerves completely scrambled.

“i- what… what is this?” you finally manage to stutter, gesturing vaguely toward his outfit. the words feel clumsy on your tongue, your heart pounding a little too loudly in your chest.

heeseung chuckles softly, his hands casually resting on his hips, the gesture making you even more aware of how well the denim clings to his figure.

“it’s for the party tonight. you like it?” his voice is low, teasing, and you know now that he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having on you.

right, the party. your friends thought it was a brilliant idea to throw a random halloween party even though it wasn’t even remotely close to 31st october, yet, you still agreed without much thought. but now, standing here, facing heeseung like this, it’s hard to focus on anything except how your pulse seems to be dancing under your skin, and how your throat has gone dry.

you try to clear your head, but every time you look at him, the butterflies in your stomach only get worse. heeseung’s eyes don’t leave yours, the playful spark in them making your pulse race even more. his presence feels overwhelming, like the air between you two is thick with electricity.

“i-yeah,” you breathe, swallowing hard. “i just wasn’t expecting… this.”

his smirk deepens, and you catch the slight shift in his expression, a glimmer of amusement mixed with something else—something darker, more intense. “i wanted to surprise you,” he says, his voice soft now, like he’s not just talking about the costume.

and suddenly, you’re acutely aware of how close he’s standing, the warmth radiating off him, the way his fingers brush against your waist as he steps in even closer. you can smell his cologne, something warm and familiar, but tonight it feels different, headier and spicier somehow.

“so, are you surprised?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper now, as he gently tilts your chin up, his thumb tracing along your jawline.

you nod, your breath hitching in your throat. you’re not sure if it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the way his thumb continues to brush against your skin, but you feel like your heart might just burst out of your chest. everything feels so intense — like the whole room has shrunk to just the two of you.

heeseung leans in, his lips hovering just above yours, and you feel like time slows down. your heart is racing, your entire body tingling with anticipation as his breath mingles with yours. you close your eyes, waiting, wanting.

then, he closes the distance, his lips finally meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss. it’s gentle at first, like he’s testing the waters, but when you respond — when you kiss him back with equal intensity — something shifts. the kiss deepens, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies.

your mind blanks, the only thing you can focus on is the warmth of his lips against yours, the way his hands grip your waist, the way he kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. it’s slow but deliberate, filled with a tenderness that has your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.

when he pulls back, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath is slightly uneven, and his lips are curved into a soft smile.

“i think we should head out for the party now…” you say, your voice just slightly louder than a whisper.

humming in response, heeseung’s lips brush your forehead in a featherlight kiss before he straightens, his hands reluctantly sliding from your waist. “right,” he says, his voice hushed and warm, though there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “wouldn’t want to keep the party waiting.”

by the time you reach your friend’s hourse, it’s buzzing with life. you can hear the thumping bass of music before you even reach the front door, the muffled sound of laughter and voices spilling out onto the porch. the house is decked out in full halloween glory — orange and purple lights drape across the front yard, casting an eerie glow over the hay bales and fake tombstones scattered across the lawn. a giant inflatable skeleton waves ominously from the roof, its eyes flickering red.

the inside of the house is even more chaotic. there are people everywhere, dressed in every kind of costume imaginable — witches, zombies, vampires, superheroes — filling the space with laughter and energy. the smell of caramel apples and popcorn mingles with the unmistakable scent of candy and punch, and the air is thick with excitement.

heeseung’s hand tightens slightly around yours as you weave through the crowd, his thumb still brushing against your skin in that comforting way you love so much. you catch glimpses of familiar faces as you move deeper into the house, waving at people you know from classes as you pass. everyone seems to be caught up in the pre-halloween spirit, and the atmosphere is electric, a blend of fun chaos and easygoing joy.

you suddenly spot jay, his cowboy hat cocked at a ridiculous angle, standing with his girlfriend, aejay, by the snack table. jay is in a flannel shirt and boots, looking like he stepped straight out of a western, while aejay rocks a sleek, edgy vampire costume — her dark lips and red contacts making her look both elegant and slightly dangerous. they’re laughing about something, jay’s arm slung casually around her shoulders.

when jay catches sight of you and heeseung, his grin widens. “well, well, look who finally decided to show up!” he calls, raising his red solo cup in greeting. “and look at you, heeseung, pulling off that cowboy look like you were born for it.”

heeseung grins back, tugging you closer as you approach. you laugh, shaking your head. “is this some kind of cowboy reunion?” you ask when you reach the couple and eye jay more intently in his flannel and boots.

jay smiles and nods, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “we thought it’d be funny. jake should be around here somewhere too, dressed as that cowboy character from toy story.

heeseung immediately perks up, avid fan of the toy story movies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you mean woody?”

jay snickers, already sensing where this is going.

“well,” heeseung says, glancing at you with a mischievous grin, “looks like jake’s the only one buzzing with excitement tonight.” he leans closer to you, voice dropping to a playful whisper. “but don’t worry, baby — i’m no toy. you don’t have to pull my string to get me talking. however, you can pull on something else…”

you roll your eyes, groaning at the cheesy, suggestive line, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “heeseung,” you laugh, nudging him in the side, “let’s just hope jake doesn’t take the woody too seriously tonight.”

jay bursts out laughing at that, and even heeseung’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

the four of you chat for a while, catching up amidst the hum of the party. aejay, always the life of any gathering, starts telling a dramatic story about how she had to battle three different costume stores to get the perfect set of vampire fangs. jay interrupts her every few seconds, adding his own exaggerated spin to the tale, making you laugh until your stomach hurts.

the lights are dim, casting everyone in a soft, warm glow, and the air is filled with the scent of sugar and cinnamon, along with the occasional burst of cold air from the open back door.

it’s a perfect kind of chaos—the kind where time seems to slow down and you’re acutely aware of every moment, every laugh, every smile. but most of all, you’re aware of heeseung’s presence beside you, his hand never leaving yours, his arm wrapping around your waist every so often, like he can’t bear to be too far away from you.

you keep stealing glances at him, your eyes tracing over the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his denim jacket fits perfectly across his broad shoulders.

you bite your bottom lip, unable to comprehend how this ridiculously handsome man is yours. every time you look at him, an involuntary expression of satisfaction and adoration spreads across your face. that’s right, he is yours.

sensing your stare, heeseung leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear in that soft, teasing way that always makes your heart race. “having fun?” he asks, his voice low and intimate, like a secret meant only for you.

you look up at him, your heart fluttering in your chest as you meet his gaze. his eyes are dark, full of warmth, and something else — something that sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. you nod, feeling your breath hitch slightly. “yeah,” you whisper, smiling softly. “i’m having a lot of fun.”

heeseung grins at your response, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. the heat between you feels tangible, like the rest of the crowded room has melted away, leaving just the two of you. “good,” he murmurs, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

then, he leans back just enough to look into your eyes, his fingers grazing your chin. with a gentle touch, he tilts your head up towards him, his thumb brushing across your skin as he smiles, his voice dipping even lower. “wanna have even more fun?”

the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker with mischief, makes your pulse quicken. you can feel the air between you both shift, thick with anticipation, and all you can think about is how close his lips are to yours, how effortlessly he seems to set your whole world spinning with just a look.

heeseung’s grin deepens as he holds your gaze, his fingers still resting gently under your chin. you feel the tension change between the two of you. his face has written trouble all over it and, without another word, he gently grabs your hand, forgetting about your friends and starts tugging you through the crowd with that easy confidence you love so much.

“where are we going?” you ask, your heart racing in your chest, excitement swirling inside you as you follow him down the dimly lit hallway.

heeseung glances back at you, that signature playful smirk tugging at his lips. “wouldn’t you like to know?” he says, his voice teasing.

before you can ask another question, he stops in front of the bathroom door, pushing it open slightly and pulling you inside with him. the moment the door clicks shut, the noise of the party fades into a distant hum, leaving just the two of you together in the small space.

your back presses gently against the bathroom counter and heeseung leans in, his hands bracing on either side of you, caging you in, his eyes dark with a playful intensity. he doesn't say anything for a moment — just looks at you, his gaze roving over your face like he's taking his time, savouring the way you're biting your bottom lip, the way your breath catches every time he gets a little closer.

"you’ve been staring at me all night," he murmurs, his lips brushing just barely against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "got something on your mind, baby?"

your cheeks burn as his words settle over you, but you can't stop the grin that threatens to split your cheeks. "maybe," you tease back, your hands instinctively finding their way to the front of his denim jacket, your fingers toying with the fabric.

heeseung’s eyes flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "you know," he says softly, his voice laced with amusement, "if you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask."

you laugh, the sound light and breathless, your body buzzing with anticipation. "oh, i’ve had your attention all night," you counter, your voice just as teasing, leaning in closer, your lips grazing his jaw. "haven’t i?”

his breath hitches slightly at the contact, his arms tightening around you. "yeah, you have," he admits, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, like it's just for you. "but now... i think I want a little more."

your heart skips a beat at his words, your pulse thrumming wildly in your chest. heeseung leans in, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours, close enough.

your heart races as heeseung’s lips hover close to yours, the tension between you thick and electric. the space around you seems to shrink, and the air feels warmer, heavier, with anticipation. his breath mingles with yours, and you're maddeningly aware of how close his body is to yours, how his hands on either side of you are steady, but his eyes — his eyes tell you he's barely holding back.

your hands tighten their grip on the front of his jacket, pulling him closer still, your breath dancing with his. the sound of your heartbeat thrums in your ears, loud and steady, as you resist the urge to close the gap between you immediately. instead, you let the tension simmer, savouring the way it builds and swells in the space between you both.

"i want to give you something," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung raises an eyebrow, his eyes dark with curiosity and desire, but his smirk never falters. "yeah?" he murmurs, his lips just a breath away from yours, his hand gently sliding down your arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. "what’s that, baby?"

you bite your lip, your pulse quickening. "a little reward," you tease, your voice playful yet laced with intent.

his grip on your waist tightens slightly, and you can feel the tension in his body as he leans in closer, his lips brushing the edge of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "i like the sound of that," he whispers, his voice low and rough.

you grin, your heart racing, and slowly, you let your fingers slide down from his jacket to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. "but," you say, tilting your head up just enough so your lips graze his jaw, "you'll have to be patient."

heeseung groans softly, his head dipping forward until his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and uneven. "you’re killing me," he mutters, though there's a hint of amusement in his tone, like he's enjoying this playful back-and-forth as much as you are.

"patience," you repeat, your fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines down his chest, your touch light enough to drive him crazy.

heeseung chuckles, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, his voice thick with both amusement and frustration. "you’re really gonna make me wait?"

looking up at him through your lashes, the smile on your lips is playful but knowing. "i think it'll be worth it," you say, your voice teasing, and you lean up to press a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth

his lips press back against yours, but before he can deepen the kiss, you pull away, your smile widening at the quiet groan of protest he makes. heeseung’s hands tighten on your waist, and his eyes meet yours with a mix of desire and amusement, like he knows exactly what you're doing, and he's more than willing to play along.

you tilt your head slowly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. before heeseung can even register what's happening, you drop to your knees, the cool bathroom floor sending a brief shiver through you. when you look up at him, his breath catches, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.

his hands, which had been resting on the counter behind you, grip the edge tightly now, knuckles white with tension. his gaze locks with yours, dark and full of surprise, anticipation, and something deeper. you can see the way his chest rises and falls, his breath coming faster as the realisation of your bold move settles in.

"y/n." heeseung breathes out, his voice rough, like he's struggling to keep control. his eyes flicker between your face and the space between you, his hands twitching as if unsure of whether to stop you or let you continue. but his body betrays him — he's frozen in place, caught between disbelief and desire.

you bite your lip, leaning closer, your fingers lightly grazing the fabric of his jeans. "shh," you whisper, your eyes never leaving his. the power shift between you both is palpable, the air between you charged with intensity.

you can see the effect you're having on him-the way his breath hitches, his muscles tensing under your touch, the raw hunger in his gaze as he watches your every move.

for a moment, you both just stay there, the silence in the small bathroom heavy and thick with expectancy. heeseung’s jaw clenches, his hands still gripping the counter as he lets out a shaky breath. his lips part as if to speak, but no words come out, just another sharp inhale as he watches you, eyes hooded and dark with want.

but instead of taking things further, you pull back just slightly, your teasing smile widening. "still want me to keep going?" you ask, your voice soft but dripping with playful intent, leaving him on the edge of anticipation.

heeseung’s grip loosens for a moment, and he lets out a low, breathless chuckle, his voice hoarse. "you’re really not playing fair, are you?"

you wink at him and moisturise your lips. a feel of rage and desire rushes to heeseung’s limbs as you free his now hard dick. your hands wrap around the base of his dick and you stroke him with a rotating motion. a small gasp escapes your boyfriend’s lips as a zap of pleasure shoots down his spine.

heeseung’s fingers sink into you hair, gathering it in a ponytail, and then yanking you back not so smoothly. you look back at him, eyelashes batting and lips forming a pout. “let me have a taste, please.”

and who is heeseung to say no to you? he stares at you as you slide his length into your hot, wet mouth, the tip of him disappearing past your lips as you continue pumping him at the base slowly, your grip tightening gradually.

your movements are slow, teasing and sensual. you peek up at your boyfriend through your lashes the whole time, watching his reactions, relishing in each moan and hiss — loving the effect you have on him.

suddenly, heeseung tugs you away gently, his fingers tangled in the makeshift ponytail he created, his eyes dark but steady as they meet yours. his lips curl into a teasing smirk as he watches you spread his precum across your lips. his thumb lightly brushes your bottom lip, and his breath hitches for a moment.

"why did you stop me?" you ask, your voice soft but with a hint of frustration, groaning slightly at the abrupt interruption.

his grip tightens ever so slightly around your arms as he pulls you up to stand, his expression shifting from playful to something more serious, yet still burning with desire.

“we’re leaving the party now, get up.” he says firmly, voice low and commanding.

you frown at first, confused by the sudden shift, but before you can question him, he's already pulling you closer, his hands gripping your elbows as he makes sure you're steady on your feet. his eyes soften as he sees your confused, slightly hurt expression, and his lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“no, no, baby. i loved it, i love you” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “ but we’re doing things my way now. let’s go home.”

a playful smile spreads across your face, and you nod, understanding the promise behind his words. "as long as you wear the hat while fucking me, i’ll go anywhere you want," you tease, your voice playful but full of anticipation.

heeseung chuckles, adjusting the cowboy hat still perched on his head “you really love this costume, don’t you?”

“you know what they say, save a horse… ride a cowboy…” you say in a sing-song voice, winking as you turn around and open the bathroom door to step out.

behind you, heeseung’s deep, booming laughter echoes down the hallway, and you feel his presence close behind as he follows you out. there’s a glint in his eyes, and you can feel the shift in the air, the promise of what's to come.

as you step back into the party, the noise and music barely register. all that's on your mind is heeseung, and judging by the heated look in his eyes, the feeling is mutual. there’s only one thing on his mind as he watches you saunter ahead — tonight, a lot of riding will be involved.

after all, he thinks with a smirk, a lot of horses need saving.

[nizhspo]

ok this right here is lowk just straight smut i’m gonna keep it a buck.. uhhh it goes w this ask and is atsumu miya paired with control by pnd

you see him before he sees you. which is rare.

he’s standing at the edge of the kitchen, drink in hand, dressed like some half-assed version of woody from toy story. flannel rolled to his elbows, hat tipped back on his head, jeans slung low on his hips. stupid sheriff badge pinned to his chest like it means something.

he’s talking to someone, laughing like it’s casual. but then his eyes drag over the crowd and stop.

on you.

the music’s loud, bass-heavy, but his stare hits sharper than the beat. it rakes over your bare thighs, your high-cut denim shorts, the knotted gingham top that doesn’t even pretend to close.

his eyes stick to your cleavage. then your mouth. then back to your thighs like he’s counting the ways he could ruin you tonight.

you don’t flinch. you just sip slow from your solo cup and tip your little cowgirl hat low.

you’re leaning against the fridge.

he walks right up.

“well, would ya look at that,” he drawls, lips twitching. “what a coincidence.”

you glance up at him, calm, unimpressed. “is it really?”

he lets out a soft laugh. the kind that says he’s not sure if you’re gonna kiss him or kick him in the shin.

he likes it.

“you wear that just for me, darlin’?” he teases, voice low as he leans in closer.

“sure,” you say. “you and every other man with two eyes and poor impulse control.”

his grin widens. “thought i was the only one ridin’ tonight.”

you raise your eyebrow.

he smirks. “y’know… save a horse…”

“finish that sentence,” you murmur, “and i’ll walk away right now.”

he laughs, full and real this time, but you see the way his fingers flex like he wants to grab your hips. he almost expects you to tell him no. again. to make him wait. again.

but you just push off the fridge, shrugging like it’s nothing. “alrighty, cowboy lead the way.”

he blinks. stares. then turns to lead you out—and you slap his ass on the way.

he whips around, eyes narrowed. “you got a death wish?”

you just laugh. “you walk too slow.”

…

the air outside is crisp, almost too crisp for what you’re wearing. the bare skin of your thighs prickles with goosebumps, but you don’t show it. the fog machine smoke clings low to the sidewalk, swirling around your boots with every step.

his are heavier beside you, longer stride slowed to match yours, jacket unzipped, fists flexing in and out of his pockets like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

you’re quiet for a beat.

then he lets out a sharp exhale through his nose. dry. deliberate.

“so kyotani and suna, huh?”

you freeze mid-step, then laugh—hard and unbothered, head tipping back just a little as you turn to look at him. “oh my god. that’s what this is about?”

he doesn’t stop walking, but he does glance at you sideways. eyes narrowed. jaw tight. tongue pressed into his cheek like he’s chewing on a bitter taste.

you’re still laughing. still amused. “you jealous?”

he snorts, scoffs—too quick. “no.”

but it’s the kind of no that cracks at the edges. the kind that means absolutely yes.

you just raise your eyebrows, all mock sympathy. “aw, cowboy. you mad they got to fuck me?”

he scoffs again, louder this time. “you think too highly of yourself.”

you shrug. “maybe, maybe not.”

he stops just shy of a streetlamp, turns to face you fully. the shadows carve out his jaw, cut across his throat. he doesn’t say anything for a second. just looks at you.

“you know what’s funny?” he says finally, voice low. “you act like that shit even means anything to me. like i ain’t had enough groupies tryin’ to get olympic babies outta me to last me a lifetime.”

you blink. lips part in amused surprise. “olympic babies?”

“don’t act like you ain’t heard the rumors.”

you smirk. “so what, you’re the victim now? poor atsumu, drowning in pussy?”

he rolls his eyes. “it’s not about that.”

you hum, still watching him like you know something he doesn’t. “so what is it about?”

he doesn’t answer.

just clenches his jaw again. looks away like the street’s more interesting than your mouth.

but you don’t press. you just smile, slow, dangerous, and keep walking, hips swaying like you know exactly how hard he’s staring.

and he follows. jaw tight, steps tense, still thinking about the fact that you laughed. still thinking about the fact that he’s not the only one who’s had you like that.

and that no matter how much he wants to believe otherwise; you’re still the only one who’s ever truly had him.

…

the car ride’s short. quiet. too quiet.

the kind of quiet that wraps itself around you like static. no small talk. no filler. just the sound of your breath and the soft creak of leather beneath you when you shift in your seat.

the engine hums low. then the bluetooth connects, and control by partynextdoor melts into the speakers like heat poured over bare skin. the bass rolls in steady, thick. the vocals hit smooth and muted, like they’re echoing from underwater.

you exhale through your nose, eyes fixed on the windshield. the city lights blur past in amber streaks, puddles catching reflections like spilled neon.

you’re sitting back, thighs crossed. your body’s buzzing like it hasn’t stopped since the party.

then his hand moves.

not suddenly. not fast. just… deliberate.

his palm slides onto your thigh, broad, warm, familiar. fingers splay slow over your skin, pinky grazing the inside where your legs meet. he doesn’t grip. just rests there.

but it’s the weight of it. the intent.

you glance over at him.

he doesn’t say a word. doesn’t look at you. just keeps his eyes on the road, jaw tight, mouth set, brow low.

but his thumb moves once. a soft, absent stroke against your inner thigh. like he’s thinking about what’s under the denim. like he’s remembering.

you shift slightly. just enough to press into him.

still, he says nothing. but the song keeps playing. and the lyrics float in the air like something cruel and true.

you swallow hard. but neither of you turns it off. neither of you moves away.

his hand stays. hot. still. waiting.

and the silence fills with everything he wants to do to you.

…

he lives just off campus: small apartment, warm lights glowing from a single window.

you both walk up the stairs. and as he unlocks the door, you wave lazily at meian, who’s sitting on the couch watching the game.

meian lifts a brow. takes in the costumes. says nothing.

…

the door clicks shut behind you.

then the lock turns—loud, final. you barely have time to register the sound before he’s on you.

his body crowds yours, heat rolling off him like it’s been simmering all night. his hands come up fast, sliding under the edge of your shirt, gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear again.

and then, his mouth.

it crashes into yours, hot, hungry, desperate. not careful. not sweet. just need.

his hips press into yours, pinning your back to the wall. you can feel every line of him. hard muscle. hard dick. harder tension.

he kisses like he’s been waiting for years. like he’s been losing sleep over the fact that he doesn’t get to do this whenever he wants.

you let him. for a second. just long enough to taste the frustration on his tongue.

then you plant a hand flat on his chest and shove.

not rough. not harsh. just… enough.

he stumbles half a step back, breathing heavy. his hands are still on your waist, but looser now. like he’s trying to hold onto something without breaking it.

your eyes narrow. your voice calm. “what are you doing?”

he doesn’t answer at first. just stares at you, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile. his lips part.

“can ya just—” he cuts himself off. runs a hand through his hair. jaw tightens again. he won’t look you in the eyes. not at first. then, “can ya just let me take control for one damn night?”

his voice is hoarse. quiet. like it costs him to say it.

you don’t move. you just watch him.

he’s still close, close enough to feel the heat coming off his skin, the way his muscles twitch under his shirt, like his whole body is screaming to move again.

“please,” he says. softer now. his fingers twitch against your waist. “just tonight. lemme take the lead.”

you tilt your head. “since when do you ask?”

he huffs, frustrated. his eyes finally meet yours. “since you’re the only one i never have control with.”

your breath catches. just slightly. but he sees it, and he leans in, slower this time. like he doesn’t want to spook you. like he’s waiting for the leash to drop from your hand.

you glance down, his hands still hovering, your shirt slightly wrinkled from where he grabbed, your heartbeat hammering hard enough to hear in your ears. you look back up.

“…okay,” you say, voice low. breath shallow. you nod once. steady. “go ahead, cowboy.”

his lips part. eyes flicker with something dangerous. then he moves, and this time, you don’t stop him.

he doesn’t hesitate, but his hands are careful this time. still greedy, still hungry, but slower now, like he knows he’s been granted a privilege and plans to savor every second.

his palms slide along your waist, thumbs brushing the bare skin just above your waistband. he pulls you in, slow, steady, until your chest is flush to his and your breath is caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat.

his lips find yours again, less frantic, more firm. like he’s reclaiming something. like he’s putting his name back on you with every press of his mouth. his kiss deepens, and you let him lead, your fingers curled in the collar of his flannel, mouth parting under the weight of his want.

he kisses you like he means it. like he remembers every time he didn’t get to. his teeth graze your bottom lip, tug once, and then he kisses the corner of your mouth, the edge of your jaw, trailing heat in a slow path down your neck.

his tongue flicks over your pulse. hot. wet. his lips seal against your throat in a kiss that lingers a little too long.

then he sucks.

you gasp. your head tips back, spine arching subtly to give him more.

he hums, low, pleased. and then he bites. soft, sharp enough to make you twitch.

his hands are moving again, skimming down your sides. slow. reverent. he touches like he’s afraid you’ll vanish, like this might be the only night he gets to own you the way he’s dreamed about since you first let him fuck you years ago and then told him it didn’t mean anything.

his fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts. he pulls them down just slightly, just enough to let his hand slide inside.

he groans.

his breath stutters hard, like the heat of you short-circuits his entire brain.

“fuck—” his voice is thick. gravel-soft.

his palm cups you through your underwear, the fabric damp beneath his fingers. his thumb strokes slow. not rough. not rushed. just… intentional. circular. teasing. your body leans into his without thinking.

“already wet?” he murmurs at your ear. his lips graze the shell of it. you feel the smirk in his voice. “haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

you gasp again, quieter this time, more breath than sound, and your fingers tangle in his hair, tug once. not to stop him. just because you need to hold on to something.

his tongue flicks your throat. then again. and again.

he licks like he wants to taste the way your pulse jumps when he touches you. like he wants to memorize it. like it means something.

he presses a little harder between your legs, palm grinding, middle finger rubbing the soaked cotton with maddening rhythm.

your hips rock into him, helpless, desperate for friction. his free hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer, anchoring you against his thigh.

“you feel that?” he whispers, breath hot. “fuckin’ soaked. all for me.”

and when you moan, quiet, head tipped back, breath caught between yes and more, he doesn’t stop.

he leans in again, lips brushing your jaw.

“this ain’t even the start, sweetheart.” his voice is a promise. his fingers move slower, but deeper. more pressure. “you’re gonna let go for me tonight.”

he kisses your collarbone, tongue dragging downwards.

your back hits the door again with a soft thud. his hands are on your thighs, rough and steady, one gripping the back of your knee, lifting it slow until it hooks over his shoulder.

your heel digs into his back. your arms stretch out, bracing against the door, palm flattened over the cold metal of the handle. the other hand clutches for something, anything—his shoulder, his hair, the fabric of his shirt, fingers curling, slipping, clutching again.

he breathes hot against your inner thigh, lips dragging up, tongue flattening against the pulse there like he’s just getting his bearings. he’s not in a rush. he wants you shaking before his mouth even touches you.

and you are.

he nuzzles close. nose brushing the damp fabric of your underwear, inhaling deep. you jerk at the feel of his breath, already whimpering.

“mm,” he hums, low and fucking pleased, pressing a single kiss right against the wet cotton. “you ready?”

you nod, desperate.

but he just grins. “nah, i wanna hear it.”

“yes,” you whisper. “please.”

he doesn’t wait.

his fingers hook under the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down, slow, warm palms grazing your thighs as he lowers them to your knees, then lets them fall the rest of the way.

your leg’s still over his shoulder. you’re bare.

and then—

his tongue licks a single, flat stripe up your slit.

you gasp. your hips jerk forward and he groans against you like it tastes as good as it sounds.

he settles in deep, tongue swirling, lips wrapping around your clit like he’s trying to drink you down. his grip on your thigh tightens. he anchors you, holds you steady as your knees start to tremble.

you’re already moaning, already rocking your hips into his mouth.

he licks like he knows you. like this isn’t the first time he’s had you like this, just the first time you’ve let him give it all. he teases, flicks, then sucks slow and deep, long enough that your whole body tenses.

your fingers scrape at the door. your heel digs into his back harder.

“fuck—fuck, ’tsumu—”

your head falls back. your breath catches. your thighs are twitching, stomach clenching tight as heat coils deep in your core.

he moans against you, and you feel it vibrate right through your clit. your hand slams against the door handle. your hips jump.

“oh my god. i’m—fuck, don’t stop—”

and then it’s happening.

your orgasm crashes over you, fast and all-consuming, your leg spasms over his shoulder, the other nearly gives out, and you’re barely holding yourself upright, hand gripping the door like it’s the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

you cry out. not quiet. not soft.

“atsumu, what the fuck—” your hips buck once, twice—body jolting with each wave.

but he doesn’t let up. his tongue keeps moving. slow, deep, cruel circles. he’s overstimulating you, and it’s unbearable in the best fucking way.

your leg tries to drop, foot slipping off his shoulder, but he catches you.

he shifts, strong arms locking under your thighs. and suddenly you’re in the air.

you let out a panicked yelp, your body jerking as he hoists you up fully, flush against his mouth now, his arms locked tight around your thighs, holding you up like it’s nothing.

“oh my god atsumu—” you stutter, legs shaking, hands flying to his hair, his shoulders, something, “put me the fuck—”

but you’re whining through it. your breath’s coming in desperate gasps.

you’re soaked, and he’s fucking feasting, tongue flat and wide, then pointed and insistent, lapping up everything like he can’t get enough.

your whole body is trembling in his grip. you can’t even think.

he growls into you and you sob his name again, and then he finally lowers you. he kneels, smooth, controlled, still holding you, and lays you flat on the bed.

on your back. spread open.

you try to close your thighs but his shoulders are between them before you can move. he locks you in place, palms planted on either side of your hips.

and then he dives back in.

his tongue flicks your clit, fast, ruthless. he sucks. kisses. sucks again.

your back arches completely off the bed. you throw your head back, crying out. your fingers twist into the blanket beneath you, yanking it down until it’s half off the mattress.

“i can’t—”

your thighs clench hard around his head. your toes curl. your stomach contracts and you whimper so loud it echoes.

“please ‘tsumu i can’t take it anymore—”

he pulls back with a soft pop: chin slick. lips shining. his eyes are dark. smiling. glinting like he loved every second of that.

he grins hard as hell. “you taste so fuckin’ good.”

you whimper, legs still shaking, chest heaving. his fingers ghost along the outside, light as air, tracing the tremble in your muscles, the way you’re still twitching from everything he just dragged out of you.

and when he says, low and hungry, “i could go again…”

you clench around nothing and slam your thighs shut like a reflex.

he sees it. he laughs. big. deep. smug.

“oh, you scared now?” he teases, voice breathless but wicked. “thought you were the one in control?”

you can’t even speak. you’re still laid out, lips parted, trying to breathe through the overstimulation.

he crawls up the bed, palms dragging up your thighs, and you already know he’s not done. not even close.

you barely catch your breath, chest still rising and falling fast, skin hot and slick, before he’s standing at the foot of the bed, undoing his belt with one hand, gaze fixed on you like he already knows how you’re going to look begging underneath him.

his shirt’s still on. that ridiculous flannel half-tucked into his waistband, sleeves rolled tight over his forearms, sheriff badge hanging crooked.

the cowboy hat hasn’t moved. he doesn’t even bother taking it off.

just kicks off his jeans, cock thick and flushed, springing up proud and heavy, already leaking. and you know for a fact he’s been like this since the kitchen.

you watch through hazy lashes as he climbs onto the bed. you’re still there, legs weak, trembling. he grabs you by the waist, hands big, confident, and lifts you, settling you into his lap, back pressed to his chest, body folding soft into his.

his thighs are under yours, his arms wrapped tight around your middle. your legs fall open over his, wide. he adjusts you once. twice.

and in front of you: the mirror. it’s angled perfectly at the foot of his bed.

you see all of it. your body. his. the sheen on your thighs. the red marks blooming across your neck. your mouth, parted, slick from moaning his name too many times. you look wrecked.

he groans behind you. “look.” his voice drops, dark, rough. “you see that?”

he reaches over, grabs his hat off the floor, the one that must’ve fallen when you were arching up against his face like it was the only place you could survive, and he sets it gently on your head.

your breath catches.

the image in the mirror is obscene.

you, half-naked, limp and open in his lap, thighs spread wide over his, skin shining, eyes dazed, and him, right behind you. flushed, smirking, cock in hand.

you look like a prize he just won. and also like a trophy he’s about to destroy.

you open your mouth to say something, anything—but then he slides in.

slow. deep.

your body arches instantly, back pulling away from his chest as your mouth drops open in a silent gasp.

he stretches you so perfectly, like he fits nowhere else but inside you.

you let out a low, broken whimper. “fuck atsumu—”

he lets out a low, feral laugh. breath tickling your ear, his teeth brushing your jaw. “that’s more like it.”

he holds you by the hips, still rocking into you with slow, controlled thrusts. his arms lock you in place as your legs shake over his.

you’re trying to sit upright, trying to match his rhythm, but your body’s jelly. melted and wrecked from his mouth, from everything.

your back arches again, instinctively chasing more. your head tips back to his shoulder, hat tilting, slipping down a little as his pace begins to build, just slightly. enough to make you feel it.

his hands move. one slides up your stomach, between your breasts, the other dips low between your thighs.

and then—pressure.

he starts rubbing your clit, slow little circles, matching the drag of his cock.

you twitch instantly. you sob.

“that’s it,” he murmurs. “ride me, pretty girl. show me how much you like losin’ it.”

your hands grab at his thighs, at his arms, anything to ground yourself. your body rolls helplessly into his, into his cock, into that damn hand—

and then you break again.

your whole body snaps tight, legs jerking, thighs clenching, jaw falling open in a scream you don’t even try to muffle.

your vision goes white, just like that. like lightning behind your eyes. like your body’s forgetting how to breathe.

your muscles seize, then melt. your hips drop, twitching, stuttering against him. you gasp so loud it catches in your throat and turns into a hiccuped sob. your eyes squeeze shut, lashes damp with sweat, and the tears that had been clinging to the corners finally spill.

he groans. low and strained, like he’s trying not to lose it.

“fuck, look at you,” he breathes, voice all grit and heat and reverence. “so fuckin’ perfect.”

he’s still inside you, still dragging, still stretching you full, and the friction now is too much. dizzying. cruel. you can’t stop shaking.

you try to lift your hips off him, just enough to get a break, just enough to catch your breath, but his hand’s at your waist. his strength is patient, firm. he doesn’t let you run.

“nah, baby. you take it.” his lips brush your shoulder. “you’re takin’ all of it.”

your mouth falls open again, and no sound comes out this time. just a whimper. a ruined little breath.

he grinds into you deeper. slow, deep strokes, angled perfect, dragging along your walls like he owns them.

and maybe he does. maybe he always has.

you can tell he’s making a point now: you’re the one unraveling. you’re the one losing control.

and he’s still not done.

your body gives out again, limp and folded and glowing under his hands. your pussy clenches down on him, fluttering hard, too sensitive, too tight, soaking wet from everything he’s already pulled out of you.

and still, he fucks into it. fuck, he thrives in it.

his hand comes up again, palm cupping your jaw, fingers curled up under your cheek, and tilts your face towards the mirror in front of you. you can barely focus. your lashes flicker, your vision still white-hot at the edges.

“look at you,” he says, voice rasped out, barely there.

you do—barely.

and that’s when he cums.

with a groan punched out of his chest, deep and rough and desperate, he snaps his hips up once, twice, and spills inside you. hot and thick. your whole body feels it, every pulse, every throb. he’s still holding your face. still breathing hard against your skin. his other arm’s locked around your waist.

you feel so full it aches.

but you don’t move. can’t. you’re spent. raw. stretched out and soft.

he kisses your temple, whispers, “still with me?” and you nod. barely.

your legs are trembling, chest heaving, head still slumped against his shoulder when he eventually lifts you, slow, careful, like you’re something precious and fragile despite the filth he’s just dragged out of you.

your breath catches in your throat when he shifts. he presses a kiss to your shoulder, then the space behind your ear as he lays you back, your spine meeting the mattress, legs falling open without resistance, body boneless.

he hovers above you, arms caging you in, flushed and wrecked, jaw clenched like he’s holding back something fierce.

“gonna go slow now,” he murmurs, voice ragged. “promise.”

you nod weakly, eyes glazed. you don’t even realize your hands are already reaching, grabbing his arms, clutching his shoulders, pulling him closer before you can think about it.

his hips roll forward, deep, steady, and you gasp, soft and stunned.

he slides in like he belongs there. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, as close as he’ll go. your heels press into his lower back, holding him in place.

his rhythm is devastating.

slow, sure, perfectly angled. he rolls his hips like he’s studying your reactions. every thrust makes your eyes flutter. every drag of his cock sends a whimper spilling from your lips.

you tilt your head, exposing your throat, and he takes it, takes all of you. his lips press to your jaw, then your cheek, then down to your neck. he kisses softly, sweetly, almost worshipful.

“you feel so fuckin’ good,” he whispers, breath warm against your skin. “been dreamin’ about this. ‘bout you. how you sound. how you look when you cum.”

his voice hitches. “fuck, baby, you’re bein’ so good for me.”

you shudder. you dig your nails into his back, leave red lines down his shoulder blades.

he thrusts again, deep, all the way in, hips snug to yours, and you moan, open-mouthed, breath punched straight out of you.

“that’s it,” he pants. “lemme feel you.”

your body’s a trembling mess, legs quaking, chest heaving, soaking the sheets beneath you, and all you can do is cling to him, forehead pressed to his shoulder as your throat works around a breath that just won’t come. he holds you like he’s afraid you’ll slip right through his fingers, even though he’s still inside you, still hard, still thick and pulsing and unbearably deep.

and then he pulls out.

you gasp, like the air’s been yanked from your lungs.

and then—nothing.

no friction. no stretch. just that throbbing ache between your legs where he should be.

“atsumu—”

“nah,” he murmurs. “not yet.”

he kisses your temple. he hovers over you, dark-eyed and flushed and grinning like a devil.

“you’re gonna give it to me first,” he says softly, dragging the head of his cock through your folds, hot, wet, too close. “wanna hear you say it like you mean it.”

you choke out a half-sob, half-laugh. “atsumu, please.”

his hips flex forward, just enough for the tip to nudge your entrance. not even the stretch, just the tease. your walls pulse open to nothing, begging for relief.

you arch up, chasing him, thighs clenching. and he pulls back again.

you groan, raw, throaty. your hands fist the sheets beside your head.

“don’t be stubborn,” he murmurs, leaning in, breath hot against your cheek. “say it.”

“fuck,” you hiss, panting hard. “i need it—i need you, please—”

his mouth curves up against your jaw. “say the words.”

“atsumu, please, i’m gonna fucking kill you, i swear to god—”

he presses in again, just a few inches, slow and aching and deep enough to make your vision blur—

and stops.

you cry out. no dignity left. no fight.

“you’re the best dick i’ve ever had,” you gasp, voice cracking. “n-no one else even comes close, please—i need you to fuck me—”

he hums like he’s pleased. like he just heard a prayer whispered straight to heaven. “that’s more like it.”

and then he gives it to you.

brutal. bone-deep. your thighs twitch. your belly tightens. the tension’s insane, coiling like a wire behind your ribs.

and he keeps going.

faster now. deeper. until your back arches off the bed and your mouth falls open around something that isn’t quite a word.

and just when it’s too much, just when the burn becomes unbearable, the kind that makes your vision blur and your body lock up and your toes curl—

that’s when you break.

your mouth falls open. your whole body snaps. every nerve lights up like lightning under your skin, that thin edge of pleasure you’d been dancing along shattering under the weight of his cock slamming into you, filling you perfectly, just right.

you cum so hard it hurts.

your body locks up, vision going white, breath caught somewhere in your throat as you scream, raw and shameless, chest arched and hips stuttering into his. the orgasm rolls through you slow and sharp and endless, like the air itself is vibrating.

your legs clamp around him. your arms drag him down. you can’t stop. you can’t breathe.

he fucks you through every second of it, whispering through gritted teeth, “that’s it. so good for me. so fuckin’ good.”

you barely hear him. your mind’s gone blank.

and then, just as your body starts to go limp, slick and twitching, he pulls out with a harsh grunt, strokes himself once. twice.

and then he’s spilling across your stomach, hot, heavy, thick ropes that paint your skin while he moans your name like a confession, like a curse.

his breath shudders. his arms tremble.

then he collapses beside you, spent and flushed, chest rising hard as he tosses one arm over his forehead like he’s been through war. the other drags lazily through the mess he left on your stomach, smearing a line of cum across your skin just to see it.

your body’s not even yours anymore. you’re limp, ruined, still blinking at the ceiling like you can’t believe what just happened.

“what the fuck was that,” you whisper.

he turns his head toward you, grinning like he’s never been more proud of anything in his life.

“you liked it?”

you don’t even answer. you just grunt, barely lifting a hand to weakly swat at him, too far gone to form words. your chest is still heaving. sweat slicks your ribs. you feel everything, and nothing, and too much.

and he knows. he fucking knows.

the way he smiles, soft, smug, eyes half-lidded and glowing with satisfaction—it’s like he just claimed you. like he won something he wasn’t even supposed to have.

then, “round three?”

you groan, loud and wounded, shoving at his chest with the strength of a dying animal. “oh hell no.”

he laughs. bright, wicked. leans down to kiss your cheek like he didn’t just practically threaten your life.

“we’ll see.”

[wildflowersandvibranium]

Waltzing Rescue

Pairing: 40s Husband!Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader Summary: While raining cats and dogs outside bucky spends a perfect evening with the love of his life , and the light of his life. Ft alpine iykyk Word count: 1.8k ish warnings/tags: nothing!! Fluff Fluff more Fluff , Kissing , you and bucky have a daughter , set in 1940s/50s , no hydra bucky survives train fall! If I missed anything let me know!!

author's note: after all the angst here’s my apology but don’t worry more angst coming for all the angst lovers ;) TYY for every reblog comment like! It means the world as always 💖🌷

requests always open! 🫶🏼 masterlist pinned!

The storm rolled in quickly that evening  , pouring thick sheets of rain as it hammered down on the rooftops of Brooklyn like earth had a score to settle and was winning. 

Streets glistened silvery-black beneath flickering lamplight , puddles swallowing boots and tires alike. But Bucky Barnes wasn't in a rush.

Just escaping the tiring day of his job. The brunette had something precious tucked beneath his coat lapel.

The tiny thing had been crying out under a fire escape , soaked to the bone , shivering and no bigger than a teacup. Fur like cream now a muddy grey. 

Eyes a deep stormy blue looking up at the matching pair. 

He didn’t think twice , just scooped the kitten up and stuffed it under his jacket , right against his undershirt where it could feel the warmth radiating off of him.

By the time he pushed open the front door of the Barnes’ brownstone , he was soggy , completely drenched. Hat dripping , coat soaked clean through , a puddle forming beneath his brown brogues.

“Sweetheart?” he called into the hum of home.

The warmth hit him first , the crackling fire still ablaze and alive from when he first left that morning. 

That, and the smell of a home cooked supper . Meatloaf and gravy , biscuits fresh from the oven , as always . 

A quiet melody swirled from the record player in the living room filling the home — something smooth , something soft ,  but the real music was the sound of your voice.

“In the kitchen , Hun! And don't forget to wipe your feet , Barnes!”

He grinned widely to himself . His name. Now-also yours. He liked when you used it. Made him feel like he was home.

With careful hands , he peeled off his coat and hat , setting them on the hook just in the entry of the house , before gently cupping the damp little kitten and holding her close to his chest. As he cooed promising her she was safe.

You appeared in the doorway, wiping your hands on a floral printed apron covered in flour from your dinner prep. 

“What in the —?” you began , brows knitted together staring at your husband holding a little ball of damp fur.

“She was out in the rain,” Bucky spoke , giving you a lopsided smile. 

“Couldn’t just leave her. Look at ‘er. You ever seen somethin’ so pitiful?”

The kitten blinked slowly , meowing once-turned into a silent yawn before burrowing into the crook of his arm.

You sighed, shaking your head , exasperated but already melting at the sight and now story. “Put her by the burner. It's still hot , it'll warm her right up. Im’a go find find some milk.”

He stepped inside, leaving a few damp footprints on the wooden kitchen floor.

“James , dear , your socks,” you warned with a smile.

“I know, I know, I’ll mop it up .” He gently placed the kitten in a small basket near the burner , padding it with one of Maggie’s old baby blankets she's now too grown for. “There ya go, sweet girl” 

As if understanding his words , the kitten gave a grateful sigh and curled up against the fleece.

The kitchen now smelled like heaven on earth  . You were spooning mashed potatoes onto the green ceramic plates when the sound of feet pattering overhead reached both your ears.

Margaret or Maggie as you both affectionately called her.

Before either of you could call up the stairs for her to slow down , the thumps turned into a quick patter down the hallway — and then there she was: three-years-old , hair wild and dimpled cheeks , dragging her stuffed white fluffy wolf her dad got her when she turned two , by the tip of its tail.

“Daddy!” she shrieked , making a beeline for him , her voice still rounded by toddler babble.

Bucky crouched just in time to catch her mid-leap , lifting her high in the air as she squealed and threw her arms around his neck.

“Hey there , baby doll!” he laughed , twirling her once , braid whipping around before tucking her under his chin. “Miss me?”

She nodded against his chest , then pulled back , wide-eyed nose scrunched , just like he did when he laughed- it melted your heart seeing the resemblance of the pair.. “You wet, Daddy.” she squeaked, pushing back off his chest , still in his firm hold.

“Don't I know it , rained like cats and dogs .” 

He winked at you over Maggie’s head. “Even brought home one of the cats.”

“Where at daddy?” she asked with big eyes searching. 

“She's sleeping right now warmin’ up , but you can see her after supper.” 

He replied , swaying them gently to the rhythm to  the song currently playing.

As you set the plates on the table, the record in the parlor changed , a new song drifting in , smooth saxophone and velvet like vocals .

It was Maggie’s favorite. You didn’t know why she’d chosen it , but every time it came on , her eyes lit up.

Sure enough, she gasped. “Dance song!”

Bucky grinned, already knowing what came next.

“You wanna dance, baby?” 

“Yes dance , Daddy,” she demanded, pointing toward the living room.

“Well , you heard her,” he said, casting you a look of mock defeat as he swung her onto his hip. “Anything for my best gal.”

He carried her into the parlor and gently set her down — then placed her chubby little feet on top of his leather shoes , like they’d done a dozen times before. 

She held onto his thumbs , her cherub-like hands only fitting one of his inside her grasp.  She had a wide smile showing her tiny teeth , and let out a delighted giggle as he started to sway them.

They danced slowly , like it was the most important moment in the world.

For him it was. His girl choosing to dance with him will be the biggest gift he could ever receive.

You leaned against the doorframe , watching the love of your life twirl the light of your life that you’d made together in your shared love. 

 They continued just like that , in the golden lamp light of a stormy evening. The kitten purred quietly by the stove. The room smelled like love biscuits and safety.

“Daddy,” Maggie mumbled, resting her cheek against his middle. “You so tall.”

He chuckled, voice low. “That’s ‘cause you’re small , doll.”

“You my best friend,” she added, closing her heavy eyelids as they continued swaying gently.

Your throat tightened. And Bucky's eyes , instantly glassy.

He looked up at you , eyes full of something deep , full and aching in the best way. The kind of love that only came after war. After survival.

You beamed at him , brushing a tear from your cheek.

 Oh how you two were the luckiest.

Later, after dinner , after dancing , Bucky carried Maggie upstairs. She’d fallen asleep halfway through telling them a story about seeing a squirrel splash in a puddle in the street making you both laugh.

She curled up against his side like a kitten herself. Warm and at peace.

He laid her gently in her small bed , brushing a lock of her chestnut hair from her forehead and pulling up the quilt you had made her when you were still pregnant with her.

Then he stayed there a moment longer, hand resting on her back as she breathed slow and deep. At rest. 

When he came back down the stairs , the storm had quieted to a whisper against the windows. You were in the parlor, folding a blanket over the kitten’s basket.

He crossed the room in slow steps , you began to say something but were cut off by him taking  your face in both hands , and kissing you , long and sweet.

“Thank you,” he whispered, pulling back enough to see in your eyes the same ones he fell in love with , and now the same ones that sparkle at him through your daughter , his thumb brushing your cheek gently as he spoke. Sincere–

“For this life. For her. For you.”

You cupped his face right back, feeling the slight scratch of his overgrown stubble , the warmth of his strong jaw.

“You’re home now,” you murmured softly. “You don’t have to thank me for something we built together.”

He exhaled, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I’ll still say it. Every day if I have to and even that won't barely express the love I have for you and our baby girl.”

You smiled. “Well, that’s mighty sweet of you , sergeant.”

He chuckled. “You think the kitten’ll stick? Maggie is already obsessed and i might have some names picked out. ” He smiled sheepishly 

“She hasn’t moved in an hour, Buck.”

“I was talkin’ ‘bout you. You think you’ll stick with me and keep her?”

You wrapped your arms around his waist. “With you…always , but maybe talk to me before bringing any other strays in , alright?”

“Hey  , you let me in now didn't ya?” he grinned that lopsided smile that never failed to make butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“I did , best darn thing I ever did , besides maggie.” you whispered, sealing your words with a soft peck.

The kitten stretched in her sleep. Upstairs, Maggie murmured in her dreamy state.

And James Bucky Barnes , home from the war, kissing his wife slowly and lovingly as thunder rolled soft in the distance — wrapped in the smell of baked bread , the warmth of hearth , and a kind of happiness no army nor calling could ever take from him.

-end

[obscoros]

Humanformers time! I have all of their designs with the jumpsuits done (thought it’d be cute if they had a matching uniform, even though I headcanon that in this universe, Ratchet and Pharma do their best not to wear it whenever possible). Not the happiest with Pharma’s but I can always come back to it.

Design breakdowns & my thoughts for each character below the cut. 🫶

Ratchet

Ratchet doesn’t like to wear her combat medic uniform- she prefers her simple lab coat and slacks. The additional armored plating makes everything feel too real and she’d rather not confront the big emotions she has with the war and what that means as a doctor and CMO.

The armored chest plate is blue to mimic Ratchet’s windshield plating that some iterations of his root mode have, and there are some ECG motifs as a reference to TFP Ratchet. I like Ratchet being more red, but I kept her hair orange as a reference to TFP and IDW.

Here are her other looks!

First Aid

My favorite design of the 4. Unlike Ratchet, First Aid prefers to wear the jumpsuit because it’s comfortable and practical, and has her own unique jacket she often wears over top.

First Aid’s mask translates really well to a human healthcare worker, and instead of giving her a helmet that’s an exact replica of First Aid’s helm, I gave her a hat and had her hair in buns that mimic the way it frames her face.

This version of First Aid sort of reminds me of an EMT. She isn’t one, but I took inspiration from EMT and first responder uniforms with her in general, due to how quick on her feet she’d have to be working directly under Ratchet and the chaos that ensues in the medbay.

Ambulon

I’m not sure how well I achieved it, but I wanted her jumpsuit to look ill-fitting and slightly worn compared to the others which fit them more tightly. The cuffs of the pants are too wide and the scalloped collar flares more than it should. The jumpsuit wasn’t always hers, after all. There are elements of Ambulon’s paint scratches, from the scuffs on her boots to the purple turtleneck she wears underneath.

She has a chevron she wears as well, but I accidentally made her bangs way too cute and so I wanted to showcase both. Her hair isn’t naturally blonde- all part of her trying to fly under the radar and try not to be recognized for her former alliances.

Pharma

This design killed me. I might come back to it but I knew that my humanformer Pharma wouldn’t wear this jumpsuit if she could help it, just like Ratchet.

Gave her white hair and a red chevron in reverse of Pharma’s normal colors because it made her unique compared to the other medics.

Long coat covering the jumpsuit because she thinks it’s ugly.

She’s a very classy individual, and I wanted to have each unique element she added to the medic uniform represent that.

[astrologydray]

😩😩Rising Signs as Style Personas: Men/masculine edition😩😩

Aries Rising – The Alpha Statement-Maker

• Athletic streetwear, combat boots, muscle-fit tees, bomber jackets, and jeans. elements like leather, denim, and statement pieces. tailored pieces like blazers, jackets with sharp lines, and well-fitting pants

• Red, black, and bold colors; Don't shy away from other bold hues like orange, yellow, and hot pink. strong silhouettes. experiment with unique looks. faux fur, animal prints, or distressed fabrics

• Sporty meets rebel energy (think: leather jackets, fitted joggers) Edgy & Trendsetting. Bold & Eye-catching

• Vibe: Confident, daring, always ahead of the trend

What to Avoid Wearing:

• Anything too soft, pastel-heavy, or romantic. Oversized fits that hide your assertive build

• Overly neutral or “quiet luxury” that feels passive

Taurus Rising – The Luxe Earth-Toned Classic

• Cozy, high-end fabrics (cashmere, suede, organic cotton). Well-made, durable pieces. such as well-tailored suits, quality leather shoes, and classic accessories

• Earth tones (greens, and deep blues) neutrals, olive, cream, chocolate brown

• a refined, understated style rather than overly trendy or flashy looks. a classic watch, a simple bracelet, or a quality leather belt as key accessories. Quality over Quantity

• Vibe: Rich, warm, slow fashion king

What to avoid Wearing:

• Loud logos, synthetic materials, or cheap fabrics. Anything too uncomfortable or overly trendy

• Harsh color blocking—stick to soft blends and textures

Gemini Rising – The Whimsical Chameleon

• Layered streetwear, bucket hats, mixed patterns

• Pops of color (especially yellow, mint, light blue). Their fashion choices may reflect their intellectual curiosity and love for communication

• Y2K, vintage, or experimental fashion hybrids giving Versatility and Adaptability.

• Vibe: Playful, unpredictable, and always current

What to Avoid Wearing:

• Super serious or corporate looks that mute your playful energy. All-black or monochrome outfits too often

• Stiff fabrics—flexibility is key

Cancer Rising – The Soft-Edged Romantic

• Vintage sweaters, cozy textures, warm layers. incorporating elements from the past into their fashion vintage or retro

• Soft neutrals, seafoam green, rose tones. pastels, moonlit shades, and blues, including cerulean, sky, lapis, teal, or even arctic.

• Casual elegance—button-ups over tees, wool coats, Cozy Knits and Oversized Sweaters. Heirloom Jewelry: Add a touch of personal history and significance

• Vibe: Emotionally stylish, intimate, nostalgic

What to Avoid Wearing:

• Harsh lines or icy fashion aesthetics. Clothes that feel too “masculine-coded” or rigid

• Cold, metallic color palettes

Leo Rising – The Regal Showman

• Statement pieces, bold patterns, gold jewelry, bold watches, stylish sunglasses, Gold necklaces, eye-catching rings

• Designer streetwear, custom tailoring, dramatic coats. A sharp, well-fitting suit in a rich color. Luxurious fabrics like velvet or silk, satin

• Jewel tones like gold, crimson, and royal blue or yellow, orange, red, and magenta

• Vibe: Spotlight-ready, never underdressed

What to Avoid Wearing:

• Super plain fits, especially if they mute your presence. Cheap or flimsy materials—your aura deserves more

• Neutral palettes that erase your shine

Virgo Rising – The Clean Precisionist

• Sharp tailoring, neat fits, elevated casual wear, polished and put-together look

• Crisp whites, navy, beige, olive, brown, green, blue, and tan

• Structured pieces: polos, chinos, trench coats

• Vibe: Minimalist, intentional, impossibly clean

What to Avoid Wearing:

• Cluttered or chaotic patterns. Oversized, sloppy streetwear (unless it’s tailored)

• Trendy, throwaway fashion without purpose

Libra Rising – The Harmonized Prettyboy

• Matching sets, silk shirts, perfect layering. Quality chinos, button-down shirts, and cashmere sweaters

• Soft pastels, balanced color blocking, clean sneakers, Dusty rose, deep coral, and midnight blue.

• Stylish with romantic undertones (scents, grooming, accessories) shades like watermelon, coral, punch, fuschia, and strawberry pink. Denim, berry, indigo, spruce, peacock, and navy blue are also good options.

• Vibe: Effortless charm, aesthetically gifted

What to Avoid Wearing:

• Mismatched patterns, clunky shoes, or dirty details. Harsh “alpha” fits that throw off your balanced energy

• Outfits that look too rushed or undone

Scorpio Rising – The Intense Icon

• All-black everything, dark denim, leather boots. Deep reds, black, purples, maroons, and burgundies. Denim, berry, indigo, spruce, peacock, and navy

• Fitted pieces, trench coats, silver jewelry. leather, velvet, and satin

• Sexy without trying: mesh, open collars, deep V’s

• Vibe: Mysterious, powerful, hard to read

What to Avoid Wearing:

• Bright neons or loud graphic tees.. Overly “friendly” or bubbly fashion

• Excessively baggy clothing that hides your allure

Sagittarius Rising – The Explorer Adventurer

• Layered flannels, denim jackets, printed shirts, hats, scarves, statement jewelry, or unique belts to complete their looks

• Rustic color palettes: burgundy, navy, forest green

• Hiking boots, lived-in leather, festival fits. Bohemian/Eclectic touches: elements like flowy silhouettes, ethnic prints, or vintage-inspired pieces.

• Vibe: World-traveled, spontaneous, cultural

What to Avoid Wearing:

• Overly structured or restrictive fashion. Repetitive looks—your style thrives on movement

• Anything you can’t breathe or run in

Capricorn Rising – The Power Dresser

• Executive neutrals, high-end tailoring, quiet luxury

• Fitted turtlenecks, crisp blazers, designer watches, Dark wash jeans, White button-downs and polo shirts . Classic coats and jackets in neutral colors

• Black, charcoal, taupe, forest green, navy, gray, and white, browns, ochres, and dark greens

• Vibe: CEO energy, rich and respected

What to Avoid Wearing:

• Over-the-top streetwear or cartoonish prints. Messy or rebellious fashion

• Inexpensive-looking fabrics that clash with your prestige

Aquarius Rising – The Style Alien

• Futuristic fashion, unique color pairings, gender-fluid silhouettes. embracing trends early and can even be trendsetters

• Metallics, layered chains, cyberpunk or thrifted one-of-ones

• Iridescent, bold accessories, and asymmetry

• Vibe: Unpredictable, iconic, walking Pinterest board

What to Avoid Wearing:

• Basic “mall fashion” or generic trends. Super traditional or stiff, conservative clothes

• Anything too normal—you’re built to defy boxes

Pisces Rising – The Ethereal Artist

• Linen, cotton, and silk. soft textures, layered neutrals, artistic accessories, relaxed fits, and unique accessories like beaded necklaces or woven belts; Bohemian & Eclectic Touches

• Colors like seafoam, lavender, ivory, ocean blue, blues, in general, greens, purples and softer pastels.

• Dreamy fits: oversized sweaters, scarves, painter pants, linen shirts,

• Vibe: Poetic, imaginative, unbothered by the real world

What to Avoid Wearing:

• Harsh lines or stiff, military-inspired fits. Strong neon or heavy black on black—too harsh

• Super minimalist looks that erase your softness

[andyoullhearitagain]

Top Ten Least Bad Outfits in TNG

I'm gonna be honest and say that the non-uniform outfits in TNG are not my favorite costume design in the world, but there are some looks that stick with me:

10. That Girl Who Kissed Data That One Time's Outfit:

I can never decide if I like this look or I think it's ugly, but I love the pants and tall boots combo. Her blouse is bad and the bouclé jacket is both too heavy and too fussy for this outfit, but I love the belt and suspenders combo, and the chevron embossing on the suspenders. This costume and all the others except #9 is a Robert Blackman design.

9. This Jumpsuit On That Girl From "The Dauphin":

This is the only William Ware Theiss design on this list. I love his TOS stuff but most of his TNG designs leave me cold 🤷‍♀️. But I love this is extremely 80s jumpsuit. Love the pretty drape, love the ruching on the sleeves, love the harem pants silhouette. Only note is that the whole bodice should be a structured corset bodice instead of the kind of odd structured panel it has now.

8. Picard's Shorty Pyjama Set:

TNG is absolutely full of the strangest pyjama choices you can imagine and Picard is no exception but I love this bold look. Would kill for this pyjama set. He also takes a work zoom wearing this one time which is insane.

7. Data's 1890's Looks But Specifically This One With The Shirtsleeves And The Blue Shirt:

The best part of "Time's Arrow" is that Data isn't a fish out of water in the 1890s, he's absolutely killing it, and I love that the only real Casual Data look we get is this one. I prefer the blue shirt to the pink because Data should really wear more blue, it's a nice contrast with yellow. Please also note his emerald watch fob, which was 0% necessary to blend in, he's just having fun with it.

6. 12 Year Old Keiko's Linen Overalls:

The paperbag waist! The bow! The little bows at the shirt cuffs! I can understand why she replicated a miniature copy of this outfit.

5. Beverly and Guinan's Dixon Hill Holodeck Costumes:

I'm counting these as one because they're essentially the same design in different color pallets but what color paletts! Bev is pulling off the very difficult pink+red+red hair and the mint green on Guinan is 🤌. I particularly love how Guinan's hat is so 1940s yet also echos the silhouette of her usual costume.

4. Deanna's Teal Dress:

Like all of you I prefer Deanna in the uniform, but this dress slays, ok? The space age asymmetrical neckline. The drop waist. The structured bodice. The slit almost all the way to the hip. And of course the matching tights and shoes CANNOT BE BEATEN. Also one time I saw a dude on a Star Trek forum call this a "ballgown" which baffles me to this day, this is clearly a slightly fancy day dress.

3. Picard's 1890s Look:

You'd think Picard would go full posh in the 1890s but instead he gives us this working-class Shakespearean director look and he 👏 looks 👏 incredible 👏. Way to mix textures, Jean-Luc.

2. Lore's Turtleneck and Giant Vest:

You and I know that Lore stole these clothes from the Pakleds because we pay a lot of attention to Star Trek costumes, but to a normal viewer Lore shows up and this is just his outfit!! It's giving, like, space-age goblincore and it's incredible. I want wear this oufit every day. I want to make a little doll Lore wearing this outfit to express my love for it. It's only not #1 because the pants are too orange and a strange weave.

Deanna's Ancient West Holodeck Outfit:

Deanna!!! The pants! The hat! The calico! She looks 10/10 hot in this outfit. For sure the superior version of this is before she gives her neckerchief to Worf (it really benefits from that cool highlight) but either way this is the best anyone's ever looked on that holodeck.

[silverior968]

Detroit Become Finnish

[Image ID: Two digital drawings of Hatsune Miku in front of a white background with a light blue squiggle on it. The Miku on the left is wearing winter clothes consisting of a pink scarf, a large cyan puffer coat, black thermal leggings and cyan and brown winter boots with fur lining matching the fur lining in her jacket. Her shoes have anti-skid studs attached. Her scarf is pulled up above her nose, and her eyelashes are white with frost. She has black over the ear headphones with "01" written on them in pink. Her hat is cyan with the text "01 Miku 01" written in pink near the rim. Where her ponytails would normally be she has two cartoonishly long tassels instead. Her left arm has a slap-on reflector strip on it. The other Miku is dressed in summer clothes with a pink moomin shirt, blue denim shorts with a sheathed puukko-knife on one of the belt loops, white and black Marimekko Unikko rubber boots and pink pom-poms on her hairties. Her knees are bruised and scraped, and she is covered in mosquito bites. She is holding a large red Tokmanni-brand bucket filled with bilberries to the point that some are falling out, and has to lean backwards because of the weight, her arm visibly shaking. In her other hand she has a packet of Salmiakki, which she is offering to the viewer with a speech bubble that reads "Ei sul salmiakki kelpais?" (Roughly: You wouldn't care for any salmiac?") Her bucket has the text "free bucket" next to it, with an arrow pointing at the bucket. The artist's signature, Silverior968 is written in the background in white. / End ID]

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA BABY

A KINKTOBER SPECIAL - SEX TAPE WITH JONATHAN BREECH

Pairing.| Jonathan Breech x fem!reader

Summary.| You lose a bet with Jonathan. He has to record the experience to ensure it’ll happen again.

Warnings.| Dubcon, fingering, p in v, unknown recording, blackmail.

Word Count.| 1.4k

Notes.| Never edited this one hahahah so maybe i’ll do it down the track lol

Jonathan Breech had a non-wipeable smirk on his lips as he rode his bike down your street on this gloomy day. Typically, he wore that stupid gray trapper hat of his as he booted down the kickstand outside your front porch. He skipped up the porch stairs and dramatically knocked on your front door. After you made him wait, the door flung open revealing your fluffy robe as you looked him up and down with dissatisfaction. As you carelessly invited him into your home, Jonathan nodded his head in approval, his hands fisted into his pockets as he waltzed around the empty living room.

“Nice place” he commented quietly, earning a soft scoff from you.

“Don’t act like you care” you snorted, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Hey! You want to do this as much as I do” Jonathan chuckled.

Quickly, you stomped towards him, standing mere inches away from him as he smirked at your restricted rage.

“I don’t want this at all” you growled, jabbing your fingers onto his right pec.

“Oh, stop playing hard to get” Jonathan teased, his hands snaking to your waist.

“You cheated…” you mumbled, your tone softening as your eyes lowered. You watched his squeeze the robe over your hips.

“Don’t be a sore loser now… I want us both to enjoy this” he murmured, his hands pulled you closer to him, his lips teasing yours by just brushing them against one another.

It was hard not to give into your desires and kiss him completely. But your amour propre was still too high, especially for your provoking classmate who’s ego was taller than his height.

Jonathan had been trying to woo you for months. However, you were like the roadrunner, you could never stop dashing away from him. Until he made a bet that you couldn’t refuse. For your final test in your mathematics class together, the highest mark would win. He’d be forced to never speak a word to you again. If he won? Your body. Jonathan was borderline failing so it seemed too good to be true. He proved you wrong when your teacher distributed your results. A two percent difference, to Jonathan’s benefit.

It’s not that you found him unattractive or anything, you just didn’t like his attitude at times. Not to mention the boost you got at him almost groveling below you. It was nice to be wanted, even though it was just downright sexual desire.

“How do I know you won’t just tell everyone as soon as you’re done with me?” you mumbled out.

Jonathan chuckled lightly before kissing you softly. “I’m a man of my word” he whispered before kissing you far more passionately.

Gradually, your arms snaked around him and you squeezed his body. The stress of if anyone found out about this disappeared from your mind, your focus completely on the goosebumps he gave you. As your hands ran up and felt the fabric of his stupid hat, you yanked it off and threw it across the room.

“Bedroom” he stated with a huff as your lips started for a split second.

If you didn’t lead him to your bedroom fast enough, he was ready to fuck you in the hallway. As you tumbled into your bedroom like horny animals, Jonathan smiled at the state of your room. Rockstar posters still on the wall, desk in the corner and plant pots all around your room, your childhood teddy bear on your bed. The floor was free of any dirty clothes or rubbish and a honey scented candle was lit.

Jonathan slipped off his jacket and pushed you both onto the bed. After he planted sloppy kisses all over your face, he untied your robe and groaned at your matching baby pink lingerie set.

“Was this to make me feel special?” Jonathan chuckled.

“Shut up” you huffed, subconsciously you covered your arms over your bare body.

Jonathan tutted and moved your arms to your side before he pressed his body on top of yours. As he humped his erection against your hips, he moaned into your mouth. You eagerly pulled his shirt over his head.

“Strip naked” he ordered firmly.

Huffing out in protest, you gave in and stripped completely naked before him. His hungry eyes took in every inch of your glory.

“Face down, ass up” he continued on.

You obliged and pressed the side of your face against the mattress, you ass poking out to him. Jonathan approached you and rubbed his fingers over your dripping cunt.

“Oh fuck Johnny” you moaned as he slipped his finger inside of you.

“I said face down” he huffed as he watched your head begin to turn back.

You clenched around him at his demand. Submitting to him was more pleasing than you had anticipated. Jonathan slipped his fingers out and quickly undressed. However, silently he retrieved the camcorder from his jacket pocket and turned it on without a sound. A relieved exhale left your lips as you heard him rip open the wrapper and snap on his rubber.

The tip of his cock is pressed against your entrance and you murmur out. Slowly, he pushed his thick member inside of your squeezing walls.

“You like that baby?” Jonathan cocked an eyebrow as he slowly buried his cock completely inside of you.

“Yeah Johnny, so good…” you lightly moaned, your eyes fluttered back as you adjusted to his size.

“Fuck baby, should have let me fuck you sooner” Jonathan chuckled as he slowly began to pump his size in and out of you, his fingertips rubbed near your clit.

You hummed out in response, hips rocking back as you quickly matched his rhythm. He held the camera right above you as he rocked his hips back and forward. Occasionally he would direct the device to the back of your head as you moaned out in pleasure. He made sure to give you plenty of compliments to keep you satisfied.

“Like my cock?” Jonathan grumbled

“Yeah Jon, I like it a lot” you admitted carelessly.

“Should we do this more often?” Jonathan chuckled darkly.

“Yeah” you gasped as he hit your g-spot.

Repetitively, his head brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, your walls clenched heavily around him.

“Oh Jonathan!” You cried out, hands gripped like iron onto the bed sheets as he pounded into you.

Without even anticipating it, your high crashed over you. You screamed out in ecstasy, your hips rocking impulsively back onto his twitching cock. By how tightly his cock squeezed around you, he quickly came hard, his heavy load of cum swiftly begun to drip out of his condom.

“Fuck baby! So good, so fucking good” Jonathan praised as he slipped his length out of your soaking entrance.

He was the first guy to ever get you to finish. But you weren’t going to give him the glory by telling him that. You panted heavily, gasping for air, eyes closed shut.

“Smile for the camera baby” Jonathan grinned widely.

Your head shot back and you shrieked as you flipped yourself around and covered your body.

“Jon-Jonathan! What the fuck!” you yelped.

“What!” He mocked your tone and pitch.

“What the fuck is wrong with you! Turn it off!” You demanded, a mixture of panic and fury in your voice.

“No, no… Need to be sure we’ll be doing this again” Jonathan laughed heavily, a stern tone in his gleeful voice.

“Jonathan please!” You begged, your body trembled and eyes swelled.

Jonathan sighed and switched the camera shut. He pouted at you as he reached for his boxers and slipped them on without breaking eye contact with you. Gradually, he crawled onto the bed, the camcorder now placed on the floor.

“Come on, we were having so much fun, weren’t we?” Jonathan whispered, taking your body in his arms. He planted his lips onto your neck.

“Yeah…” you sniffled. Jonathan moaned in agreement, your eyes remained fixed on the camcorder as he worshiped your body.

“It’s not like I want to show anyone anyways…” He reassured, his hands trailing over your curves. “I don't want other guys ogling you” he continued, the possessiveness and jealousy dripping out of his words. After a short moment of silence, Jonathan looked into your eyes. “So, same time tomorrow?” He smirked at you.

“Fuck off” you muttered and shoved his hands off you.

Jonathan laughed lightly and slid off the bed. Quickly, he slid on his clothes, making sure to wave the camcorder at you before he slid it into his pocket. “See you then, in the meantime I’ll be watching our film” he smirked before picking up your robe and throwing it in your direction.

There was no farewell from you, he quickly left, not forgetting his hat before taking off on his bike.