Sure, Jay has taser titties, blades that shoot out from his forearms like wings, excellent marksman skills with an arsenal of weapons, training from batman himself, and the whole “I-died-but-now-I’m-back-to-fuck-some-shit-up-because-I-didn’t-even-want-to-be-back-here” factor, but I still imagine him strutting down Gotham’s streets to “Holla Back Girl.“
listening to the verses of RFI makes me feel like i have all my shit together and killing the game while strutting down the street buT the chorus kicks in and i suddenly feel like laying on a cloud and being all angelic and shit
Summary: As the news of the King’s death spreads throughout the land, lords and ladies from the nearby countries swarm the castle to offer condolences to the queen and her son. As the prince mourns his father, he is met with the reality that he must now choose a wife and begin his reign.
A/N: Just posting it until I put the tags up. It takes a while but they’ll be up in a few minutes. Italics are flashbacks. Let me know if you want to be tagged HERE.
this might be cliché bc i sort of based this PLOT idea off of gossip girl, the bling ring, and the song ‘children of the bad revolution’ by lana del rey; but i want a bunch “bad” rich kids who run in a their tight-knit pack and all come from wealthy families, but their families all came into their money different ways and all handle it very differently. like one family married into their wealth, while others have been rich their whole lives, where one has to work for it, but they all are still very loyal to everyone in their little group but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t hella angst !! because they party all the time and all of their relationships are probably blurring at the edges because who is really just friends ?? and who are really lovers on the low ?? i need them taking selfies and updating their instagram feeds and then maybe doing designer drugs and linking arms and strutting down the streets of nyc probably in their nicest outfits !! and fights over stupid stuff that isn’t going to matter in three days and coming out on the other side a little bit more fucked up than you started but hey, that’s life !! and as long as they feel free at the end of the day and still have their trust funds, what else is there to complain about ?? e v e r y t h i n g, it turns out. bonus points if it’s a multi-muse group bc i want sibling ships/romantic ships/frenemies !!
my favourite thing about TVD is Nina’s acting. it’s like Katherine and Elena are played by two different people. and not just the obvious evil slut/virgin saint difference, but every little thing in the characters, even the way she stands or walks. like, Elena is just walking carefully, blending into the background, but Katherine is fucking strutting down the street like she owns the whole fucking planet (she should tbh).
and those scenes when Katherine is pretending to be Elena, Nina changes between the characters like she’s turning a switch. it’s just so amazing. I was watching it for five seasons and I was just as amazed watching the finale as I was the first time.
I know a lot of people didn’t like her acting with Ian in the finale. I can’t say anything about that since I haven’t seen it, but as Katherine, and Elena, and Katherine as Elena, she was fucking awesome.
I can’t believe we are now this far into the story, thank you for much for sticking around! 10/15 to go! Don’t forget I’m running a Sastiel competition with amazing prizes. All you have to do is make an edit/fanart based on my Sastiel fic to be in the draw to win!
Summary: You try to move on after you, Ned, and Michelle decided to stop talking to Peter. But Peter does not want to be forgotten.
Warnings: language, I think. I’m not sure. this one is pretty mellow.
Requested: yep, by lots of people. that and I wanted to write more for it.
A/N: Well, well, well… Look at this! I’m posting part 2! a month later, but it’s fine. ugh. I’m really sorry for the long wait you guys. and it’s not even that good of a chapter. that’s part 3. that one will be killer. Anyway, thank you for kindly waiting for so long, and I’ll try not to make time stretch between now and when i post part 3. enjoy! (i am so tired. i’m having issues spelling. i’m sleeping after i post this)
In the three months since that day you, Michelle,
and Ned stopped talking to Peter, you three had noticed how Peter’s personality
did a complete 180. His once sweet and shy disposition that you’d fallen for turned
into a brash, cocky, self-centered asshole. He quickly became one of the cool
kids that always had a flock of people surrounding him… When he would show up. He
rarely showed up, but when he did, everyone went insane. No one seemed to care
that he was a menace to everyone, thinking he was entitled to whatever he
You three watched in awe as he seemed to be with half
the school population in those two months. The fact that he was with both boys
and girls didn’t surprise you and Ned; Peter had told you that he was bisexual
back when you were in 7th grade, and all Michelle did when Peter
first showed that he was with a guy, was raise her eyebrows and go back to her
book. What did surprise you and Ned, was the fact that he was so blatant about
it. Your mind often flashbacked to the
rants Peter would get into about the disregard people had about Bisexuality- how
he wasn’t greedy or promiscuous. Yet here he was, doing just that…
Peter never once texted you, Ned, or Michelle during
those three months and it felt like your chest was an open wound, bleeding
every time you saw him… Or looked at the texts you shared… Or even thought of
him. In the beginning, you would stay up late, unable to sleep as you thought
about Peter and tried not to give into the urge to text him, or call him.
Ned and Michelle, realizing his words hurt you
differently than it did them, did their best to cheer you up and distract you,
and it helped, but you still missed the boy you fell in love with. After a
month of mourning, you slowly got back to your usual self. It didn’t hurt to
look at him now, and it didn’t feel weird at lunch without him. You were
healing. You all were.
In those three months, you, Michelle, and Ned became
better friends. Before you guys were close, but after everything with Peter,
you became inseparable. It was nice
being able to talk to them about the crush you had on Peter, after holding it
in for as long as you did. And after two
and a half months of dealing with Peter the Asshole, you broached the subject
of Peter’s odd behavior while you three where having one of your many
“So…” You start, waiting until both MJ and Ned were
looking at you before continuing, “What do you think brought on Peter’s sudden
change in personality?”
Ned and MJ exchange a look before looking back at you.
“I don’t know, Y/N, maybe he just decided to show
his true self?” Ned said uncertainly, looking like he didn’t believe it.
“There’s no way.
I’ve known him since we were both five.
He’s always been super caring and compassionate.” You gulp, looking down
at the ground, “That boy that goes by Peter Parker is not the one I know.”
You practically feel MJ roll her eyes and avoid eye
contact, bracing yourself for what she’s about to say.
“Y/N… You’ve got to let him go. It doesn’t matter
why he’s acting the way he is. He’s not our problem anymore.” She firmly
You glance up, and seeing the looks on both Ned and
MJ’s face, looks of pity and discomfort, you, try to defend yourself, “I know
that! I know. I just… Want answers, alright? That’s all.”
You hear Ned sigh, “And maybe someday Peter will
give you those answers. But for now, just let it go. There are other things
that should worry you. Like homework, and friends. Not Peter.” You look down at
your lap, frustrated, but choose to drop the subject, knowing you wouldn’t get
anywhere with them at the moment.
You try to think of something else to talk about to
get rid of the slightly awkward silence when Spider-Man’s black suit comes to
mind, making your lips turn up into a smirk, “Hey, did you guys see
Spider-Man’s new suit? A little emo, dontcha think?” Which causes Michelle to
roll her eyes, knowing exactly what you were trying to do, but gives in and
starts talking about it. You focus on
her, completely missing Ned’s face of unease.
“I told my friend, Y/N, that I would stop by her studio on the way back,” Garcia said, proudly strutting down the street in her perfect replica Wonder Woman cosplay. From her head, the perfect coiffed black hair and near perfect headband to the corset, to the kick ass boots, Garcia did in fact look like the perfect Wonder Woman.
Spencer on the other hand went to Comic Con as he always did - as the Fourth Doctor, Tom Baker; he’d pretty much perfected the costume at this point. “Do you really want to go there in costume?”
“Yea, why not?” Garcia laughed. What kind of a question was that? Of course she wanted to show off her perfect Wonder Woman cosplay; she’d been putting it together for two years. “Y/N loves Comic Con. It was just that she had a very expensive commission to do on a time crunch this year so she decided not to go. She’ll love our costumes. Let’s go.”
Through the throng of people exiting the auditorium, she grabbed Spencer’s hand and ran down the street, stopping momentarily for a little girl who wanted to take a picture with the “real Wonder Woman.” Garcia was too happy to oblige and then again, they were on their way to Y/N’s studio.
Given his mathematical and scientifically-oriented brain, Spencer had always excelled in those areas, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in the more liberal arts fields. In music and art, Spencer found solace - the ability to allow his mind to roam and explore rather than focus on cold, hard facts. Facts were cold, but art in all its forms warmed his soul.
“Slow down, Garcia! You know I can’t run!” Her friend’s studio was apparently just down the street. She’d spoke of Y/N often, but they hadn’t had the chance to meet yet. Within minutes, they had somehow made their way down the street and into Y/N’s studio.
“Y/N! It’s your love, your light, your life, Penelope Garcia!”
“Come in, love!”
There was something about her that Spencer loved the moment he laid eyes on her. Not a love at first sight kind of thing, but one might say he was smitten. Apparently, she worked in multiple media; right now, she was painting, but she also enjoyed clay sculptures. “Spencer!” She exclaimed, giving him a small wave. “Penelope has told me all about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“You t-too,” he stuttered. “Do you mind showing us what you’re working on?” He figured that was the easiest way to get attention off of himself; if she looked at him much longer, he was going to make an ass of himself - he just knew it.
Pulling the chair away from her easel, she ushered them in front of her so they could see what she was working on. A local millionaire wanted a giant painting of roses and lilies for his home. “Rose and Lily are his daughters,” she said. When it came to painting, her specialty was photorealism. In front of him and Garcia stood a giant painting full of roses and lilies so real Spencer swore he could touch them; he had to keep himself from doing so.
“Y/N! This is gorgeous! When you have time and want to do something random, will you do a painting for me?” The prospect of having her friend’s artwork on her wall made Garcia giddy with joy. Spencer would be proud to have something like this on his wall too; she did beautiful work.
Y/N laughed and bent over to give Garcia a kiss on the cheek. “I’m already working on something for you for Christmas.”
“Ah!” Garcia danced around the studio, while Y/N put some finishing touches on her commission.
“When I’m done with this commission, I’m actually going to do a bit of sculpting before I start on my next commission. It’ll give me time to breath.”
While Garcia looked around the studio, taking in all of Y/N’s works in progress, Spencer stood next to her enraptured at how her hand moved over the canvas, somehow bringing flowers to life before his eyes. “You do beautiful work,” he said, blushing as he spoke.
Her cheek tinged with a similar shade to his own. “Thank you, Spencer. Penelope says such nice things about you. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while.”
“Well, I hope I haven’t disappointed.” He smiled. If he saw himself in a mirror, he was sure he’d have seen the dumbest of smiles. He may have grown up and filled out a bit, but he was still the biggest nerd in all of existence. For a few moments, he kept silent. “What do you sculpt when you do that?”
“Whatever inspires me. It’s normally people.” Her eyes fell on him for a few moments, taking in the sadness in his eyes despite his smile, the dimples that gave his face life, and the way his hair swept in front of his eyes. “Actually…would you be my muse?” She stumbled over her own words.
“M-m-me?” He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to sit in front of her and not act like an idiot, but he was so enchanted by her shining personality and the way her eyes fixated on her work that he said yes.
About 10 minutes later, he and Garcia got called in on a case. “We have to go. Garcia. Duty calls.”
“Oh damn,” she said. “Y/N, I will see you soon!”
“Of course, my love. And I’ll see you soon too, Spencer.”
As he and Garcia walked out of the studio, she gave him the side eye. “She wants to see you soon?”
“She wants me to model for her sculpture.”
Garcia’s eyes lit up, causing Spencer to roll his own. “I’ve always thought you two would be great for each other. Very complementary. It’s like the start of a beautiful love story!”
Between cases on Spencer’s part and a quick commission that came in for Y/N, she wasn’t able to start her sculpture for a while, but it did give them time to get to know each other through quick texts and even faster conversations between cases. Y/N asked Garcia for his number, saying she wanted to get to know the man whose face she was going to sculpt, but Garcia could hear in her friend’s voice that she was interested in the man behind the face; Garcia was more than happy to indulge her.
It was nearly three weeks before they could meet again and he could start her sculpture, but finally, Spencer was on the way to her studio. “Hey, Spencer,” she greeted as he walked in. “Glad our schedules finally decided to cooperate.”
“Me too.” Over the last three weeks of getting to know each other, his feelings had grown; now he wasn’t just smitten, but infatuated, and he found his mind drifting off to how she’d look underneath him. He quickly shook the thought. “So ahh…” he started, sitting down on the stool by her side. “Do you need me to stay still or?”
“Just for a little bit,” she said, grabbing his chin in between her thumb and forefinger and turning it toward her. “While I get the basic layout of your face and then we can talk.”
He swallowed hard, trying to block out the tenderness of her touch. His mind raced normally; in front of her, it was even worse. Once she started, carving piece after piece out of the block of clay she was working with, her eyes relaxed. Whether it was because of him or something else he didn’t know, but she had been jittery. Not anymore. Her eyes went soft, glancing between him and the clay block that was slowly beginning to take form. Time flew by. “You can talk and move now.”
“Thank god,” he smiled. “My neck was getting stiff.” He grabbed the back of his neck and cracked a bit, causing her to snort. Embarrassed, she covered her mouth and tried to hide the bout of laughter that follower. “You’re not doing a good job of hiding it,” he said. He was glad for that. When she laughed, her eyes shone like stars and her skin flushed. Something about seeing her so free and unencumbered by the outside world - just having fun - made him smile. But he needed to keep his mind distracted, or it would wander into places that it shouldn’t…
After laughing like an idiot in front of him, you finally composed yourself enough to continue, focusing on perfectly the fluffy waviness of his hair before moving lower. His eyes were happy upfront with a tinge of eternal sadness behind them, and you did your best to capture that. Maybe asking to sculpt him wasn’t the best idea. Every time you looked over, you got distracted by his soft smile, beautiful eyes, and perfect, pink lips. On top of being a beautiful specimen of a human being, you’d also gotten to know him a lot over the past three weeks, and you liked what you knew - a lot.
When you got down to his lips, it got even harder, and every time he spoke, you got lost in thoughts of how those lips would feel against your own. It had been hours - hours of lingering looks and stuttered syllables. “I think I’m almost done,” you said.
“Oh, really?” He sounded disappointed. “Y/N, I…I was wondering if maybe…you might…”
Without thought, you turned to him and pressed a kiss to his lips. After a momentary shock, he eased into you and returned the kiss. “I’d like that,” you said. “Thanks for doing this. I really have enjoyed this.” You blushed like a schoolgirl; It was rare that someone brought out this side of you. He took you by surprise and glided his hand up your back and into your hair, bringing your face closer to his and parting your lips for a second time.
You still had a bit left to do on your sculpture, but his mouth distracted you again - yet unlike before. “I’ve been wondering how soft your lips were,” you admitted, looking backward toward the sculpture. “Better than I imagined.”
Spencer’s eyes darkened slightly at the admission. For the entire night, you’d gotten the feeling that he liked you, wanted you, but that look proved it. The previous kisses had been tentative, explorative, but this one was passionate. You dropped your sculpting tools and wrapped your arms around his neck, sighing as he ran his hands up your back underneath your shirt.
Pulling away, you pulled the shirt up over your head and played with the buttons on his shirt. “Are you sure…?” He asked.
You nodded, gasping as he took you by surprise, picked you up and pressed you insistently against the wall. After he removed his own shirt, he kissed down your collarbone and into the valley of your breasts. The earlier nervousness between both of you eased away, his fingers tickling your sides as you removed the rest of your clothes. “I’ve never had sex in my studio before.”
Spencer laughed into your neck. “I’ve never had sex in a studio before. First time for everything I guess.” You motioned for him to move toward the door so you could lock it just in case. On the way, Spencer tripped, his hand slipping into some of the clay before nearly falling to the floor. He grabbed your side to brace you if you fell and got clay all over you. “Live sculpture,” he chuckled.
Everything that followed was quick and frenzied, warm skin against the cold concrete floor, muffled moans resounding in the small space. Reaching over, you grabbed a condom and sheathed his length before placing him at your entrance. As you sank down onto him, you moaned at the way he filled you. “This was not the way I expected tonight to go.”
“Me either,” he mumbled. “But I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a hope in the back of my mind.” He sat up to meet you and placed his hand at the small of your back, encouraging you to grind back and forth on top of him.
“Oh my god.”
Your movements quickened in desperation. His clay-clad hands grabbed at your skin, the cold substance practically melting against you. When you moaned, he buried your head in his neck, whispering all sorts of things into your ear to drive you wild. “I love the sounds you make,” he said softly. You trembled and moved faster, your hips having a mind of their own. “Look at me.” That kind of intimacy was always difficult for you.
“You got to look at my face before,” he smirked. He did have a point. As you bit your lip, your orgasm cresting faster and faster, you looked into his eyes and cried out. He kissed your body as it trembled above him, quickly following your release with his own. “Oh god.” He laughed and fell backward toward the floor, bringing you down to lay flush against him.
With a laugh, you looked around. The studio was a mess. The sculpture was intact, but the scraps of clay were all over the place, some stuck to the floor, the walls, your bodies. It was a mess. “We made a mess,” you giggled.
“A beautiful mess, but don’t worry I’ll help you clean up.” He looked up toward his sculpture, noticing that there were still bits and pieces toward the bottom that needed to be done. “Maybe we can get together another day so you can finish that sculpture?”
You kissed his nose and laughed. “How about I finish the sculpture myself and next time, we meet at one of our apartments so we can do this in the comfort of a nice warm bed?”
“Sounds great.” He reached for your head and brought you in for a sweet kiss. You really did need to get up and clean the studio; it was a mess, but Spencer was right. It was kind of beautiful, and you wanted to revel in it for a little longer.
✎a/n: thank u bun!! this is such an ancient request asxnajis imma try to get better at writing them pls pray for me. also when will svt do an angsty concept its so hard finding gifs tht fit;;
word count: 1,264
includes: angst + minor drinking + minor fluff
The sole thing Soonyoung could remember from that day was screaming.
Well, it was the most apparent thing he could remember, the thing most
precedent in his mind as he sat slouched over his drink at the bar. There were little
things he could remember too, like how tight his fists were clenched when you
slapped the vase of flowers off the dinner table, leaving faded yellow tulips
to solemnly decorate the floorboards.
Soonyoung still felt his lips tingle with the curses he spat. The words were
ringed with such venom and potent misery that clear droplets began spilling
from your eyes, rolling to your chin so they could glisten for just one more
second before falling. You were screaming at each other from opposite sides of
the dinner table, faces leaning in closer and closer until you both hissed the
fatal bullet, let’s break up.
I hope i’m never stuck with you on a deserted island
Request: hi, do you think you would be able to do #79 from the drabble list with tom..?
Summary:You and Tom aren’t necessarily too keen about one another. But one night after hanging out with friends, something completely weird occurs.
A night brimmed with smiles, laughs and drinks was diminishing to a close, as your friends traipsed along the cracked sidewalk in the cool night. You were walking one another home from your biblical night out. Three of you remained, Tom, Y/f/n, and yourself.
You listened in to the conversation, y/f/n and Tom were having. Ever since you and Tom were introduced, he paid no effort in trying to befriend you or even attempt to be nice to you. So in return, you neglected his existence. Through out the evening, you shot brief glances his way, and caught him studying you before giving a subtle glare and looking away.
2P America: A tall man with a crooked nose leaned against the wall, the sun bounced off the pomade in his red hair; it looked shinnier than it otherwise would have. His eyes were hidden behind dark aviator sunglasses and an unlit cigarette rested behind his ear, waiting for him to smoke it. A lazy grin spread across his face as he enjoyed the summer weather, revealing a space where a tooth should have been and causing the rings in his lip to glimmer. The collar of his second-hand leather jacket had been popped and, despite the burning sun, he seemed to be perfectly comfortable.
2P England: He stood behind the counter, arranging the pastries in the glass cabinets for the day. His strawberry blond hair seemed a good match for his strawberry-shaped earrings. In fact, he almost looked like he should be in one of the glass cases with the pastries. His warm freckles were like sprinkles, his hair and eyes like fairy floss. What was most intriguing, however, was the small sunburst of pink in the centres of his bright blue eyes. He hummed to himself as he worked, everything about him was bright, and soft, and friendly.
2P China: He strolled down the path, lazily dragging his feet across the pavement. He kept checking over his shoulder and, at one point, the motion threw his hat from his head. As he chased after the hat, his short hair bounced in the wind. He smiled when he caught it and squashed it back down onto his head. He wore a loose red singlet and an unzipped black hoodie. He was obviously dressed for comfort, rather than style, but he still looked a bit put-together. He resumed his path, still checking over his shoulder every few yards.
2P Russia: His maroon scarf fluttered behind him in the wind as snowflakes stuck to his eyelashes and brown hair. Dark circles beneath his eyes made it known that this was the most relaxed he’d been in a long while. He pulled his heavy coat tighter around his body to try and fight off the cold. Checking his watch, he tapped his foot impatiently. His bus was late. The longer he stood there, the more he seemed to glare at the other people at the bus stop; he was no longer relaxed. Finally, the bus pulled up. The tall man was the first on board.
2P France: He brushed his dark hair from his grey eyes before packing the dirt around his freshly potted snapdragons. His purple gardening gloves matched the wisteria that hung from the lattices along the side of his house. He looked exhausted, but at peace tending to his garden. A small smile graced his lips and he pulled off his gloves. He picked up a watering can and made his way around the garden. Once all his plants had been taken care of, he laid down in the grass and dragged a hand down his stubbley face. He slept in his garden until the first few drops of a rainstorm hit his face.
2P Canada: He tied back his blond hair and rolled up his sleeves, picking up his hatchet as he walked over to the fire pit. His tent was already set up. It had only taken him a few minutes. In just moments, a sizable pile of ready-to-burn wood had formed and he began arranging it in the fire pit. After there was a roaring fire in the pit, he pulled a book and a glasses case from his bag, replaced his dark shades with a pair of smart readers, and sat down to read. His lavender eyes were gentle, framed by long, dark lashes. Quite the contrast to his rough physique.
2P Italy: The short man glared at everyone who passed. Despite his stature, his very presence demanded respect and attention. He looked cocky; the way he smirked or sneered at every passerby, the way he leaned against the lamppost. His sharp magenta eyes seemed to dare anyone to defy him. Very expensive leather gloves complimented his impeccable suit and tie. He was either incredibly important, or he liked to feel like he was. He was very attractive, but too self-absorbed and maybe dangerous for that to matter.
2P Germany: A big, rather imposing man laughed loudly from the bar as his team scored another goal on the television. His dirty blond hair was haphazardly pushed back under his hat and a jacket hung lazily from his shoulders. He didn’t have a care in the world, despite the people across the bar whispering about the scar on his cheek and the ones on his arms. While he was clearly strong and rather intimidating, he actually seemed like an incredibly laidback, kind hearted man.
2P Japan: The black leather of his jacket seemed dull amidst the fog hanging in the air. He glared at everyone who passed him, as if they had personally offended him. He screamed of contempt for the world. The edges of tattoos peaked out of the ends of his sleeves and collar. Something about him screamed a warning. He wasn’t one to be fucked with. From his heavy combat boots and vicious glare, to the way he seemed to ache for someone to look at him in a funny way. He was bored. He wanted action. He wanted to beat someone up. He didn’t care who.
2P Romano: Bleached blond hair bounced as the man strutted down the street. His designer, Italian cut suit was as spotless as his complexion. He seemed to ooze glamour and luxury. It almost made one want to hate him, but his playful smirk was far too likeable. The rose lenses of his expensive sunglasses were light enough for his scarlet eyes to be visible. It was easy to tell his eyeshadow and eyeliner was impeccable. The silk scarf around his neck fluttered elegantly in the gentle breeze. He was the very image of beauty, grace, and glamour.
2P Prussia: A very pale fellow sat on the park bench, his silver hair pulled back into a long ponytail. His deep blue eyes were watery and sagging from a lack of sleep. Scars littered his face and hands; more were probably hidden beneath his clothes. There was something about him that didn’t feel quite right. It was as if he had once been something great. Like he still was, or could be if he wanted to. But he wasn’t. He looked up when it started to rain and sighed sighed. For a painfully long time, he sat there, the rain pouring over his face, washing away his past and his present.
Synopsis: I Was Here First Part 2. Smut. That’s it. Some story.
Warnings: Sex, language, violence.
A/N: Y/N = Your Name.
Good lord me! I’ve gone down a rabbit hole and I’m never coming back.
Hope you like it!
REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
“Well, well, well. Lookie who we have here.” A cheerful voice came from behind Jason and he beamed under the hood. “Did you just punch a guy in the face or are you happy to see me?”
Jason released his grip on the man he had just caught harassing a woman. “That makes no sense.” He turned to face Y/N, dressed in the red and black attire and full face mask.
“Then is it both?” She purred and traced up and down Jason’s chest before tugging him closer to her by the collar. The masks between their lips stopping contact.
“Maybe.” He roamed his hands from the top of her back til they were resting on her hips.
“You fuc- Agh!” Y/N silenced the criminal with a swift kick to the nose, blood gushing from it as he fell backwards.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this hear.” She breathed.
“Are you free tomorrow night?” Jason asked, thumbs drawing circles on her hips with his thumbs.
Y/N pulled away. “I’ll meet you here at 7.” She skipped down the alley. “I’ll wear a nice dress!”
Jason stood in the dark alley, a single street light illuminating the place. He checked his watch constantly. His hair was messy but styled, he wore a suit jacket and pants with a red dress shirt underneath, couple of the top buttons undone.
“What? You thought I wouldn’t show?” Y/N said as Jason checked his watch for the hundreth time.
Jason smirked. “Not quite sure whether I trust you yet.”
“Well then,” she pushed herself of the dumpster she was sitting on, “I’m afraid you might not want to after tonight.” She whispered into his ear.
“What are you going to do to me?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” Her hand lightly brushed against his crotch and a tingle ran up his spine. Y/N giggled as he tensed. “Where are you taking me tonight?” She asked, bubbly, a complete shift in personality. But Jason wasn’t done with the flirty side of the conversation.
“On my bed if everything goes as planned.”
“Oh.” She swiveled, her hip bumping Jason as she turned and strutted down to the busy street. Jason thought he said something wrong til she looked at him over her shoulder. “Are you gonna take me or not, Red?”
“I just realised,” Y/N breathed heavily as Jason attacked her neck, her hands pinned abover her, “I don’t know your real name. Now that I know your face.”
“Jason.” His name rolled of her tongue perfectly.
She was shoved against the wall the moment they had entered Jason’s apartment and he was on her like a tiger hungry for its next meal.
He left perfect red tracks along her collar bone down to her cleavage before the dress prevented him from going lower.
Jason released her hands and started to tug on the bottom of her little red dress, pulling it up over head leaving her bare. Jason smirked at the fact she came to their date with no panties.
“Had high hopes, didn’t you?”
“I didnt need to hope. I knew.” She smiled hazily.
Jason caught her lips in his and lifted her up, wrapping her thighs around his waist. He carried her through the apartment, lips never disconnecting before laying her down on the bed. He stepped back to throw off his jacket and ripped his shirt open. Y/N got up on her knees, tugging the belt and hurriedly pulling it off and dropping his pants.
A tent had formed in his underwear. Y/N teased, running her lips over his cock, gently scraping against it with her teeth.
Jason hissed and looked down at her. She grinned and played with the band, slowly pushing it down to expose his erect cock.
“You have a condom right?”
“Right there on the bedside.” Jason cocked his head in the direction and Y/N reached over and took it, opening it and sliding it down onto his penis.
Y/N climbed further up onto the bed and Jason crawled on top of her, hands on each side of her head. She gave his cock a few tugs before guiding it to her entrance.
Jason pushed in, Y/N digging her nails into his back as she adjusted to his size. He looked at her, concerned until she nodded her head for him to start moving.
He slowly, building up his pace until the sound of skin slapping against skin and moans.
Y/N rested her legs on his face and clawed at his back. “Shit.” Jason moaned.
Y/N felt her climax coming and her walls began to tighten around Jason. His cock twitched inside her. “Fuck.” Y/N cried out in ecstasy as she released her fluids. Jason came soon after. He slipped out of her and lowered himself down, kissing down her sternum til he reached her dripping pussy and lapped up all her juices.
“Wow.” Y/N breathed. “Forget what I said the first time we met.” She and Jason laughed.