rules/info: minors please dni with the smut i post! all works will be properly tagged, if i miss anything feel free to let me know. please do not request anything involving minors, foot fetish, or mxm.
currently writing (updated 4/2): frank langdon [the pitt], dennis whitaker [the pitt], art donaldson [challengers], finn wolfhard, ziggy katz [when you finish saving the world], mike wheeler [stranger things], steve harrington [stranger things], paul atreides [dune], luke hemmings.
god he would be SO rough he’s so cocky 😛 i feel like he’s the type to wrap his arm around your neck from behind. also feel like he secretly likes to get pushed around and put in his place but he always ends up back on top
synopsis: you’re at the height of your career, one of the biggest pop stars in the industry, while luke is regaining his popularity with their newest tour. what happens when two bright burning stars collide?
y/n: baby’s first chella!!!!! can’t believe i headlined n1
liked by yourbestfriend, sabrinacarpenter, and 6,518,092 others
gracieabrams: so proud!!! you killed it
y/n: ugh ily
user74: you’re really made it 🥺
sabrinacarpenter: what’s between 7 and 9? you 8!
y/n: you’re so…. LMFAODIDJJS
sabrinacarpenter: wow… okay
yourbestfriend: you’re a star!!!!!!
y/n: ily!!!!!!
user91: this is so insane i rmr when you were posting covers on yt
luke5sos: evolved at coachella n2
liked by michaelclifford, calumhood, and 5,819,472 others
user87: so proud of you guys 🥹🥹
michaelclifford: 😎😎
calumhood: come a long way from the take me home tour
luke5sos: grateful for every minute man
ashtonirwin: proud of us boys!
user17: you guys were so good i was there!
republicrecords: 2 of our artists headlining.. pretty cool @y/n
soft!dom jack abbot who loves praising you ughhhhhh
god i know his praise kink goes crazy BOTH ways
he’d love to praise you and tell you how pretty you look while he fucks you, but he’d secretly have a soft spot for letting his guard down every once in a while, relishing in the way you tell him how good he feels. he’d love to praise you in everyday life too, always telling you how good you’re doing at work, how smart you are. #needthat
disrespectfully thinking about older, brooding cowboy! jack abbot that works on the ranch in your town, which you stumble upon one day while trying to expand your photography portfolio. you knock anxiously at the door of the biggest building you see, and moments later, a man appears, sweat beading on his forehead, freckles dotting his bare chest, jeans slung low on his toned hips.
“can i help you, ma’am?” he asks, voice clear and deep.
“oh, i was just, well,” you cringe at how nervous you sound, “i’m a photography student, grew up here, but i just wanted to ask about taking some photos of your place here for my senior project? it’s really beautiful.” he grinned slightly, or maybe you imagined it. maybe the summer sun was getting to you.
“yeah, alright,” he nodded, “i’ve got some things to finish up. gimme an hour and i’ll show you around.”
“oh, thank you,” you exhaled with relief, “should i just come back around then?”
“nah, you can just hang out around here, if y’want,” he gestured around the property, “take pictures of whatever you like.”
“oh, okay,” you nodded, “thank you, sir.” at that, he definitely grinned.
before you could reach too much into it, he was walking away, heading towards the horses corral, calling for them to come eat their supper. you busied yourself taking photos of the field, then the skyline, anything to keep your prying eyes off of the way the sun highlighted the streaks of his greying hair, the way his muscles rippled along his back as he worked. selfishly, you eventually gave in, snapping a few tasteful photos of him working with the horses, trying to make it appear as if he wasn’t the focal point of the shot. they’d be for your eyes only, anyway. when he finished, he returned to you, wiping his face with a cotton rag before tucking it back into his pocket.
“you get anything good?” he asked, peering down at you.
“some,” you nodded, swallowing, wondering if he’d somehow seen you sneaking photos of him, “some nice ones of the sky and the fields to the left. it’s gorgeous out here.”
“sure is,” he murmured, “you gonna let me see?”
“oh, sure!” you fumbled for your camera roll on your nikon, scrolling down to the first image you’d taken, “there’s only a handful, maybe fifteen.” he took it from you carefully, and you watched with baited breath as his calloused thumb repeatedly pressed the right arrow, pushing him through the collection.
“i think that’s everything-“ you started when he was at the end of the scenery, but one more push, and he’d came upon the photos of him, the first one being particularly zoomed in.
“the sky,” he grinned, “and the fields. interesting.”
“i’m so sorry, sir, i was just getting some shots of you working with your horses. they’re beautiful, and-“
“honey, there ain’t a single horse in this picture,” his voice sounded a little huskier, “best you can see is a little bit of a tail. this is a picture of me.”
“i just needed to adjust my zoom, that’s all,” you swallowed, suddenly feeling caught like a bear in a trap, “i’m so sorry, i’ll just delete that one. it didn’t turn out great, anyway.”
“sweetheart,” the name sent a shiver down your spine, “do i make you nervous, hm?” when you didn’t look at him, the hand that wasn’t carefully holding your camera settled on your cheek, his thumb nearly grazing your lips, “answer me.”
“not nervous,” you lied, “just a little intimidated.”
“you didn’t seem too intimidated when you took that picture,” he mused, “you seemed, if i can speak freely here, a little interested.” you looked up to meet his eyes, barely able to force yourself, and could feel the heat of embarrassment on your cheeks.
“i should go,” your voice was quiet, “i’m real sorry about all of this, sir.”
“don’t apologize to me, honey,” he shook his head, “just tell me the truth. no sense in lyin, is there?” he had a tone, confident and smug, like he could see right through you, like he knew how turned on you’d been from watching him work.
“i think you’re very handsome,” was all you could manage, and then you reached for your camera, pulling away from him to shove it down into your bag, “i’ll get out of your hair, now, i’m sorry-“
“hey, hey,” he reached for you once more, “where you goin, kid? did i say i wanted you to leave?”
“well, no, but i just figured-“
he tsked, interrupting you, “no point in leavin. i think you oughta come inside, see if we can put that camera of yours to better use.” when you hesitated, he met your eyes, intentional and direct, “unless you didn’t feel that kind of interested. then please, by all means, feel free to go. i think you’re beautiful, but i’m not in the business of forcing myself onto women.”
“i am,” you finally mustered, “interested, i mean. in you.”
he was a man of few words, it turned out. your shy confirmation was all he needed to cut the conversation short. he pulled you close, strong hands on your hips, and kissed you like he was sure and confident, leading you, taking control in a natural way that couldn’t be faked. his salt n pepper scruff scratched at your chin as he kissed you, his hands migrating down to your low back, then sliding into the back pockets of your denim skirt. you weren’t sure who made the first step, but soon you were inside, your skirt long forgotten, his jeans unbuttoned and hanging loose on his hips.
“want me to fuck you, honey?” he rasped, though he was already halfway there, standing between your legs and palming his length, “need to hear you say it.”
“please,” you nodded quickly, “please, jack.”
at the sound of his name on your lips, he groaned, letting his jeans fall the rest of the way and jerking you to the edge of his bed, your legs against his chest, raised high, the stretch stinging the back of your thighs. you couldn’t focus on the stretch of that for long, though. it was quickly replaced by his cock stretching your walls, slowly splitting you open, brushing your cervix as he bottomed out inside you.
“so pretty,” he drawled, sweat beaded on his forehead, “fuckin gorgeous, sweet thing.”
you were hopeless to respond, too busy writhing beneath him, letting out an endless stream of breathy moans. he grinned down at you, brushing a lock of hair from your face, his hand then settling loosely around your throat, his pace quickening. it wasn’t enough to choke you fully, but the sentiment was dizzying enough, adding to the slick between your thighs.
“hand me that camera, darlin,” he instructed, as if you were capable of doing anything other than coming apart, “come on, hurry up. gotta get a picture of this, mm? just for us?” you somehow managed to grab your discarded camera, handing it to him before grabbing back onto his sheets, your eyes rolled back when he pitched his hips up at a new angle. his thumb settled on your clit, bringing you impossibly close with just a few short brushes, and as you tipped over the edge, you heard the familiar shutter of the lens, followed by a low groan rumbling in his chest.
“fuck me,” he moaned, “gonna- fuck, gonna paint those pretty tits, honey. hold still f’me.” he pulled out with only a second to spare, spilling his hot load across your flushed skin, chest heaving, his hand pumping out any remnants of his orgasm. you basked in the warmth of it, of the way he was looking at you, and then he stole another photo, one of you covered in his cum, marking his territory.
“beautiful,” he praised, tossing the camera gently aside, “you feelin okay? need some water?”
“yes, please,” you nodded, “m okay.”
he returned with a glass of water and a warm cloth, wiping you down carefully as you swallowed down the icy liquid.
“you could stay over,” he offered, and it sounded like it took him a lot to muster the courage, “if y’wanted. maybe tell me a little bit more about you.”
“yeah, i’ll stay,” you smiled, nuzzling into his chest, “i’ll tell you anything you wanna know.”
