#black t-shirt strikes again

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

More black t-shirt because I can't help myself. 🥵

[whenthewallfell]

made my first pair of socks! I don't have a fancy sock block thing, so you'll have to make do with my ratty old desk instead

pattern is Lush Lemonade Socks by Stone Knits

[incognit0slut]

Tempting the Cowboy

Summary: The team has been trying to bring Spencer back to the BAU after he hung up his badge to live on his ranch peacefully. It’s a good thing you’ll do whatever it takes to persuade him, even if the rugged cowboy wants to bend you over in the barn.

warnings: (MDNI, 18+) softdom spence, nipple play, handjob, fingering, female and male oral, semi-public sex

word count: 6k (i had too much fun, okay?)

a/n: This is such a random plot. Cowboy spence seemed so impossible, but then again, so did prison reid and look what happened.

Never in a million years would you ever have thought that a certified genius with an IQ of 187, after fifteen years of dedicated service to the FBI, would change career paths and settle down in the countryside. Yet here you were, driving to the middle of nowhere, trying to find that man.

The GPS led you down dusty backroads, past fields of golden wheat and weathered barns until finally, you arrived at his ranch. The scent of hay and the distant sound of cattle filled the air as you stepped out of the car and you couldn't help but feel out of place.

Your usual black pants and fitted blouse seemed like a striking contrast to your surroundings, especially with the sleek boots on your feet. Adjusting your shirt, you finally approached the farmhouse, the gravel crunch beneath your feet echoed with every step you took.

A group of men caught your eyes as they emerged from a weathered barn at the end of the road, and you found yourself approaching them instead. Clearing your throat, you called out to them.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," you began, "I'm looking for Spencer Reid. Is he around?"

The men exchanged knowing glances before one of them, a weathered cowboy with a straw hat shading his face, spoke up.

"You must be lookin' for the doc," he said, nodding towards the stable. "He's over there tendin' to the horses. You can't miss 'im."

With a grateful nod, you followed their directions. Nerves fluttered in your stomach as you walked into the stable, unsure of what to expect from the man who had once been your colleague but now seemed like a stranger in this unfamiliar setting.

As you pushed open the creaking door, the scent of leather and hay washed over you. Inside, you finally spotted him, his back turned as he tended to a horse in the corner of the room. His familiar profile was a stark contrast to the rugged surroundings, and for a moment, it felt surreal to see him in this new role.

Gone were the suits or knitted cardigans; instead, he was clad in well-worn denim and leather that gave him a distinctly different, yet undeniably attractive appearance. His sleeves were rolled up, showcasing the definition in his arms and a cowboy hat was perched on his head, its brim casting a shadow over his features, while his tousled hair peeked out from beneath it.

It was a side of him you had never seen before—one that seemed more at peace, more connected to the land than the city. And as you watched him work, the soft murmur of his voice filling the room as he spoke soothingly to the horse he was gently brushing, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt knowing you were going to ruin his peace.

As if sensing another presence in the room, he suddenly turned his head before his gaze fell on you. A genuine smile curled at the corner of your lips as you approached him. "Howdy, cowboy."

A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes as he straightened himself, which was quickly replaced with realization at your sudden visit.

"I was wondering when they'd send you here," he remarked, his tone a mixture of amusement and resignation. You returned his smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly at his familiar demeanor.

"I guess today is your lucky day." Your eyes scanned the rustic surroundings of his ranch, taking in the simplicity of his new life. "Well, this is quite the change of scenery."

He chuckled softly, a hint of pride in his tone as he gestured around the farmhouse. "It's definitely a far cry from the city," he admitted. "But it suits me."

"It does seem like you've found your place here. It's... different, but in a good way."

Spencer's smile widened at your words "It is different, and I like it here," he agreed. "Which is why I'm going to say no to whatever reason you're here."

You raised an eyebrow. "I haven't even said anything."

"You didn't have to, everyone else has already said their piece." He turned and focused his attention back on his horse. "And the answer is still no."

You silently studied him as he finished his task. He was right; your other teammates had already been here before you, trying to coax him back to the BAU. But you couldn't help but feel a sense of determination rise within you. Spencer Reid might be a stubborn cowboy now, but you knew deep down that his brilliant mind belonged with the team.

But knowing no one else could crack his stubbornness, you knew you needed a different approach and the only way you could think of was to reel him in with his current interest. "He's beautiful," you acknowledged, nodding towards the horse he was working on. "What's his name?"

"She's beautiful," he corrected. "And her name is Mildred."

The name didn't sound foreign to you. "You must really have something sentimental with that name. Didn't you name one of your mugs Mildred?"

He tipped his head back. "You remembered?"

"Of course, I do," you replied with a grin. "I remember a lot about you, even if we didn't have much time getting to know each other."

The memories of your time at the BAU flooded back. The way you joined the team right before Spencer had decided to take a break, which had turned out to be more permanent than anyone had anticipated. Although it was hard to forget a guy like him. You remembered when your eyes first fell on him and how your heart fluttered at his awkward yet charming smile.

There was something about him, something magnetic and intriguing that drew you in from the very beginning. It was a pity he had to leave shortly after you joined the team because you swore your admiration wasn't one-sided, but with Spencer gone, any hope of exploring those feelings had faded away.

As you stood before him now, you couldn't help but study how different he was yet still managed to look the same. The rugged cowboy attire he now wore seemed worlds away from the suit and tie he had once donned as a profiler, yet there was a familiarity to his features that remained unchanged.

But one thing was for sure, despite the time and distance of not seeing him, you were still attracted to Spencer Reid.

"I remember a lot about you too."

You laughed. "That's because you have an eidetic memory." Spencer simply flashed you a sheepish grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You slowly took a step forward towards him. "Can I touch her?"

He nodded, gesturing towards Mildred. "Go ahead. She's quite friendly."

You approached the horse cautiously, extending your hand to stroke her mane gently. Mildred nuzzled against your palm, her warm breath tickling your skin. A sense of calm washed over you as you felt the gentle rhythm of her breathing.

Spencer watched you with a soft smile, his gaze warm and reassuring. "She likes you," he remarked, his voice low and soothing.

You smiled back. "I like her too," you replied, your fingers trailing along Mildred's soft fur. Then your eyes glanced over to him and the gears in your head started to move. You needed to act as stealthy as possible. "So... how fast can horses go? In general?"

His smile widened at your question. "Well, it depends on various factors like breed, training, and terrain," he began, falling into his familiar role as an educator. "On average, horses can reach speeds of around 25 to 30 miles per hour, but some breeds can go even faster, reaching speeds of up to 40 miles per hour."

You nodded, absorbing the information as you continued stroking Mildred's fur while keeping your true intentions hidden behind a facade of innocent curiosity. "Are mammals usually that fast?"

"Actually, yes," he replied. "While horses are known for their impressive speed, they're not the only mammals capable of reaching high velocities."

"...how about bulls?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued by your sudden interest in bulls. "Bulls?" he echoed, studying you intently.

You met his gaze, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, bulls."

He continued to scrutinize you, his sharp intellect picking up on your evasive behavior. Spencer may not work as a profiler anymore, but he could tell when someone had ulterior motives.

"Alright, what is it?" he finally asked, crossing his arms.

You sighed, trying not to focus on the way his arms flexed at the movement, and took another step towards him. If you were going to convince him to return to the BAU, you needed to be honest with him. "Well, you see, the current case we're working on is... it's a bit unusual."

Spencer's curiosity was piqued, his interest evident in how he leaned in slightly, waiting for you to continue.

"Three victims were found dead under suspicious circumstances," you explained, choosing your words carefully. "The strange part is, all three victims were found with injuries consistent with being trampled by bulls."

"Trampled by bulls?" he repeated, disbelief coloring his voice.

"It sounds bizarre, I know. There have been reports of aggressive behavior from a nearby ranch, and the local authorities suspect that the deaths may be connected to the bulls on the property. But the thing is, the autopsies showed that it might not even be caused by any type of animal."

"And you want me to help with the investigation," he summarized.

"We could certainly use your help," you admitted, hoping that he would see the significance of his involvement.

Spencer fell silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he considered your words. Then, without saying another word, he turned on his heels and began to walk towards another part of the stable, a hidden corner shrouded in shadows. Your heart sank as you watched him move away.

"I don't think I'm the person you should be looking for."

You followed him, determined not to let him slip away without a fight. "You're exactly the person we should be looking for! With that smart brain of yours and your knowledge of farm animals, we could profile the Unsub in no time."

His steps faltered momentarily as your words reached him, but he didn't turn back to face you. Instead, he continued walking, his silhouette fading into the shadows of the stable.

"I appreciate the sentiment," he called back over his shoulder, his voice tinged with resignation, "But I'm not sure I'm the right fit for this anymore."

"Reid," you called after him, quickening your pace to catch up. "Please, just hear me out."

"Y/n," he warned dangerously low. The way he spoke your name affected you more than you'd like to admit. You cautiously took a step forward.

"Do you know how long it took me to do a geographical profile of the crime scenes? Or how Alvez spent two nights going through stacks of documents when you would've finished it in like an hour?" You let out a sigh. "It's so different without you, we miss you."

He slightly faltered at your words again but remained quiet, so you tried again.

"We could really use your help, Spence, at least on this case. The team needs you." You watched him try to do some other task as if trying to ignore you. "I need you."

He remained silent for a moment longer, the only sound the soft shuffle of his boots against the stable floor. Then, slowly, he turned to face you, and there was a subtle shift in his expression, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"...you need me?"

You faltered for a moment, taken aback by his unexpected question. The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in as you became hyper-aware of the proximity between the two of you. Your gaze involuntarily flickered over every detail of his face, taking in the curve of his stubble jaw, the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, and the lines etched on his brow.

You also noticed his lips. Those damn kissable lips, pressed together in a thin line as he waited for your response. You found yourself inexplicably drawn to them, a surge of desire coursing through you at the mere thought of what it would feel like to press your own against them.

Shaking yourself from your inappropriate thoughts, you forced your gaze back to his eyes, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment at where your mind had wandered. You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat.

"Yes," you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I need you."

As the words left your lips, a heavy silence fell upon the room. You could feel his eyes on you, his gaze intense and searching, as if he were trying to interpret the depth of your confession. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and you could hear the sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, the rhythm erratic and unsteady.

"And you missed me?"

You held his gaze. While your words might not have been an outright confession, it wasn't exactly a lie, and there was no reason to deny the truth.

"I missed you," you admitted, your voice sounding more breathless than you intended. He smiled. Then, slowly, he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, the warmth of it searing through you like a flame.

"Fine, I'll help you," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "On one condition."

Your heart skipped a beat, anticipation coursing through your veins as you waited for him to continue. His gaze held yours, unwavering and intense. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, from your wide eyes to the slope of your nose, before lingering on your lips. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of your shallow breaths. Then he finally spoke.

"Be honest with me," he responded, his fingers tracing a gentle path along your jawline, "Do you need my help with the case or do you need me for something else?"

You met his gaze, searching for the right words to express the truth of your intentions. "Both," you admitted after a pause, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need your help with the case, but I also... need you."

A satisfied smile curled on his lips as he gently cupped your cheek, pulling you closer. But just as you thought he would close the distance between your lips, he paused, his warm breath teasing against your skin. His next question hung in the air between you, a challenge and an invitation wrapped into one.

"Tell me what you need me for then."

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips hovered tantalizingly close to yours. "I-I need you to kiss me," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, your words tinged with urgency and desire. "Please."

His gaze darkened. "I never took you as one to beg," he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "But I must admit, I quite like it."

Then slowly, almost hesitantly, he closed the remaining distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light touch. You could still feel the smile playing on his lips, but only briefly before he moved them slowly, capturing every curve of your soft lips.

He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, holding your jaw in place. His hand cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, while his other hand explored your body. It trailed down your back, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you, before settling on your hip. You gasped at the sudden contact and he seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue delving deeper.

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer. Your fingers tangled in his hair, knocking off his hat onto the floor before tugging lightly at the roots, eliciting a low moan from him that vibrated against your lips.

What had started as gently molding your lips together turned into a passionate dance of tongues, leaving you moaning and breathless. He slowly pulled away, his eyes slamming shut as his forehead met yours, both of you gasping for air while you tried to regain your composure. His breath mingled with yours, a heady mix of desire and need, as he spoke in a ragged voice.

"You," he gasped, his words laced with raw intensity, "Taste better than I imagined."

Your head was spinning. How could he consume you with just a kiss? You had dreamed of this moment, of being close to him, but you never imagined it would affect you as deeply as it did now.

"Do you even realize," He pressed on, his voice low with pent-up longing. "How much I've wanted to do this?"

Your head was swimming in a haze of desire as his lips trailed along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. "Yeah?" you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts.

He nodded against your neck. "Ever since I saw you."

"Wh-Why didn't you say anything?" you managed to stammer out, the words barely audible amidst the dizzying sensation of his lips on your skin.

"Wasn't sure you felt the same way."

You took a moment to process his words, the warmth of his breath against your skin adding to the whirlwind of sensations coursing through you. "You should've said something, it would make this whole convincing you a lot easier."

He paused, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along your neck. "I don't know," he finally murmured. "I think I need a little more persuading."

His words sent a jolt of desire coursing through you, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the intoxicating sensation of his lips on your skin.

"I can persuade you in other ways."

Spencer lifted his head, his gaze meeting yours. "Then show me," he breathed, his voice thick with desire.

There was no room for hesitation. You leaned in, capturing his lips with yours in a desperate, passionate kiss, fully aware of the risk of being caught, but his mouth on your body felt too good to care. It wasn't like you hadn't fantasized about this exact moment, about the feel of his mouth on your body, the way his hands would explore every inch of you with a hunger that mirrored your own.

His hands found your hips, pushing you to the nearest wall before his fingers fumbled with the buttons on your blouse. It was clear you both decided that the risk was well worth the wait.

"May I?" He asked, his fingers still working on your front buttons.

You laughed amusedly. "You already are."

His response was a chuckle of his own before he buried his head in your neck again. The opening in the front of your shirt chilled your body, sending goosebumps all along your skin as his hands caressed over your lacy, black bra covering your breasts, thumbing your hardened nipples.

He leaned further down, trailing his lips over your cleavage, before sucking softly on the spot. The sensation made you gasp, knowing well enough that there would be marks left behind, but you didn't care. Wanting to give more to him, you reached out between your bodies and pulled down your bra, granting him more access to your skin.

His eyes drank in the sight before him hungrily. He gently rubbed against the small pebbles on your chest, wetting his lips as he did, eyes completely trained on them now. Without warning he surged forward, tongue darting out to lick a long, flat stripe against one of your nipples. You let out a surprised moan at the action, fingers tugging at his hair tightly and head tilting back before snapping down to look at him.

A choked moan left your lips as he continued sucking, licking, twirling his tongue around it while playing with the other with his hand. "Spence..." you whined, your voice sounding clear in the room.

"Shh," he mumbled against your skin. "Keep your voice down."

You nodded helplessly as he released your nipple before wrapping his lips around the other one, giving the same attention. He repeated the motion, rolling your wet nipple under his calloused palm, having you arch your back and push your chest into his face. He didn't have to be told twice, immediately giving it a hard suck while pinching the other one.

The sensation traveled along your body before it lowered between your thighs, forming an ache the second his hand trailed down your stomach. His fingers finally found the hem of your pants, before dipping underneath the material, slipping right underneath your panties. Your breath hitched when two of his long fingers slide between your folds, spreading your slick before finding its rightful place on your clit.

"You're so wet," he whispered in a daze, trailing his lips back up your collarbone. He couldn't believe how drenched you already were. "All this for me?"

You nodded, gasping when he stroked up and down your folds, coating his fingers with your arousal. Your hips buckled against his touch and he didn't hesitate when he started rubbing your clit, feeling your body writhe under him. A sudden pressure of his fingers sent pleasure shooting through you, and your head fell back to the wall, mouth agape, face flushed.

But before you could relish the pleasure, he suddenly pulled his hand out of your pants before tugging you, urging you to follow him. As he led you deeper into the stable, your heart raced with anticipation. You followed him silently, feeling a rush of excitement as he pulled you behind the stacks of hay, sheltering the two of you from prying eyes.

The rustling of the hay beneath you echoed in the room as he pulled you closer, his touch igniting a fire within you as you pressed your hands on his chest. With trembling hands, you began to undo the buttons of his shirt, and his gaze never left yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

As your fingertips brushed along his skin, you felt the warmth radiating from his body, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He wasn't muscular in the conventional sense, but there was a lean strength to him that was undeniably attractive. Your fingers continued their journey downward, skimming lightly over the softness of his stomach before teasing along the line of hair that trailed further down.

Your hands found their way to the buckle of his belt, fingers deftly working to undo it. He made no move to stop you as his gaze remained fixed on you. There was a hunger in his eyes, urging you for more, yet he remained patient, allowing you to take the lead. And then you tugged down his denim, not much than an inch but enough for you to pull his cock out.

He was warm and achingly hard, and a low, guttural sound escaped his lips as his hips bucked into your palm. His eyes fluttered closed momentarily, a shudder passing through him as he surrendered to the sensation. You looked up at him through your lashes, the corner of your lips quirked up in a smirk.

"Shh," you whispered, echoing his words. "Keep your voice down."

He chuckled softly, eyes meeting yours. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Not as much as you are."

You proved your point by tugging his cock harder, pumping up and down his length. His head fell back, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he fought to stifle his moans. You couldn't help but find it endearing, the way he struggled to keep quiet, his brows creasing in concentration. It was a pity, really, because you liked hearing the raw, unfiltered sounds of his pleasure.

You swiped your thumb along the tip of his cock, gathering the slickness before rubbing it along his length. His head snapped down to look between you, his eyes taking in the way you quickened your pace, pumping him in your hand. A sense of urgency overwhelmed him the moment your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip, and he leaned in, shoving his own tongue into your mouth.

The way your fingers gripped his cock had him moaning into the kiss which you happily accepted. As he felt that familiar knot tightening in his stomach, he knew he had to act quickly. With a gasp, he pulled away from the kiss, his chest heaving with ragged breaths as he reached between you to halt your movements. With a sense of urgency, he shrugged off his shirt and laid it carefully on the stack of hay behind you.

"Turn around," was all he said as he pushed down his pants to uncover himself, leaving you empty for the moment.

You obliged, turning while gripping the hem of your pants and slipping them down your legs. Without hesitation, you pushed your panties down before kicking them off, giving him the perfect view of your soaked slit. It didn't take long for him to drop onto the floor, his hands running along the back of your thighs.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushing your damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty little thing?"

You leaned forward and arched your back at his words, earning a deep, low sound of approval from him. One of his hands gripped your ass, slowly kneading your supple skin as his other hand grabbed onto your right leg, hiking it over the stack of hay. He had a better view of your wetness in this position, and you bit down your lips when you felt his fingers brush over your entrance.

A finger slipped inside you, then two, and when he started to pump them in and out of your tight walls, you pressed yourself further onto the stack of hay underneath you, trying to hold yourself back from making too much noise. Your arousal dripped from your core to coat his fingers and he was mesmerized by how eager your body was for him, how your hips rocked back against his hand.

But you needed more. His touch, his warmth, his presence—it wasn't enough. Your body ached for him, every nerve alive with desire.

"Please..." you breathlessly begged him, wanting to feel him inside of you, wanting him to rid your body of the tension, of the ache between your legs. Your jaw slacked open when you felt his mouth press against your clit before giving a slight suck.

"Tell me what you need," he ordered, breath deep and raspy and strained against your wet skin. He sucked onto your aching nub once again as his fingers continued to pump in and out of you. "And I'll give it to you."

"Please," you gasped, overwhelmed with the sudden force of his fingers and tongue between your legs and the pleasure that coursed through your body. "I w-want to f-feel you."

He pulled his fingers from within you, but his mouth was still exploring the wetness of your skin. His eager tongue worked wonders against your pussy, drawing out every second of pleasure as your hips rolled against his mouth. A whimper slipped from your lips as his tongue worked on your clit faster and you found yourself unable to contain yourself any longer.

"S-Spence..." You whined, not caring how desperate you sounded. All that mattered was your need for him. "Please..."

He placed a kiss on your swollen clit. "Be specific, baby, tell me what you need."

His endearment sent shivers down your spine, and you felt yourself spiraling further. Without hesitation, you begged shamelessly, "I-I want to feel y-your cock."

A low groan fell through his lips as he got off the floor, positioning himself behind you. "Say more words like that and I may lose the hint of self-control I have."

"I just—I just need you to fuck me," you didn't recognize the choke in your voice when you whined again.

He had no intention of protesting as he slipped between your legs, finally allowing you to feel just how hard you made him. For a moment, he pushed his hips toward you, grinding his cock against your folds, feeling your arousal soak his flesh.

"Is this what you wanted?" His hand gripped his cock to ease the tip over your entrance, pushing into you slowly, gasping when your walls clenched around him eagerly.

"Fuck, yes," was all you could manage to whimper, eyes screwing shut as he filled you up. And when you could barely stand anymore, becoming a quivering mess beneath him, he finally thrust deeper, pushing his hips against your body, earning a gasp with your mouth falling open.

"Oh my god." You could barely speak, barely form words, or even think as he pressed a hand to on your lower back, holding you in place as he dragged his cock out of you, only to ram himself back inside.

"Harder," you begged him, so breathless once again, "F-Faster."

He listened to you; he listened to the way your body moved against him, the way your walls tightened around his length. The way you stifled a moan and curse and huff anytime he thrust just right to have you pushing your hips back to him, your body trembling, shaking, and your legs nearly giving out because the pleasure became too much to bear.

"D-Don't stop." You had no shame in begging him. Not when he could make you feel so good, not when he was holding onto your hips as he continued to thrust into your dripping cunt.

"That's it," he encouraged, hips beginning to fall into a steady rhythm. "Tell me how good it feels. Beg me not to stop."

"So-so good," you babbled. "Don't—don't fucking stop."

He obliged your words by pushing apart your legs even further. Your face twisted in pleasure, so sensitive and overwhelmed as his hips smacked against your ass and he thrust himself harder into you. Sweat began to bead against his forehead once he pumped his cock into you harder, faster, earning every little whimper, even the ones you lacked the strength to release.

Thoughts of getting caught, of knowing anyone could walk in when he was buried deep inside you, left both of your minds. Neither of you cared when you were so wrapped up in one another. Not when you hiked your leg higher, allowing his cock to hit the spot that had you quivering in his hold when he slammed into you again.

Then he suddenly released his grip on your hips, slipping a hand between the two of you to press his fingers to your clit. The sudden increase in pleasure had you gasping in pure bliss. The room began to spin, air rushing to your head and the harder he fucked you, the deeper he thrust, and the faster his fingers rubbed against your clit, you knew you wouldn't be able to hold your sanity any longer.

He sensed your desperation in the way you gasped his name over and over again, and he thrust into you with more force than before. You tightened around him, squeezing him so damn hard he was tempted to lose all control right then, but he persisted in bringing your pleasure first. The sloppy sounds of your arousal coating his flesh filled the room, and with one, final thrust, you gasped before the pleasure finally consumed you.

He abruptly released your clit as he took hold of your hips again, keeping you in place while ruthlessly thrusting in and out through your bliss. His fingers pressed harder, drawing out every breathless moan, every strained whimper, every gasp of his name until your body grew too weak.

But he was far from done, slowing his hips to hit deep within your walls with aggressive thrusts, bringing his own high closer and closer as you whined from the overwhelming sensation, too sensitive, too far gone to handle much more, shuddering with every push of his cock within you.

"Where—" he groaned, your slick cunt too much for him, your juices drenching along his pelvis. "I'm close—"

You managed to snap your head over your shoulders. "Pull out, pull out."

You watched through fluttering lids as he gripped himself in his hand, and with trembling legs, you kneeled before him, gripped his cock in your hand, and took him fully in your mouth. He gritted his teeth at the sensation, sucking a breath in through his teeth as he felt your tongue dragging along his length.

You pushed further, hollowing your cheeks as you continued to swallow him down until the tip of his cock finally reached the back of your throat, nose pressed against his pelvis. He tipped his head back as you started to suck him, gagging around him when you felt him thrust his hips into you.

His eyes flicked down again at the sound only to find you looking up at him through your lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, before cradling your soft cheeks in both his large hands, and began thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth. Obscene noises filled the room as he continued to use you, tears welling at your lids and saliva building at your lips, seeping down your chin.

He continued to pump himself into your mouth, slowly starting to lose control, getting so lost in how warm your lips were wrapped around him. His jaw fell open as he released a final groan, brows creasing and eyes screwed shut, thrusting so deep before the first shot of his release filled your mouth.

Then a few more shots followed and you swallowed every drop down your throat as he continued to look at you in wonder. His breath was punching out of his chest in ragged, overwhelmed gasps, sweat glittering at his temples while he silently groaned through the pleasure.

His head dipped low as you dragged your tongue up his length for the last time, from the base of his cock to the tip, and you finally licked him clean. A few moments of catching your breaths passed before he gently pulled you back to your feet.

As you both quickly fixed your clothes and adjusted your hair, he retrieved his cowboy hat from where it had been discarded on the floor, placing it back on his head with a grin. Then, without hesitation, he drew you close, his lips peppering your face with sweet, tender kisses.

You laughed at his sudden affection. "What's all this for?" you asked, smiling up at him.

"I feel obligated after... all of that," he confessed, his lips brushing softly against yours before he withdrew slightly. "You're amazing."

Your smile widened at his words, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. "And you're not so bad yourself," you replied teasingly, wrapping your arms around his neck. "So, was that enough to convince you to come back?"

"Almost," he murmured, his voice low and filled with warmth. "I think I need a bit more convincing."

You quirked an eyebrow. "I don't think I have it in me for round two."

"No, not that," he said with a laugh. His hand slid down to rest on your lower back, drawing you closer to him. "Have dinner with me tonight and I'll come by the office tomorrow."

You smiled up at him, a flutter of excitement dancing in your chest as you took in every detail of his rugged features—the subtle crinkle in the corner of his eyes, the hint of stubble along his jawline, and the warmth of his brown eyes that seemed to shine brighter in the light.

Your gaze lingered on his cowboy hat, and with a mischievous grin, you reached out to grab it, placing it atop your own head.

"Then you've got yourself a deal, cowboy."

[kairawrites]

first match.

author's note: first story I am sharing. please let me know if you want more for jude.

🌺masterlist🌺

pairing: jude bellingham x singer!reader

kiss prompt: Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

summary: After a nasty breakup and a smear campaign by your vengeful ex, your PR team goes into hyperdrive, searching for a way to salvage your reputation as you finalize your sophomore album. To reclaim your title as America's sweetheart, you reluctantly agree to 'date' footballer Jude Bellingham. After a successful and perfectly planned meet-cute, you realize the plan might actually work. To keep the rumor mill spinning, Jude invites you to Madrid to watch him play.

You sit stiffly in the plush leather chair, your gaze fixed on a random spot on the far wall. The spacious office of your record label, with its panoramic view of Los Angeles, feels more like a cage than a refuge. Your fingers toy absentmindedly with a loose thread on your sweater, the silence in the room heavy with unspoken tension. Last night was another sleepless one, your mind spinning with the chaos of the last few months.

The door creaks open, and Lara, your manager, strides in with her usual brisk efficiency. But it’s the man following her who catches you off guard. Tall and athletic, with a calm self-assurance, he immediately seems different from anyone you usually deal with during one of Lara’s many SOS meetings.

Unlike the man next to him, who wears a suit, he’s dressed in a well-fitted navy blackbomber jacket over a crisp white T-shirt, adding a casual yet polished touch. His dark jeans are tailored to fit just right, and his sneakers are sleek and clean, hinting at their designer pedigree without being overtly flashy. A simple silver chain peeks out from beneath his shirt. He wears a black fitted cap that he removes as he scans the room. His dark curls are neatly styled, and his eyes are a striking shade of deep brown—intense and thoughtful.

You turn to Lara, your irritation evident. “You didn’t say we were meeting with another artist. I’m not doing a feature with a random guy.”

Lara, however, ignores your protest, her focus on the two men before her. “Y/N, this is Jude Bellingham,” she introduces the young man with an upbeat, professional tone. She motions for you to stand. Doing so, you quickly shake his hand before sinking back into your chair. “Jude, meet Y/N.”

“Pleasure,” Jude grins, his eyes lingering on you as you lift your phone from the table.

Email Hendrix new song. You ignore the calendar notification before placing your phone back onto the table.

You were supposed to submit the new song last week, but it has been rescheduled for the third time. You pinch the bridge of your nose, forcing yourself to focus on the conversation you had zoned out of.

“Thank you for fitting us in during your vacation,” Lara says with a smile as your gaze drifts across the table.

You stare just long enough to take in the polite smile he offers. He’s handsome, you note distantly. “What’s your name again?” you ask, your voice flat.

“Jude Bellingham,” he repeats, his voice steady, though you can see the hint of surprise in his eyes.

You nod absently, not hiding your lack of interest. “Never heard of you.”

Lara’s eyes widen, and she quickly looks between you and Jude, an apologetic smile on her face. “I’m so sorry, Jude,” she says hastily. “She’s been…out of the loop for a while. She kinda keeps her head in the sand when working on new music.”

Jude’s lips twitch into a small, amused smile as he takes a seat beside his manager, who has been silently observing the exchange. “No worries,” he says, his tone easygoing.

He attempts to hold eye contact, but your gaze drops as Lara passes you an iPad.

Jude, however, can’t help but stare for a moment longer. He knows exactly who you are. He’s seen the headlines, the endless parade of tabloid articles that have taken over his social media feeds in recent months:

*"America’s Sweetheart Caught Cheating?”*

*"Ryan West’s Heartbreak: Y/N’s Betrayal?"*

*"Ryan West: Played a Fool by Y/N? Singer Dumped After He Helps Secure Her First Grammy!"*

*"From Darling to Villain: The Fall of Y/N."*

The headlines were relentless, painting you as the villain in the messy, public breakup with Ryan West, the wild, playboy singer whose antics are as legendary as his music. Jude had seen the pictures throughout your relationship—snaps of a happy couple slowly morphing to you tearful and exhausted outside of clubs and in the passenger seat of Ryan’s car, Ryan’s angry rants during concerts, and the public’s merciless scrutiny of every detail. The narrative turned on you overnight, casting you as the one who shattered the fairytale, though it’s clear to him now, seeing you in person, that there’s much more to the story.

You’re undeniably beautiful, even though your appearance starkly contrasts with the perfectly curated photos on your Instagram. Your skin glows softly in the muted light of the office, and your long dark locks are pulled back into a simple ponytail. Without makeup, your natural beauty is evident, but there’s a guardedness about you, a weariness that clings to you like a shadow. You’re wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and your lips are set in a firm line. Your dark, eyes remain focused anywhere but on him. You’re present in body but somewhere else in your mind, uninterested in the moment and, by extension, in him.

Lara notices how Jude’s eyes linger on your features, a hint of admiration in his gaze. She gently but firmly pulls your chair closer to hers, her expression shifting to one of urgency. As Jude leans over to better hear his manager speak, Lara shoots you a sharp glare. “Do you really not know who that is?” she hisses quietly. “Didn’t you read the email I sent?”

You shake your head, already annoyed by the direction this conversation is taking.

“He’s one of the biggest footballers in the world right now,” Lara explains. “He’s just finished a fantastic season with Real Madrid and is on vacation after helping his national team reach the finals of the Euros.”

“Throwing out accolades isn’t going to make me suddenly know who this guy is, Lara. I don’t watch soccer—”

“For the love of God, please do not call it that to his face,” Lara winces. “Since you didn’t read my email, here it is. He’s basically a household name for every fan of the sport. This isn’t just some random guy we’re talking about—Jude Bellingham is a huge deal. Kids want to grow up to be him, women want to sleep with him, and men want to be him. This is a massive opportunity, so you need to make this work because, frankly, we don’t have many other options right now. The media has been brutal, and we need to change the narrative.”

Change the narrative–the phrase that has appeared in every text, phone call, email, and conversation with Lara from the past six months. 

You take in her words, feeling a mix of irritation and resignation. The last thing you want is to be forced into something like this, but you also know Lara’s right. If this can help you regain some control over the situation, it might be worth it.

“Fine,” you say at last, your voice laced with reluctance. “But let’s keep it simple.”

Lara nods, visibly relieved. Her swift response suggests she’s eager to finalize things before you change your mind. “Thank you. Now, let’s get this started on the right foot.”

You straighten your posture as Lara retrieves a stack of iPads from her purse. Powering the first on, she slides it across the table. Your expression remains guarded as you look at Jude. He seems relaxed, though there’s an air of curiosity about him as he watches you.

Jude clears his throat, attempting to ease the awkwardness. “Nice to meet you,” he says, his voice steady despite your apparent lack of interest. “I’m actually a big fan of your music.”

“Thank you,” you mutter, barely audible. “And thanks for coming.”

“Y/N, Jude’s team approached us with a proposal that could be mutually beneficial,” Lara explains. “We think it’s a great opportunity for both of you to take control of the media narratives for each of your careers.”

As she begins explaining the details of the contract, you lean forward to start reading it, trying to focus on the terms. You attempt to ignore the brown eyes carefully watching you from across the table by zooming in on the document. You skip each page, focusing on the bolded text. 

**Duration**: The PR stunt relationship will last for six months, giving both parties a clear timeframe for the arrangement. The time can be adjusted to fit the likings of both parties.

**Public Appearances**: Both parties agree to attend a minimum of five public events together, including concerts, charity functions, and social gatherings, to ensure maximum media coverage.

**Social Media Engagement**: Both will make joint social media posts and coordinate public appearances to generate buzz and maintain public interest.

**Media Interviews**: Both parties will participate in at least three joint interviews or promotional activities, designed to keep the media engaged and the narrative active.

**Behavioral Expectations**: Both parties are expected to maintain a positive public image and avoid any controversial behavior that could negatively impact the arrangement.

**Privacy Clauses**: Provisions are included to protect personal boundaries and ensure that certain aspects of your private lives remain confidential.

**Termination Conditions**: The contract includes terms for early termination, specifying any penalties or requirements for ending the arrangement before the agreed-upon end date.

You bite your lip, unable to hold in a nagging thought. You glance at Jude before looking back at Lara. “I don’t date athletes. My fans know that.”

Jude raises an eyebrow, a cheeky grin forming on his lips. “That’s fair. But, well, we’ve seen how it turned out with musicians. You might need to give an athlete a try.”

His smile spreads as he notes the narrowing of your eyes.

“I mean,” you huff directing your attention to Lara. “Won’t people be suspicious if I suddenly fall head over heels with someone like him? He’s not my type.”

“I can be pretty convincing.”

As you approach the security gate, you are greeted by shocked but excited murmurs. Fans recognize you immediately, their phones out, capturing every moment as you present your ticket. You pose for a few quick pictures, deflecting questions about whether you are here specifically to see Jude play. “Just here to enjoy the game!” you say with a smile, trying to stay composed despite the intense scrutiny.

“Follow me,” Toby Bishay, Jude’s best friend, says with a reassuring smile, breaking through your anxious thoughts. His warm smile brings one to your lips. “I’ll show you to your seat.”

“Just stick with Toby,” Jude assured you through a brief text exchange earlier in the morning. “He'll keep an eye on you. Glad you had a safe flight. See you after the match."

You trail after Toby, trying to shake off the feeling of being under a microscope. The perfectly crafted “meet cute,” which happened shortly after your initial meeting, was captured by paparazzi in LA, not taking long to circulate. The rumors exploded, and the world wondered when you’d be spotted together again. The time finally came nearly three weeks later, and now you find yourself on the biggest stage in the football world, every eye on you.

The electric hum of excitement buzzes through Santiago Bernabéu Stadium as you follow Toby through the corridors, the air thick with anticipation. Thousands of fans are already in their seats.

“Have you ever been to a game before?” Toby asks, glancing back at you.

“No, this is my first time,” you admit, feeling a little self-conscious at the admission.

“Then you picked a great game for your debut,” Toby says, guiding you through the maze of hallways. “The atmosphere here is insane–unlike anything else.”

You study him as he glances at his phone, wondering how much he knew about the relationship between you and his best friend. 

“Jude pulled out the stops,” he chuckles, pausing to hold the door for you. “Wanted you to have the best seats in the house. Remind me to have him invite you more often.”

As you emerge into the open, the sheer magnitude of the stadium hits you like a tidal wave. The sea of fans stretches out in every direction, a sea of white Real Madrid jerseys and waving flags. The stands are a swirling mosaic of movement and color, with scarves held high and banners flapping in the breeze. The roar of the crowd is overwhelming, a vibrant, pulsating force that envelops you. 

The atmosphere reminds you of your own concerts—the energy, the collective excitement. But it has been a while since you’ve been a member of the crowd instead of the one performing. The memory brings a nostalgic smile to your lips. You hear the crowd chanting in unison, their voices melding together into a powerful wave of sound. “Hala Madrid! Hala Madrid!”  The energy is palpable, a living, breathing entity that seems to resonate with every cheer and chant from the stands.

You look over to find Toby watching you with a grin, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“This is nothing,” he assures you over the roar of the crowd. “Wait till the game starts.”

Toby leads you to your seats, which are positioned near the halfway line, offering an excellent view of the field. You can feel the weight of the crowd’s curiosity pressing down on you as you settle in. 

A flutter of nerves dances in your stomach as you notice the woman next to you widen her eyes. She quickly turns to her boyfriend, whispering something in his ear.

You adjust the jersey you are wearing. It was delivered to your house merely twenty-four hours ago, as you struggled to finish last-minute packing. It came with a note from Jude that read: Gotta look the part.

You instinctively reach up, adjusting the elastic of your ponytail. You remember leaning over the hotel sink, studying your handiwork. The high ponytail was strategic, making it impossible for anyone to miss Jude Bellingham’s name and number prominently displayed across your back.

You sit forward in your seat, your hands gripping the railing as you scan the warm-ups. Your brow furrows once you realize Jude is nowhere in sight. It is strange not to have seen him in person since your first public appearance. Busy with training, he had flown back to Spain while you attempted to work on your album. But the lack of inspiration meant you hadn’t made any progress. In the three weeks since your last meeting, most of your communication has been through text, with a few phone conversations as you worked out the logistics of your visit. His texts were a consistent flood of humor, cheekiness, and a few tidbits of personal information. He didn't seem to mind that your answers weren't nearly as interesting or long as his. He had expected it to take a bit for you to warm up to him. When you'd expressed the struggle with finding inspiration for your new song, he invited you out to Spain for the week.

“Don’t worry about the attention,” Toby says, sensing your discomfort. “Once the game starts, they’ll be too focused on Jude and the action to pay much attention to anything else.”

You nod, trying to take comfort in his words. You pull out your phone and snap a photo of the field as the players warm up. The view is breathtaking—the vibrant green of the pitch, the players stretching and preparing, the energy of the stadium. You carefully consider what to write before deciding to type “Hala Madrid!” and sharing it to your Instagram story.

You instantly close the app, knowing it will only take a few seconds for the post to confirm what the internet is already wondering. Clicking on your messages, you ignore the waiting message from Lara that reads: Remember to smile and cheer for your man!

Instead of responding, you click on Jude’s name. The last message he sent was a simple, No need to say thank you in response to your gratitude for ensuring Toby would be your guide.

You quickly type, Have a great game! before slipping your phone into your purse.

As the game begins, the referee’s whistle pierces through the air, and the match kicks off with a burst of energy that ripples through the stadium. The crowd's collective roar washes over you. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and trepidation, and you find yourself momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the experience.

As the first half unfolds, Toby leans over, pointing out a few things. “So, Jude’s playing midfield. His job is to control the game—set the pace, connect the defense and attack. Watch how he moves off the ball, too. That’s where he really shines.”

You nod, not entirely sure you understood everything, but appreciating Toby’s effort to make you feel more comfortable. 

At first, you find it hard to focus. The crowd is so loud, so passionate, that it is hard to concentrate on anything else. You’d never seen anything like it—the way the fans were completely engrossed in every pass, every tackle, every near miss. But as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself getting swept up in the atmosphere, your eyes increasingly drawn to Jude.

He is everywhere on the pitch, commanding, graceful, yet powerful. The way he moves, the way he controls the ball, it is almost hypnotic. Toby was right—Jude was something special out there.

“See how he’s always looking around?” Toby points out as Jude receives the ball. “He knows where everyone is before he even touches the ball. That’s what makes him so good—he’s always thinking two steps ahead.”

You nod, your focus entirely on Jude. The noise of the crowd fades into the background as you watch him maneuver through opponents with a grace and precision that’s nothing short of extraordinary. The skill and artistry of his play make it clear why he is so adored by fans.

Suddenly, a collective gasp from the stands jolts you from your trance. Your eyes snap to the field just in time to see Jude being tackled hard. He hits the ground with a thud, and for a brief moment, he lies motionless. Panic grips your chest, a cold wave of fear crashing over you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, clutching the edge of your seat. The stadium seems to hold its breath with you as Jude sits up. Your heart pounds in your chest, your mind racing with worry.

Relief floods over you as Jude grins, pushing himself off the ground. The crowd erupts into cheers, and Jude gives them a reassuring wave. You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart still racing.

“Surely that’s a foul,” you glance over to find Toby grinning. 

“That happens a lot,” Toby says with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “Jude’s used to not getting calls. He’ll be fine.”

You nod, your eyes following Jude as he moves back to position.

The game progresses, the tension building with each passing minute. As the half winds towards halftime, the tension in the stadium is palpable. Jude makes another run down the field, and you can’t help but feel a knot of anxiety in your stomach. Memories of his earlier tackle flash through your mind, making you hold your breath as you watch his every move. You grip the edge of your seat, your heart racing with anticipation.

Jude skillfully navigates past a defender, and you can barely contain your nerves as he lines up for a shot. The entire stadium seems to hold its breath in a collective gasp as the ball sails through the air. Time seems to slow down in that suspended moment, and your eyes follow the ball as it arches toward the goal.

Then, with a powerful strike, the ball whizzes past the outstretched arms of the goalkeeper and smashes into the back of the net. The stadium erupts in a cacophony of deafening cheers. The sound washes over you like a wave, a mix of joy, relief, and exhilaration. You find yourself on your feet, screaming and jumping up and down, completely swept up in the euphoria of the moment.

Toby pulls you into a hug, the thrill of the goal echoing in your cheers. The crowd's energy is infectious, Jude stumbling forward as his teammates crash into him in excitement. 

As the crowd’s cheers intensify, Jude escapes the huddle and waves to the stands. Your heart skips a beat as you realize he’s jogging in your direction, his eyes locked on yours.

Without hesitation, Jude leans over the barrier and pulls you into a tight hug, his arms securing around your waist and drawing you close. You giggle, maintaining your balance as you feel the heat and sweat of his jersey against your skin. Jude’s embrace is warm and comforting, his grip tightening as his face buries into your neck, and the crowd’s cheers fade into the background.

As you pull back from Jude’s embrace, still breathless from the moment, you can’t help but exclaim, “That was amazing!” Your hands instinctively rest on his cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating from him. "You were--amazing!"

Jude’s smile broadens, a genuine, radiant expression that lights up his face. His eyes lock onto yours with a softness that surprises you. There’s no trace of the cheekiness you expect from him.

“I had to make your first match memorable,” he breathes.

“You did that.”

Jude’s eyes linger on your grin as if savoring the sight. He registers the way your smile lights up your entire face, making you look even more radiant. The warmth and joy in your expression seem to captivate him, making you appear more beautiful than ever. It’s a sight he, and the world, hasn’t seen from you in months, and the pride he feels at making you smile swells beneath his racing heart.

Your smile softens as his grip drifts to your hips. The warmth of his smile seems to draw you closer as if an invisible force is compelling you to bridge the gap. His eyes hold a gentle intensity, and for a heartbeat, it feels like the entire stadium fades away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared understanding and anticipation.

But the spell is broken as his name rings through the intercom system, forcing you to blink. The deafening roar of excitement from the crowd reminds you of the public nature of the moment. Jude’s gaze shifts briefly to the surrounding commotion, and with a playful grin, he pulls back, his smile still warm but tinged with a hint of mischief.

“So, how about a kiss? It’s definitely what they wanna see.”

"And let me guess, you're a man of the people?"

"So I've been told."

Your eyes roll. Lightly pressing against his shoulders, you arch your brow as his grip remains. Your eyes pass over Jude's shoulder to the players returning to their positions. 

“Maybe if you get another goal.”

“Deal,” he winks, before pulling back with a smirk and jogging back onto the field.

You watch him go, your heart still racing from the unexpected intimacy of the moment. As you sink back into your seat, a hand resting on your chest to steady your breath, the realization of the stunt hits you with renewed clarity. It’s all part of the carefully orchestrated PR show. But as you look at Jude rejoining his teammates, a small part of you wonders if there’s something more beneath the surface. The match continues, and you find yourself caught between the excitement of the evening and the nagging reminder of the reality you’re playing in. But you can't help but wonder what will happen if he looks at you like that again during your week in Madrid.

[cherryredlove]

☆ pluck my strings ☆

Modern!au Goth! Aemond Targaryen x reader SMUT

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Recently you've decided to pick up a new hobby, and you've always fancied learning the bass guitar. After picking up the basics on a shitty one you find in a charity shop, you bite the bullet and buy a gorgeous sleek black bass from facebook market. Hopefully the guy you buy from isn't a creep.

Word Count: 2.2k

Themes: smuuut, 18+, rough p in v, dacryphilia, creampie, alcohol consumption, lots of fluff tho!

Reader is implied to be vaguely (the extent is up to u ofc) punk with nipple piercings - drawn from personal experience ;)

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The stale coffee aroma clung to the corners of your favourite neighbourhood café as you scrolled through FB Marketplace, halfheartedly browsing for a bass guitar that wouldn’t cost you an arm and a leg. After learning the basics on the cheap, battered bass you found at a charity shop last month, you finally decided it was time for an upgrade. FB was usually full of shit you lamented internally, sipping a hot mocha in Celtigar Coffee.

Amid the endless sea of overpriced instruments, you stumbled upon a sleek black bass with a gloss finish that caught your eye immediately. You smiled, smitten, at the sight of a black cat next to the bass. The listing promised it had “good vibes and great sound,” and judging by the photos, it looked like it had been well cared for. Alas, the cat wasn't for sale. You clicked on the seller’s profile, and your interest piqued even more.

Aemond Targaryen was his name. His profile picture revealed a strikingly handsome young man, heavily tattooed, with one icy-blue eye that seemed to stare right through the screen and a black leather eyepatch covering the other eye. He was effortlessly cool and goth: black leather jacket, piercings, and a smirk that screamed confidence. Against your better judgment (curse your friend Dyana for scaring you with stranger danger), you shot him a message expressing interest in the bass. Within minutes, he replied.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

You took a deep breath as you stood outside Aemond’s apartment complex, the cash for the bass tucked safely in your wallet. The building was impressive: old brick, with ivy climbing up its sides, slightly crumbly but in a chic antique way. Your heart thrummed with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. You’d always heard horror stories about buying things off the internet, but you needed a sick bass, and Aemond seemed cool enough. You tried to dissuade the lick of warmth you felt inside when you glanced at his picture again.

After a short elevator ride and a quick knock, the door swung open, revealing Aemond in the flesh. He was even more striking in person, his silver hair contrasting sharply against his black jeans and t-shirt. Traditional style tattoos snaked down his arms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt. You swallowed thickly at his heavily muscled arms that flexed as he held the door.

“You must be (Y/N),” he said, his voice smooth and inviting. “Come on in.”

The apartment was exactly what you’d expect from someone like Aemond. Dark and moody, with walls adorned in gothic artwork and grungy band posters. A state-of-the-art sound system took up one corner, and an impressive collection of vinyl records lined a bookshelf.

“Wow, this place is... awesome,” you said, trying to play it cool as you looked around.

“Thanks. I like to keep things interesting,” Aemond replied with a small grin. “The bass is over here.”

He led you to a stand where the sleek black bass rested next to three more basses and guitars. Up close, it was even more beautiful than in the pictures. You ran your fingers along its neck, feeling the smoothness of the wood. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and you could already imagine the kind of sound it would produce.

“Go ahead, give it a try,” Aemond encouraged, handing you a cable to plug into the amp nearby.

You slung the strap over your shoulder, letting the bass rest against your body. As you played a few notes, the room filled with a deep, rich sound that resonated perfectly. It felt right—like this bass was meant for you. You grinned at Aemond who clapped lightly.

“You’ve got a good ear,” Aemond said, watching you play. “Most people can’t appreciate quality like this.”

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a rush of satisfaction at his compliment. “I’ll take it.”

You were interrupted by a loud meow. Looking down, a black cat with big moon-like eyes was staring up at you, nose twitching.

"This is Vhagar," Aemond scooped up the kitty and gave her a head kiss. Vhagar meowed approvingly. You reached out to give her a pet and she purred. Aemond seemed extremely pleased at Vhagar's apparent approval of you.

Distracted by the fluffy cutie, you handed over the cash once Aemond had put Vhagar down, and Aemond carefully counted it before nodding. As you packed the bass into its case, he surprised you with a question.

“So, what are your plans for tonight?” he asked, casually leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on you. You noticed he swallowed hard after he asked.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, not much. Why?”

“There’s this club, The Dragon Pit. It’s got a decent alternative scene. Thought you might want to check it out.” You flushed at the surprise. You'd heard of The Dragon Pit. It was pretty legendary in King's Landing.

The offer was unexpected, but there was something undeniably intriguing about him. You’d come here for a bass and found yourself tempted by the idea of a night out with a stranger who seemed anything but ordinary.

“Alright, sure,” you agreed, trying to hide your excitement. “I could use a good night out.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The Dragon Pit was everything Aemond had promised and more. A former warehouse turned music venue, it thrummed with energy as local bands played their hearts out on stage. The crowd was a mix of goths, punks, and metalheads, each in their element, dancing and drinking heavily.

Aemond had secured a prime spot near the stage, and you found yourself getting lost in the music with him. The bassline pulsed through the air, vibrating deep in your chest. It was easy to lose yourself in the rhythm, the heavy riffs drowning out any lingering doubts you’d had earlier. You both sang along and danced together, grasping each others hands and laughing breathlessly, buzzed from several bottles of Asshai beer.

“I didn’t peg you for a punk, thought you'd be a pure goth,” you said, leaning closer to Aemond so he could hear you over the music.

He shrugged, his eyes glinting mischievously. “I’m full of surprises.”

As the night wore on, drinks flowed freely, and the initial awkwardness from his flat between you dissolved into easy conversation and laughter. Aemond’s charm was magnetic, his wit sharp and engaging. You learned that he was a musician himself, dabbling in various instruments and playing in a band called Valyrian Steel with his brothers, sister and their friend that occasionally headlined at the club.

As the band played its final song, the adrenaline of the night combined with the alcohol in your system left you feeling bold. You caught Aemond’s gaze, the charged atmosphere between you undeniable. He leaned in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You melted into his manly hands that held your cheeks.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, his voice low and inviting.

Your heart raced at the implication, but you didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, let’s go.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Back at Aemond’s apartment, the air was thick and heavy. Your heart thrummed harder than the music you'd been listening to. The door barely closed behind you before you found yourself against it, Aemond’s lips crashing onto yours. His kiss was electric, filled with urgency and passion, as if he’d been waiting all night to do this.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his hair as he deepened the kiss. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer, leaving no space between you.

Your pussy ignited at his deepened kiss, feeling his hands massage your ass and pull you closer to him. You gasped as he cocked his muscled thigh between your legs, pressing against your tender pussy. You rocked yourself onto him, sparks electrifying your sex.

“Bedroom?” you whispered between kisses, your voice barely more than a breathless plea.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with want. “This way.”

He led you down a dimly lit hallway to his bedroom, where candles flickered, casting soft shadows across the walls. The bed was invitingly unmade, the sheets black, of course, as if it had been waiting for this moment.

Aemond’s touch was gentle yet insistent as he guided you to the bed, his fingers deftly removing your shirt and jeans before he captured your lips again. You reciprocated, helping him out of his jacket and shirt, revealing more of the intricate tattoos that covered his body. He'd kicked off his boots long ago, and stood naked before you, appreciating your nearly nude form with eager hands.

You traced your fingers over the ink. He shivered under your touch, a soft groan escaping him as he pressed against you, guiding you back onto the bed.

He snapped your lacy red bra off at the back. You thanked the Gods you'd worn nice underwear today. His eyebrows raised high at the sight of your pierced nipples, cute little silver bars through them.

"Aren't you full of surprises, little slut," his voice was dark and warm. You gasped at the name, flushing, pussy slick. He flicked his tongue over your perked tits, grinding his hardened cock against your thigh.

You reached down to grasp him, earning a strangled type of whimper from Aemond. He bit down hard on your neck as you tugged him, using his precum to lube up your hand.

"Gods, Aemond, touch me, please!" You begged breathlessly. He laughed richly, pulling down your panties, and lowered his head to your delicious heat.

Your eyes rolled back to your head as his firm and pointed tongue lapped up your juices, sucking insistently on your needy clit. He rutted his hips against the bed, neck flushing as his arousal became uncontrollable. You were lost in the pleasure, wound up from hours of dancing and eye-fucking Aemond. Tears welled up in your eyes as how brutally good it felt to have Aemond between your legs, eating your pussy like it was his last meal. He moaned darkly at the sight of your wet eyes, newfound vigour making you lurch up into sitting and clench your thighs around his skull.

"Aemond! Oh!" You cried out, feeling a hot orgasm blossom inside. The warm fire licked your pussy, legs shaking and Aemond gently supped your cream as you came down from the high.

The orgasm did nothing to abate your lust for him. Your pussy felt painfully empty, and you stared at his long, thick cock as he nudged your pussy lips open.

"Ready, my girl?" He asked, breathless. You nodded, eyes wide, throwing your head back as he thrusted in, stretching you as your mouth fell open in a soundless moan.

Aemond was relentless, pounding you hard and fast, deeply reaching the sweetest spot inside your pussy. He swiped your tears of pleasure away, grinning through pants, and hoisted your legs up over his shoulders.

You drooled over his toned abs and pecs, scratching your nails into his muscles as he kneaded your tits leisurely. His hips snapped up in the most perfect way. Leaning a hand down, he rubbed your clit urgently.

"I'm on birth control!" You gasped out, suddenly remembering. Aemond's eye was fired up, throwing his head back and grinning down at you.

"Oh, my girl, I'm going to fill you up, make you feel so good. No other cock can make this little tight pussy feel so good." He rasped. You nodded, whimpering, feeling that unstoppable heat crawl up in your pussy again.

Mewling desperately and digging your nails into his arms, you orgasmed hard on his cock, squirting over his balls and feeling weightless as the pleasure took over your body. Aemond moaned at how you squeezed him, cumming hard and filling your pussy up with ropes of hot, thick cum. Your pussy felt thoroughly fucked and stuffed full of cream. He collapsed on top of you.

You both lay panting for what felt like forever.

Aemond gingerly got up to clean the pair of you, then nestled back under the cover, clutching you tightly in his thick arms.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

As dawn crept through the windows, you found yourself rested against him, your head lying on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The realization that you’d spent the night with a pretty much stranger didn’t feel as daunting as you’d expected. Instead, it felt oddly comforting.

“You know,” Aemond murmured, breaking the comfortable silence, “I had a really good time last night.”

You smiled against his skin, feeling a sense of contentment you hadn’t anticipated. “Guess we’re a good match then.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lazily along your arm. “I’d say so," he looked into your eyes. "Want to grab breakfast with me?

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: if you've read my other hotd modern aus, can u see the world building I'm doing? lol if u like the sound of valyrian steel, then i might have a treat for you soon 🍒 ofc send any feedback and requests and check my masterlist for more xx

[blackbirdsblackberries]

Don't drink the Kool-Aid pt.1

I'll create a tag list if people want to be tagged. There's a meaning behind Savior Anwir's name! This chapter is a bit short considering it's technically a prologue.

Your day is a boring loop yet one you’ve grown to love.

You wake up, get ready for the day, wait in line for your tray of shitty food, sit with your “team”, finish eating. 

During the morning you spend your time exercising until you’re about to collapse. This will end around lunchtime in which you’ll get your lunch delivered to wherever you are in the place. Afterwards you are expected to show your devotion to your higher-ups, your family, your saviors. The rest of the day you either practice combat or defense.

Tiring as it might be, it was your life and you loved it. 

You don’t remember your life before joining Savior Anwir in her division of the Daughters of Eve. The division is based in Gotham City, a place even the devil himself had abandoned. Atleast, that’s what you’ve been told. 

You see, you’re not allowed out of the confines of the estate. It’s too dangerous, what if men take you away and use you? What if you get lost? What if you accidentally get killed? It’s terrifying to think of and keeps you away from the outside world.

Today however things have gone a bit differently, after showing devotion to your saviors you and everyone else is herded to the main hall - which was just the foyer area. This only happens when they take on new members. 

Will they be mean? Would they be overjoyous? There’s so many options and you don’t like any of them, you don’t like new people or change, you like how everything is now.

You take your place in the second row. 

The first row is for kids, the second for teens, the third for young adults, the fourth for adults, and the fifth for people over that age.

Savior Anwir stands atop the stairs in front of everyone, two people next to her. 

One is a girl with blonde hair, tanned skin and striking blue eyes, she’s in a purple hoodie and black leggings. The other is a girl with short black hair, brown eyes and beautiful clear skin, she herself is in a blackish gray graphic t-shirt and light gray sweatpants.

People start to murmur, a teammate of yours turns to you. 

“They seem off, right?” You don’t know why she’s asking you. Frankly, you don’t care, your team is full.

“I guess, but they seem nice enough.” Is all you say, no point in conspiring against people who haven’t even been in your presence for more than a minute.

The murmurs die down as soon as Savior Anwir raises her hands.

“Now, I understand everyone is excited for new sisters to be joining us,” Savior Anwir glances at the two beside her as if silently asking if she’s correct to call them sisters. Savior Anwir doesn’t actually care, she is simply doing it to make them seem more welcomed - you’ve been around long enough to know that.

She continues.

“But we must calm down and not cause strain on their mental capacities!” Savior Anwir puts a hand on either girl’s shoulders. “Please, introduce yourselves.”

The blonde one speaks up first “I’m Stephanie but everyone can call me Steph!” She seems energetic and like she doesn’t truly belong here.

The other one doesn’t speak up. Steph chuckles and speaks up again “This is Cassandra, you can just call her Cass! She’s mute.” Mutism is common here due to many people coping by not speaking at all. That’s probably why she’s mute, she was attacked and now chooses to be mute!

Right? Right.

Silence envelops the room then and you don't miss how Steph awkwardly looks around as if expecting applause - something you will not do until Savior Anwir says so.

Savior Anwir nods. "Thank you girls, you are very lucky to be joining today, it just so happens we've found some of our trainees have been plotting against us. So we have openings for you!"

You raise a brow, who would be so stupid to plot against your own family? The very family that graciously took you in and nurtured you, protected you and showed you true love.

Savior Anwir holds her hands out. "The two traitors who have decided they do not love us are none other than Mary Hailstone and Annie Malcomb! Please, come up here and shake hands with your replacements!"

You freeze, Mary and Annie belonged to your team, you three were as close as people get in this cult. They wouldn't of betrayed you... Right?

You watch as the two slowly ascend the staircase, heads down and hands shaking.

When you betray DoE there is only one punishment.

Mary and Annie both shake hands with Steph and Cass before Savior Anwir hands the traitors a gun each.

They had a choice, shoot each other or shoot themselves. They chose themselves.

You watch as Steph's eyes widen in horror and Cass's eyebrows twitch slightly.

You suppose you should pick up on little things they do now considering they'll be your new team members...

[hugz4hoon]

thunderstorms - p.s.h.

summary — sunghoon is not a huge fan of thunder...

pairing — bf!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre — fluff and extremely slight angst maybe?

wc — 984

a/n — omg first post so exciting!!! i literally wrote this for my writer's craft class when i was 17 and came across it again yesterday, so i figured i might as well post it here :D idek if anyone is gonna see this but might as well just drop it lolz if u see this, i hope you like it! :-)

It was a regular day, just another Friday night spent binging stupid movies. It happened to be raining today, with the thunder outside being so loud that the coffee table in front of you shook every time it struck. You and your boyfriend were both sprawled across the couch, with Sunghoon laying in your lap while the movie flashing across the screen drowned out the noise coming from outside. As the thunder struck again, you felt Sunghoon nuzzle into you a bit more as his dark hair tickled your chin. 

Weird, he’s not usually this affectionate. 

Although it caught you off guard, you let him come closer. 

“It’s a bit cold, don’t you think?” Sunghoon asked, his voice coming out muffled as his face was pressed against your chest. “I guess it is kind of chilly, why don’t we make some hot chocolate to warm up?” You asked with a cheeky grin. He looked up at you, his pink lips stretched into a tender smile. “Sounds good.” He then got up to start making the hot cocoa for the both of you.

While he was in the kitchen, thunder struck again. A loud shatter suddenly came from his direction, which caused you to whip your head towards him. You saw Sunghoon standing over a broken mug, glass scattered all over the floor. You quickly jumped off the couch and ran to him, cautiously avoiding the glass.

“Oh my god, Sunghoon! Are you okay? What happened?” You questioned, worry plastered all over your face. You searched his face for any emotion. Fear, shock, anger, anything that could explain what was going on, but you were met with a blank expression. Sunghoon’s deep brown orbs were unreadable as he kept staring at the broken mug until he looked up, and suddenly his eyes went back to normal. 

“Oh. The mug just slipped out of my hand, nothing else.” 

Not convinced, you questioned him again. 

“It just slipped?” You pressed, raising your brow.

“Yes, it just slipped,” he said sternly, avoiding your eyes. He faced you with a pointed expression on his face. “Whatever Y/N, can you just help me clean this up?” 

Weird, he seemed different from his usual calm self. Must be an off day, you thought, so you decided to shut your mouth and just help him clean the mess. Your hands brushed together as you carefully picked up the larger pieces of glass. Sunghoon’s hand felt cold and sweaty, and when you looked at it, you saw that it was shaking. Remembering that he felt cold earlier, you let it slide, as that was probably the cause. 

Stop overreacting, you thought to yourself as you continued to pick up the shards. After cleaning the glass, you finished up the hot chocolate together and went to sit back on the couch with your freshly made hot cocoa. While making the hot chocolate, Sunghoon seemed to calm down a bit, and whatever was bothering him seemed to disappear. Pleased that he was back to his normal self, you looked at him in relief. 

Then thunder struck again. 

“Fuck!”

You flinched as you heard him curse loudly. His black hoodie was soaked in hot chocolate. Sunghoon placed his now half-filled mug on the table, then stood up and threw his hoodie off. With a concerned look on your face, you looked up at him, who was now clad in just a T-shirt. “It’s okay Hoon, we’ll wash it—” “No, it’s not okay!” He interrupted. 

Now you’re starting to get pissed. Why is his temper so short today? Did you do something? “What is going on with you today, Sunghoon? You can tell me if you're upset with me about something, but I can’t keep tiptoeing around you—” Before you could finish your sentence, the loudest strike of thunder hit the ground, and you saw his whole body visibly flinch as his eyes widened for a second.

He’s afraid of thunder.

You promptly engulfed his larger body in an embrace as best as you could. After minutes of just holding him, you brought him back down to the couch to lay on you. “It’s okay, I’m right here.” You watched his stature start to shrink as he cuddled into you, moving further into your hold.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that you’re scared of thunder?” you asked him gently, while combing your fingers through his soft hair to calm him down. Sunghoon looked up at you with glossy eyes, then looked at the ground with a sigh. 

“Because it’s stupid and I didn’t want to bother you with it. I’m an adult, I’m not supposed to be afraid of a bit of thunder.” 

Your mind went blank after hearing the first sentence. It felt like someone dropped an anvil on your heart. He didn’t want to bother you? What? You held his chin to turn his face towards you and looked him in the eyes. “Listen to me. Nothing you say will ever bother me. I always want you to talk to me, and I always want to help you. But I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. Okay?” Your serious eyes didn’t leave his teary ones the entire time you spoke to him. He slowly nodded his head. “Okay,” he answered in a broken whisper, “you’re right. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry, baby. Just don’t hide it from me next time,” You pouted while poking him playfully. “I won’t, I promise,” he giggled shyly as you kept prodding at him. His soft, deep voice was like music to your ears. You scanned his features as he laughed—the way his eyes turned to crescents, his wide smile that exposes his fangs, his little dimples. He was perfection personified.

For the rest of the night, you stayed on the couch with cheesy rom-coms playing in the background, as you eventually fell asleep like that.

[coryosbaby]

top adam x bottom fem reader? tumblr is lacking 💔

—ᴀᴠᴀ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ !

Adam Stanheight x fem! Bimbo! Reader

✯ Content Warning . semi public sex (in an alley), club scene, choking, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, mild anal, p n v, degradation & praise, creampie, a lil bit of punk Adam with nipple piercings <33

Staring off across the room could not have been as helpful as it is right now.

A man’s hands are grabbing your hair, pressing you between his warm body and a brick wall behind you. He smells good, like some cheap cologne and soap but in the best way possible. He’s got some kind of eyeliner on his lower lashline and a curve hugging t shirt that makes you swoon. You had watched him from across the room under the strobe lights. He had saw you, approached, talked. His name is Adam.

You don’t know him— not really. You know who he is, thanks to a news article you read a few months ago. You know what had happened to him, after he had escaped a viscous serial killer and somehow got out alive. You know that taking a girl in an alleyway is probably his way of blowing off steam. But he was nice enough to strike up conversation before he jumped your bones— even asked to take your picture.

“Trying to remember the scene,” he had said, chuckling nervously. “especially you. You’re the prettiest view here.”

And after that, you had both somehow made your way to the back alley and he had set his camera down and sooner or later you had shoved your tongue down his throat. And okay, so this seems a little trashy, but so what? You would’ve fucked him either way, whether it be at home or at his apartment. And besides— something about this boy has you willing to be fucked like a cheap slut in the middle of an alleyway. And who can blame you, honestly.

If you didn’t know any better, you would ask Adam out.

But you don’t think about that possibility right now— can’t think about that. His crotch is grinding up against yours, his lips consuming you until he pulls away.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He asks. He wants you, but he wants to make sure that being fucked in an alleyway is something you’re into.

Nodding, you ignore the pain in your heels as you lift on your tippy toes in your stilettos. Biting teasingly at his neck, you let out a small breath of air.

“‘S perfect. Now why don’t you shut up and fuck me?”

His eyes are glazed with lust, and his hand reaches down to grab the flesh of your ass.

“Yeah?” He mutters. “Right here?”

At your nod, he shakes his head and chuckles.

“Never met a chick like you before.”

He dives back in for another taste of your lips. His tongue strokes your bottom lip, wet and filthy and oh so delicious. You run your hands up his shirt, feeling the warm skin and the light patch of hair on his chest. Running your hands over his chest, you’re met with the sensation of cold metal.

Nipple rings.

“Been wanting some of these,” you mention to him, and he grins against you.

“Hurt like a bitch. Wouldn’t recommend if you have a low pain tolerance.” Getting shot’ll do that to you— make a needle going through your most sensitive parts seem like child’s play.

“Mmmm..”

You continue to kiss him again, this time flicking over his nipples and playing with the barbells. It drives him crazy, and he becomes more sex crazed and desperate. After a moment he pulls your face away from him. Without warning, he turns you around and shoves your face against the wall. Letting out a tiny gasp, your pussy aches as he pushes your legs apart with one of his own and moves down to his knees. He kneads your ass with his hands, lifting up your pink latex dress to expose your soft ass to him. Groaning, he takes notice of the tiny black thong that’s settling in between your cheeks.

“Shit,” he whispers solely to himself. You smirk. You knew that the lace would come in handy if you got laid tonight.

“Like it?” You say, amused. His hands move up to spread your cheeks. The slightly chilled night air makes your eyes scrunch shut in pleasure.

“So fucking sexy.” Adam praises, and he leans in, using his thumb to move away the thong’s string. Watching your dripping pussy from this angle, his cock is so hard that it hurts. Your little clit is settled between two swollen lips, hole clenching and unclenching. Adam takes sight of you under the street lamp a distance away that serves as your only source of light. He thinks you’re beautiful.

He brings his lips to your clit; pressing a soft kiss there, he lets out a small mewl. He kisses all over you, moving up to the globes of your ass to leave wet ones in a trail. And unexpectedly, his finger finds your puckered asshole, running it along on it. He slips his thumb in, gentle, and with his other hand he reaches around to play with your aching pussy. He finds your hole and he probes it with the tip of his tongue, while his finger slides inside your ass. He thrusts one, in, out, in, out, and it’s not long before he adds a second as he begins to devour your cunt like a man starved. Groaning against you, he makes sure to get your pussy nice and wet, makes sure to drool and spit on it as much as he can. You like boys like this; boys that are desperate and messy but still manage to somehow make you submit. Because this whole time, your mouth is spewing so many vulgar phrases, begging, pleading.

“Please! ‘S good, Adam, it’s so good, wanna be good for you…”

“Want you to make me cum, want your cock…”

And Adam’s got this hunger as he hears these words, as your hole feeds him your delicious arousal. He wants to fuck you until you stop breathing.

It’s not long before he presses down on your clit and rubs while his tongue is still probing your walls. Instantly, white hot heat licks up your spine and you can’t help but cum all over Adam’s pretty mouth. You shove your wrist in your mouth to keep quiet but it’s so hard. You haven’t had your pussy ate like this in a while.

Wiping his mouth, Adam grins from behind you as he lifts himself back up to his feet. He begins to undo his belt, the skull shaped buckle glinting in front of his eyes. He unzips his fly, pulling out his hard cock. He strokes himself as he watches your ass grind back desperately against him.

“Still so needy…” He grunts. “God, you’re a slut, aren’t you?”

You mewl, hands reaching behind to spread your cheeks and present yourself to him again. You’re like a bitch in heat for this perfect stranger. He takes notice, instantly shoving his cock against your clit and tapping a few times. He’s being such a tease.

“Adam, cmon..” you whine, trying to adjust your hips so his mushroomed head can catch on your dripping seam. He just shakes his head, rubbing his cock up and down your folds.

“Beg for it,” he whispers against your neck. “Beg for this cock.”

“Please,” you instantly moan out. “Please fill me up. My pussy needs your cock so bad…”

And Adam isn’t a patient guy, so of course he gives into your demands and slides his throbbing cockhead into your entrance. He tilts his head back, mouth falling open, as he enters your warm canal. You mewl against him. He’s big, not too much that its incredibly painful but just enough to give you that delicious stretch.

Adam’s face buries itself into your neck, small sounds leaving his throat as he finally sinks in to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he moans. “Are you always this tight?”

“Mhmmmm,” you say, feeling confident. Your hands reach behind you to run through his dark hair. “Been needing a cock inside me for weeks.”

He thrusts into you a bit harsher now, nipping at your jugular with his teeth.

“Yeah?” He breathes. “Should’ve met me sooner baby,” and then, with a much darker tone, “Could fill up this pussy every day if you’d let me.”

And now you know you need to ask for his number. Because you’ve never felt this needy and this hot for another human being in your life. Maybe it’s love at first sight— or fuck at first sight. It doesn’t matter. He’s beginning to pummel your guts like you’re a fuck doll, grunting into your ear as his hips slap loudly against yours. His hands wrap around your hair and he pulls you back towards his awaiting thrusts.

“Clenching so tight. Making my dick so wet, baby, fuck.”

Squirming in his grasp, you let out a squeak when he bites down on your neck harshly. Like a fucking vampire, the boy begins to suckle up the blood into his mouth. As he pulls away, his pace speeds up impossibly quick.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” He coos. “Who’s fucking this cute little pussy this good?”

“You!” You gasp. “All you, Adam, ‘m yours— shit!”

You’re about to cum embarrassingly fast once again. Just one little flick to your clit and you’ll be spilling all over his cock. Adam takes your ass in his palms and spreads you again so he can watch as you take him.

“Such a good girl,” he breathes. “Such a good, pretty slut. Gonna make you cum so fuckin’ hard on me.”

Your eyes roll back, and he reaches around to rub your clit with his fingers. You seize up, letting out a choked sound, as you cum all over him. He whimpers as he feels your pussy spasm around him, and his fingers on your hips become bruising. You can’t help but have the desire to be filled up with his spend; it doesn’t matter if he might leave you after this, you want him to leave you used and dripping in his cum. You press your hand to his lower stomach from behind you, working your hips hard against him.

“Cum inside me,” You plead, overstimulated. “Need your cum to fill me up. Please, I need it—“

“Shit!” His hips begin to stutter, and with one last stroke he’s cumming.

He rides out his high until his cum is dripping down his balls, his eyes shut and a montage of delicious praises spilling out of him.

When he finishes he gently pulls out of your gaping pussy. Tucking himself back into his pants, he pulls your underwear up with gentle hands. He turns you around, fixing the straps on your dress.

“Okay?” He asks, and you smile as if you’re doped out and nod.

“Never better.”

He laughs, a light flush caking his cheeks now.

“Good,” he says, then chuckles awkwardly. “Uhm— thanks. For..”

He gestures to your body, fumbling with his hands.

“No problem.” You reply. “It’s late. I should be getting home.”

“I can walk you to your car,” Adam says quickly.“I mean, if you want.”

Something tugs in your chest, wondering how the once rough boy is so shy now. You lean up to him, planting a kiss to his cheek.

“I would love that, Adam. Thank you.”

Adam grins, helping you balance on your shoes as you wobble towards the parking lot.

“So… I was wondering if I could get your number?”

You’re relieved that he asked first. You look up at him, his neck caked in hickeys and bites from your own kiss bitten lips.

“Definitely.”

[btsydtrash]

Ego [9]

mafia bts x stripper yn; hybrid universe

Everyone had heard of the Dirty7s, even distantly. Nobody could put names or faces to the members, but the name was enough to strike fear into the hearts of civilians, criminals, and law enforcement alike. They’re known to be methodical, impenetrable, and most of all, merciless. Nobody wants to cross any of them. Lest of all you - a college student stripping to pay her debts.

What happens when you fall into their web of deceit and lies?

What happens when you find that you don’t want to escape, even when you know you should?

Masterlist  /  i don’t have a tag list  /  find me on twitter  /  word count: 1.8k

AN: Here we go again! crime syndicate BTS X stripper yn. I’ll post this on AO3 too. Some of BTS are humans, some are hybrids. They all are obsessed with Reader. Reader is black in my headcanon.

(yandere / angst / gore / fluff / smut / violence / none )

trigger warnings: hey.... I'm back! yn is depressed. she's suffering a lot but she's not alone. nothing of significance. just needed to get this out after so long. I'll be back soon with more drama!

“Breaking News: The body of an African-American Beta hybrid was found dismembered and abandoned under a bridge in East Point. East Point is known for its houseless and opiate-dependent population. Many new strains of synthetic drugs are being released onto the streets, made accessible to vulnerable, unmated Omegas. Markings found on the body indicate the involvement of a gang widely known as the Dirty7s. The Dirty7s are an anonymous group with links to…”

The TV drones on in the background but you don’t hear it. Well, you can’t hear it. You hadn’t been paying much attention to anything for the last few days. How many? You’ve got no idea. It’s been enough for your hair to start smelling bad anyway.

You walk out of the bathroom, dropping the towel as you go, grabbing the big t-shirt with Thandi’s face on it and pulling it on. You had gotten a couple from the funeral from Thandi’s mom. She had made them, gotten them pressed at a local tailor’s place to raise some money for the funeral. You knew how expensive it was to die. Flashes of your mothers face fly in front of your eyes before you can stop it and they make you wince. You tried to pay but Thandi’s mom had refused your money. “My Thandi told me all about you,” she had said, holding your hand so tightly it almost hurt, but you didn’t complain. In fact, the sting-burn sensation grounded you, and you felt yourself get lost in her deep, knowledgable eyes. She might have just lost her daughter, but it seems as if she had already experienced a lifetime’s worth of pain. It made you ache. “You… You were her friend. She loved you so much.”

And then you felt it again, the guilt-driven nausea.

It was the first time you met her mom, but you knew all about her daughter, Sana. The young girl, only eight years old, stood solitarily, as the preacher droned on and on about ‘eternal bliss’ and ‘blessed memories’ and ‘living on in memory’. The expression on her face, you knew it so well. It was as if nothing was making sense to her mind. She was so sad, so lost, so lonely. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her throughout the funeral. She looked around at all of the people at her mother’s funeral, curious yet careful, quiet and withdrawn, before turning her eyes to the coffin at the front of the church and biting down on her bottom lip. She didn’t make a sound, not a peep - the whole time.

They opted for a closed casket because well… What other option was there? The truth of Thandi’s death wasn’t lost on the participants of her funeral but it was bad manners to bring it up. The thought alone was enough to bring bile to your throat so fast, it made your head spin. You rush to the bathroom and spit up in the toilet. Just a little bit this time, thankfully. You swill your mouth out and walk to grab something from the refrigerator. It took you days to realize that someone had come into your apartment while you had been at the funeral and had fixed certain things.

The fridge had been filled. The pile of dishes washed. The laundry had been taken and washed and returned all clean and folded. The bed had been spread. The rug had been moved around and vacuumed. The bathroom had been straightened out.

Once you had come to your senses, you burst into grateful tears.

You knew who it was.

He had left a t-shirt of his, saturated in his scent and so big it drowned your body in material, in your closet for you to sleep in.

You take a glance at the t-shirt again, wrapped around a big pillow on your bed, and you sigh, getting into bed once more, hair still damp at the roots of your head. 

Your phone lay on the table beside your bed, silent but charging, and you take a second to look at it before you grab it and make a call.

It doesn’t ring but for two times before you hear his voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello, YN,” Jungkook says, quietly.

You don’t answer. You can’t find your mouth, you can’t feel it well. Your tongue feels fuzzy and heavy, like a weight is sitting on it.

“YN…?”

Jungkook pauses slightly before the sound of him shifting his weight comes through the receiver.

He asks, softly, “Do you need me?”

You are still quiet, but you let out a light sigh through your nose. It’s the loudest you’ve been in days.

No. I don’t need anyone, you want to say. But again, more silence. Your tongue is too heavy. Your stomach is rolling and your head feels all loopy. You can't imagine where all these good hormones are coming from, flooding your system with flickers of light and ease and warmth and syrupy goodness.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, gently. “I’ll stay on the phone as long as you need.”

Another sigh.

He takes a moment to think before he says, a certain chipperness in his tone, “Shall I tell you about my day, Pretty?”

A final sigh, and you turn over to your side, phone pressed to your cheek. If you were more present in your body, it probably would hurt.

Jungkook sounds as if he reclines in his seat as he begins telling you all about his day.

“It’s been mostly boring. I woke up at 5:30. I went to the gym for a couple of hours. I boxed and ran and did some weights. I think I could press three of you, you know, Pretty? You're so little compared to me. Sorry. I got distracted. Then, I showered and ate breakfast with Tae. You haven’t met him yet, right? I think you’d like him. A lot. Anyway. After, I met Jimin for some work-related stuff. Very boring. Do you want me to tell you about it, Pretty?”

He doesn’t let you get a sigh out before he continues.

“I didn’t think so. Then, after hours of back and forth, I went to go pick up my suit. We have a fancy dinner to go to this weekend. It’s Jin-hyung’s birthday.”

His voice gets all syrupy and warm, and it twists and rolls in your stomach all hot and uncomfortable. Why does his happiness make you feel so bothered?

“-and after we finish at DeMaggio’s, Joonie-hyung says we’re going on a helicopter ride around the city. Would you like to do that one day? Should I invite you? I can do that, you know. I don’t think Hyung would mind.”

The thought alone makes you snort.

He pauses and then, when he talks again, his voice seems relieved.

“You laughed, Pretty.”

You blink, somewhat surprised. He wasn’t lying. You did laugh, breathy and weak as it was.

“Pretty, you know I miss you so much, right?”

You close your eyes tightly at his words, lip getting sucked between your teeth.

He takes a moment to ask, quietly, almost needy, “Do you miss me?”

Your throat gets all tight and thick, and you feel horrible all over again. He hears you choke on something, because his voice gets all flighty, worried and concerned over the phone, as he peppers you with soft words.

“You don’t have to say it.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Please, don’t cry.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

And then, he pauses and says the one thing you both craved and dreaded to hear.

“She wouldn’t want you to be this angry with yourself,” he says. Then, with more confidence, he claims, “You’re allowed to be happy.”

You cut off the phone before the sobs take over once more.

////

Jungkook taps the edge of his phone on the table a few times before he curses to himself. The wolf glances up from his spot in the corner of Yoongi’s office and asks, “You think I pushed her too much?”

 Yoongi looks over the top of his book and remarks, “It isn’t the end of the world, Kookie. Relax. You did a good job with the cleaner. She probably is sleeping next to the t-shirt you gave her and she called you, of all people she could’ve called.”

Jungkook bites his bottom lip and admits, “I’m getting frustrated.”

Yoongi pushes, lightly, “With?”

He puts the book to the side, knowing full well that he wasn’t getting any more ‘him-time’ while the wolf was occupying his personal office in their home. He loved each of his brothers dearly, however… Fuck, he needed his own place sometimes.

“Being patient,” the wolf explains, glibly. “It’s all so fucking boring.”

“Then occupy yourself with things that matter,” Yoongi suggests, moving to his feet. “I think Tae might be done with the guy downstairs, if you want a turn to pummel something moving?”

“The fucker’s still alive? Tae’s losing his touch,” Jungkook remarks, amusedly. He wasn’t lying. Usually, Tae would have had him chopped into tiny pieces and thrown into a river or incinerated. Jungkook wonders why he’s taking his time.

Yoongi snorts, pushing his glasses into his hair. He only needs them when his eyes start to get dry, like now. He usually didn’t use his other form, preferring to be in his natural hybrid state when in the comfort of their own home, but he’s been testing his personal limits recently, worried that he might freak YN out with his skin, his eyes, his tongue… She was prey, at the end of the day. He probably should have the lights off but he doesn’t want to ruin the mood. “Not even. Jin won’t let him die. He keeps zapping him with the AFIB machine. I heard he shitted himself.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have been fucking around, pretending to be something he’s not,” Jungkook replies, an annoyed look passing over his face. The younger of the two moves to his feet and he asks, “Say, hyung.” His tone of voice catches Yoongi’s attention, so he sits up a little more in his comfy office chair, eye brow quirking so as to prompt the wolf to continue speaking. “Do you think YN will actually come to understand us?”

Yoongi pauses to mull over his answer for a few seconds before he answers, honestly, "I don’t think she has a choice.”

Jungkook acknowledges his answer with a melancholy look on his face.

Then, he glances down at his Rolex and makes a small noise of glee. “I’ve got a spare hour. I think Tae might be a little fatigued.”

Yoongi snorts before reaching back for the book. His eyes are getting awfully dry. Suddenly, the lights flick off and Jungkook glances back from his spot at the door, a narrow line of yellowed light slightly warming the room.

“Hyung, you know I always know, right?”

Yoongi scoffs. “Get the fuck out of here, pup.”

Jungkook closes the door and Yoongi finally switches back to his natural form, eyes narrowing into slits and he reaches for his book once more, settling comfortably into his chair.

It just started getting good, too.

- end - 

Schemer (1), Abstentious (2), Thievery (3), Melancholy (4), Writhing (5), Lusting (6), Non-negotiable (7), Cutting the cord (8), Nevertheless (9)

[shinynewboots]

The Alchemy: Adam x AFAB Morningstar!reader Part 2

AN: Hello all! Thank you so much for all the love and support you have given this story!! Once again want to give a special shoutout to @jennieyeager for the wonderful prompt! I do apologize for the wait. I had a lot of different directions I wanted to go and this was the final project. With that being said:

Confession time: I definitely think this is going to be longer than 4 parts! I kept trying to condense this as best I could but these two idiots really took the plot and ran with it so I hope y'all are ready!

Warnings: 18+ eventually, somewhat dubious consent, language, Adam-typical misogyny

Part 1

The clock on your arm was ticking quickly, time moving at a faster pace than you could fathom. You had made the executive decision to not tell Charlie about your arrangement with Adam until it was too late for her to stop it. A cowardly move, perhaps, but you knew she would try and talk you out of it if she sensed even the smallest hint of hesitation in your decision. 

And there was some hesitation. To leave everything you had ever known to marry this man who had only ever been the boogie man of your nightmares? But you thought of Charlie and her mission and dreams and you knew the answer could only ever be yes. 

There was another part of you, a part that you weren’t completely ready to acknowledge, that was curious and intrigued. No one ever chose you first. Ever. And yet this mythic being upon first glance knew that he wanted you. Now maybe it was the slight resemblance you bore to your mother or desire for his weird revenge but it was still you that he had chosen. That had to mean something, right?

So you left a note for Charlie to find once she finally realized you were missing. 

Charlie,

I’m okay. Please don’t come after me. I went with Adam, the leader of the exorcists. He promised in exchange for me, he would stop the exterminations and give your hotel a shot. Please, Char, I had to do this for you. For us. For…everyone. Please don’t tell Dad, though I doubt he would answer your calls anyway. Please don’t do anything rash. I will try and contact you when I can. I love you. Y/N.

The embassy looked more foreboding than it ever had. The building almost looked like an eyesore along the skyline. Almost too perfect to be seen amongst the squabble of Hell. You glanced down at your watch: 0:05.

Five minutes until your life changed forever. 

You trekked through the embassy, the rooms were just as quiet and dark as when you and Charlie were here only 24 hours earlier. You finally made it back to the meeting room where you had met Adam originally. Light streamed through the cracks in the door and you knew he was there. Another glance down at your watch: 0:02. 

There was no use in waiting for the clock to strike midnight. For your carriage to turn into a pumpkin. It was inevitable, so why put it off? Sighing, you opened the door. 

You looked around the room and only saw Adam, his feet on the table, and leaned back in one of the boardroom chairs, a golden guitar in his hands.. He wasn’t wearing his mask so you got a good view of his human features. He also wasn’t wearing his white and purple robe and instead wore a simple black cotton t-shirt and blue jeans. 

There was no one else present, not even his loyal exorcist from the first meeting. Adam was strumming the guitar, his eyes closed, and his expression was peaceful. 

You glanced down at your watch. 0:01.

You cleared your throat to alert Adam of your presence. The gentle melodies from the guitar came to an abrupt stop and you were suddenly face to face with Adam, who had flown to you with such a speed that you still couldn’t wrap your head around. 

“Hey Babe, good choice.” He said, smirking and taking in your appearance. You found your eyes drawn to his lips and the memory of his smoldering kiss only 24 hours early. My, how much can change. Adam seemed to notice because his smirk became a hungry grin and revealed to you his sharp canines. You found yourself so distracted that you missed his question.

“Hard Candy?” He asked again, holding a small wrapped cherry-hard candy in your line of sight. You looked at him, your eyebrows scrunched. 

“Uh, sure. It’s not poison, is it?” You joked, giving a very Charlie-esque awkward smile. 

“Nah, babe. It's for the travel. You ever portal-traveled before?”

You shook your head. 

“Thought so. Don’t want you puking on me or anything once we get there. This should help.”

You nodded and went to grab the candy from his hand. He had other ideas. He unwrapped the candy himself and held it out in front of your lips. You involuntarily took in a deep breath and could once more taste his kiss from even the subtle scent of the candy. 

“Open,” He whispered and you did just that. He placed the cherry candy on your tongue and it took everything in you not to unravel. To forget your arrangement and to try and find out if his kiss was just as sweet and flavorful as the hard candy that now sat on your tongue. Instead, you chose to swirl the candy in your mouth, the juices emitting their pleasant sweet tang. 

“Thanks,” You breathed out, not trusting yourself with any more expression of language than that measly word. 

“It’s fucking good, right?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, wouldn’t expect anything less from a candy from heaven.”

Adam shook his head. “Nah, that's not from Heaven. They don’t get the cherry flavor right. That’s from Earth.” 

“Oh,” You said lamely, trying to locate this special cherry flavor Adam seemed to enjoy. You wouldn’t call yourself a candy connoisseur but at least now you knew one more thing about your soon-to-be husband: His hard candy preference. 

“You ready to go?” Adam asked, holding out his large hand for your grab. 

“You promise that you’re going to stop the exterminations? And give my sister’s hotel a shot at redeeming sinners?” You asked, just needing one last verbal confirmation that you weren’t making a mistake. You could have tried to hold him to a deal but he was an angel. An angel, who despite being a villain in your parent’s history, had done nothing to conceal his true intentions as far as you knew. And you always felt icky making deals. The idea of owning a soul? Could you even own an angel’s soul?

Adam grinned in a way that could only be described as shark-like, his canines glittering in the light. He held a hand over his heart as if to further prove sincerity. “I promise to do everything in my power to stop the exterminations and give your sister’s stupid hotel a shot.”

You breathed a deep sigh and nodded. You gave him your hand and he squeezed it in a surprisingly gentle manner. His hand was calloused, surprising you as you thought all heavenly things were perfect. But his hand was rough and weathered and worked (especially his fingers, which you attributed to his years of guitar). 

A portal suddenly opened in the wall and you got your first glimpse at the Pearly Gates of Heaven. It was even more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. A piece of your heart began to ache. Charlie should be here to see this.

Adam pulled you forward. 

“Close your eyes,” He whispered, his mouth dangerously close to your ear and warm breath tickling you. “And hold on to me.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with wonder and a little disappointment that you couldn’t take in the sight before you for even a moment longer. 

“Trust me, the first trip’s the worst.” He said, and suddenly he pulled you to his side. His body was warm and softer than you had imagined. You closed your eyes tight. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you even tighter to his side. You heard the flap of his wings and suddenly you felt weightless as the ground beneath your feet ceased to be. You could feel yourself flying higher and higher until…

You felt a rush of air and a glorious sun shining on your face. You felt as though the universe had taken you by the belly button and was pulling you closer to it. Your stomach began to flip and you were very grateful for the candy, as the flavor was helping to settle your nausea, at least for a little bit. 

The sensation was lessening and you felt your feet hit solid ground. You hesitantly opened your eyes and were immediately met with various cameras shoved in your face.Angels, winners, and Cherubs crowded around you and Adam. Your mouth had run dry and you couldn’t think. Lights flashed and you felt yourself melding closer into Adam’s side.

“PRINCESS! PRINCESS! Care for a comment?”

“Princess! Over here! How did you manage to get Heaven’s most eligible bachelor to lower his standards to a Hell Born like yourself?”

“Hey Fuckers, get the fuck off my lawn!” Adam growled.

“YOU HEARD HIM, FUCK OFF!” You heard someone else yell. You looked over to see the same Exorcist angel (Lute?) that had been with Adam at the meeting yesterday. She had a menacing grin on the face of her mask and had a spear pointed at all the reporters. Adam gave her a nod which she returned (after she speared through a camera cherub was holding). 

 Adam decided to act quickly since Lute could only hold off so many reports and so he used his wing to shield you and make a path up to the house. You mirrored his footsteps, though you couldn’t take in the world around you due to his wing. Finally you made it inside Adam’s house and were able to take a free breath. 

“Fuck,” Adam cursed. “Fuck Babe, I’m sorry. I don’t know how they found out.” 

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You could still hear the reporters outside but chose to not let it bother you (well, it would bother you at least a little. You had never been one for the spotlight).

“It’s okay. It’s fine,” You said softly, placing a hand on his arm. He looked over at you with curious eyes and you felt your heart stop. And then you felt yourself accidentally swallow the cherry candy. You immediately began to cough and choke as the candy slid down your windpipe.

Adam’s eyes widened in shock and fear. He ran up behind you and began to push on your stomach in a pitiful attempt at the heimlich maneuver. Fortunately, you weren’t solely reliant on him to save your life, and you coughed up the remaining cherry red candy. A sliver of what it had been when you had been given it early. Really Sexy Princess Morningstar, real sexy.

Adam must have been relieved when you stopped choking, at least enough to make a joke. “Fuck Babe, don’t choke again unless its because of me.”

Ah, there was the asshole you had originally met. You had let his kind, sexy gestures fool, but the asshole was still there. 

You scowled at him and began to look around the house. It was a modest house, the perfect size for one or two people. Cleaner than you expected too. You had honestly expected trash and leftover food to be strewn around the house, but you were pleasantly surprised. 

A sound at the front door caused you to jump and you looked to see Lute entering, an irritated look on her face. Adam walked over to her, his hand up to give her a high-five which she begrudgingly returned.

“Thanks Bitch, I don’t know how those fucking reporters found out.”

“You made a bit of a spectacle of yourself, Sir. Apparently one of the Saints let it slip that you requested the Hell Spawn.” Lute said, eyeing you with disgust. The feeling was mutual and you could feel your demon form bubbling under the surface, your eyes beginning to turn a reddish color.

“Fucking Peter,” Adam scowled. He glanced over at you and seemed to feel the irritation seeping from your pores. “Babe, she doesn’t mean it.” 

“Yes I do.”

“Yes she does.” You said, crossing your arms and stepping closer to Adam. 

You and Lute glared at each other. 

“Okay, okay ladies reel it in. Lute, you’re a real one. I fucking appreciate it. Just let the girls know I won’t be at training for a few days while I get Y/N settled.”

“Of course sir. Hell Spawn.” She said, nodding at Adam and then you. Your eyes narrowed. 

“Bigoted Cunt,” You responded, giving her a just as condescending nod. Lute bristled but one look from Adam and she quietly slipped out the door. 

Adam turned to you, suddenly more sheepish than you had seen him in the past 24 hours. He rubbed a hand behind his neck. “So, uh, I only have 1 bedroom. I mean I have more rooms, I just haven’t had a chance to get more beds or anything. So I put your suitcase in my bedroom.”

You know, this is the part of the story where the main character gets nervous. Worries that her very sexy, very annoying husband-to-be is going to ravish her and take advantage. Her mouth would run dry and her palms would get sweaty. Only one bed? Give me a break. 

But you weren’t the main character in the trashy romance novel and he certainly wasn't the main love interest material. And you could make do with the idea that maybe living in a romance trope. And he seemed sheepish enough that it was genuine. 

So instead of doing as you would if you had been the same person you had been in Hell, only a few hours before, you decided to draw on some newfound confidence. You closed the distance between yourself and Adam and looked up at him, a coy smile on your features. “Lead the way.”

This seemed to him, as his features brightened up considerably and he grabbed your hand to guide you to the bedroom. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and you could feel your nerve breaking the longer you walked with Adam. 

When you entered his bedroom, you were surprised to find it to be rather plain. Very few features had been added to the space to make it homey aside from a guitar propped against one of the nightstands. Not a picture or painting or any decor to be seen. Like the rest of the house, it was shockingly clean. On the bed, your forgotten suitcase sat. 

“I’ll leave you to get settled. I'll grab some wine or beer or whatever you drink down below.” Adam said, motioning towards you to begin unpacking your suitcase. You smiled at him, feeling as though you were seeing the real Adam already in the few moments of insecurity he had let shine through. 

“Wine is good.” You said. He nodded and made to move towards the door before stopping and turning back to you. He stood in front of you, his golden eyes meeting your own before they looked lower at your lips. Emboldened, you licked your top lip slowly and looked at his own before devilishly looking back at his eyes. 

His large hands cupped your cheeks and suddenly his lips were on yours. Your senses were once again overwhelmed with that delicious taste of cherry hard candy. Feeling more and more impish, you licked the seam between his lips, a soft request. 

Adam responded in kind and opened his mouth, tongue meeting your own and licking in a controlled, hard manner. Your hands found their way into his hair and tangled in his soft brown locks. One of Adam’s hands left your cheeks and snaked its way down to your waist, pulling you closer. His large hand cupped your hip and squeezed with a firm pressure that sent a pleasant chill up your spine. His body felt so warm against your own and you could feel your resolve weakening. 

(But would it be so bad if it did?)

You reluctantly pulled away from him, your lips missing the feel of his against your own. His cheeks were flushed and his golden eyes were bright and alert. 

“I uh, I should unpack,” You whispered, untangling your hands from his hands. Adam nodded, though you weren’t sure he heard you. 

He coughed awkwardly and you tried to avert your eyes when he tried to discreetly ‘adjust’ himself. “I’ll go get the wine.”

“I’ll unpack,” You replied, mentally kicking yourself for the repetition. You nervously brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. Adam nodded once more and left the room, leaving you alone.

You sighed and tried to calm your breathing. You unzipped your suitcase and smiled forlornly at the picture that sat on top of your clothes. It was a picture of you, Charlie and your parents. You and Charlie were children, grinning wildly at the camera. 

You folded the picture so it just showed the two of you. You placed the picture on what appeared to be the unoccupied side of the bed and continued to unpack.

Tags: @jennieyeager @tati-the-fangirl @alastorswifeee @randomgurl2326 @marxo5 @dragovegogrimborn @ella-janehaven @honestlyshamelesskid @miniaturetalent @klorinda @turtle3586 @naniiiii12 @belladonnadeath

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

[icyharrington]

55 w/ steve

86 w/ eddie

98 w/ billy

im hopefully gonna do all 3 of these, but for now im just gonna do the eddie one becauseeeee i love it and i can practically hear his voice saying it teehee :3 this is gonna be one for my plus size ladies though obviously anyone can read it !!! 

86. “don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

contains: eddie munson x plus size reader, dirty talk, dom!eddie, insecure reader, negative self talk, foreplay 

“You are so fuckin’ hot.”

Eddie breathes his admiration against your lips, panting hungrily as you twist your tongue with his. You’re straddling him in his bed, which makes it that much easier to feel the massive protrusion growing in the front of his dark jeans; biting his lower hip teasingly, you grind your hips down against him, chuckling when he lets out a low groan.

“Lemme see you. C’mon, get up,” he urges, doe eyes practically pleading you for a show. He punctuates his request with a firm slap to your ass, causing you to jump in surprise.

It’s the third time you’re fooling around with Eddie Munson, and you can hardly believe it’s actually real, even as you go through the motions of feeling his warm skin against yours. You’d known of him vaguely throughout your time at Hawkins, and had heard (and seen) plenty of questionable things in regards to the metalhead outcast, but you likely wouldn’t have ever spoken to him under most circumstances.

He had always struck you as the type of guy who would hurl insults at girls for laughs, but he wasn’t; he was a little unhinged, sure, but after running into him at the record store one afternoon, you were startled to learn that Eddie “the freak” Munson was a genuinely nice person.

After that chance encounter, it didn’t take much at all for you to become hooked; you wound up in his bed later that evening, receiving some of the most intense orgasms of your life.

Eddie traces his fingers up your waist as you straighten out your spine, tossing your hair behind your shoulders so you can put your body on display for him. It’s almost objectifying, the way he obsesses over your soft figure, but you can’t deny that it turns you on beyond belief.

“Mhm. Yeah, take your top off for me,” Eddie murmurs, licking his lips as his eyes drink in your voluptuous frame, trailing leisurely from your stretch-marked thighs, to your curved tummy, and finally your tits, maybe his favorite part of all. They’re veiled only by your favorite band t-shirt, which you cropped yourself; the top falls to just below your chest, though when you arch your back, Eddie can see the underside of your cleavage.

You do what he says, your tits heaving with each ragged breath you take into your lungs. Eddie grins mischievously, reaching his palms to feel you up, the tips of his fingers tweaking at your hardened nipples.

“Eddie…” you sigh, and he moves to strike your ass again, squeezing firmly as he pulls you further up his body so that you’re straddling his ribcage.

You don’t put your full weight on him, fearing that you might block his airflow if you do. You usually prefer to be on the bottom, seeing that you probably aren’t as thin as the other girls he’s slept with, but Eddie is apparently unfazed by this. The first time you undressed in front of him, he’d been practically salivating at the view of your chunky legs clad in thigh-high fishnets, hips hugged lovingly in your favorite black miniskirt; even when you peeled off your top to reveal your stomach (your biggest insecurity), his interest in you only intensified.

“I wanna take pictures of you,” he says, bouncing your tits obscenely in his palms with a perverted grin. “How do you feel about being my album whore?”

“I’m sure the Corroded Coffin crowd would love to look at my fat ass every time they whip out your record to listen to,” you say sardonically, which visibly pisses Eddie off.

“The fuck did I tell you about talking like that, huh?” he snaps, gripping your hips on either side and jerking you up to his chest. “If I tell you you’re sexy, you’re sexy. Get it?”

You bite your lip at his authoritative tone, cheeks prickling. You never met a guy like Eddie before, someone so enthusiastic abut your unconventional features; all the boys you talked to in the past had seemed to treat you like a last resort, but not Eddie. Eddie makes you feel special, like you’re one of those perky cheerleaders that meander down the halls in their revealing uniforms every day, to the delight of each hormonal teen boy that they pass.

With the pressure of his eyes being fixed sternly upon you, you give in. “Fine.”

“Thaaat’s my girl.” He strokes your back affectionately, sliding down beneath you so he’s lying flatter, no longer propped up on his pillows. You shift your balance to your knees so as not to crush him as he sinks under, but he huffs, forcing you back down into a sitting position. “Where’dya think you’re going, huh? I haven’t even gotten to taste that sweet little pussy yet.”

You nearly gasp out at the crudeness of his statement, your pussy aching with need as the words leave his perfect mouth; looking down at him inquisitively, you chew at your bottom lip in thought. “You mean you want me to…“

He nods encouragingly, a wicked grin situating itself across his lips when he senses the apprehension in your demeanor. “Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

“Eddie, you won’t be able to breathe,” you protest, but he works at the waistband of your leopard-print panties anyways, rolling them down until most of your pelvis is exposed.

“Who needs oxygen when you can have pussy?” he smiles, his eyes half-lidded and clouded over with an urgent lust. The look on his face tells you all you need to know; he doesn’t just want you, he needs you. “C’mon, baby. You know I can handle it.”

“‘Kay, but if you suffocate to death, it’s your fault,” you warn, half-joking; he scolds you for the comment, wordlessly and with the back of his ring-adorned hand, by landing a sharp smack to your jaw. It’s not enough to hurt, really, just sting, but the sensation travels straight down to your cunt all the same.

“Get your ass up here,” he orders, and you do as you’re told, bracing yourself above his head after stripping off your underwear. He gazes at you triumphantly from where he’s situated, craning his neck to shoot you a self-satisfied smirk.

“I’m going to make you cum on my tongue now, okay? And I don’t wanna hear anything else out of that mouth unless it’s to fucking beg me for it.”

With that, he yanks you down onto his waiting tongue, just as you choke out a breathless “yes, Eddie.”

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Puppy Fight: Chaggie ft. Emily

Puppy Love part 3 / Jazzercise part 2

Charlie: (hyping herself up and shadow boxing as she walks into the new hotel gym) Alright! I got this! I've been working on my cardio. Just a few more sessions before- *SCREEEEEEEEEECH!!!!*

Vaggie: (wearing even shorter spandex shorts than last time, wrist wraps, and her sports bra, grunting as she works through a set of Muscle Ups, body absolutely slick with sweat) Eighteen!!!..... Gah, fuck! .......Nineteen!!!

Emily: (hair tied up in a messy bun, powder blue, long sleeve, skin tight exercise shirt, and navy blue shorts that cut off just below her glutes) Come on, Vaggie! You got this! One more!

Vaggie: (takes a deep breath, scowls as she grits her teeth, and nearly roars as she muscles her way up and over the bar into a full extension) Twenty!!!

Emily: (jumps and squeals excitedly) Woohoo! You did it! (makes another check on a whiteboard) That's three rounds of twenty muscle ups, fifty mountain climbers, and 100 jump-ropes!

Vaggie: (drops to the floor with a sigh, wipes her face with her black sweat rag, and takes a drink of water) Thanks for helping me push through, Emily. I was kind of surprised you even showed up. Charlie didn't have another group exercise planned for a couple more days when the next meeting with Heaven came up.

Emily: (staring bashfully at Vaggie's muscles) Oh! Well, you know! I figured it would be good to come down early! You know. Catch up with Charlie. (eyes scour over Vaggie's abs and shoulders) See the sights.

Vaggie: (suddenly feeling a little naked) Riiiiiiiiight.... Well, I'm gonna go hit the showers. Thanks again for the help. (quickly jogs towards the door and stops as she sees Charlie) Hey, Babe! I didn't know you were going to be working out today. You should have said something. I would have waited for you. (shifts her eye back at Emily)

Emily: (awkwardly looks around to make sure she isn't being watched before she sneakily takes the sweat rag Vaggie left behind)

Vaggie: (whispering back to Charlie with a slight blush and a wink) We could have shared a shower after.

Charlie: (heart throbs painfully) Dammit! How did I not think of that before now?!

Vaggie: (chuckles before kissing Charlie lightly on the cheek) Another time. I'll be sure to save you some hot water. Love you. (slips through the door and jogs up to their room)

Charlie: Love you too~ (eyes dart to Emily as soon as the door closes and she zips over to the pull up bars with a smile painfully plastered on her face) Hi, Emily!

Emily: Yipe! (jumps and hides Vaggie's rag behind her back) Oh! H-Hi, Charlie! H-How are you?

Charlie: I'm good. I'm good. (obviously not good as her tail slithers along the floor behind her like a snake ready to strike) I wasn't expecting to see you for a few days.

Emily: Oh! Yeah, well, l-like I told Vaggie. I figured I'd come down a little early so we could catch up!

Charlie: (sickly sweet tone) Well, what better way to catch up and build a bond than by exercising together?! (wraps an arm around Emily's shoulder tightly and leads her over to the treadmills) How about it, Emily? I'm sure you guys up in Heaven exercise all the time!

Emily: (balks) Actually, Charlie, I'm suddenly not feeling the greatest. I think I got teleportation sickness.

Charlie: Then a light jog should help you get that good airflow that you need. (pushes Emily on a treadmill and takes the one right next to her before turning them both on and ramping up the incline and speed to 5/10 and 6/10) This should be a good warmup, right?

Emily: eeep!

-Later-

Charlie: (sitting and soaking her dead legs in an ice bath with a whine-growl)

Vaggie: (brings in a protein shake and hands it to Charlie) And what did we learn?

Charlie: (growling and baring her teeth like an angry puppy as she takes the shake) To mark every last inch of your skin the week Emily arrives. (all sad and sappy) She's still my friend! (back to snarling as she takes a sip of her drink) But she needs to remember that you're MINE!!!

Vaggie: (blushing) ......Did I completely miss something?

-In one of the guest rooms-

Emily: (whimpering as she soaks her noodle legs in a hot bath) Owie.... (stares at the sweat rag on the bathroom sink) ......*sigh* Worth it. I'll have to apologize to Charlie later. I think she liked those rainbow sprinkles back in Heaven.

[hintsofhoney]

Radio and the Rain

Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When a bad storm forces you and Dean apart on a hunt, he realizes just how much you mean to him.

Tags: 18+, smut, making love, p in v, all that jazz... nothing too crazy

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Hello, I'm back after almost 6 months. Moving across the country (again) among other big life events (all good ones!) gave me the worst writer's block of all time, but thanks to my friends (@soaringeag1e & @emoryhemsworth), writing this fic per their suggestion (based off Radio and the Rain by Chris Young) is what finally pulled me out of it! Beta'd by my angels @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean. Alright, hope you all enjoy, and I promise I'll be back again with more things soon!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Y/N!” Dean calls out, doubtful that you can hear him over the sound of the rain coming down as he tries to ignore the panic building inside him. His hair is stuck to his forehead from the downpour, water droplets streaming down his face as he tries to shield himself from the weather. It’s no use. He’s soaked to the bone – he’s not sure he could have worn enough layers to keep him dry, not in this storm – and the darkness of the forest seems to go on forever. He could have sworn there was a town nearby – some light pollution would be really helpful right about now – but he seems to be shit out of luck. Thunder booms above him, almost deafening, and he keeps on what he hopes is the right path, his heart rate steadily increasing. He needs to find you. 

“Y/N!” he yells again after another minute passes. If he’s soaked, he can’t imagine what you must be. He remembers what you’re wearing; skinny jeans, a thin green t-shirt, a black faux leather jacket, hunting boots. Normally, he doesn’t complain about your refusal to wear more layers, but right now, ‘I told you so’ is on the tip of his tongue. He would need a large amount of hands to count how many times he’s told you to prepare for anything , and that a flimsy t-shirt and jacket weren’t gonna cut it, but in your defense, this storm came out of nowhere. He had to give you that, at least. 

“Dean!” he whips his head around at the faint sound of his name making its way through the rain, and yells yours out once more before making his way towards your voice. His eyes are adjusted enough to the dark to where he can make out silhouettes of fallen trees ahead of him, stepping over them with little caution as you call out to him again. He has to make sure you’re okay. He has to get to you. 

“I’m here, Y/N!” he yells, “Where are you!?” 

“Dean!” 

He hears it, clear as day from behind him. He turns around in time to see the outline of your soaked body appearing from behind the trees.

“Y/N!” He rushes to you, taking your cold hand in his, and you can’t tell if he’s relieved or angry to see you – or a little bit of both. You should have listened to him when he told you splitting up was a bad idea, but completing the hunt had been the only thing on your mind, Dean’s lectures about safety be damned. “Jesus, you’re freezing,” he comments, like he isn’t an icicle himself. He wants to say, ‘I told you splitting up was a bad idea’, but he holds his tongue. He can lecture you later. 

He grabs you firmly by the shoulders, looking you up and down. “Are you okay?” 

With the rain pouring down, he sounds like he’s whispering, even though you can tell he’s only a decibel away from full-on screaming. Lightning strikes in the distance, and you’re able to get a clear view of his face for a brief moment. Water streaming down his clenched jaw, hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, worried green eyes searching yours. They land on your cheek, which you think is bleeding thanks to the branch that smacked you in the face a few minutes ago, and you roll your eyes at his over-concern.

“I’m fine, Dean. It’s just a scratch.” 

“C’mon,” he replies gruffly, pulling you into his coat in an attempt to shield you from the rain. “Baby’s got a first aid kit in the back.” 

Ten minutes of walking later and you can make out Baby’s silhouette parked on the road on the other side of some trees. The rain seems to have gotten even worse – if that’s even possible – and the thought of being underneath some type of roof (Baby’s was just as good as any) where you’d have an opportunity to get dry was getting your tired legs through the last bit of your trek out of the muddy woods. 

Your first step onto the dirt road comes with more rain as you come out from under the umbrella of trees. Dean opens the back door for you, ushering you inside and telling you not to worry about your shoes (something that he was usually a stickler about; he liked a clean car). To your surprise, he gets in behind you, quickly closing the door before the backseat can get even more wet. He leans over the front bench, fishing his keys out of his pocket, before starting the ignition and turning on the heat. The radio comes on as Baby starts up, and he lets it play as he opens the glove box and pulls out a flashlight, before sitting back and reaching underneath the driver’s seat for the first aid kit. 

“Hold this,” he orders, turning on the light and handing it to you, the brightness of the bulb causing you both to squint as your eyes adjust. 

“Dean, I told you, I’m fine,” you reiterate with an exhausted sigh, watching as he opens the white box in his lap. 

“Shine it on your face, I need to get a better look.”

You roll your eyes, pointing the flashlight on your cheek, allowing Dean to grab the underside of your chin as he moves your head to the side and examines the damage. 

“Needs to be cleaned,” he announces, letting you go and pulling out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and gauze from the kit. You watch as he unscrews the cap and flips the bottle over, letting the cloth absorb some of the liquid before flipping it back and closing it. “This is gonna sting.”

He says that every time, and you chuckle softly in response. “Yeah, not my first time.” 

He doesn’t even crack a smile. He grabs underneath your chin again, dabbing your wound with the cloth, and you’re too focused on his mood to even notice the sting. A minute passes by, and you’re sure it’s clean by now, but he seems to be on autopilot, jaw clenched and eyes both focused in on what he’s doing and glazed over at the same time. 

“Dean,” you say gently, placing your free hand on top of his, stilling his movements and pulling him out of his trance. “I think it’s clean.”

Silence, except for the rain and the radio, which is quietly playing Is This Love by Whitesnake (not usually what this station plays, but it’s 2 a.m. and you figure they probably save the sappy 80s songs for this time of night). 

And then, “You can’t do that.” His voice is barely above a whisper. 

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head. “Do what?”

“Scare me like that. I didn’t – I thought –” he shakes his head, dropping his hand and placing the gauze back in the kit, along with the rubbing alcohol, before closing it and shoving it back under the seat. “Just – you can’t do that.”

“Dean, the storm came out of nowhere. We’ve split up on hunts so many –”

“And it’s never my idea!” he interrupts. 

“What do you want me to say, Dean!? ‘I’m sorry that God decided to flood the earth again while we were out hunting werewolves’!? I am fine , okay? I can handle –”

He cups your face in his cold hands, careful to avoid the fresh cut on your cheek. “I don’t doubt that you can handle yourself. But I can’t lose you, do you get that?” His face is inches away from yours, and the flashlight slips out of your hands and onto the floor as your breath catches in your throat. The radio starts playing the all-too familiar beginning chords of Night Moves , and you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod. Dean tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers.

“I know,” you reply breathily. You place your hand over his again. “You won’t, De.” 

The corner of his mouth lifts up into a brief half smile – one that you would have missed had you not been watching his every move. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip with a feather-light touch, and all you can hear is the radio and the rain. 

“Your lips are freezing,” he comments, not-so-subtly (in true Dean fashion). 

“Shame there’s no way to warm them,” you whisper back, biting back a smile. 

“Hm,” he smirks, leaning in. “I can think of a way.”

You close your eyes as his lips meet yours, instantly sending warmth back into your body. Night Moves is still playing, and you ignore the irony as you kiss him back like not freezing to death depends on it. It’s not your first kiss with Dean, but it’s the first one that feels like it really means something, like you could be more than just friends who hook up occasionally. His hands move from your face to your jacket, unzipping it before he helps peel it off your body, your wet skin making everything a thousand times harder. He carelessly throws it into the front seat before his lips move to your neck and he works on getting his own top layer off. He finds your sweet spot right under your ear, one that sends warm shivers down your spine, and then his hands are back on your body, finding their way underneath your soaked shirt, trailing up your sides. His palms feel warm against your skin, and you don’t know if it’s the heat blasting through the vents or the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you’ve never been hotter. 

The two of you separate for a few seconds and tug off the remainder of your clothes, everything landing in a nice pile on the front seat — muddy boots included. The cleanliness of his car is the last thing Dean is concerned about right now. 

You feel a lot more comfortable naked — meaning, you’re only wet where you want to be now — and you lean back in the seat, your head resting against the door, as Dean hovers over you, taking you in. The flashlight on the ground was your only source of light with the moonlight blocked out by the storm still raging outside. 

“You’re beautiful,” he states, not like an opinion, but like it’s an undeniable fact. Like if you were to look up ‘beautiful’ in the dictionary right now you’d find a picture of your face. 

You smile. “Thank you.”

His finger traces your jaw bone, his thumb gently outlines the scrape on your cheek. “I don’t think it’s gonna scar,” he says. You love it when he’s like this: pure and unfiltered, saying exactly what he’s thinking when he’s thinking it.

You chuckle softly. “Good. Be real ugly if it did.” 

His expression turns serious. “No it wouldn’t.” He states that like it’s a fact too, and you have no choice but to accept it. 

“Okay. It would be pretty badass, I guess,” you concede.

He smiles and nods, leaning down to kiss you softly, quickly, before pulling back and whispering, “Yeah, it would.”

He trails his kisses down your jaw, neck, collarbone, and you catch the next song on the radio — Feels Like the First Time — and roll your eyes and try not to laugh because of course . You’re brought back to the present when Dean’s mouth wraps around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud as your hands instantly come to grip his wet hair. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, back arching off the leather seat, and he chuckles softly before releasing you with a ‘pop’. 

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes again, but they quickly close as he moves to give your right nipple some attention, gently pinching the other between his thumb and pointer finger. Your moans cause his cock to twitch, and you feel it against your inner thigh, imagining what it must look like right now. 

“Please,” you beg, and you both know exactly what for. He gladly returns his lips to yours, before nestling himself comfortably (or as comfortable as one can get in the backseat of a ‘67 Chevy) between your legs, still damp and sticky from the rain. He kisses you hard as he enters you slowly, and you moan into his mouth as you adjust to his size. Nothing’s ever felt so good. 

“Jesus,” he breathes, pulling away momentarily and bracing himself with one hand on the fogged up window as he bottoms out and stays there, looking down at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him, and right now, you are. “Mm, fuck .” He starts to move, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck, his hot breath and soft groans doing nothing to help stall the tightening coil in your abdomen. “‘m never letting you out of my sight again,” he whispers.

All you can do is nod; he feels so good, you never want him to stop.

“Can’t fuckin’ lose you,” he mumbles, his face coming to hover above yours as he cups your unscathed cheek with his free hand. “You hearin’ me?” He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

You nod again, a little more aggressively this time. “I know, Dean. You won’t,” you reassure him through unsteady breaths. It’s your turn to shake your head. “You won’t.”

You hadn’t noticed his thrusts speeding up, too lost in your emotions until he hits a spot that you didn’t even know you had.

“Oh, fuck ,” you hiss, arching your back. “Fuck, right there.”

He listens, picking up the pace ever so slightly, his lips on your neck again, his heavy pants in your ear. “Shit, sweetheart, you feel so good.” He’s breathing so hard it’s barely audible, but you hear it clear as day, and it’s what brings you to the edge. 

“Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna —”

“Me too, me too.”

And then you’re tensing underneath him as a wave of pleasure washes over you, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you up, and he’s holding himself up on trembling forearms, desperately trying not to collapse on top of you as the exhaustion from the day finally hits you both like a tidal wave. Through heavy breathing you notice that it’s still pouring outside — probably deeming you stuck here on this no name road until it lets up — and that You Shook Me All Night Long is playing on the radio, and you can’t help but giggle softly and shake your head. 

“What?” he questions, confused.

“I think both the weather and the radio are demanding that we go again.”

TAGLIST(S)

If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name below, it’s because Tumblr won’t let me tag you!

FOREVERS: @writercole // @makeadealwithdean // @slamminmine // @impala1967dwinchester // @wayward-dreamer // @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan // @deandreamernp // @kitkatd7 // @thewritersaddictions // @foxyjwls007 // @kyjey // @boeshaneboy // @besas-stuff // @babypink224221 // @stoneyggirl2 // @440mxs-wife // @sexyvixen7 // @samsgirl93 // @alwayssnivellus // @simpfoegeorge // @ajordan2020

SUPERNATURAL: @deans-baby-momma // @cookiechipdough // @roonyxx // @jassackles // @roseblue373 // @redbarn1995

DEAN WINCHESTER: @perpetualabsurdity // @lyarr24 // @solarrexplosion // @rach5ive // @akshi8278 // @pink-sparkly-witch // @emoryhemsworth // @whore4romance // @themerc-with-a-mouth

You can join my taglist(s) here!

[echoalyssa]

Counterparts | Brian O’Conner

The night air is warm, almost comforting. The city of Los Angeles seemed to have decided to go to sleep tonight. The city, normally bustling with life, was quiet, peaceful. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks up at the moon.

I’m standing in front of Mercy Park’s garage checking the oil level of my bike. My brother Logan is lingering by the bay doors, rearranging a stack of Husky jacks that really did not need to be rearranged. He was skeptical about me going riding with someone outside of our crew, but I had known Brian for years.

He drove with Dominic Toretto. Toretto’s crew were technically our rivals as we worked out of the same part of LA. Though Dom and Kaneko, the leader of the Mercy Park Crew, had come to an agreement to coexist.

We’d decided to leave the JDM’s at home tonight. It was perfect weather to take the bikes out and we’d both been neglecting the machines.

         The loud thrum of Brian’s bike alerts me that he is around the corner. I glance at Logan and narrow my eyes at him, begging him to go back inside and talk to Toby or Ximena. He was ridiculously worried about Brian considering his girlfriend’s dad was the cop who had almost brought us all in. 

Brian comes around the corner and pulls into the garage’s parking lot. He nudges the kickstand out with his right booted foot and then turns the key in the ignition to shut the machine off. He tugs his helmet off, revealing his blonde curls and striking blue eyes. The smile that he aims at me is intoxicating.

He dismounts his bike and crosses the distance towards me. I open my arms for him immediately. His arms go around my waist, and I loop mine around his neck. He smells like oil mixed with an earthy undertone. Brian holds me for a good minute before he steps back and flashes me with that grin again. 

“It’s been too long.” He glances over your shoulder and raises his hand in a wave, “Hey Logan!”

I hear the garage door close and know that my brother has finally left us alone.

“You look good.” I murmur back to him. And he does, he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and black jeans. He has his steel toes on and a thin gold chair dangles around his neck. He’s showered recently, his hair bearing the signs of water. Though somehow there is a dirt smudge just under his jaw, as if he just can’t quite seem to stay away from the grime of working on cars.

Brian pokes the tip of my nose with his index finger and then glances at the garage behind me. He tilts his head in the direction of the street. Even though both crews were on good terms did not mean that we should be hanging out together in broad view.

I pull my hair into a loose braid before sliding my helmet on. Brian starts his bike again, throwing a leg over. He maneuvers it backwards so that he can pull back out onto the road. It’s currently wrapped in white with the signature Toretto decals on the gas tank.

My own bike, a Kawasaki Ninja is blacked out. I went for stealth. The machine roars to life underneath me. Brian nods in my direction and together we rev the engines before taking off down the road.

I let Brian lead; I didn’t mind where we went as long as I would get an adrenaline rush. He takes us through a few side streets before we hit the ramp to the highway. He turns his head, checking to make sure that I am still behind him.

The second he confirms that I am still following behind him like his little shadow, he tucks and takes off down the empty highway. My heart soars as I accelerate after him. The red needle on my speedometer quickly craws into the triple digits.

We’re absolutely soaring, breaking felony speeds, but neither of us have plates. The wind whips his t-shirt around, making the fabric crawl upward so it bunches around his chest and exposes the hard planes of muscle. 

There aren’t many people out on the highway, but we weave through the ones that are. We’re perfectly in sync, reading each other’s movements without needing to communicate. I give the throttle a little more and go surging past him, but only for a moment. He overtakes me. It continues like this for miles, each of us going for the lead. The city is a blur around us.

I outstretch a hand to the wind, feeling the way it pushes my arm back in because of the speed. Anyone who saw us together must have been in awe, we give off an almost ethereal aura. Yin and Yang. Light and dark. One and the same.

We were brothers. But bound by more than blood. We were twins as well. Counterparts. Gangster princes of the city we met.

No amount of words could describe the perfection of the moment between the two of us. A picture would do no justice.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, one mistake and we would be dead, but there was no fear. Only the urge to go faster, to push the limits. That was the thing about Brian, he understood. That if speed was to lead to our demise, we would go out smiling.

Almost too soon, Brian drops a hand to his side, signaling that he is going to take the next exit ramp. He leans into the turn and checks once more, that I’m behind him. We maneuver down a few side roads and then come to a stop atop a hill. The stars are bright tonight, almost defying nature. 

Brian dismounts his bike first, and then he’s in front of me. I haven’t even finished setting up my kickstand before his hands are pulling my helmet off and his lips are brushing against mine. I sigh into him, trusting that I can tip toe the bike and kiss him back. It’s like a weight has been lifted off of my chest

He pulls away but rests his forehead against mine, his fingers brush the strands of hair that had escaped my braid back behind my ears. “I missed you.”

The only response I can find is to pull him back towards me. There wasn’t much time to spare for either of us, both crews were constantly traveling for boosts, but the time that we did have together… we savored it. Loyalties to the crews aside, the two of us would always come back to one another.

[slytherizz]

Petulant - Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

Tags: Rivals to Lovers, Fluff, Slice of Life, First Kiss

A/N I'm trying to be kinder to myself when it comes to my writing. I usually share longer pieces but I have so many little bits of fluffy drabble and I'm trying to remember writing is meant to be fun and not every one-shot needs to be perfect.

Palms flat on the jetty Sebastian hoisted himself out of the water. Cursing violent profanities as he shook his hair out like a wet dog as he scrambled onto the dock. Shaking whether with rage or because the frigid water of the black lake had chilled him to the bone. She wasn’t sure. 

Not that she cared. 

Sebastian deserved it for being such a petulant pain in her arse. And little water never killed anyone; no matter how many unsavoury creatures lurked in its murky depths.

He’d practically goaded her into shoving him off the jetty. It had only been a matter of time before one of them retaliated against this little bonding exercise of Hecat’s. If he'd seen the opening first she'd be the one drenched and spluttering - she was sure of it. 

Having to endure sharing a potions station where they could use Gareth as a buffer was one thing. But being forced to spend her precious and most sacred Sallow-free hours, in the freezing cold catching Grindalow's as punishment was beyond the pale. All because they caused a teensy fire that was entirely Sebasitan’s fault when a duel had gotten out of hand. 

Really what had Hecate expected to achieve with this cruel and unusual detention? That they’d return to the castle thick as thieves? Strike up a newfound camaraderie that would want to make her do anything besides hex the smarmy git?

Impossible. Their professor was far too optimistic and this exercise had been doomed from the start.

“Enjoy your swim?” she sneered. Perhaps it hadn’t been an entire waste of time. At least now she could savour this mental image of him sopping wet and looking utterly ridiculous. 

Regaining his balance and rising to his full height, Sebastian stalked towards her. Face like thunder stopping mere inches away from her to glare down his nose. Droplets of water falling from his hair onto her cheeks. She swatted them away wrinkling her nose in disgust which only seemed to enrage him further. 

"You. Are the most immature. Insufferable. Petulant witch, I've ever had the displeasure to meet. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t hex you on the spot! Why exactly did you feel the need to throw me in the bastard lake?”

He was standing so close to her she should really step away but her feet were practically glued to the spot. Standing so close his hot breath ghosted across her cheeks. So close in fact, she could see his freckled skin through the shirt which clung to every inch of him. Sheer white leaving absolutely nothing to her imagination. 

How she'd never noticed quite how large Sebastian had gotten until he was impressing down on her was a mystery. A realisation that came too little too late as she’d turned their altercations physical. 

No matter where she looked there seemed to be more of him. Broad shoulders heaving with every laboured breath. Water beading in sparse hairs on his chest which peaked out from over his open-top buttons. Muscles in his jaw and neck twitching in agitation. 

Her eyes of their own volition had begun to meander down his stomach following the trail of hair wondering exactly how far they went before she caught herself. Wrenching them up again to his face, before she saw if the cling of his soaking tartan trousers exposed just as much of him as his shirt. Half terrified of what she'd find; the other half disgusted with her own desire to look. She didn't know what kind of feelings it would invoke but by the heat pooling low in her abdomen - she could hazard a guess.

“Have you got nothing to say for yourself?” 

She blushed wildly. Mouth flapping open and closing like a fish out of water. Trying to stamp down the unwelcome feeling that made her want to press her thighs together. 

He blinked at her. Dark eyebrows lowering sceptically. "You're staring."

"I am not!” she spluttered. Trying to recapture the feeling of overwhelming irritation she’d felt the precise moment she’d thrown him overboard. “An obnoxious idiot just happens to be shouting his head off in my eyeline."

"You're blushing." He smirked, voice giddy with amusement as if he'd finally cracked some impossible puzzle. Her hands snapped up to clasp her burning face to hide the evidence. His tongue darted across his bottom lip licking off water. Which only made her cheeks burn hotter.

"Is that why you pushed me in? Wanted to get a good look?"

"I wanted you to shut your mouth and stop whinging for five minutes so I could have some bloody peace. But it seems to have had the opposite effect - you're chatting even more bollocks than before."

"So this why you’re so insufferable all the time. This-” He gestured down to his dishevelled albeit to her utter dismay, not unappealing state of undress. “Is your idea of flirting?”

“Flir- Flirting? You must have knocked your head on your way down.”

“Merlin. This is rich - You’d be pulling on my pigtails if I had them."

"No. I. Wouldn't!"

Foot stomping hard on the rickety planks in frustration. Rather childish and definitely not her proudest display. It did little to prove her argument and instead to her dismay only seemed to make Sebastian grin wider.

"You fancy me." Not a question. He declared it like he’d won some imaginary battle. 

"I absolutely do not."

He leaned further towards her she could see the glint of triumph in his brown eyes. She swallowed hard eyes flicking towards his lips and back again. 

"Liar.”

Strong hands seized her face and knowing he’d won - Sebastian crashed his lips into hers. They were wet and cool against hers from his tumble into the lake as he kissed her. But so soft and inviting in a way she didn’t think anyone's flesh could be it made her head spin. His fingers tangled in her hair, mouth moving demanding against hers. 

Her knee jerked instinctively towards his most precious area but faltered, along with the last of her pride. She could not seem to find the will to pry herself away. Sebastian’s teeth grazed her bottom lip requesting access. She gasped in surprise and he slid his tongue past her parted lips. A shudder ran through her as his tongue flicked against hers.  

He groaned into her mouth, as her tongue matched his motions in maddening strokes. A sound under normal circumstances she would have mocked him mercilessly for only made her kiss him back more feverishly. Regrettably, her hands were just as traitorous as her tongue. Following the curve of broad shoulders, she felt the muscles underneath firm from years of duelling. Admitting defeat she dared to go further tangling in his wet hair. Pulling gently hoping it would elicit more sinful sounds from Sebastian. 

A deep well of desire now pooled in her gut all rational thoughts drowned in. She failed miserably to stifle her own strained moan as large hands encircled her waist pulling her flush against him. Skin practically burning despite the frigid temperatures.

A truly pathetic whimper of protest escaped her lips as Sebastian pulled away from their kiss. Leaving her breathless and dizzy even as the cold rushed in. No longer able to leech his warmth she shamefully realised how close their bodies had been pressed together from the chill of her damp clothes. 

He stepped back and if she was capable of forming a coherent thought she would have hexed the smug look off his ridiculous, handsome, infuriating face. 

"Now. I'm going to go and get out of these wet clothes before I catch a death," Sebastian said. As casually as if he was observing the weather and had not just spent the last five minutes snogging the supposed most insufferable witch he’d ever met. Turning quickly on his heels he began striding towards the boat house. Leaving her open-mouthed cheeks burning from the frigid wind lapping at the wet hand print on her cheek or with shameful unwanted desire she wasn't sure. Calling back over his shoulder. A roughish smile pulled on freckled cheeks. A devilish glint in his eye. "If you're ready to stop being such a brat - I'll let you help."

She groaned inwardly, legs following him across the jetty seemingly of their own accord. Powerless to stop herself and praying no one would see her shameless pursuit. 

She knew he'd never let her live this one down.

Not that she cared.