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undercovercameron · 11 months

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hole in one

summary: you're a server at the island club, and you may or may not have a favorite customer.

notes: i'm back baby! haven't written anything in a good while but i suddenly had this image of a girly reader and a flirty golfer rafe with that season 3 buzzcut... i HAD to make a pun with this title and i'm so glad i did. also i always write rafe a little more attentive and well-meaning than he is, so take this headcanon of nice rafe with a grain of salt-- and this shit is hella dirty so please enjoy and let me know what you think ;) (also im coming back to edit this fully in a little bit but i wanted to post just to prove i still love and use this account kajddjd)

tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count: 4453

Some things in Rafe’s life were simple pleasures.

A cocktail during dinner, a night where all the TV he watched was reality shows, a cigarette on a night out. The silence of his childhood home.

Golf, coincidentally, was also one of those things. The course he frequented was just a ten-minute drive from his house, and he had priority parking. As a donor and a club-member of course. The drinks were cheap, the company was even cheaper, and he had a killer swing. There was rarely an afternoon out on that green that he didn’t enjoy. He felt closest to peace when all he had to work for was getting that tiny white golf ball sunk into a hole.

They were often sweaty putting sessions, as the North Carolina heat in the summer was no joke, but the traveling drink cart was a brief respite from that.

“What can I get you?” You ask, bright and long-lashed. Your hair was done in a tight updo, your makeup was flawless, and not a single spec of dirt or turf lay on your uniform. You took pride in your appearance and the effects it had on the loose wallets of the Outer Banks’ finest real estate investors and offshore bank account holders. Most of all, you enjoyed a certain someone’s attention.

Rafe peeks under the overhang of the cart and stares at your selection. He stands with his hands on his hips, gold rings flashing in the hot sunlight. You take a look at him for the first time today, eyes taking over his bent form. He has gray slacks on with a dark blue polo stretched over his well-built back, unbuttoned to show the tiniest glint of blonde chest hair and his gold chain. He spared no expense when it came to his appearance, you’d come to notice.

“I think,” he starts, standing back up, and fixes you with his blue-eyed stare. It makes you hold back a shiver despite the heat. “A double tequila soda.”

He gives you a once-over, admiring the way your skirt hugs your waist and the sparkle of your earrings. He always likes when the girls have their hair up— gives him a sneak peek of what it’d look like if he pulled it.

“Three limes? Just how you like?” You ask, breaking his focus, and reach for a plastic cocktail cup. You have a freckle behind your ear, he notices.

“Exactly right,” he says, folding his arms over his chest, and his face splits into a grin when you glance at him and blush. He could be back with his friends from highschool, talking shit about their shitty swings or increasingly high scores, but he’s not. He’s right here, watching closely as you carefully measure the ice and pour a perfect double shot.

“How’re you guys playing today?” You ask, a humiliating attempt at small talk, and you feel sweat bead on your lower back.

“Shit, honestly,” Rafe laughs. “These jack-offs couldn’t get a hole-in-one if it was right in front of their fucking faces. And I’ve been distracted all day.” He looks down at you over the bridge of his nose, liking the way you tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“Heat getting to you?” You squeeze the final lime and turn away from the cart, holding it out with a polite smile. He takes it carefully.

“Something like that,” he says, cocking his head, and takes a sip. Tart. Just how he likes it. “Hey.” He digs a hand into his pocket and the tips of your cheekbones heat again for some reason. “Keep the change.” He hands you a fifty.

You take it between hesitant fingers, peering up at him.

“The drink is $6, Rafe.”

He always does this. Pays cash with big bills and tells you to keep the change. He gave you a twenty for a packet of peanuts one time. “I don’t know if I can legally take this.”

He just shrugs.

“Consider it a personal donation.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Makes me feel better. I think you deserve a little extra for your services—it takes a lot of work to look that good for a bunch of old geezers in sweater vests and loafers. I know I appreciate it.” He turns and starts off towards his group, yanking his sunglasses out of his shirt and jamming them onto his face. “I like your bra, by the way. ‘S my favorite color.”

You glance down the collar of your shirt, heart thumping, and look back up.

That stupid fucking swagger he has. He’s going to throw out his back walking around like a peacock like that.

You tug your shirt up, hiding the red bra you’d chosen for today, and hop back on the cart. Off to another hole where another old man will look down your shirt and ask for his Manhattan with two cherries instead of one.

You think you’ll either quit this job or start wearing a fucking monk robe.

The next time you see him is back at the club. Your boss had you on pool bartender duty, opposed to the drink cart you favored, and you were a little out of your element.

The customer demographic was different, which you enjoyed, but they all seemed to want a lot more and a lot quicker. There was no loitering around to small talk; you had to work quickly and attentively to earn these housewives’ measly two dollar tip on margarita pitchers.

You had spilled raspberry purée on your company-approved golf dress more times than you could count in your six hour shift. Near the end of it, however, Rafe had made his way to the end of the bar and watched as you ducked to put away the umbrella toothpicks and quickly and secretly downed a shot of Tito’s. Drinking on the job. Hm.

(It’s not that you like to be drunk at work; it’s more of a little ‘fuck you’ to your boss, you think.)

“Hi,” you say on an exhale, coming over and wiping the already-spotless counter with a black rag. “What can I get you?” You have dangly earrings on today, and a different shade of lipgloss than he is accustomed to.

“Two grapefruit High Noon’s.” He folds his arms and leans on the counter, so close he could smell your perfume. “I could report you for that, you know,” he says, voice as low as a whisper. You peer up at him, lips pursed, and scan his face. No ill intent. Just an easy smile and dirty eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” You reach for the fridge underneath the mixing mats and pull two cold cans from the shelf. You sit them on the counter and stare up at him. “You’re a real upstanding customer, huh?”

“Mhm.” He twists his pointer-finger ring mindlessly. “You owe me.” The corners of his lips quirk up.

“Oh, do I?” You ask, giving him your best ’I don’t know what you’re talking about’ look. You know he likes that.

The fact is that you and Rafe had countless conversations exactly like this one. Whether it be at the drink cart, on the way out of the building, or back inside in the restaurant bar. He always somehow leaned over you, smiling like the flirtatious bastard that he was, and making you feel like he’d like nothing more than to take you to his car and show you how much he actually enjoyed being served by you. That’s how you imagined him in bed, at least. Proving a point.

He takes the two cans in one hand and straightens up, fixing you with a dangerous look.

“Your shift ends in ten minutes, yeah?” He asks.

“Yes.” You square your shoulders and stare back.

“Good. I’ll take you home. Well, mine.” He backs up closer to where his friends are sitting at a covered patio table, mischievous smile flashing white in the sun.

“I have a car, you know,” you say, leaning on the counter with folded arms. You ignore the hot rush of blood in your veins from his words. “And I have to shower.”

“What makes you think I don’t have a shower?” He purses his lips, faking the wildly confused look, and turns back around to his friends.

You just sigh, exasperated with him, and work on cleaning up your station. God, it has to be him? The boy you had a crush on in elementary school? You’ve had plenty of hookups in your adult life, but none as close to home as this one. (Literally. You live down the street.) You feel his eyes on you as you scrub a particularly defiant streak of Grenadine from the counter, and feel his gaze on your back when you turn around to get a fresh rag. It makes your face burn hot.

You know he’s not talking about just hanging out at his place. He probably has a huge shower, for God’s sake, and probably a humongous bed. California king if you can guess.

You bet he tastes like summer.

After your replacement comes to the bar, you take your lanyard to get into the staff locker room from a hook under the bar and make your way slowly through the gaggles of people to your designated locker. It takes a brief conversation with your boss Angela about if you left the tip jar or took the contents to finally shoulder past the last group of people.

You tug your bag from the hook, a change of clothes and your shower stuff already packed (as you had been planning to go to the gym after work). You now know you have other forms of exercise coordinated. You give yourself a final look in the little mirror on your locker. Here goes nothing.

Rafe is waiting outside the swinging door when you push past it, button up shirt and shoes haphazardly thrown on. He immediately takes your bag from you and slings it over one massive shoulder, starting for the exit.

“I can carry my own things, Rafe,” you say, slightly out of breath with the effort it takes to catch up to him.

“Yeah, well, I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He casts a look over his shoulder, eyebrows raised seriously. You roll your eyes.

His bedroom door pushes open and you stumble back, hand tight on his bicep as he walks you further. His hand circles your waist as he ducks to kiss you again, mouth hot and commanding over yours.

He tastes exactly how you imagined.

His room is bright with sunlight and slightly messy when you glance behind him, but you’re pretty fucking sure you won’t be focused on how his room is decorated when he keeps grabbing at you like this.

The back of your knees hit the bedspread and you fall into a sitting position, posture curved up into his as he leans and holds you by the side of the neck. You make a pleased noise into his mouth and tug at his shirt, suddenly irritated that he is wearing so many clothes. You snake a hand up his shirt and claw at his skin with your sharp nails.

“Save that for my back,” he breathes, and your fingers fumble to unbutton his shirt as you finally pull it down and off his body. You rejoice at his newfound lack of clothing and smooth a hand over his chest, eyes trained on his toned and tan stomach.

He’s huge like this, up close, and the warmth radiating from his skin makes your heart jump into your throat. Your fingers splay across the middle of his abdomen, just appreciating the way he breathes under your touch, and you lean back up for his mouth.

He threads his fingers in your hair and pulls your face so hard to his own that your neck smarts. Between your legs throbs. You protest, grabbing at his wrist, but settle when he shuffles closer to the bed and tilts you back into the sheets.

“Spread your legs for me,” he murmurs. Your back meets silk, and he lifts your open legs up and around his hips as he settles between your thighs comfortably. Right where he should be.

The feeling of his heavy weight where you’ve been needing it makes your back arch. He breaks away from you and slides a hand down your chest, laying the route that his mouth will take.

“You smell like cherries,” he says as he presses his mouth to your collarbone and sucks.

“I know.” You shudder through a laugh and bring your hand up to the back of his head as encouragement. “Spilled Grenadine.”

He hums noncommittally and shoves the hem of your dress up past your hips and to your midriff in one fluid motion. You wriggle for a second, so exposed so fast, but sigh contentedly when his lips meet your stomach. His mouth is so unexplainably hot, and as his tongue meets you your whole body erupts in goosebumps. It sends a shiver down your spine. It’s even better than you imagined.

“Knew you’d taste so good,” Rafe practically moans, eyes darting to yours, and his fingertips curl around the waistband of your underwear as you watch. Your cheeks flush at his word. You’re honored to be the recipient of words like his— it’s not often Rafe finds himself giving someone a compliment. He lays a final kiss on your stomach and surges back up towards your chest. He mutters gibberish to himself, probably something like “I hate this fucking dress” and yanks your dress up past your tits.

His fingers find your left nipple and squeeze as his tongue finds the other. You arch again, unused to the sensation, and let loose a groan. His fingers are so soft and light, but his teeth nip.

You make a noise of surprise, eyebrows furrowing, and tug at the short, blunt locks of his hair.

“Impatient,” he reprimands, tongue rolling as he glances up at your pink face. You’re strung so tight you might snap. “Needy.” He releases your nipple with a pop. Your lips are so pink and shiny, he just has to kiss you again. You whine into his mouth when he comes back, fingernails scratching at his scalp, and your legs wind around his waist.

But he lets go of your hip with his left hand and creeps closer to the crotch of your underwear, fingertips dancing. Your grip on his hair tightens. Between your legs pulses with heat and need, hot on his clothed crotch, and he knows he could calculate your BPM just by laying with you like this.

“Rafe,” you breathe, staring up at him as your chest heaves.

“Relax,” he shushes, ducking down to press a kiss to your neck, and you gradually relax the muscles that lock your legs to his abdomen. “There you go.” You think you hear a “good girl” fall from his soft lips but it’s in that moment that he pushes past the cotton and digs his hand into your underwear.

You immediately spur into motion, back arching and mouth dropping into an ‘O’, and he just bites his lip and watches. You’re so responsive, and it makes his dick fucking ache.

“Thought about this? Hm?” He pants, releasing his bottom lip from between his teeth, and grins. “So wet, this pussy’s been begging for me for weeks.”

You struggle to nod, movement interrupted by the slew of noises and ramblings of “please” and “yes” and “Rafe” falling from your lips. His middle and ring fingers push past the slick resistance your pussy gives him, and you go silent and slack-jawed as he pushes all the way to the hilt.

And he’s got big fingers. You wonder if they’re the same size as his dick. If so, you might be in trouble.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you nearly cry, head falling back into the sheets, and you’re slammed back into reality and consciousness of your surroundings. The coolness of the AC makes your nipples peak again, and the sweat on your lower back cools almost as soon as it’s created. But Rafe makes you hot. Your chest and cheeks are flushed a bright pink, and your lips are swollen into a bigger size and slick with his saliva and your own. We don’t even have to discuss how flushed the other parts of your body are—he already knows.

His fingers curl slightly up and to the right, and your abdomen jerks at the unfamiliar feeling. You curl up slightly, eyebrows furrowed, and try to catch a glimpse of his large hand in your underwear. God, you wish you could take a picture. You lock gazes with him momentarily but fall back down at the look in his face. It’s nearly animalistic.

“Rafe, please,” you beg, grabbing onto his wrist with both hands. You meet his eyes. “I want you to fuck me. Please.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling his fingers out, and clambers off of you for a second. You sit up, quickly ridding yourself of the dress bunched up to your shoulders, and watch as he rips his shorts off and nears the bed. You don’t even have enough time to gape at the size of him before he’s grabbing your bicep and jerking you onto your stomach.

You have half a mind to protest his man-handling of you but stay silent as you look up at the angle he positions you.

There’s a full length mirror opposite this side of his bed, and you just stare at the pair of you as you catch your breath.

“Like it, huh?” He asks quietly, dipping down and pressing a kiss to your hair. His hand finds your neck and he moves you to face the mirror head on, watching your face closely. You really like the feeling of his fingers around your throat. He can tell, now; your shoulders relax and your lips move into the shape of a smile when he squeezes.

“You always keep this here?” You ask, head falling onto your folded arms when he releases you to just admire your body. His fingers trace your spine and the curve of your ass, never losing focus.

“I moved it this morning,” he murmurs, gaze never straying from you.

“Oh, so you knew you’d be fucking me tonight.” Your face splits into an easy grin, head tilting mischievously. His eyes find yours in the mirror, and he bends again to press his mouth to your lower back.

“Always teasing me.” His voice is muffled by your smooth skin. He can’t get enough. “Knew it’d happen sometime soon. You can’t stay away forever, you know.” He straightens up but doesn’t find your eyes in the mirror. His large, warm hand maneuvers your hips into a tilted position, and you move up onto your feet. He has you flat on your stomach on the bed, but your ass and legs hang off and the soles of your feet just barely press flat into the floor. “Knew this pussy would get me at some point.” He smacks at an asscheek lightning fast; and your whole body jiggles with the force of his hand. You squeak involuntarily.

A large hand grabs at your shoulder as the other one jerks himself steadily. Once, twice, three times, and then he’s spreading you open and pushing into you.

Your spine stretches and relaxes when he gets halfway in, and your thighs start to shake when you’re filled all the way to the hilt.

“Shit, Rafe, you’re fucking big,” you complain, but the tail end of your protest bleeds into a desperate whine. Your fingers grip the sheets tightly, eyes squeezed shut, and your head falls onto your folded arms. “Please,” you say, reaching back to frantically find his hips. “Go slow.”

“Stretching you out, hm,” Rafe comments, breathing hard already, and relieves the pressure by sliding almost all the way out. His tip almost breaches the seam of your slit but he pushes back in, pulling your asscheek away with a thumb to watch. “Fucking sexy.”

You squeeze around him like a vice, but the intrusion is welcome. You will yourself to relax and accept his huge fucking dick, and the thought of yourself getting fucked by him sends a gush of slick between you two.

“There you go,” Rafe sighs, and pulls out only to fuck back in to you quickly. You cry out, fingers squeezing extra tight on the sheets, but you will yourself to look up.

His chest is flushed in the mirror as his chain swings in the open air, and the pure concentration and pleasure on his face prompts a pleased noise from your throat. You tentatively jerk back into him and his head whips up in the mirror, blue eyes meeting your own.

“Oh, yeah?” He mutters, teeth catching his lip, and his hips snap into yours. Your mouth drops open only momentarily before you close it and tilt your head to the size coyly, biting your own lip and pushing back into his hips. He watches you carefully in the mirror with squinted eyes, half-impressed and half-challenging. “You think you can take it?” His fingers squeeze at your shoulder tight.

You just silently nod. Cocky.

His emotionless gaze locks with yours and his blood pumps hot in his veins. He’s going to make you eat your words.

His hips surge forward in a suddenly-steady rhythm, skin slapping skin ringing out in the room. You just stare at him, defiant, and push back with every thrust he gives.

Rafe grunts and lets go of your shoulder, replacing his touch with an arm slung around your neck and the other hand between your legs. His warm fingers nudge your clit, finding it immediately, and his hips snap punishingly quickly into yours.

It’s brutal, having him like this. You hope you bruise. But you challenged him, and somebody has to lose. Except it’s not really a loss when Rafe fucking Cameron is genuinely fucking you into next week.

“Shit,” you exhale, choking on the inhale that accompanies it, and you squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers rub you in circles. “Fuck, Rafe, that’s so good.” Something hot coils tight in your stomach and your thighs suddenly warm almost in preparation for the wave of sensation.

“Yeah?” He pants, hot in your ear. “You like that?” His chest sticks to your sweaty back, gluing you together as his strong hips and legs pound you into the mattress. You stay strong, along for the ride, and provide all the verbal encouragement he needs. Your stomach feels hotter and hotter and your throat runs dry.

“I love it,” you whine, head tilting up as if you’re praying he won’t stop. “Fuck me like this forever.”

“Mhm,” is all he says, too lost in the squeeze of your pussy around him and the warmth your body grants him. You pulse even more, so close.

You gather some strength and struggle to push up into an elbow, head tilting further and further until you can feel his forehead brush the crown of your head. Your muscles strain.

“Just like that. Just like—God, shit, right there.”

You squeak when the hot coil in your abdomen snaps and you fall twitchingly onto your stomach. His fingers rub quickly at your clit and you feel suddenly a hundred pounds lighter, eyes rolling back into your head. It’s so fucking good you wonder how you’ll ever masturbate happily again. Your fingers don’t compare in the slightest to this fucking dick. Your chest heaves with the effort it takes to fill your lungs with clean air, and your legs start to shake miserably underneath him. Your thighs feel like jelly and you barely did anything.

“Please, Rafe,” you beg, turning your head to the side to look innocently up at him. “Give it to me.”

“Yeah?” He pants and leans down to kiss you messily. You groan into his mouth and push back once more into his hips. Your pussy is still buzzing with feeling, and it fades slowly into a pleasant ache the more he fucks into you. “You want it on your back or in your mouth?”

You blink wildly and push onto your palms, signaling that you want to turn over. He pulls out but jerks himself steadily until you scramble onto your knees in front of him, face level with his pelvis and tongue out. You look up at him with the most earnest and well-meaning eyes, and he just has to close his eyes when the tip of his dick finally meets your tongue and he fills your mouth. His chest loosens with the most pathetic noise he’s ever made, a mix between a raw groan and a whimper. Your soft mouth accepts him and cleans his dick, humming contentedly, and when he catches his breath and manages to open his eyes you’re staring up at him, an immensely pleased look on your face.

You crawl closer and lift onto your knees, arms coming around his neck and pulling him to you. You press a kiss to his mouth. He can almost taste himself on your tongue, and he smoothes a hand down your side to grab onto your asscheek as you just kiss him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly to give your face a once-over. “You haven’t even showered yet.”

“And whose fault is that?” You sigh, exasperated. “Someone couldn’t make it up the stairs without shoving his hands up my dress—we barely even made it to the bed.” You smooth a hand down the back side of his head, liking the way his hair feels.

Rafe just purses his lips.

“Sounds like a really cool guy to me.”

“Mhm,” you say, rolling your eyes, and sit back on your heels.

This room is a mess.

The corner of the well-made bed’s sheets and bedspread is yanked from the far corner and lies bunched up in the middle, dark with sweat. It smells like sex in here, the ceiling fan doing nothing to mitigate it, and your work dress is hung haphazardly on the closet door handle. With a dark Grenadine stain down the middle.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rafe says, interrupting your inner monologue. His warm hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“What?” You ask, eyebrows drawn.

“Don’t even think about putting on clothes.”

You scoff.

“Like those would do me any good right now.” You wind your arms around his neck and smirk up at him. “I still haven’t even shown you what’s in my bag.”

His smile grows.

“What’s in your bag, baby?”

#obx #obx 3 #obx smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x afab!reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff

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wroteclassicaly · 8 months

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The image of Steve’s thin gold chain dangling, swaying back and forth, before resting against his tan, freckle and mole spattered, hairy chest, as he spits onto your pussy. A broken and low rasp escapes his mouth in a rough panting, his massive palms holding your knees apart. He almost sounds hoarse. “Such a hot fucking cunt, honey.”

The urge to close your legs due to vulnerability, it’s fruitless. He’s got you right he wants you.

“Yeah? You want me to taste you inside? Spread you apart and fuck your tight little hole with my tongue?”

You whine so loudly that it makes your entire body feel as if you’ve floated off his bed and crashed through the ceiling, flying through planet earth and ending up in outer space.

You’re a real fucking goner at this point.

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imma-queencard · 2 months

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𝕾𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖒𝖊. 𝕯𝖎𝖉 𝖘𝖍𝖊?

Red lights (part one) Hyunjin x F.reader x Felix

Genre:Smut,yandere,manipulation. [18+Minors DNI]

Tags: @jisunglyricist @annybah @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @queenmea604 @glitchyoursoulhehe @hyunevlogs @linosssss @freckleboilix @k-minnieluv @tangerinepiee @iknowleeknow @itza-meee @sleepyxxhead @hanonlymeuu @heeyboooo @sashe-xhelse-blog @hyunjinhoexxx (comment/dm for tags)

Your fingers gripped the bedsheet helplessly as you felt an invisible demeanour penetrating your soul. Something compressing against your chest. It felt heavy. You could bearly breath,barely move an inch. Just sprawling on to the bed while whimpers leaving your lips for impending death. Are you dying? A tear escaped your eye. You swore someone was trying to rip out your soul off your body.

"St-stop..God-god have mer-mercy!" You cried out in last attempt. You heard an animalistic growl as the thing was pulled off from you by an invisible force. Crashing it against the wall opposite of your bed. The photoframe broke down from the ceiling,scattering the glasses. You screamed in horror seeing the scene in front of you.

"Lord! Lord have mercy on me!please please!" you kept repeating your words when you saw the thing turning into a seeable form. A human? You furrowed.

"I swear you on Jesus Christ!leave me alone!Jesus!" You repeated holding the blanket tight to your chest. You gulped. The thing.. The shadow shifted into a human form. A man. His black pitched eyes staring into your soul. He forced out one of his wrists from the wall. Wiping off his lips with one of the palms before sending a devilish smirk in your way. As if he pulled that smirk to see you shiver in fear.

"Sweetheart-" he took a heavy step towards you but he was pulled back again. He hissed in pain cursing the godly power that was pulling him backwards,away from you.

"Jesus christ please-my lord!" you murmured seeing it trying to reach out to you again. Your back was pressed against the bed frame then.

"I swear on your Jesus Christ that You" he paused hissing," Would. Scream. For. Me." he literally spelled out each word while his face twisted in pain, "Fuck! soon-DAMN IT!" he screamed in agony and was vanished in the air.

You could swear on your soul that last night was no hallucinations of yours. It really occured. The creature,his dark eyes...Still made you shiver in fear. But none of your friends trusted you. You tried to type something to reason out your logic to your friend circle over the phone. Maybe they would believe in your words now? But everything in vain.

You harshly threw your phone on the bed in dismay. You sighed. You stood in front of the mirror. You took out the hairbrush from the drawer. You were combing your curls absentmindedly that you didn’t notice the change in reflection on the mirror.

"None of them believed..Do I look like an idiot to brag out such things?" you murmured to yourself combing the knot of your hair.

"Whoever thinks you an idiot is the biggest idiot,darling."

Your eyes widened in shock. Your eyes frantically wandered anywhere but the mirror. And found none. You shook your head in distress. This might be another delusion of yours. You looked into the mirror and screamed in fear taking a few steps backwards. A reflection which didnt belong to you. A blonde man staring at you with the most beautiful doe eyes you had ever seen. Little cute freckles all over his nose. He tilted his head with a sad look,"not happy to see me?"

"Wha-what on earth?" you stuttered and fell flat on your ass. The man came out of the mirror to your horror and took a step towards you. You hovered back in fear. You looked at the blonde who was wearing black jacket over his black shirt. Chains after chains were wrapped around his slender neck. His blonde bangs falling over his forhead contrasting the freckles as he bend near you. His lips all puffy & red making him the most ravishing thing you had seen in a while.

"You're so beautiful.." he whispered tracing your chin with his fingers. Admiration sparkling in his eyes. You unconsciously leaned to his touch. You were hypotised in his beauty, in his aura.

"I'm not that beautiful.." you found yourseldlf mumble back.

"It’s just you don't know how breathtaking you are,Y/N.." he replied pressing his cold cheek against yours. You shivered in cold but your heart felt a weird sense of warmth.

"It's beating out so loud..." he placed his palm over your chest. "So tempting.." he complimented tracing your cleavage. You blushed under his gaze but your limbs felt like paralyzed. You couldn’t move just looking at the unreal man in front of you.

"Is it beating out so wild for me?" he asked rubbing your lips with his thumb. Signalling them to open up.

"Ye-yes." you found yourself mumble again. You heard him chuckle before he slipped his index finger past your lips. Your pupil dilated in shock.

"Suck on this babygurl,yeah?" he cooed placing one hand behind your head to push it forward against his engulfed finger. You couldn’t help rolling your tongue over his finger erupting a groan from him. He cursed and took out his finger to replace it with his lips against yours.

"My gurl is so perfect.. " he praised between the harsh kiss before pulling you off the ground. His hands started exploring all over your back as he steadied you on the floor. You moaned against his lips wanting more. His hands groped your ass pulling you further against his manhood. Your lips parted.

"My gurl wants some more?" he chuckled spanking your ass lightly. His hand traveled up to your chest and grope your breasts through your clothes,"Do you like it,mh?"

"Ye-yes.."

"Who am I to reject such beauty,huh?" he chuckled and was about to start unclothing you but suddenly your phone rang. The sudden ringtone taking you out of your daze. Your mind came to sense finally. You screamed in horror as you push the blonde off you. You quickly pulled up the laces of your dress over your shoulder

"Wha-what are you!" you screamed trembling in fear. Taking quick steps off him.

"You-Jesu-"

He tsked cutting you off,"Don't complete the word,darling"

When he saw you furrowing in confusion,his face broke into a smirk. He clicked his fingers together and you saw him getting vanished just like the demon last night.

"Wa-wait-" you tried to reach out but it was late. He was already gone. However, you heard his deep voice echoing in your room.

"babygurl,the name is felix if it concerns. "

You were crazy. Crazy would be an understatement. You were getting lunatic. Your world almost collapsed in front of you as you looked at the painting laid on the art paper. You woke up today and found it on the floor.

It was you. Naked.

Yes,naked.

Someone painted you in such indecent manner that you could barely think of. Your sleeping face lying one side of the bed. Your naked body sprawled out with your breasts barely covered with a white satin cloth. However,your cleavage was on full display while your legs rubbed up against each other as a moan leaving your lips. You didnt even miss the sweats dripping from your forehead from the outburst orgasm you were having on that art paper.

"How-how on-!Absurd!" you gritted your teeth though the blush on your cheeks were prominent.

Your face darkened and your skin hair erected suddenly. You lived alone. Who in the earth painted you and dropped it here inside your bedroom! You did check the doors,windows every night and you were sure of that.

For the past weeks,you felt someone watched you sleeping. You even felt faint touches here and there of your body as if someone was admiring you. Sometimes you would wake up the next morning to find some colors or broken nibs of color pencil split out on the floor. You did find it strange. However,everything was getting strange with you for some weeks.

Your eyes welled up clutching the painting. Something was wrong with you. You knew you hadn't hallucinated those two shadows or two men. They were real. The touches were. You felt humiliated in your own rented apartment.

"What's going wrong with me..what's gone wrong " you sobbed alone. You threw the painting away, "Fuck YOU! all of you!WHATEVER THE THING YOU ARE!" you broke down. You angrily took the painting to tear it down,then you noticed the signature. The italic letters.

Your fingers traced the words, "Hyunjin.."

After taking shower that night, you tucked yourself in your bed. You felt relieved after crying out loud in the shower for an hour. You tried so hard to tear the painting but couldn’t make up your heart to do so. There was something mesmerising, some force preventing from doing so. You could feel the passion in that art.

You snored a bit as you changed your side. You didn’t feel it's presence yet fortunately. Though the artist slowly hovered over you till his hot breath coated your skin. You moaned out sleepily as he placed some soft kisses on your neck. Your breath hitched as the soft kisses soon turned into love bites. Marking your delicate skin with his sinful teeth. Your eyes shot wide open as he bit the skin of your collarbone a bit rough.

"OH LORD!" the words slipped instantly out of your mouth seeing one of the most handsome faces hissing merely an inch away off your face. You forgot all the struggles, rather kept staring at his delicate features. His black bangs falling over his forehead. His dark eyes illuminating dominance. His sharp jawline was a cherry on top. His red lips parting a bit wide,taking it's sweet times after bruising your skin. He smirked seeing you checking him out despite your previous grudge against him.

"Hyunjin.." you were shocked that this name slipped out of lips. He offered you a sweet smile,"I knew my girl would recognise me.."

You didnt know why and how. Your mind, your body, your existence somehow knew it was the artist of that explicit painting. The man from the first night.. The more you looked into his eyes,the more you became drunk dazed. You didn’t know when he pressed his lips against you. Biting your lips for entrance. He bit your lip harsh eliciting a moan. Taking his chance to push his tongue inside. Exploring your mouth with his tongue.

"Such a sweet thing.. " he cooed. You tried to protest but you couldn’t move as if you were paralysed. You almost screamed out when he slipped his hand under your night dress. His cold fingers brushed against your breast playfully to make you escape lewd sounds for his fun. You were the toy of him. At least for that night.

He smirked and groped one of your breasts before pulling the gown off your shoulder.

"We don't need this,do we?" he chuckled and threw the gown somewhere in the room. You tried to cover yourself to save the minimum dignity that was left within you despite your desperateness. But he tsked,"No honey..They say never hide a masterpiece from an artist"

You cried out as he pinned both of your hands above your head with that. You spoke, "but-but you are not a human..."

He laughed and grind against you,"Can a human satisfy you like this?" You groaned pushing your hips up for more friction.

You were staring at this demonic man like a pervert as he unzipped his pant and freed his erection. You badly wanted to cover your eyes,push that heavenly monster off you but rather you were oggling at him. As if you were under some spell. An incubus' spell.

He called you a masterpiece but the actual masterpiece was there in front of you - hovering over you like a spider.

"You have been eyeing for quiet some time,sweetheart" he mumbled against your ear giving you a hard spank.

"I-im sorry!" you cried out. None ever humiliated you to this extent.

"I dont think you're enough sorry for eye fucking an incubus.." he tilted his head with another spank on your ass. You hissed in both pain and pleasure, "I-I am.."

"If you're sorry,scream my name the whole night." he smirked running his thumb over your clit wetting it more," I want every fucking incubus of this world to know who's fucking you inside these four walls"

He groaned pushing two fingers inside of you. You squirmed around his digits. "Hyunjin.."

"Yeah sweetheart?" he asked curling his fingers inside.

"Too-too deep!"

"But sweetheart it's still just my fingers.." he chuckled increasing his pace. You were a crying mess back then. Gripping your sheets frantically as your stomach felt tingling inside.

"I-Im -Hyunjin I'm-" you screamed his name feeling your orgasm near. You were on the ecstasy, too high to think what your neighbours would say about your late night screams.

"HYUNJIN-GOD-whaat?" you looked at him in shock when he suddenly pulled out his fingers. "Why would you PULL OUT!" You screamed in agony. You were frustrated about the knot forming inside. Your whole body was on like needles,aching to come out and flood his sinful fingers. And there he was. Smirking at your helplessness.

He just laughed out in response before lining up his thick cock at your entrance. You bit your lips to suppress the moans as he pushed the tip throughout your wet walls.

"Gosh!you feel so tight!" he groaned against your ear while pushing his whole length inside. His fingers intertwined yours. He didn’t even give you time to adjust rather started thrusting his hips into you.

"HYUNJIN!"

"FUCK YES!Scream my name like this baby" he muttered under his breath increasing his pace. His huge cock was hitting your cervix each time. You were a moaning mess wrapping your legs around his thin waist. Everything about him was perfect. His sculpture, his demeanour & also his cock..

You cried out in pain as his girth spread your cunt apart. You were screaming his name in pleasure. No one had ever fucked you like this. So much pain yet too much pleasure.

Your eyes rolled back as he pulled out for a mere second,only to push back his cock in double force.

"FUCK! Like this-"

"Open those damn eyes and look at me. You gotta know who's ruining you" he growled and thrust harder. Your fingers dug into his flesh. Tears started rolling down your cheeks. The pleasure was too much. Everything around you was shaking so was your greedy body..

You felt your pussy wall clenching around his cock. A knot forming on your lower abdomen. He chuckled,"My sweet girl is gonna cream my cock, hm?"

You nodded biting down your lips,too ashamed to confess.

"If you wanna cum, you need to answer me or I stop" he threatened rubbing your already sensitive clit to make you whimper. He was really testing your patience.

"Please-im-I wanna cum!" you pathetically begged moving your hips back and forth against him. The last thing you wanted to remain undone. You gripped his shoulder, afraid of him leaving you undone again, "Please hyunjin...?" you meowed staring into his red eyes.

"Be specific with your needs baby " he hissed giving you a rough thrust as his fingers twisted your nipples.

"I-I want to-I want your cock.." you couldn’t even finish before his growl interrupted you. He took upon his pace and rocked his hip into you. Your fingers dug onto his shoulder. Your lips parted wider in pleasure as another knot formed into you.

"I-I'M CUMMIN-" you screamed out the words when you came onto his cock. He smirked placing french kisses on your face while taking out his cock in and out of your sensitive cock.

"Too-too much can't!" you squirmed underneath him.

"I still need to ruin you with my seeds,babygirl" he growled and with a few more strokes hitting your gspot, he reached his orgasm. He grabbed your chin and pulled you into a rough kiss. He steadied his cock deep into your cunt as he unloaded his cums into you. Pushing his so called seeds deeper into your cunt. You moaned against his lips feeling the sudden warmth of his juices inside

"Such a sweet cunt taking every seed of me" he chuckled in your ear pushing his juices deeper.

He took his sweet time before pulling out his wet cock. He then placed two kisses on your both eyes patting your hair,"sweet girl with sweet cunt deserves her sweet sleep now"

You were sleeping like a dead body after your cursed out sex with the first incubus. Hyunjin was lying beside you playing with your hair. He was humming a tone while tracing your cheeks. Tricking you into a deep slumber.

"You know you can come out of your hiding now" he chuckled looking at the mirror. Then all of a sudden a strong blow of wind rushed out of the mirror scattering one or two things off the bed side table. The flower vase fell into the floor and you groaned at the sound. Clutching more to hyunjin's side while sleeping as if you were his pet. He patted your back,"ssh,sleep sweetheart"

"Wow easy there felix.." hyunjin hissed as felix's aura lunged at him-stopping just an inch from both of you.

"We dont want our princess to wake up,do we?" hyunjin reasoned with a smirk.

"Our princess,huh?" felix chuckled back before his eyes turned red completely.

"No,my bad. My princess.. " hyunjin replied with a smug look and placed an intentional kiss over your forehead causing Felix to growl. He left your side and walked over the mirror to only get attacked by felix. Felix was now grabbing his neck against the mirror,his fangs threatening to come out.

"She already chose me,Felix. Just back out already. " he coughed out.

"Oh!did she?"felix started laughing and unhold his grip on hyunjin's neck. Hyunjin furrowed and carefully circled around the other.

"She already chose me over you Felix. Her soul yearns for me if you haven’t understood the fact yet,young boy"

"Oh?is it?We will see if she even wants to see your bloody face after waking up the next morning.." Felix muttered the last words with a smirk.

"Are you going to pull your as usual innocence card on her?" the elder asked staring into his eyes and continued with a chuckle, "She won't even fall for it,she's already fucking ruined."

"And devil says innocence is the bestest art of seduction"

Author note:This is first complete smut I've ever written so sorry for the mistakes. There would be a final chapter to finish "red lights" from SHE CHOSE ME,DID SHE? series. Tysm for reading.

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loveshotzz · 2 days

Note

I have to know what would we do to spoil our old man on his birthday 🥺🥺🥺🥺

we’d spoil him rotten 🥺

here’s semi spicy 18+ blurb about giving our favorite old man a massage on his birthday ♥️

(this blurb is for my au All I Really Want Is You but can be read as a stand-alone. Steve is 43 and fem!reader is 31 requested so long ago by @joekeerysmoles 💕) wc:600

The rose oil that covers your hands makes your fingertips glide over his broad freckled shoulders with ease. Eucalyptus hangs thick and heavy in the warm air, crackling from the wooden wicks inside the candles that provide the only light in his room. They help the nerves that still flutter even after a year of saying ‘I love you’.

Steve lays flat on his chest underneath you only in his boxer briefs, the gold Gucci emblem around the waist band shimmers in the low light. Your knees sit on either side of his hips, dipping down the plush bedding of his new king size mattress. A 43rd birthday gift to himself, while you sit in nothing but the thin red lace of the one you got for him.

Leaning forward with a smirk, your lips ghost across two of your favorite moles that dot the back of his neck, the tip of your nose tracing the shell of his ear.

“Happy birthday old man.”

Applying just enough pressure up the dip of his spine, you earn a low moan from him that vibrates deep in your core. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to rock your hips and chase it.

“Honey,” his voice comes out muffled from around the tops of his hands,“I wish there were words to describe how good this feels.”

Giggling with a chest full of pride, you catch a flash of his white teeth, stubble covered cheeks pushing up at his favorite sound. One of his big hands slips out, shoulders flexing with his movement as he reaches back to squeeze at the soft dough of your thigh before disappearing back to where it came from.

A content sigh escapes from between his pink lips as your focus shifts to his neck, your fingers digging at the tense muscles under his gold chain. The metal glistens with oil every time it catches the glow of the flickering candle, while your thumb and forefinger knead behind his ears.

“Shit, baby.”

Huffing with furrowed brows, he readjusts so he can turn his head to the other side. The movement slides you forward, creating just enough friction to bite down on your bottom lip. The dull ache between your legs becomes even harder to ignore, and you wonder if he can feel just how wet you are.

“Yeah, is that the spot?” You coo all sticky sweet, working it with even more focus. He sucks in a sharp breath, his teasing kisses all night spurring you on.

”God, fuck - yeah, yeah, right there.” He groans loud enough to drown out the sounds of The O’Jays vinyl playing downstairs, your thumb finally loosening up a hard knot.

His whole body melts under your touch, the hard lines of his face relaxing while the blunt ends of your nails scratch at the silver hairs hiding in the nape of his neck. Letting go of his long work week with deep breath, the movements have your hips rolling on their own, his oiled sun kissed skin making it too easy to do again.

He hums knowingly, relishing in the soft tug of his hair loving the way you squeal when he flips himself over. Big hands grab at your hips to keep you in place, the effects of your massage had on him becoming obvious nestled between your thighs.

There’s still no preparing for the sight beneath you, and despite seeing it almost every day, you still can’t believe he’s yours.

His soft hair is a tousled mess of auburn and silver on top of his head, begging you to drag your hands through it. The five o’clock shadow that peppers his strong jaw is at your favorite length, and sometimes you think he grows it out a little longer just for you. His gold chain that hangs off his neck fits like a choker, no longer lost in the thick patch of chest hair that you swear has a few more gray curls inside of it after today. Letting your hands wander his chest, your gentle touch makes the subtle muscles of his abs twitch. Perfect teeth biting down on his full bottom lip, watching you in awe.

“You know I hate my birthdays? Always have.” Steve hums, warm palms gliding up your thighs, squeezing at the soft dough before digging his long fingers into your hips, “Now I wish it was every day with you lookin’ like this, pretty girl.”

”Who says it can’t be?” You grin, running your slick hands back up his pecs, nails scratching in the coarse hair there.

Leaning forward, you fix his chain bumping the end of your nose with his, rolling your hips slowly, you feel him twitch inside the soft cotton of his briefs.

”It certainly feels like it,” he whispers with a smile against your lips.

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #all i really want is you #older!steve harrington #it’s 1am of course i’m posting a blurb about him

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mizusnose · 4 months

Text

Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I

Summary: your lifelong crush on your best friend Akemi’s best friend turned girlfriend is something you’ve learned to deal with.

heavy on the angst, yearning, and sadness/anger that comes with a love unrequited…

Akemi is beautiful. She’s pale and her lips are naturally pink, no need for any tinted lip palm, her eyelids naturally double lidded—you admire her openly. It’s the same way you regard your jealousy whenever Mizu is around too.

It’s been a lifelong thing: this love you hold. Insistent like a stream in the summer, constant like rivers unnamed underground. A yearning you’ve come to deal with.

The thing is this: Mizu is beautiful. Not the kind of beautiful that Akemi is, with her pink skirts and dainty wrists and pink lips. Mizu is large palms, tall with broad shoulders, a shaved undercut that fails to hide the freckle on her nape. The bones of her chest that flutter whenever Akemi kisses her.

You turn away, tucked away in the corner of the bar. You’re single—always have been. It should be easy, and yet the warmth of the wine on your tongue sits heavy, strong and pungent.

They make a good match, you remember telling your friends, They’re meant for one another.

And you’d laugh, and you’d sit there and watch them whisper to one another, Mizu’s hands on Akemi’s tiny waist, her ribs, her shoulders.

The first time you’d wrote about it, the thudding of your heart, the heat of your face, Mizu’s face in your mind as you touched yourself, you realized: you were in love. The letter didn’t see daylight for years. Felt like a part of yourself from a past life, one now fallen away from and so distant.

You remember it now. As Mizu pecks Akemi’s jaw, her chin, the underside of her ear. How she walks away to get more drinks and Akemi sidles up to you, a flush on her face, the skin of her neck.

“You look angry.”

“Ah, just work stuff..you know..”

Akemi nods, sipping the melted ice of her drink. Her chest isn’t covered. It reflects the dim lights. You look away.

Mizu returns and sets wine glasses down. You meet her eyes, the blue of it an electric thing in your gut. She grins as a hello, and you nod back, tipsy and unbalanced.

Your letter would likely never see the light of day. Instead, it would sit where you’d left it, the half-life of truth on paper an eternity—double that. You remind yourself to burn it when you return home. Maybe get drunk while you do it, really make it dramatic as possible.

Yet, as the night stumbles away from everyone, Akemi leaves early for her early work call tomorrow morning. A slurred I hate it, I hate it, god I wish I could quit urghhh as Taigen took her home.

And then Mizu was there, against the wood of the bartop. Her glistening golden chains reflecting in the low light. She rarely ever wore anything too revealing: liked turtlenecks more than anyone you’d ever known. But her puffer jacket had been long set aside, now just an indigo outline of her. A person against the backdrop of the bar, a watercolor in the night. A thing of desire in your mind, your heart.

You’d talked, somehow managed not to make a fool of yourself. Maybe have given away you’d drank too much, so now she was directing you into a cab: her hands steady and distant from your waist, your hips.

She helped you back into your apartment, stopped to drink some water, give you some as well, and now here you both were: in the darkness of your room, a mess of yourself thudding against your entire body.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Mizu doesn’t respond. She lays you down and walks around your room. steps over the mess of your floor and the disheveled state of your desk, your drawers, your walls pinned in posters of bands and music and prints.

Her hands would stop, start again at different points of the room and mouth the words of the poster or the messily scrawled note you’d written weeks ago. You’d watch her, unfocused and smeared in anticipation—of what, you couldn’t tell.

And then—

“A letter.” Her voice broke the silence. The hum of your fridge started up again, and you went still. Felt the blood in your body rush, felt it in your face, could hear it in your ears, “For me?”

———

ok this is too long snd idek if i’ll continue this but lmk what you think. i watched little women and needed some angsty yearning so here we are! maybe a part 2??

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x fem!reader #mizu x reader #akemi blue eye samurai #mizu x akemi #angst #wlw yearning

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cheollipop · 9 months

Text

move

navi | taglist

pairing: pole dancer!choi san x club owner!reader (fem)

w.c.: 3.3k

tags: smut, ft. pimp!woo

song rec: 'move' by taemin

with his toned thighs wrapped around the pole, sweat glistening under the changing lights, you felt the urge to wipe the cocky smirk off the new hire's lips. but little did you know, choi san loved performing for a crowd.

warnings: this —in white— is san's outfit for reference (except tighter, cheaper-looking and with a different chain), mentioned mxm, reader has one drink but everything is consensual, switch!san (shorty give me whip-whiplash), mean!reader, she's a badass though, public sex, unprotected sex (👎), san has a nipple piercing, some nipple play (m), multiple orgasms (m), multiple creampies, some edging, overstimulation, a hint of breeding/impreg kink, voyeurism/exhibitionism, degradation, so much dirty talk, nicknames (sannie, pretty boy; miss, darling), I think that's all (?)

A/N: this is for my lovely, pretty, gorgeous, insanely kind, amazing, genius, and beautiful alyssa (@kitten4sannie) <3 I'm sorry this took over a month to get to ;; I really hope the wait was worth it though!! happy reading~ ^^

nsfw under the cut—minors dni!! 🔞

Scrunching your nose at the rancid odour of sewage, your heeled boots clacked against the pavement leading to the guarded club entrance, digging into your coat pocket and fishing out a stack of bills to lay gently in front of the homeless man’s sleeping bag. You passed by him every night, his yellow grin a stark contrast to his surroundings—fetid air driving everyone in the area to hold their breath, disease-ridden rodents and pretentious high school dropouts with one too many stacks of their daddy’s money crawling around in the vicinity.

You walked past the burly guard at the front, watching his ninety-degree bow from the corner of your eye as you stepped into the club. It wasn’t the best area to run such business, but you got enough loyal customers—mostly rich men lying to their wives—to pay the bills. You supposed you should be thankful to your father for that, the wretched bastard leaving his only daughter to run this shithole.

You walked down the short hallway and into wide room, blues and purples illuminating the shiny tile and peeling walls as you carried yourself to the bar near the entrance. The rusted stool creaked as you rested your body weight down on it, ignoring the young bartender as she scrambled to make your usual drink, drops of expensive liquor flying over the bench before she dropped a decorated glass in front of you. Giving her a tight-lipped smile, you wrapped your fingers around the cup and allowed the bitterness to sink into your taste buds.

Sitting sideways at the bar, forearm flat on the surface with the drink loosely held in your hand, you focused your eyes on the man to your left, moving his body around the pole anchored in the middle of the room. Cheap, glittery fabric pressed into the skin of his toned chest, stretching around his biceps until a peak of his warm skin tone shone through the white. His thighs wrapped around the pole, the muscles bulging as he held himself up and rolled his body around the metal rod, a dainty belly chain loose around his narrow waist, head rolled backwards to stretch out the column of his freckled throat. You could tell he was trying to show off his rounded backside, but his movements carried a certain stiffness that made you scoff. The customers spread out on the seats surrounding the stage—a mix of older, unhappily married men, and younger, broke college students who couldn’t afford a fancier club—didn’t seem to mind as much, taking in his lousy attempt of an arch and the prominent bulge pressing against the thin material of his shimmering bottoms, ogling eyes zeroing in on the metal bar piercing his nipple as it occasionally brushed against the pole.

He lowered himself down onto the LED flooring on his tiptoes, maintaining the graceful stance as the song came to an end, feline eyes flitting upwards to bore into yours. He oozed confidence, the air around him almost unbreachable, and for a reason you couldn’t place your finger on, the cocky curl of his lips irked you, your eyebrow twitching in irritation at the shameless show of brashness.

Veiny arms circled your shoulders, a familiar rasp in your ear, “that’s the new hire I was telling you about. Pretty neat, don’t you think?” His dark brown locks tickled your temple, curved nose nuzzling into your hair.

You hummed in agreement, “Mm, good job, Woo. He’s pretty.”

“And tight, ‘tried him out myself,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, proud of his take on a job interview.

You reached back to smack his shoulder, a faint smile on your lips. “He’s a little too confident for someone who can’t even arch properly, though,” you critiqued, narrowing your eyes at the man now bent over in front of the small crowd, thick fingers wrapped around the pole while he attempted to move his stiff muscles.

“He’s not that bad,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, tracing over the man’s plump ass with his eyes as he played back the events from the previous night in his mind, the throaty moans and whimpers still fresh in his ears.

“Even you can do a better job than him, and that’s saying a lot.”

Two fingers pinched your upper arm through the blazer covering it, Wooyoung’s unamused huff blowing over the shell of your ear. “If you’re so displeased by his performance, why don’t you teach him how to do it yourself?” He pushed back the image of the man’s narrow waist and puckered hole, replacing it with the memory of the private show you’d put on for him the week before.

While Wooyoung was too busy fighting off the sudden tightness in his pants, you contemplated his words—despite knowing he’d spoken them humorously. Tightening your hand around your drink, you brought it up to your lips and gulped down the rest of it, pushing Wooyoung off you and standing up. He scrambled to find his footing, caught off guard by your brassy stride towards the center of the room, aiming towards the occupied chair right across the stage.

With a hand on the college freshman’s shoulder, you pulled him off the worn-down leather, sitting down in his place and watching him scurry away with a hand halfway down his pants. Redirecting your attention towards the handsome man in front of you, his gaze instantly locked with yours, and something in his eyes gave away that he knew who you were. His hips swayed with more finesse—still not up to your standards—and his expression contorted to mimic a state of ecstasy. He was trying to impress you.

You watched for a few seconds, until he bent down lower, the pathetic arch of his spine pushing the words off your tongue, “Choi San, was it?” your voice cut through the music. “It seems like Wooyoung may have spoken too highly of you. I’m a little disappointed,” you took pleasure in the slow erasure of his cocky smirk, his movements faltering as he took in your words, hints of discontent evident in your tone. “Stand up straight, pretty boy.” You leaned forward in your seat, resting your elbows over your thighs as you watched him hesitantly part from the pole to straighten up. A smirk—a sign of power, perhaps—found its way onto your lips, “why don’t you grind on that pole for me? Since you seem so confident in yourself.”

Red tinted the shell of his ears, and you wondered how a few words could have affected a man like him so easily, as though he wasn’t standing in a room full of people ogling at his body, two pieces of glimmering fabric hiding him from their deviant gaze.

You could almost see the thoughts churning in his pretty head, dubiously reaching for the pole once again, standing behind it and beginning his decent into a full squat. Firm muscle bulged out of his thighs, oiled, tan skin reflecting the moving lights shining over his figure, his clothed bulge trapped between the metal and his abdomen. His hands remained above his head as he sunk lower, the cropped material of his shirt riding up to reveal more of his flushed chest. You watched him wordlessly, eying the deliberate brush of his nipple piercing over the pole, a muted ‘clink’ drowned under the music. Your eyes moved back to his face, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his eyebrows drawn in, and when you trailed down his body, your lips only curled further: his half-hard length pressing against the scratchy fabric, a wet patch spreading through the material and shimmering alongside the glitter. You may be starting to understand Wooyoung’s strange infatuation with the man.

You pushed off the creaky leather, smoothing down your suit before taking a few steps onto the round LED flooring, standing next to the crouched man and watching him twist his head to look up at you.

It was known rule everywhere that the dancers were not to be touched, and you figured your next move would probably be setting a bad example in front of your customers, but your clientele consisted mostly of regulars, people who knew you to be the boss. People who knew you made the rules.

You reached down to grab his face, fingers digging into his jaw and angling it further upwards, “you’re too stiff.” Your lips curved at his attempt at pushing away, nose scrunched up in defiance.

“’m not stiff,” he retorted weakly, words muffled through the tight squeeze of your fingers around his face.

“What’s the matter, Sannie, did Youngie fuck you too hard last night? Can’t even arch your back properly?” You gave his head a firm shake with every rhetorical question, pouting your lips in faux sympathy. His cheeks heated up under your touch, the pretty pink bleeding down his neck and chest as your aired out his nightly endeavors.

“I can arch my back-”

“My club is gonna run out of business if you keep running your mouth instead of doing your job properly, pretty boy. My old man would be rolling in his grave if that ever happened. We don’t want that now, do we?” You watched panic seep into his features when you spoke your next words, “how will you pay off your debt then, hm?”

“I-I’ll learn how to do it, please just-” his fingers release around the pole and wrap around your calves instead, his knees falling to the floor by your feet while he pleaded. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

His touch wasn’t unpleasant, rough fingertips brushing over your clothed skin, squeezing gently while he squirmed under you. Your fingers eased around his jaw but didn’t let go, pleased to have a man of his stature in the palm of your hand, yours to maneuver and handle however you wished. “And what will you do until then? Learning takes time, and we’re short-staffed, you know.”

A dangerous glimmer lit up San’s dark eyes, a sense of danger churning in your gut. Skilled hands slid up your legs, past your knees and thighs to settle on the curve of your hips, nuzzling his face into your palm before speaking. For a reason you couldn’t exactly pinpoint, you allowed him to do as he pleased, as though you suddenly had your own personal, human-sized cat, brimming with affection it didn’t know how to express. Siren eyes blinked up at you, a smile loaded with playfulness and mischief directed at you.

“I’ll just make sure to put on a performance they’ll never forget.”

Antsy hands pushed open your unbuttoned blouse to slide over the heated skin, your dress pants tossed and abandoned over the chair you’d been sitting in, lace panties dangling off the ankle resting on San’s shoulder. His glitzy top scratched against your skin, forming a blister you were too busy to care about as San’s body pressed against yours with his belly chain forming indents into your navel, his cock pounding into you to the steady beat of the music blasting through the decrepit speakers, a distant whirring disrupting the audio.

You slapped his hand off your chest, a warning look in your eyes and a pathetically despondent one in his, reaching for your hand and guiding it to his own chest, a silent ‘touch me instead.’ It was fascinating how quickly San’s cocky persona vanished once he got his dick wet, his face contorting—eyebrows furrowed and his eyes lidded—while you pulled on his piercing, rolling his nipple under your thumb and reveling in the tight moans rolling off his tongue.

“Fuck, ‘m close,” he mumbled, readjusting on his knees, the tight material of his bottoms low on his thighs restricting the movement.

“Already?” you teased, sucking in a sudden breath at the new angle, his cock curving into your g-spot through his relentless thrusts, his previous rhythm lost in his overflowing lust. “What a waste of a pretty cock, can’t even last long enough to make me cum.”

You noted the rose bleeding into his ears once again, his hips stuttering and a throaty moan leaving his lips as he emptied inside you, his hot seed spreading warmth through your lower belly. You laughed as he lowered himself onto you, hovering over your torso while he rolled his hips into your cunt, riding out his orgasm with airy moans and tightly-shut eyes. Paper bills fluttered in the air, some sticking to the sweat beaded on San’s back while the majority landed around your tangled bodies.

You were about to get up, words of beration forming on your tongue, but San took a few breaths and drove his cock further into you, grinding his length between your dripping walls until it chubbed up once again. It caught you off guard, his eagerness to perform, to prove himself to you, to fuck you dumb in front of all your customers.

The slow pace he adopted wasn’t enough, but the deliberate drag of his cock over your g-spot nearly sent you spiraling, the leg perched up on his shoulder shaking with every thrust. “Ngh, do you like being watched, pretty boy?”

San’s bashfulness was nowhere to be found, replaced with a pleased smile and a quick nod to his head, “Mm, I do,” his fingers kneaded the flesh of your thigh, his other hand pushing down your right leg to further open you up for him, driving his cock into you twice before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “what about you, Miss? You’re the same, aren’t you? I can feel your cunt squeezing around me every time you look at the perverts watching us.”

Your limbs felt heavy, something in your stomach convulsing at his words. “Watch your mouth-”

Calloused fingers slipped under you to tangle in the hair at your nape, tugging sharply until your neck craned at the force, your next words dying on your tongue as he began pistoning his cock into your needy cunt, a broken cry ripping through your chest as his cockhead pressed into your sweet spot repeatedly.

“You want them to watch how I’m gonna fuck you full? I’ll give you all I have, Miss, every last drop, until you’re all swollen with my cum,” he rambled, soft lips pressed against your temple while he hammered into you, sending you barreling towards the edge.

A tingle spread through your limbs, the edges of your vision darkening, and you prepared to freefall into a numbing orgasm, but San’s hips suddenly slowed to a languid grind, his lips stretching menacingly against your skin.

“No- fuck, I was so close-”

San interrupted your complaints, “tell me you want it.”

Your eyebrow twitched in annoyance. It was as though he was holding your orgasm for ransom. “Don’t be a fucking asshole, I’m still your boss-”

“-and I’m the one fucking you stupid,” he retorted, that vexing smirk on his face once again, and you wanted to punch it away. You’d assume abusing an employee would bring bad rep to your club, though, and you couldn’t afford to lose any customers. So you settled on glaring at him, attempting to roll your hips but huffing when San’s hands anchored you down to the floor.

“C’mon, just say you want it. I’ll give you whatever you want, Miss.” He lowered his voice down to a whisper, “all of it, just for you.”

The deep baritone of his voice, the words flowing smoothly off his tongue, warm hands splayed over your hips, occasionally squeezing at the flesh at the end of every sentence, his musky perfume mixed in with the tangy scent of his sweat engulfing your senses. Your walls pulsed around his cock, sitting thick and heavy inside you while you squirmed under him, the skin of your cheeks heated under his gaze as he awaited the words he wanted to hear. After a few minutes of his relentless stare-down, cat-like eyes boring into yours with incessant demand, you gave in, muttering the words under your breath and breaking eye contact.

Just when you thought you could breathe again, his deep chuckle echoed in your ear, the pleasant sound preferable over the music playing in the background, but his words sent a wave of cold sweat seeping out of your pores, “No, no. Say it louder for me, darling.”

You huffed in exasperation, the smell of alcohol swimming in the air between you. Shutting your eyes to relieve yourself of the sight of San's sharp jawline and arched eyebrow, you missed the way his gaze flitted upwards to meet with Wooyoung’s—the man now sat in the chair to the left of the stage, palming at the obvious tent in his pants.

San gave a harsh thrust to egg you on, the shot of pleasure shooting up your spine at the gesture enough to push the words off your tongue, “just fucking give me your cum already, ‘want it all inside,” you slurred, voice breathy with hints of desperation.

San didn’t waste any time before picking up his pace, pounding into your heat with urgent want, as though he was a starved man at a banquet. It was as though he’d lit your nerves on fire, the pleasure so intense your mind went numb, nails digging into San’s biceps as he pulled moan after moan out of you. “Hnnngh! L-like that, yeah-”

There was no build-up to your orgasm, and you found yourself tumbling down a steep cliff into a valley of ecstasy, lips forming an ‘o’ while San guided you through it. With your back arched off the ground, your blouse damp and stuck to your slick back, you clung to the fluid drag of San’s throbbing cock between your fluttering walls, the sound of skin-on-skin following the beat vibrating through the speakers.

San’s fingers dented your skin with enough force to promise blossoming bruises, his breath laboured as he began to chase his own high after you’d ridden out yours, fucking into you like a madman, “’m almost there, Miss, ‘gonna make sure you’re nice and full of me,” He groaned near your ear, the sound melting away the tinges of overstimulation jolting you away from him, his tight grip keeping you in place to buck his hips into your used hole. “So full you might get pregnant- ngh!”

Driven to completion by his own words, San’s throaty moans drowned out the melody strumming in the background, spurts of hot cum adding to the white painting your walls as he milked himself of every last drop. It seemed like you were the one who had fucked him stupid, barely-coherent, babbled praise flowing into your ear as he tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

Your knee dug into your chest, and you stared at the lace still hanging off your ankle where it sat on San’s shoulder, pins and needles pricking at your muscles from the prolonged position. But you didn’t complain, simply basking in the afterglow while San’s chest rose and fell into yours. You could see the flutter of paper bills in your peripherals—more than you’d ever seen before on a slow, Thursday night—barely any of them reaching you as the men tossing them had their dominant hands preoccupied. Your eyes moved sideways, meeting Wooyoung’s, already staring back at you with a knowing smirk on his pouty lips.

Through the thick haze of the orgasm still clouding your mind, your muscles twitching with its remnants as San’s cock spasmed pathetically between your flooded walls, two loads streaming out of your stretched cunt, you realised just how much Choi San enjoyed performing for a crowd.

And just how much you could profit off that.

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pherelesytsia · 9 months

Text

Who did this to you? - 9

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Bruised and broken, Y/N, trapped in a loveless marriage, arrives at her best friend’s house, desperately hoping someone will help her, aware she cannot return to the estate of her husband.

Warning: fear, anxiety, Angst, swearing

Word Count: 2.7k

Part 8

Chains, bloodied and graced with torn rotting flesh, moulding in the light of the wanning moon, dangled in all directions in the howling wind. Bones cracked under polished shoes freckled by grime and coated with rotting leaves. The lightbulbs among the broken were shining faintly, breaking the doom, the utter darkness ruling in the endless corridor leading into different vacant rusty halls.

The wind was howling, a lonely wolf, a hound greeting the full moon. Water dripped through the holey ceiling of metal and musty wood. The old building, far away from civilisation, with shattered windows barricaded by boards was surrounded.

The man clothed in a form-fitting suit didn’t bear a map, didn’t need a compass to find the right path. The faint stench of mould lingered in the stiff air. Rats fled in great haste, screeched and warned the brothers hiding in the holes in the ground and empty chests. A few dark grey strands illuminated the dark sea. Untroubled Thomas followed the path. His fingers tapped against the polished metal. He did not put his gaze over his shoulder, focused on the light showing the end of the tunnel. Deep hush voices exchanged brief words and the grin on his lips widened, thought of ways to harm the men who had dared to touch his wife.

Thomas tilted his head. The light hit the tip of his shoes, but the Shelby, a demon, the devil himself waiting patiently, remained in the shadows. Deftly, he leapt to the side, hiding behind the cargo crates stacked high from India, Africa and the far East. Footsteps echoed and a soft whimper, a kitten, a newborn calling for its mother, fell silent. More men, dark dressed creatures, followed the order with drawn weapons and waited for the signal. Thomas leaned forward, peering through the crack between the crates. Two men, shabbily dressed, stood in the light of the flickering yellowish bulb, but his keen eyes couldn’t find the source of the whimper.

“The money?” the thinner one pecked, wiping the oil from his fingers on his trousers.

The taller one laughed, folding his arms in front of his bulging chest.

“The woman will pay us off. I called her. By the end of the day, we’ll get the money.”, “We should have killed his wife right away,” the other said, leaning against the cargo boxes.

“Karl, I would have killed her, but the other guy came. We would have died otherwise. I know him, Solomons. He would have killed us,” he interjected.

“And what are we supposed to do now, Jimmy?” Karl questioned.

“And what will happen to us, Karl?” Jim asked.

Karl shrugged his shoulders. Eyes widened in shock, screams followed, bullets pierced flesh and grazed bones. Men in suits stormed the old run-down complex, a tsunami swallowing villages and towns. Closely followed by his men, Thomas entered the room, stepped closer with his gun drawn, fired and hit the bull’s eye, ran ahead, searched and cursed, but didn’t find the woman. Sweat cascaded his face, turned, and hoped the men could answer his questions, but the eyes had paled. Cursing, Thomas stared at his brothers opening the crates in the hope of finding Peggy in one of them.

“Where is she?” Arthur asked, heaving.

John cursed, nearly fell into the crate. Perplexed, he stared into the distance, cursed under his breath, turned with paled features towards his brothers and mumbled a short prayer.

The moon wandered on, over land and mountains, on and on, climbing hills and swimming over lakes and raging streams. Under the cover of the moon, ghastly shadows crept forth. Light burned in the mansion far away from civilisation, from towns and villages. The vehicles parked in front of the mansion were not neatly lined up. Curtains were drawn and didn’t allow to witness the people warming themselves by the flames, gnawing on the hardened biscuits and awakening the sense with the dark unsweetened liquid. The phone didn’t ring, and the bell didn’t announce a guest.

The clock was ticking, heels clicked against the creaking hardwood. Voices had died down, the women did not chatter as the gentle voice breathing delicate word into the microphone sang of love and gentle kisses. The women exchanged meaningless glances, glanced at the man they thought would never enter the house, who had settled down by the fireplace and was leafing through the book with his legs crossed, staring again and again at the doors and windows in search of grim faces pursued by evil intentions. Y/N warmed her fingers on the cup filled with tea and dipped her tongue in the warm liquid.

“Don’t worry, they will be here soon. It’s just a matter of time. Don’t worry, my dear.” Ada breathed.

She flashed the shaking woman a smile, breathed encouraging words, but they couldn’t banish the fear from her heart.

“They’ve been gone for a long time. At least three hours now.” Y/N breathed.

“You worry too much Y/N/N. The Shelby can take something. If he’s not here by seven, then we’ll go looking for him together.” Alfie joked.

Y/N stretched her arms into the air. Sleep gnawed on her bones and the voice in her head assured her that all would be well, that Thomas was on his way back, that the door would open soon and he would stand with Peggy and a promise to change by her side. She counted the seconds, focused on the clock, yet Y/N had lost track of time and space a long time ago. Her eyes widened. The tiredness was gone with the wind. Groaning, Y/N jumped and threw the blanket away. A wall, the last wall of defence rose in front of her and a palm settled on her back.

“Come, little one. We will go together. You stay here. I have everything under control. I saw a car.” Alfie said.

Y/N tried to argue, telling him to stay with the others, that she wanted to go alone, but no words crossed her lips and nodded. Alfie smiled, gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, stuffed his gun into the pocket, and guided Y/N away from the richly set table. Keys jingled. Alfie pushed Y/N behind him, but the young woman went ahead. The cold air brushed her skin and painted her cheeks. Brows almost touched. Y/N looked questioningly at Peggy, shook her head, and lips parted.

“Peggy?” Y/N whispered, not believing her eyes, convinced she was about to awake from a dream.

She looked healthy. Not a drop of blood clung to the long white evening dress, looked like a woman on her way to church to walk down the aisle. The hair was laid in curls, dotted with pearls and glass shaped in tears. The bouquet, white and red flowers fell to the ground. A smile, false as a fox’s, sweet as a snake’s voice, spread on her lips.

“You’re well?” Y/N questioned.

“Why shouldn’t I be well? I am glad to see that you are well. I see nothing happened to you while I was away. I told you to wait for me at home. I could never have forgiven myself if something bad had happened to you.” Peggy spoke coldly, stoically, emotionlessly.

“Where’s Thomas? He’s out looking for you. I was worried about you.” Y/N uttered.

Spreading her arms, Y/N wanted to enclose Peggy in a tight hug, but fingers clawed deep into the thin material covering her, forcing her to stagger backwards.

“Alfie, can you please let go of me?’ Y/N demanded.

Y/N turned and stubbornly demanded to be let free, but Alfie shook his head.

“Why do you have to make everything more complicated? Get in there and don’t do anything stupid or you’ll all regret it. Are we clear?”, “I wouldn’t do that.” Alfie interjected. He removed his hand from the pistol and rose his hands into the air after he pulled Y/N closer to his chest.

“Peggy?” Y/N breathed, hoped the person bore a mask, but it was Peggy.

Colour drained from her features. Cold metal pressed deeper into her skin. Bloodshot eyes forced Alfie to step back and told him not to dare to waste a single thought about doing something he might regret. Questions nor curses crossed Y/N´s lips pressed into a fine line. A lonely tear cascaded down her left cheek and left a red burning mark on her skin. Y/N questioned her life, every decision she had made, every word and complain she had said to Peggy in hope she would aid her. Synchronically, Ada and Polly arose, aimed, but no shots pierced the air. Peggy chased Alfie away to stand by the wall and he listened and placed the weapon on the ground as the women as Peggy stood tall behind the crumbling shield.

“Why?” Y/N inquired, her heart bursting through skin and bone.

Peggy laughed and combed through Y/N´s locks with her long light-coloured nails.

“I should be in your place. It would have been so easy. But those idiots let you get away and then you were at my door and I just had to let you in. I called these fools. I knew they would be at the bar, and informed them that you were with me, that they should walk in and take care of you. I then set off here, wanting to inform all of you that something might have happened to Y/N. I would have taken your place, but this man had to interfere with my plan.” Peggy joked.

Her bloodshot eyes slid from one person to another and pointing her finger at the tall man settling down on the armchair by the crackling fire.

“How would you have done it? The Shelby wouldn’t have to believe you. Nobody would have.” Alfie questioned, with his arms crossed in front of his body.

“Nobody? Suddenly everybody was searching for Y/N. When I returned home, she was gone. I am a good actress, I had classes when I was young and played in the theatre, always the evil and wicked,” the woman huffed.

She chuckled.

“Thomas would have believed me. I would have played the good friend, helping him through this rough path. I just wanted to play the worried friend. I would have helped to find Y/N and then after a good month the case would have gone cold. The postman would have brought a letter from overseas and the problem would have been solved. Thomas would have found a good friend in me and later a wife,” she sneered.

“But they trashed your house.” Y/N breathed, eliciting a malicious laugh from the mad woman.

“I was a bit angry and had to let my anger run free. My plan was perfect.” she huffed, stroking Y/N’s skin with the weapon.

“You wanted to kill me?” Y/N breathed.

“No one cared about you, you told me everything, your former husband barely cared about you, you slept alone, spent your days alone, were air for everyone, I didn’t expect anyone to care about you.” Peggy laughed.

Y/N gulped, nodded, and breathed a soft prayer, prayed for the safety of all of them a few steps away from her.

“A confident woman. Why would I marry you?” a deep voice sneered.

Smiling, Peggy turned around, fixed her hair and let go of Y/N, but she was rooted into the ground, turning into a statue overgrown by moss.

“All these months you’ve been using me.” Y/N

The veil fell, and the wind carried away the dense mist. Y/N balled her hands into fists, nails bore deep into the soft flesh, but no sound escaped her lips. She faced Peggy, unfearful of the weapon in her right hand.

“You never told me to give Thomas a chance, to at least try to get along with him. You never said anything nice about him. When he gave me flowers or chocolate, you told me he’d cheated on me and feared I would find out.” Y/N whispered, her voice raising with every fallen word.

She remembered the forgotten, the lonely nights, the long calls, the endless hours spend in the small room and crying her heart out to the wrong person, hoping Peggy would help her like only a friend could.

“We spoke on the phone when Thomas didn’t come back that evening and instead of telling me that he must be working but you swore on your parents’ lives that you saw him in the arms of a woman.” Y/N cried out.

Y/N faced her friend, unfaced and untroubled by the loaded gun.

“I suppose that was a lie, too. Probably everything you told me was a lie,” Y/N whispered.

She remembered the nights she was pouring out her heart and the answers that were as false as the snake’s words. She raised her eyes and looked up at Thomas. The man swallowed, saw the questions in his wife’s eyes and smiled.

“I was never unfaithful, Y/N. I was a terrible husband, but I was always faithful to you,” Thomas assured her.

“I believe you,” Y/N whispered, but Thomas had heard the answer.

Y/N advanced, oblivious to the woman in the wedding garment, wanting to go towards her husband, but Peggy made it impossible for her to do so, getting in the way.

“Enough of this sweet talk.” Peggy chuckled.

Metal dazzled the eyes. She grabbed Y/N by the collar, scratched her skin, pressed her tightly against him. And the men and women, apart from Thomas, recoiled with their hands up. Thomas stashed his hands in his trouser pockets and nodded, guessing what she would demand.

“You let me out and nothing will happen to her.” Peggy requested.

The Shelby nodded, exchanged brief glances with his brothers.

“Good, go, you know the way. You hand Y/N over to me at the door. I leave my gun here and you put yours away. Do we understand each other?” Thomas spoke.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands here, Thomas, but I’ll take your offer. But I want them out of here. I want them all out of here in the kitchen.” Peggy interjected.

Thomas gestured to his siblings to leave, nodding, indicating that they should be on their way, that they shouldn’t worry, but his eyes betrayed him. Slowly, they rose from the sofa and did as Thomas ordered them again to leave. Heels clicked against the hardwood. Hush voices exchanged words, and the door slammed shut.

“Can we go?” Thomas probed.

Thomas walked ahead, showed the way, paused at the open door, pushed it wide open and motioned the woman to leave. His hands clenched into fists. He wanted to free Y/N from the woman’s clutches, heard the soft whimpering as Peggy grabbed her former friend. Teeth gritted. Peggy stopped and turned with Y/N.

“Here you go.” she shoved Y/N in his direction.

Y/N staggered forward, threatening to fall like a soldier, but arms wrapped tightly around her body, pressing her tightly to his chest. Thomas breathed loving words into her ear, pressed his dried lips on her skin and pressed featherlight kisses on her cheek. He murmured a prayer and begged for her forgiveness. Sweat danced down his face. He pressed another fleeting kiss on her temple. Thomas put his hands over her ears, deafening her to the screams and bullets piercing the air and suddenly, after all this time filled with screams and prayers, silence reigned over the land.

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sunlightmurdock · 9 months

Text

The Odyssey | 0.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Bradley wakes up beside you, tensions boil over.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, infidelity, bickering and teasing through the chapter, mlre warnings to be added on a chapter by chapter basis. 18+ minors dni, wc 4.6k

…

Turning onto his side reminds him that he’s not at home. His cheek meets the edge of the mattress, his arm already hanging freely off of it. He groans softly, then clears his throat, but otherwise makes no effort to move.

Your fingers curl and then uncurl, fiddling with the edge of the bedsheet. You’ve been up for twenty minutes now, staring at the man in the bed opposite you. He has kicked the covers off at some point in the night, discarded his belt too. His khaki shorts are still on, just unbuttoned for comfort.

He’s laying on his front, one arm bent and tucked under his pillow to support his head. Ashamedly, your eyes keep wandering back to the same thing. That long, even line down the stretch of his back. Starting at the waistband of the shorts, extending up along a plain of tanned, freckled skin, onto broad, thick shoulders. Before this, you’ve never thought about what Professor Bradshaw had looked like under those one-size too big button up shirts he wears.

Even his breathing is just so heavy.

Routinely, he’ll shift, pressing his face into the pillow and rocking his hips a little to try to find comfort again. Behind you, the sun has risen, casting a golden shadow over half of the lake, and, incidentally, Bradley too. Before now, you’ve never noticed quite how many freckles he has.

Finally, reminding himself that he’s got a hungover nineteen year old to go and reprimand, he forces himself to blink a few times. After opening his eyes for the first time, he’s somewhat aware of your presence. It isn’t until maybe the third blink that he finally draws his brows together, lifts his head and squints at you.

You stare back at him as he mumbles your name, his voice deep and gruff from a night of sleeping with his lips slightly parted.

“Are you watching me sleep?” He pushes himself up a little more, turning so that he’s sitting up in bed. Curls a mess, still trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes, rolling those thick shoulders to stretch them.

“We need to talk.”

“Jesus Christ,” He scoffs, pressing the base of his palm into his eye socket in an attempt to wipe the blur from his vision. “Can you let me wake up first?”

It’s already dawning on him that he made a dumb decision in falling into this bed last night. He probably shouldn’t have left Luke alone with Robin. Even if he had, he shouldn’t have let himself into your room. Natasha would’ve gotten him a different room in a heartbeat. He had just been so exhausted, and your door was right there.

“You were in the military?” It wasn’t what the topic of conversation was supposed to be about, you’ve just never noticed that silver-balled chain dangling around his neck before. Bradley glances down at the tags resting against his bare chest and rubs at his eye again.

“Navy, for a bit.” He tells you, the sleep starting to clear from his voice. Six years, actually. He shipped out at eighteen and came back a man.

“Did you go to Vietnam?” That’s always the question that follows, and when you’re a man who turned eighteen in 1971, there’s usually one answer.

He turns his head and looks across at you, “Only for a couple months.” Finally, he takes note of his half awake state and lifts a hand to try to tame his curls. Twisting them apart and brushing them back off of his face. “Why are we talking about the Navy?”

“Because I didn’t know that you served,” You reply, lifting your hands away from the covers and instead toying with your nightgown. Bradley watches your hands fiddle in the lemon coloured material, thinking back to the conversation he had had with Luke. He’d been expecting something uglier. It’s old-fashioned, but he doesn’t hate it. “You just don’t seem like the type—“

“I’m not.” Bradley interrupts you. He pushes himself up from the twin bed and stands straight, stretching his arms above his head and craning his neck from side to side.

He looks bigger without his clothes on. All three buttons on his shorts popped open revealing the waistband of white boxers inside. A steady trail of brown hair extending from his bellybutton to that waistband, stretching from the middle of his chest across his pecs. His biceps flexing as he tucks his arms behind his head.

“Do I have something on my face?” It’s more of a groan as he stretches out again, he peeks his eyes open to remind you that you’re staring at him.

“You have a lot of nerve,” You push yourself up swiftly. Here we go. He raises his eyebrows, intrigued but far from intimidated. You walk closer, barefoot and dressed in that cute little nightie. “First you let yourself in here and pass out next to me—“

“I was halfway across the room and in a different bed, it wasn’t—“

“Then,” You interrupt, talking louder to him, “You keep me up with your snoring—“

“I don’t snore.” He tries, still calm as you stomp around the twin bed to get to him, poking your index finger into his toned chest.

“And don’t act like I don’t know what you did last night, Bradshaw. One phone call and I can have you fired.”

Bradley’s lips quirk at the fact you think you have that power, but his brows knit together. “What do you think I did?”

“You! And Natasha!”

“Are friends, yes.” He’s talking down to you, slow and soft like you’re stupid. You smack his chest with the base of your palm, then point at him again. He looks down at the digit pressing into his skin, then back at you seriously.

“Were all over each other on the balcony last night!” You correct him. He glances down at your finger on his skin once again. You consider stepping back a little so that you don’t have to look up at him quite as much, but stay where you are.

He lifts his hand and wraps it over the top of yours, taking it away from his skin, holding it just a little too tight. “I don’t know what you think you saw, or what you think you know, but I can assure you that whatever it is, won’t get me fired.”

“She’s married! Do you have no respect for her marriage, if not her as a person?”

He stares at you. You can see it in his face that he’s trying not to smile. He looks down at your hand in his and examines your engagement ring. It’s a pretty sizeable rock on that band, but that’s no surprise.

“I respect Natasha,” Bradley decides, lifting those big brown eyes to look at your face again. “Enough to know that she's a grown up and can make her own decisions.”

He lets go of your hand and reaches for the buttons on his shorts. Your gaze falls to track the movement of his hands. He buttons them slowly, watching you watch him.

“If the Dean knew that you were—“

“Are you going to tell him?” Bradley prompts, stepping invasively closer to you. His brows seem to be permanently drawn together when he’s talking to you. Your neck leans back further so that you can keep your eyes on his face. “If I go home, so do you. Meaning you don’t graduate, genius. How’s your Dad going to take that one?”

Your eyes widen and then narrow.

“It’s no wonder that all Natasha wants you for is sex — I don’t think that any woman could put up with you for longer than that.” You decide. He stares back at you, lips quirking to let you know that he’s going to be harsh before he even speaks.

“And what would you know about sex?”

He knows. He watches you react to his words try to piece together who told him or why he thinks it’s acceptable to mock you for it. Truthfully, Zoey had drunkenly giggled it last night. He was standing behind her with her hair scooped messily into a ponytail, averting his gaze as she puked into the toilet, when she had sat back and wiped her mouth.

“Hey, Bradley, did you hear that your — star pupil hasn’t even fucked her own fiancée? — She’s — a virgin.” Zoey had hiccuped, grinning amusedly.

You’re quiet for long enough that he stands there and readies himself for you to try to hit him, he knows better than to leave himself open to you.

Then, you exhale slowly and stand up a little straighter, like that makes any difference in the way he stands over you.

“You’re going to start tutoring me, starting tomorrow.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because if there’s any chance that I’m not going to pass this class then I’ll just send the both of us home today, I swear to god.” Your fists ball at your sides. He stares back at you, understanding your rationale for maybe the first time since he met you. “Either you make sure I pass, so this whole circus is worth it — or we’re both fucked.”

His lips quirk. That’s the first time he’s heard you swear. Sounds awfully grown up spilling from your lips like that. He gives you a quick once over, trailing his gaze from your bare feet to the way your lips are pursed at him.

“I’m not going to do the work for you.” He decides. If there was enough room between you, he might’ve crossed his arms over his chest. If it wasn’t so hot from the window being open and the baking morning sun creeping in through the window, he might have stayed longer. His hand cups your waist as he pushes you out of his way and steps around you. “Get Pasquale to give you his book, read chapters two and three before tomorrow.”

And with that, he leaves your room. His belt, shirt and shoes remain on your floor. He passes Robin in the hallway, wearing one of Luke’s striped t-shirts, ignores her completely and swings the door to his own room open.

Robin winces at the sound of Bradley yelling as she renters her own room. She stops, her gaze falling down to the unmade bed and Bradley’s belt, shirt and shoes on the floor. She lifts her gaze to look at you. You scowl instantly.

“Got sick of waiting, huh?” Robin’s tone is dripping with mockery as she steps past you, barefoot and not wearing a single item of her own clothing.

You’re tempted, then for the first time, to shove her, but don’t. You let her walk past, but holding your tongue is too much to ask.

“Not all of us are as easy as you.” You remind her

“Prude.” She spits, shooting you a venomous look over her love-bitten shoulder. She doesn’t even have time to turn before you lurch forwards and grab a handful of her hair, tearing her backwards.

Lake Como begins to rise, peaceful and quiet outside of the open window. It’s going to be a beautiful day. Golden rays of sunlight across the still water of the lake, a gentle breeze and a freshness in the air.

Downstairs, from the breakfast patio, Natasha sips on her espresso as Bradley pulls the two of you off of each other. His voice carries through the valley, disrupting her breakfast guests as he reprimands the two of you for your childish behavior.

Your punishment is to be exactly where he can see and hear you, for the rest of the day. At ten, sharp, you sit on his left while Robin sits on his right. All three of you looking equally miserable.

You’re being spoken to as a group by an older man, he’s grey all over and sun-spotted, but you can tell he would have been handsome in his day. He’s telling you all about Lake Como’s history.

“In 49 BC Como town came into its own under the rule of Julius Caesar,” His accent is thick but his English is good, he has grown around the tourists and knows exactly how to talk to them. “Who populated the town with its first 5,000 inhabitants and named the lake Larius. Como itself was known as Novum Comum and played host to famous authors such as Pliny the Elder and Pliny the Younger during this time.”

Bradley breaks his gaze to scan across his students quickly. Abigail is taking notes, an Italian dictionary poking out of the top of her backpack with various sticky notes poking out of it. Luke’s enthralled, watching intently with his lips parted. You’re looking down. He leans forwards and cranes his neck to get a better look at you. You’re sitting up straight, frowning down at Pasquale’s book.

More notably, the artwork on the left page. It’s a Florentine painting from the sixteenth century of two women. Nobles, both of them. One of them’s sprawled out across a bed, her undergarments bunched, breasts exposed. Her modesty would be too, if it wasn’t for the second woman with her face buried between the gasping woman’s legs. He studies your expression, unimpressed by how you’re scowling at the work instead of just reading.

Reaching over two students, he taps harshly on the back of your head and points towards the front, “Pay attention.”

You look up quickly and snap the book closed. Bradley stares at you. You stare forwards, trying to focus on the lecture after what you had just been reading. You’re certain that if your father had bothered to look over the syllabus, he wouldn’t have cared so much about you taking this class.

“The stunning scenery also attracted artists such as Byron, Wordsworth and Shelley, acting as a muse to many poems including ‘The Daisy’ by Tennyson and ‘Cadenabbia’ by Longfellow.”

The furthest thing from your mind, truthfully, is Alfred Tennyson. If you were really being honest, the one thing on your mind is the image of Bradley standing at the front of the hall, reading aloud what you had just read. Hearing the words pour off of his tongue. Maybe during a morning lecture, where his voice would have been gruff and deep like you had heard this morning.

The lecture continues on and, as much as Bradley wishes he could pay attention, he glances across at you periodically. You’re still making that face. Like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar. He doesn’t get it, nor does he get you — you’re acting like the required reading for his class is porn. Turning his gaze to the water behind Guiliano’s lecture, he considers that for you it probably is.

He almost scoffs at the idea. Some sixteenth century painting being radical is such a foreign idea to him. He thinks of being eighteen, and impressed by the nude pictures on lighters and playing cards in the Navy. Impressed by the women he met at ports who liked the look of his uniform. Impressed by Natasha and everything she had taught him.

By the time it came to seeing that painting, calling it explicit was far from his mind.

“Great composers like Liszt and Verdi were also inspired by the lake. Many poems have been written about Lake Como both historically and more recently, but it’s not hard to see why the unrivalled beauty of the lake would inspire even the most amateur to put pen to paper.” Breeze carries forwards and sends Guiliano’s hair brushing back off of his forehead as he speaks. Bradley catches you turn out of the corner of his eye and looks. Meeting his gaze, you swallow and look quickly back to the water.

The morning passes slowly, it feels like Bradley’s eyes are burning into your back but maybe that’s just the warming sun. Lunch is quick, Bradley sits with Natasha and her husband. Her hand sits on top of her husband’s, diamond sparkling in the light.

Bradley stares at it as he eats his salad. The sapphire he had given her half a decade ago was prettier with her skin tone, but that’s at the bottom of the Mediterranean now.

After that, more lectures — then free time around the lake. This time, the students have organized to take a trip up to one of the towns further along the lake driven by Pasquale.

It’s less humiliating that you haven’t been invited now, because at least you’ve got the excuse of being stuck in the library of the hotel with Bradley all afternoon.

Gaze focused down, you watch the way Bradley scrawls across the page, his handwriting legible but not exactly neat. His hand’s just gripping the pen, but you can’t help but think of the way it had curled into her hair. Being six years old and having your ponytail pulled on the playground feels far from this.

You’ve been at this for a while, and it’s clear that you’re both equally irritated by each other. Slamming the pen down, he takes one look at your face and knows you’re about to ask him if he’s sure this translation that he has given you even makes sense.

“Don’t.”

You close your mouth, scowling across at him. He leans across the table and points towards the bottom of the dictionary, where a brief explanation of the Latin term you’re looking for exists.

“Stop getting yourself so mad,” He tells you calmly, shaking his head. “You’re bad at it because you don’t practice. Take a breath, think about it. It’s going to get easier.”

That’s the first nice thing he has said to you since you got here. You press your lips together, sigh, and then wet them with your tongue, trying to focus. He studies you from across the desk, each of you soaked in warm afternoon sunlight, the floor length windows open, the breeze soft. There’s an artificial smell of citrus in here.

You look back down to the work and exhale softly. Your chest rises and falls, the pale blue of your shirt catching his eye, just briefly.

“So, you didn’t like chapter two of the book, huh?” Maybe he thinks that this is an icebreaker of sorts. Your gaze is heavy, lifting slowly from your work to stare at him. He feels the need to elaborate instantly. “The painting.”

Suddenly the translation of the word fortuitous is a lot more interesting than it had been. Bradley taps his fingers against the desk as you avoid the discomfort of meeting his gaze.

“I just mean—“

“I don’t see why it should be in an academic text.” You say simply. He can tell that his question has annoyed you, but most things he says annoy you, so he moves swiftly on.

There’s a long pause between the two of you.

“Okay, you should know that I’m asking this seriously — so don’t bite my head off,” Bradley rests his palms flat on the aged, rust coloured wood, then leans forwards. His face is serious, his eyes big and round. “But, do you even know what my class is called?”

Sunlight peeking in from behind his shoulder, bathing the room and everything in it in a honeyed gold. The heat from the day starting to ebb away, a breeze from across the lake blowing at the curtains just slightly. No birds, no bustle outside — everyone’s either at dinner or getting ready for dinner. Everything in this valley is calm except you.

“Yes,” You bite, scowling across at him from over the top of the far too detailed painting in front of you. “Classics. You keep saying it.”

“Yeah, classics is the subject. But do you know what my class — the class that you picked, and enrolled in, is called?” Bradley asks slowly, like he’s just trying to be patronizing.

“It’s about Roman literature.” You answer, knowing that you’ve failed to produce a title, but are along the right track anyway.

“My class is called ‘Sexuality in Roman Culture and Literature’,” Bradley shares finally. You sit across from him, blank-faced. He taps the table softly, staring back at you, enjoying this probably a little bit too much. “That’s why the book is so ‘graphic’.”

Catherine — your maid-of-fucking-honour — enrolled you in a class on sex. You’re going to murder her. This cruel joke might have been funny if it hadn’t cost you your summer.

“But, then again, you would know that if you had bothered—“

“Oh my god, will you shut up about my attendance?” You grumble, slamming your pencil down onto the table. He stares at you, unimpressed and clearly biting his tongue. “We both know I’m here for credits and not because I care about the way people had sex a couple hundred years ago. Just do what they pay you to do and teach.”

Bradley’s brows draw together as he leans closer, his frame dwarfing the table. There’s a lingering silence as he stares across at you.

“Excuse me?”

“Look, I just—“

“No,” Bradley holds a hand up and pushes himself up from his seat. Standing, the table seems even smaller. You feel even smaller, tipping your head back to look up at him. His eyes darken as he squints. “You either learn to watch your mouth around me or you head home and admit that you fucking failed. You hear me?”

You stare up at him, swallowing thickly as shame burns through you. The smell of dust hurts your nose, the warm, dust-covered lights make your eyes tired. You want to go home.

“Tell me that you understand. In Latin.”

Another beat of silence. The look on your face tells you that he’s far from joking. Sighing quietly, he watches as you bow your head and open the dictionary.

He gives you a moment, just hulking over you as you search for the right term. Finally, you lift your gaze and spit it out, quietly. He glances down at the page.

“Work on your grammar.” Bradley tells you, slowly relaxing back down into his seat and tucking it in. “I’m going to give you a play. I want you to read it, I think it’ll help you with some context clues.”

Just like that. He relaxes — well, relaxes as much as you’ve ever seen him be capable of — again.

You exhale. Without realizing, you had been holding on to that one breath the entire time. Your gaze drops, falling down to his rolled up sleeves, the veins snaking out from under the white linen and down across the backs of his hands.

You wonder if Natasha gets him wound up like this.

The second that the thought crosses your mind, you squash it. Staring wide-eyed at the page in front of you, you’re at war with your mind. And he’s just sitting there, head leaned back, palms flat, staring at the ceiling. He has no fucking idea.

Staring at the ceiling is truly the only way forward. He can’t stand another minute of having to watch your lips purse when you’re staring at him.

It’s so difficult, trying not to hold something that you don’t even remember against you. He knows how blacked out you were that night, you barely remembered your own damn name.

He remembers that stupid, blue fucking dress. It came in around the waist and had these thin straps, more of a powder blue than any kind of stronger color. He remembers the snow on his car windshield, still falling. He remembers his heaters up as high as they would go and his coat around your shoulders.

Finding you sitting on the side of the road, in the fucking snow, and bundling you into his car, trying to keep you awake.

And then, the two of you sitting outside of your childhood home and your freezing cold hands wrapping around his palm, pleading with him not to make you go inside. He had only seen you a handful of times at this point, but he was sure you weren’t a bad kid. You just had shitty friends.

He lifts his gaze now and studies you as you card through the information before you. Lips pursed.

“You can’t sit in my car all night, kid.” Bradley said quietly, watching you like you were something foreign to him. You blinked back, saying nothing, but looking so sad.

“I just — please don’t make me go in there.” Your voice trembled. Maybe from exhaustion, mostly from fear. Bradley knew what fear sounded like. His face creased with concern, but he hadn’t budged. You frowned at him, eyes wide and pleading, “Please.”

You must have been able to tell on his face that he was about to disagree with you. You sat forwards, reaching out to rest your manicured palm against his thigh. His gaze hadn’t faltered from your face. He had been here before, with love sick girls who seemed to think he was going to be their saving grace.

He was nicer about it back then. He was trying to be nice to you. With your smudged mascara and your missing boyfriend and your quivering bottom lip. He should’ve kicked you out of that damn car and marched you inside right then. You were still too drunk to sit still, swaying just slightly — he wanted to give you a minute to collect yourself before your parents saw you at least.

He sat there for a moment, just trying to think about what to do with you. And then, seeming to think that this would get you your way, you had sat up and you’d kissed him. Turned your head twenty degrees to the left, lips just slightly parted, pressing softly into his. Pillowy and purposeful.

He swallows, glancing down at the page in front of him. God, he wishes you hadn’t done that. But, he can’t help but wonder where that odd little impulse had come from. What had driven that shivering girl to drive forwards and kiss him, clinging onto his shirt like it was some kind of life preserver — and where was she now?

Certainly not sitting in front of him and too timid to look at a painting.

You continue on with your studies, pretending like you aren’t thinking about him back in that lecture hall, his voice dripping like honey as he tells you every intricacy that that painting detailed.

Bradley crosses his arms over his chest and looks up at the details chiseled into the ceiling. He can’t help but wonder where those impulses go when you’re with your fiancé. You’d been damn near climbing into his lap after an hour alone with him — and yet, Malcolm has made it through four years of high school and three years of college without fucking you.

He curses himself. He shouldn’t think about it that way. He shouldn’t think about it at all. He glances down quickly as your foot knocks into his and withdraws as quickly as it has inched forwards.

Looking back up, you’re looking at him again. Just fleetingly, and you’re back to your work, and he’s back to thinking about you fucking kissing him. He just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand the knee length nightgown, or the weird reaction to the painting — or, you at all, really.

So, the two of you let the silence linger between you. Even as he shifts, pushing his leg forward and slotting his foot between both of yours under the table, letting it linger there.

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice e @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @thecitysgraveyard @cherrycola27 @sugarcoated-lame

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #trouble in paradise #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #the odyssey #professor bradley #bradley bradshaw imagine #Bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun: maverick

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southelroydrive · 11 months

Text

i'll make your body a habit.

pairing: robin buckley x f!reader summary: you're the guitarist for corroded coffin, known for your flirtatious and confident attitude but little do your fans know how you really are when you're alone with your girlfriend. word count: 3.4k title: own my mind by måneskin warnings: smut (18+ mdni), fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), degradation, multiple orgasms, weed usage a/n: this has been sitting in my notes app for like 3 months and i finally finished it. happy pride everyone <3

it was corroded coffin’s first gig outside of hawkins, a night you and your bandmates had been tirelessly preparing for over the last few weeks. four hours away from the small town of hawkins, indiana and filled with the promise of your first big break into the music industry.

yet, no one was more excited than your girlfriend robin. your sweet robin who was so proud to see her girl on that stage, living your dreams as a reality. your sweet robin who would travel to the ends of the earth just to see you perform.

she’s completely enamored by you as she stands in the crowd, steve right by her side. watching the way your hair sticks to your forehead, beads of sweat rolling down your temple as your fingers dance across the strings of your guitar. the way your hips sway, wide grin stamped on your lips as you let the music lead your movements. heavenly, that’s how she’d describe you.

a tight leather corset covered your torso, tits glistening with perspiration and practically spilling out the top. she couldn’t take her eyes off you even if she wanted to. or your smooth legs completely on display from the miniskirt adorning your waist. deep red in colour, which matches the tint of your lips, dripping in chains and safety pins that robin had watched you meticulously place the night before. watching the way the chains bounced with every snap of your hips to the rhythm of the song, she now knew why as the movement seemed almost hypnotic.

from the corner of his eye, steve can’t help but chuckle at the look of pure infatuation glossing over his best friend’s eyes. he nudges her with his elbow, making her reluctantly tear her gaze away from you to look at him with a frown.

“you’re so whipped, man.” he smirks, the freckled girl only rolling her eyes in response, a muttered “shut up.” falling upon deaf ears before turning back to the stage.

every time you lift your head to catch her eyes, your plump lips curl into an amused smile. your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you send her a playful wink before looking away. robin can’t help but let the corners of her mouth twist up into a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest as her eyes linger down the length of your body. god, was she lucky.

by the end of your set, your chest is heaving with every deep breath that exhales from your mouth. a bright, toothy grin that lit up the room more than the blinding stage lights ever could spread across your lips as you look out at the crowd. with a bow and the sharing of a few final words, it’s finally over. the grin on your lips never leaving as you follow your bandmates off the stage.

“birdie!”

robin’s eyes snap towards your direction upon hearing your voice. she had just found her way backstage, where you stood beside your fellow bandmates a few metres away. your cheeks flushed bright red, panting for breath and veins bursting with adrenaline. beside you, she sees eddie’s lips moving in what she can only assume is a teasing remark by your reaction. you roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder as you rush past him over to your girlfriend, who envelops you in her arms once the gap between you finally closes.

“oh my god, babe!” her hands cradle the sides of your face, beaming down at you as she presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

“you.” she kisses you again. “were.” and again. “so.” and again. “fucking amazing!”

this time, her lips kiss yours deeply, lingering for just a moment before pulling back. your scarlet lipstick is now smudged, making her own lips pretty pink and glossy. you chuckle at the sight, leaning in to press a final kiss to her lips.

her hands slip to your waist, holding you close to her chest. yours wrap around her neck, fiddling with the ends of her hair. “so… you liked it?”

“are you kidding me?” she laughs, tugging you closer until your body is flush against hers. “you know i love watching you perform, you’re so talented baby.” her hands gently lower to your hips, her thumbs rubbing circles on the bone.

“oh yeah?” you raise an eyebrow, a small smile on your lips as you peer up at her through your eyelashes. you tilt your head up, lips inches away from her own. “well, i’m pretty talented at other things too, maybe we coul-“

“hey, ladies!” you groan, pulling your face away from robin’s as eddie slings his arm over your shoulder. a shit-eating grin takes its place on his face, clearly pleased with the flush of embarrassment dusting both yours and your girlfriend’s cheeks. “are you two coming or what?”

you shove his face away from your side, rolling your eyes at his antics. “you’re such an asshole, you know that?” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you give him an unimpressed glare, yet the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips gives you away. this only makes his grin widen, winking at you before turning on his heel. “love you too, sweetheart!” he calls over his shoulder, curly mop of hair disappearing into the bar.

robin’s hand returns to its place on your hip. her other hand gently cupping your cheek and tilting your face up towards her. “hey.”

“m’gonna kill him, i swear,” you mumble, gaze softening under her gentle caress. you lean your cheek into her palm, sighing exasperatedly.

“some other time, yeah? gotta celebrate your big show.” robin pats your cheek affectionately before her hand falls to her side, the other slipping to the small of your back to gently guide you in the direction of the green room.

“fine, fine.” you roll your eyes a final time, a playful smile on your lips as you lean your head against her shoulder.

you spend the next few hours surrounded by your friends, rejoicing in the simmering adrenaline in your veins and the pungent smell of weed. the worn loveseat in the corner of the green room is occupied by you and your girlfriend, sat side by side. your legs drape across her lap, propping your elbow up on the back of the couch. her palm settles on your plush thigh, fingers fidgeting with the chains dangling from your skirt.

you bring the joint in between your fingers to your lips and inhale the smoke into your lungs, before exhaling. your body relaxes back into the chair, letting the drug take its effect on your body. she takes the joint from you, taking a hit herself.

you admire the way her lips wrap around it, held between her slim fingers. your mind can’t help but stray, already fuzzy from the high clouding your mind. you shift a little in your seat, an uncomfortable ache growing between your legs. her eyes meet yours, catching your movements as smoke spills from her lips. she glances around before leaning her head down so only you could hear her.

“something wrong, doll?” her voice drops down to a low, husky hum making the pool of arousal between your legs harder to ignore. her fingers trail up further to fiddle with the hem of your skirt before slipping underneath, feeling the plush skin of your inner thighs.

you shake your head, breath hitching as her fingertips inch closer and closer to where you were begging for her. she kisses her teeth, pinching the inside of your thigh before pulling her hand away. a small whine escapes your throat before you're biting down on your tongue, eyes darting around to see if any of your friends noticed. they didn’t, too immersed in their conversations to pay the two of you any mind.

you hear robin chuckle from beside you, turning to her with a glare. your bottom lip juts out into a pout, only causing your girlfriend’s lips to curl into an amused smirk. “don’t be pouty, baby. you’ll get what you want later.”

your eyes widen, sitting up straighter as you lean in closer to her. “whatever i want?” the curious tilt of your head as your chin rests on her shoulder and the glimmer of excitement sparkling in your eyes almost persuades her to take you to your car that minute. god, she didn’t even think you’d make it to the car and make use of the shitty public restrooms of the gross, dingy bar you were in. but no, that’s not what robin wanted. you deserved the best that night.

“mhm hm. like i said, we gotta celebrate your big show.” she smiles with a shrug of her shoulders, leaning back against the couch as she takes another long drag from the blunt. you can’t help but squirm in your seat, eyes fixated on her for the rest of the night.

robin loved a woman who knew what she wanted, someone who would stop at nothing to achieve their dreams. she loved seeing you on stage, exuding dominance that certainly earned you a dedicated fan base. she loved your flirty and confident nature that could make anyone swoon, her included. and fuck, did she think you looked pretty when you were in your element, fingers wrapped around the neck of your guitar.

but looking at you now, robin thought you never looked prettier than in moments like these.

legs spread wide open in the backseat of your car, skirt bunched up around your waist and lace panties discarded as two long fingers curl inside your plush walls. the leather corset long forgotten, your tits lightly bouncing with every buck of your hips.

your hands grip her wrist, nails digging into her skin as her fingers pump in and out of you at a relentless pace. eyes half-lidded, swollen lips parted. your pussy drools onto the leather seat below you, your inner thighs glistening with your arousal but you’re too far gone to care. as pathetic moans spill from your throat, your hips mindlessly roll against her hand, silently begging for more.

“such a greedy girl, aren’t you? look at you, two fingers stuffed in your needy cunt and you still want more.” she chuckles, eyes darkened with lust as she stares down at you. if she thought you looked heavenly earlier, the image before her now would put that to shame. chest rising and falling with every pant that leaves your puffy, glossy lips, eyes struggling to stay open as she pushes your body closer to pleasure.

her condescending tone goes straight to your head, making your mind even more fuzzy and a whine fall from your lips. the only thing worth thinking about is her and the feeling of her fingers pushing inside of you. your free hand flails to find something to grab onto, landing on her shoulder with a firm grip as she reaches that spongy spot deep inside of you. the car fills with the filthy sounds of her fingers pumping inside of you, along with the broken cries of her name.

“yeah? that feel good? come on, pretty girl. tell me what you want.” her lips graze the shell of your ear, voice a sensual whisper but her words are truly cruel. with the way her fingers are fucking into you, it’s impossible to think let alone speak. your eyes snap up to look at her, brows laced together in a pleading expression as incoherent whimpers leave your lips.

she chuckles, the sound taunting in your ear. “don’t be shy now, i just wanna make you feel good, baby. be a good girl and tell me.” she coos, pressing her lips against your jaw. her fingers continue their merciless pace, her thumb beginning to rub torturous circles on your poor, neglected clit.

“r-robbie please!” you let out a choked gasp as her thumb presses against your clit, a loud moan falling from your lips. your breathing becomes heavier, clenching around her fingers as she pushes you closer and closer to the edge. “god, fuck! baby, m’gonna-“

“yeah? you gonna cum for me?” robin’s almost as breathless as you, her finger hooking under your chin to force your gaze to lock onto hers. as much as your girlfriend loved to tease you and wanted to make you beg for it, tonight was about rewarding you. she looks down at you, eyes hooded with a smirk tugging at her lips when you nod desperately. “go ahead, doll. cum all over my fingers.”

a choked moan leaves your lips, eyes almost rolling back into your head as you gush around her fingers. your thighs tremble uncontrollably, hips involuntarily rolling against her hand as you ride your high. robin feels her own cunt throb as she watches you reach your climax. your face scrunched up in pleasure, walls clamped down around her fingers as they slow, prolonging your pleasure.

“holy shit.” you pant heavily, gasping for breath. your grip on her shoulder loosens, slumping back against the leather seats. a dazed smile rests on your lips, eyelashes fluttering as you come down from your intense orgasm.

“look at you, my gorgeous girl.” she sighs dreamily, nose grazing your cheek as she eases her fingers out of you. she could almost moan from the sight of your juices dripping down her hand, lifting her head to look directly at you as she slips them into her mouth, making a show of licking them clean.

you watch her with bated breath, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you watch her. pink lips wrapping around slick fingers, her eyes boring into yours as she does so. your trembling thighs press together, a new wave of arousal washing over your body despite how sensitive you were.

her eyes flutter shut, a satisfied groan leaving her lips as her tongue swirls around her fingers. she pulls them out of her mouth with an audible pop, a small smirk tugging at her lips as she sees the way your body reacts. her head tilts down, hot breath tickling your cheek. “you taste so fucking good, baby. you drive me insane.” she mumbles, eyes blown wide with lust as she cradles your jaw.

another pathetic whimper barely escapes from your lips before she’s silencing you with her own. the kiss is sloppy, tongues swirling together hungrily.

when she finally pulls away, her forehead presses against yours as she gazes down at you, smirking at the sight of your flushed cheeks and the uneven rise and fall of your breath, all just for her to see. the hand on the side of your neck shifts to wrap around your throat, a sharp gasp leaving you at the action.

she chuckles, applying a small amount of pressure around your neck, just enough to have a small mewl escape your throat. “yeah? is this what you wanted, doll?” her voice is a seductive rasp, breath fanning across your face. “poor baby just wanted me to treat her like a dirty whore, hm?”

the frantic nod of your head is a clear answer for her. her lips twitch in amusement. “that’s what i thought.”

her grip tightens, pushing your head up with a gentle squeeze. her gaze locks onto yours, half-lidded eyes staring deeply into your own. “you look so pathetic like this. what would they say, baby? what would all those people say if they knew how much of a slut you were for me, hm?”

you whine, an arm lifting up to hide your face in your elbow as her words fill you with embarrassment.

she shushes you, gently guiding your arm back down to your side. “i know, sweet girl… only i can see you like this.” she whispers, her hand moving away to instead grip your thighs firmly.

her lips slowly make their way down your body, shuffling down the backseat of your car. they skim down the valley of your tits, down your stomach. travelling further and further down until they ghost over the inside of your thighs.

your eyes widen as she hooks your legs over her shoulders. she smirks when she comes face to face with your pussy, eyes trained on yours as she leans down.

her tongue slowly slides through your folds, coating it with your slick. she groans, eyelashes momentarily fluttering as she laps up your juices. you let out a high-pitched moan, hand flying to her hair to stable yourself. the vibrations of her grunts and hums make your grip tighten, grabbing fistfuls of her hair.

she’s merciless. tongue licking and sucking like a woman starved. her hands wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer as her tongue flattens against your folds, slowly dragging up and up until she reaches your clit. her eyes stare up into yours, watching your face twist in pleasure, jaw becoming slack as she wraps her lips around your puffy clit. it elicits a sharp whine from your throat. your hands run through her hair, unable to decide between tugging her away from your sensitive cunt or pushing her head closer.

“fuck, fuck, fuck! ohmygod, r-robs!” the words spilling from your lips are nothing but incoherent whimpers, babbling uncontrollably as she sucks harshly on your clit. hips mindlessly rutting against her face, hands feverishly tugging strands of her hair. you feel her lips curl into a smirk against you, blue eyes piercing through your half-lidded ones.

your thoughts are practically mush, consumed by the overwhelming pleasure that drives you closer and closer to another orgasm. robin can tell, by the way your trembling thighs clench around her head, pushing her even further between your legs, and the way your moans get more breathless and whiny.

she reluctantly pulls her mouth away. the hot breath hitting your pussy, making you squirm. “come on, pretty girl. you gonna give me another one, hm?” she peers up at you, watching your vigorous nod and the desperate buck of your hips. a small chuckle leaves her before she’s burying her head between your thighs once more, eating you out as if her life depended on it.

it’s not long until your back arches off the leather seat, a final broken cry of her name spilling from your lips as you cum on her tongue. she lets out a soft groan, greedily lapping up everything you give her.

“b-baby s’too much!” you whine as her tongue continues to glide through your folds. your thighs tremble with sensitivity around her head, inevitably pulling her mouth away with a harsh tug to her hair.

her mouth detaches from you with a soft laugh. your feet landing on the floor with a soft thud as she sits up on her knees, your legs slipping from her shoulders. “i know, i know. i’m sorry, sweet girl.” she chuckles, patting your thigh comfortingly.

she leans down, resting her forehead against yours as her hands trail up your sides. her touch admiring every dip and curve of your body. there’s a moment of silence between you both, only your heavy breaths filling the void. she tilts her head, pressing her lips against your forehead before leaning back. her back hits the car door, hands finding purchase on your hips as she pulls you into her lap.

her arms wrap around your waist, holding you close to her chest as your face nuzzles into the crook of her neck. she sighs contentedly, nails grazing over the bare skin of your back as your breath tickles her collarbones.

“i’m so proud of you, baby,” she murmurs, pressing her lips against your temple. you hum in response, shuddering as her nails rake over your spine.

“thank you…” you mumble, breath fanning across her neck as you place a tender kiss to her collarbones. her lips curl into a smile, feeling your own smile against her skin.

she puts both her hands on either side of your head, gently lifting it up to look at her. she gazes down at you with pure adoration in her eyes, fingertips grazing your cheekbones as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“my gorgeous, talented girl.” she smiles fondly, touch lingering on your face before she’s pulling you into a sweet kiss.

you could get used to this kind of post-show celebration.

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley smut

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multifandombullshitbabes · 4 months

Text

I need martin to **** ** *** ** ***

Outfit and Image Description under the cut!!

ID: A digital drawing of Martin Blackwood from The Magnus Archives. He is a big wasian man with short wavy auburn hair, freckles and visible body hair. He is in a pin-up esque pose, with his right hand on his chest and face angled towards the right in a cheeky expression. He has smokey eyeshadow and dark red lipstick on. He's wearing a pearl earring on his left ear. He's wearing 1 choker, made up of several pearls in rows of 5 with a silver and pearl medallion at the front, a short necklace, made up of yellow and white pearls in rows of three with a gold and white with pink flowers medallion, and a long chain necklace with two pearl accents and with a gold and pearl medallion with a tiny painting of a person on it. His outfit is white and sheer for the most of it, with boning running through it like a corset, but malleable. You can see he's wearing a white bra, also with the same boning, underneath the sheer top. He has a belt made up of two strings of pearls weighed down by a pink flower accessory. He's wearing white sheer gloves with lace details on the hems. He has 4 pearl bracelets on his right arm.

#the magnus archives #tma #martin blackwood #tma martin #tma fanart #the magnus archives fanart #hey look i posted a thing #so artsy rawr XD #im so happy i finished this #the face gave so many problems yall have no clue #yes i finished this at 4 am cuz i got caught in a fugue drawing state at that time

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wroteclassicaly · 2 months

Text

18+

There was something about today. Whether it was the traded looks you had exchanged all morning with Steve Harrington, or one of his trademark, side quirked smirks that accompanied his Ray Bans resting on the defined bridge of his perfect nose. Or maybe it was how the soil was damp with a light, faded rain, left over from sunrise, people now flocking outside to get started on mowing their lawns as temperatures brimmed the air with an enriching, yet delicate scent of light florals and winter’s last particles. But then, maybe it was that ice cold Coca Cola with two straws and those double cheeseburgers Steve treated you to on your favorite overlook spot in your neighborhood — quiet, rarely driven on street of middle class homes and your apartment building. He’d laid his coat out for you to sit on, watching cars go by on streets down the small embankment, a simple tree rooted into the hill to give shade, but still enough for you to watch the sun highlight how his biceps flexed beneath his white t-shirt when his arms propped behind his head, ankles crossing over the other, jeans tightening (if that’s even possible) against his toned thighs, his silver chain tucked into his collar, shades still resting comfortably on his eyes.

Your breath had hitched, his beautiful skin already starting to tan. He knew it too, raising, pushing those signature glasses back through vastly overgrown tresses, his nose’s crook finding your cheekbone as he rested. You both inhaled at the same time, Steve smelling of burger grease, sweat, and apple cedarwood, your orbs also privy to observing how his pupils dilated to the sunlight, which gave you the perfect spotlight to the glittering beads of sweat littering the freckles and moles on his jaw. A beautiful amber, layered with the deepest, most intense green you’d ever seen - stare back at you.

~*~

He’d taken you home not long after your lips had met. Your apartment on the same street, one story up and stolen kisses on the stairwell. You immediately went to open your bedroom window and light that candle Steve had purchased for you recently. Spiced Pumpkin Patchouli; rich pumpkin, warm, crisp layers of that patchouli, and touches of cinnamon sugar. The very same one Steve kept in his own place. God were you two pathetic, always smelling like one another or each other’s humble abodes.

No one could tell the difference anymore.

Through thick lashes, his gaze didn’t waver, not even after you offered him a drink and he downed it slowly, your eyes roaming over his throat bobbing with every swallow. It took a few minutes and you were coming apart, scattering to the breeze that flooded your apartment.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?” Though it sounded muffled as he nursed his beer from your holographic wine glass, condensation-soaked fingertips tapping against the crystal, and oh how it looks as if it’s going to shatter in his massive palm, given a stark comparison.

“Don’t look at me that way…”

“Oh? I’m lookin’ at you, honey. What on earth are you gonna do to me now?” He was cocky, that small pudge of his stomach pressed slightly a top his belt buckle, his shirt rucked up.

You had unknowingly gravitated closer towards him, his new curls tickling your forehead, draped through your fingers as they found purchase in his locks, tugging.

“Yeah, s’ what I need. Good girl, honey. You want me, right?”

You’d whimpered into his mouth, practically pleading, eagerly confirming. He’d left his command clear, lips grazing yours as he panted the words across your mouth, “Let’s go to bed, baby.”

~*~

Your clothing came off quickly, rushed to get in the bed beneath your open window, but slow once Steve got you laid down beneath him. Chain tickling your chest, breasts smashed into the tufts of curls scattered to the winds across his sternum. You clung tightly, one hand leveling his backside into pushing him impossibly deeper, the other trading blows between grabbing at his back, his hand, or cradling his face and neck. The fresh Spring air, apple cedarwood, your candle, the coolness of your open window causing goosebumps to erupt over your sex-slick, bare flesh, combined with a panting Steve Harrington and your mattress squeaking as he works to get you both there, it tangles in with Steve as he finds your gaze once more, one tiny pearl of sweat between pinched brows, his focus, tongue licking at the roof of his mouth, his thumb pad caressing your jaw, to giving backhanded knuckle drags across the bone, his tone damp, hooked on rasp with his praises for you, and the way he’s looking at you as if you’re some priceless, explicit art exhibit. And then he’s saying these things;

“You know how wet you are? You know how hard it is to stay inside without slipping out again?”

“Could do this all day until it hurts you to walk.”

“Just let me refer to the list of things I wanna do to you.”

“Tell me it’s alright if I cum. I need you to say I can do it inside of you.”

“The way I always have to feed it to you slowly, so you don’t tap out on me. Fuck.”

“This is home to me, honey.”

~*~

Yeah, that’s probably when. There was definitely something about today.

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bingwriterxo · 11 months

Text

childhood friends

pairing: vada cavell x reader

summary: in which you and vada grow up together, and here are some snippets

warnings: parents fighting, persistent man

word count: 2700+

You were seven when Vada pushed her way into your life unexpectedly.

Your mother had taken you to the local playground, sick and tired of having you bouncing off the walls inside the house, and you immediately ran toward the swing set, intent on getting higher than you ever had before. You were settling into one of the seats, fingers gripping the metal chains, when you felt hands on your back and you were suddenly flying forward from the small shove, landing on the wood chips below that cut into your knees.

"Hey!" you cried, twisted around where you had fallen and staring up at the girl who had pushed you. She was short and didn't look like she should've been strong enough to have shoved you, but she was sticking her tongue out at you, so you knew it was her. "What was that for?"

"Just 'cause," she said before slipping into the swing that you had been sitting on. She started pumping her legs a bit, but she wasn't getting much air.

You scrambled to stand, afraid of getting hit by one of her feet and angry at the fact that she had stolen your rightful place, and brushed yourself off. To combat both of these feelings, you walked up to her, placed your hands on your shoulders, and pushed her backwards, smiling when she thudded on the ground and let out an, "Oof!"

"What was that all about?" she asked you from the ground.

"You did it to me first!" you argued, pointing at her with narrowed eyes.

She huffed and stood, not bothering to wipe away the stray wood chips on her t-shirt. From that close, you could see the array of freckles that decorated her face, and, for a fleeting moment, thought that they looked just like stars in the night sky. But then your anger came rushing back to you and you shook away your thoughts, staring at her with furrowed eyebrows.

"It's not nice to push people off swings," you said. "Mama told me that."

"But you just did!"

"Mama also told me that fair's fair," you huffed.

She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded you for a moment with a frown. Then, her gaze softened and she sighed. "Fine. Whatever."

You weren't really sure what to do then as you stood in front of the girl, who stared back at you. It seemed like she didn't know what to do either. You thought for a moment and then let out a resigned sigh.

"Why don't we take turns," you suggested, "since all of the other swings are taken."

She glanced around quickly and then nodded. "Okay, but I want to go first."

You rolled your eyes as best as you could. "Fine."

She grinned and climbed onto the swing, twisting around to look at you. "Could you push me? I can never get very high," she said.

You grumbled but did it anyway. She still didn't get very high, but she was giggling and laughing, so you figured you were doing a pretty good job. When it was your turn, she very un-elegantly clambered off the swing and stood to the side, watching as you pumped your legs until you had a steady rhythm.

"How do you do that so well?" she asked.

"I dunno, just do," you said.

She huffed, and then when you decided you had had enough, you dragged your shoe into the wood chips, slowing yourself down. You stayed sitting and looked to the girl.

"What's your name, anyway?" you asked. "So I can tell my mom who made my knees all icky." You pointed down to the scrapes you had, and the girl's eyes followed.

"Oh," she said. "Sorry."

"'S okay," you said. "You didn't answer my question."

She blinked back at you, and then said, "My name's Vada."

"That's a funny name," came your immediate response, and suddenly her hands were on your shoulders and you were laying on your back in the wood chips, staring up at the sky. Your view was blocked as the girl's head hovered above you, her hair hanging down like a dark curtain.

"That wasn't nice," she told you.

"Okay," you said, sitting up. "Sorry."

"'S okay," she mimicked, and you could tell she had never said that phrase in that way before because she stuttered over the words. "What's your name?"

"Y/N."

She nodded. "Okay. Wanna play tag?"

You nodded right back. "Sure."

* * *

You were eleven when you showed up at Vada's house in the middle of the night.

Your parents had been fighting in the kitchen, their voices carrying throughout the small house and into your bedroom, where you had been laying in your bed with the covers pulled over your head to block out the sound. When that didn't work, and their argument only seemed to get louder, you slipped out from beneath your blanket and shuffled to your closet, pulling a sweatshirt off its hanger and sliding into a pair of sneakers. You had propped open your window, snuck out of it, and ran the full way to Vada's house, which luckily was only a couple streets away.

When you arrived, you knocked softly on Vada's bedroom window, hoping that she was awake. In just a few seconds, her curtains were being pulled aside and her face appeared, darkness shrouding her, but she was visible from the street lamp that shed light into her bedroom. She popped the window open.

"What're you doing here?" she asked quietly.

You glanced down at your feet, which were digging into the dirt, and said, "My parents are fighting."

She sighed. "Again?" You nodded, and she said, "Okay, get in here."

You were quick as you climbed through her window, careful not to mess up her display of Lego sets as you did. When you were fully inside, you kicked your shoes off and looked up at the brunette, who was watching you with sad eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and even though there was that strange ache in your chest that only ever appeared when your parents fought, you nodded. "Okay. What now?"

"I dunno," you said with a shrug. "You got your mom's old laptop for your birthday, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

"We should watch a movie or something."

"Oh, good idea!" Vada took you by the hand and led you to her bed, letting you get in it first before she followed. She grabbed the laptop from her nightstand and set it on her lap, turning it on.

You watched the loading screen for a moment before sinking further into the mattress and leaning your head on Vada's shoulder, stomach stirring a little at the warmth that she gave off. You felt her tense beneath you for just a second before she relaxed, but you didn't mention it. Instead, you asked, "What movie are we going to watch?"

"I'm not sure yet. There's a few I've been wanting to see. Like..." The girl rambled on and on about the movies she hadn't seen yet, even when the computer was fully booted up and ready to go, and you simply listened, slowly being lulled to sleep by her voice. You barely registered the fact that she had stopped until she asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

You hummed sleepily. "Yeah, Vads." You both ignored the nickname that slipped out.

"You don't have to be okay, you know that, right?" You could feel her shift beneath you as she got more comfortable. "And you can always talk to me, okay?"

"Okay, Vada," you said. "Thank you."

* * *

You were fourteen when you realized you had feelings for Vada.

You woke up one morning to the sight of Vada in your bed, who was still asleep with her mouth slightly open and hair splayed out against your pillow, and that familiar stirring started in your stomach that you quickly recognized as butterflies, and your cheeks heated up and you thought, Oh fuck.

You tried to scramble out of your bed as fast as you possibly could, but your foot got caught in your sheet and you ended up falling to the ground with a heavy thud, waking the brunette in your bed. She sat up, confused both from the noise and the fact that you weren't anywhere in sight, until she noticed the sheet pulled taut in the corner of the bed.

"Are you--Did you fall out of your bed?" she asked as she peeked her head to look at you. She laughed at the sight of you on the floor, holding onto your elbow which had hit the wood harder than the rest of you.

"Kind of..." you said, staring up at her with teary eyes. She just laughed harder, and you blushed but found yourself giggling along with her.

"How the fuck did you fall out of your bed?" she asked when she had calmed down enough to form real words.

You stood on wobbly legs and trained your gaze on literally anything other than the brunette. "I don't know. I just...did?"

She rolled her eyes softly and smiled. The butterflies fluttered harder in your stomach. "You're, like, the clumsiest person I know."

You scoffed. "Says you!"

Vada pulled herself up onto her knees and waddled toward you. "Let's not be rude, now."

"Vads, you literally tripped over your own foot yesterday and face planted into the asphalt," you said, which the brunette didn't need to be reminded of because she still had the bruised nose to prove it.

"Shut up!" she whined, throwing herself at you. She wrapped her arms around your neck and flopped backward, pulling you down onto the mattress with her. You threw your hands out so that you wouldn't land fully on top of her, and then gulped at the compromising position you found yourself in.

You, hovering above Vada, who was grinning widely beneath you. You held your breath as you watched her eyes flicker between your own eyes and your lips, and when she started to lean up, you pushed away.

"My mom's making waffles," you said quickly. "In the kitchen. I can smell them."

You watched as she pouted a bit before sitting up, raising her arms above her head to stretch. You swallowed hard at the slight skin that showed on her stomach before it was covered by her t-shirt again. She scratched at the top of her head as she said, "Okay. Let's go then."

You followed behind her slowly, eyes trained on your feet, and tried not to think about the fact that Vada was leaning in to kiss you just a minute prior.

* * *

You were sixteen when Vada kissed you for the first time.

Mia Reed was throwing a party, and people were swarming her house as soon as the door was officially declared open. You and Vada were no exception as the brunette begged you to go, saying that you owed her. For what, you weren't exactly sure, but you said yes as soon as Vada gave you the puppy-dog eyes.

The two of you were standing in the kitchen, plastic solo cups in hand filled with whatever-the-hell liquor Mia had sitting on the counter, and simply talking--or shouting, because of the music that was booming throughout the house.

"I'm gonna zip to the bathroom really fast," Vada told you at some point, and you nodded, telling her you'd be fine on your own for two minutes. She narrowed her eyes at you like she didn't believe you, but you giggled and shoved her shoulder.

Almost as soon as you were alone, a new body slotted into the place that was once Vada's. You glanced up, grimacing a bit as you realized it was Jack, one of the players on the football team. He was offering you a sly grin that you were sure was charming to other girls.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted, and you could smell the beer on his breath. You crinkled your nose but still responded, because who were you if not polite.

"Hi, Jack," you said, giving him your own tiny smile. He lit up at the sight of it, taking it as a sign to get even closer to you.

"You know, I've always though you were gorgeous," he claimed. It made you want to throw up.

"Oh." You chuckled awkwardly. "Thanks, I guess."

He nodded. "Sure." He took a sip from the can in his hand and then looked back down at you. "A few of my buddies and I are gonna go back to my place after this. You should come," he offered. You didn't miss the way his eyes ran down your body, lingering a little too long on your chest.

You shook your head. "Sorry, but I have other plans." You didn't, not really, although you were almost sure Vada would end up dragging you to her house to watch movies, and there was no way in hell you were missing out on that, especially for some jock you weren't even remotely attracted to.

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun." He pushed into you a bit more, and you tried to back up, but you were cornered. "And, maybe you and I could...spend a little time alone or something."

"I'm okay." You flashed him your best smile and then tried to scoot past him, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him.

He smiled, sort of, but it looked like more of a snarl to you. "I'll try this again. You and me, after this party."

"Jack, I said--"

"I'm pretty sure she said no, dude," a familiar voice said from behind Jack. You glanced past him to see Vada standing there, her eyebrows furrowed and a frown pulling at her lips. Your heartbeat quickened at the sight.

Jack twisted to stare at the brunette. "Whatever, Cavell. Get out of here." He turned back to you. "Now, as I was saying--"

He was interrupted by Vada, again. "Leave her alone, Cofferey," she scoffed.

"Bro, back the fuck off--" Jack began as he turned around fully to snap at her, but he was cut off by her fist against his cheek.

"Oh, fuck!" Vada cried, shaking her hand out. "That hurt a lot more than it looks like it does in movies!"

You quickly moved past Jack and wrapped your hand around Vada's waist, dragging her away from the kitchen before the boy could recover and beat her up. You pulled her into a random bedroom and slammed the door shut behind you, locking it just in case he decided to follow, though by the lack of pounding against the wood, you guessed that he was far too drunk to bother.

"Are you okay?" you both asked at the same time. Vada chuckled a bit before saying, "I'm fine, although I think I bruised my hand." She glanced at her knuckles and opened her hand a bit. "Eh, whatever." She looked up at you. "Are you okay?"

You sighed. "Yeah. I'm fine."

She tilted her head. "Y/N..."

"Don't worry, Vads. Really, I'm fine." You walked toward her and took her injured hand in your own, inspecting it. "Yeah, you're definitely gonna bruise," you laughed.

"Well, I'll have a cool story to tell my mom, then," she joked.

You looked at her and smiled. "Thanks, for doing that. You didn't have to."

She shrugged. "He was bothering you. What was I supposed to do? Just watch it happen? No, that's dumb."

"Yeah, but still. Your hand's gonna hurt for a while."

"It was worth it."

"Was it?" You chuckled. "I don't know about th--"

Before you could even finish your thought, Vada's lips were pressed against your own. You were taken by surprise, not kissing back for a moment, and the brunette pulled away quickly, panic in her eyes.

"I'm sorry!" she squeaked. "I should've asked. That was stupid. And you probably don't even want to kiss me 'cause, you know, we're best friends. And, oh god, that was so dumb! I'm sorry. I wasn't even thinking! You just look so pretty all worried and I just--"

This time it was your turn to shut her up. You cut off her rambling by pulling her in by the waist and kissing her softly, giving her a moment to catch up with what was happening. She immediately relaxed against you, lips moving against your own eagerly.

You pulled away with a laugh when she tried to deepen it, and her eyes fluttered open softly. "At least I know how to shut you up now," you giggled.

She gasped. "That is so rude!"

You rolled your eyes, pulling her close again. "Oh, shush, Vads."

#vada cavell x reader #vada x reader #vada cavell #the fallout #jenna ortega x reader #jenna x reader #jenna ortega

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justporo · 7 months

Note

HELLOO!!! I have been obsessing over Astarion soooooo much, so I dashed over here the moment I saw you XD

Could I maybe request something with softer morning sex for Astarion? I’d imagine that sex in a romantic/soft light would be basically unknown to Astarion, so I’d loveee to see how he’d end up acting in something meant to feel intimate and connecting above all else.

No need to preform, no need to plan, just something gentle.

First of all, thank you for the request - I was working something out for this for quite some time now.

So this is a little different, because it‘s from Astarion‘s POV which I was a bit afraid to write because I really have to nail his character. So I hope I did him and your request justice!

Pairing: Astarion / Fem!Tav (shamelessly based on my Tav)

Warning: Explicit Sexual Content

(Also try and imagine this in Astarion's voice? Because I think that helps 👀)

Spaces In Between

I open my eyes. Immediately, I can feel the sunlight caressingly warm my back with its gentle touch. I close my eyes again for just a moment, savouring the feeling of the light upon my body - a sensation that always makes me yearn for more and I hope that I will still have some more time to enjoy it. To have a few more of these tranquil moments since I broke my chains of enslavement and before I will become a creature of the night once more when we‘ll figure this whole mess out, finally.

But when I open my eyes again I turn around to the one thing that has already become more important to me than the feeling of sunlight on my pale skin: her.

I turn and lay on my side, thin blanket draped around my waist and other than that bare. And so is she - my beautiful Tav. She‘s sitting on the edge of the bed in which we very much enjoyed each other‘s company last night, some of it even only talking and holding each other. Because who would‘ve thought that after all the miseries in the world I’ve had to endure the most unlikely thing would happen: meeting someone who actually gave a rat‘s arse about me, more even, someone who cares for me, someone who sees more in me, someone who wants to be with me… for me. And of course me falling for that someone. We truly live in the most unlikely version of how things could have turned out - not that I‘m complaining.

I see how she stretches and softly yawns. Her arms and upper body forming a long elegant curved line outlined by fingers of light falling through the windows. Her reddish hair drops from her hands down her freckled back. I‘m torn between admiring the delectable view and grabbing her and devouring her delicious self right on the spot.

I settle for something in between.

„Not staying for a cuddle?“, I ask her with a pout and use the words she‘d used on me back then - the first night I had her. Back then when I didn‘t know yet why it had felt different to hold her. Somewhere in between then and now things had changed.

It feels forever ago and she‘s probably already forgotten about it. But when she turns her head around and smirks, I know that she hasn‘t - if it could, my dead little heart would stutter.

„I didn‘t want to rip you from your dreams just yet“, she says, her arms slowly coming down, her upper body turning to me - revealing just how pleasantly naked she is, right in front of me. Gods, she‘s a vision.

„Oh, don‘t worry, my love, I feel like I am still dreaming“, I respond with a grin and stretch out an arm - an invitation for her to join me in an embrace.

She giggles at my answer which makes her nose scrunch - yet again, my withered heart might give out.

She climbs back into bed towards me. „Also, since when do you need to steal my lines?“, she says as she shuffles towards me, her eyebrows are raised. She‘s become so much more sassy since she‘s been with me - I‘m such a good influence.

I place one hand on my bare chest and make a shocked face: „My love, when did I ever have to resort to stealing anything?“ „Yeah yeah yeah, you‘re full of shit, Astarion“, she responds without even looking at me while she lifts up the blanket covering me to scurry under it - did I mention I love her?

She tangles her legs with mine and moves to embrace me fully but I softly press her shoulder down so she lays back while I‘m on my side, leaning on one arm, so I can fully take her in.

We talk and joke and laugh. My eyes and hands keep wandering over her face and body. Her beautiful face with these open silver eyes, the scar over her nose and those tattoos bending away from her lids that make her look so fierce - even though she admitted to me she had them done in a fit of youthful rage. Her body is so soft and warm beneath my hands. She‘s become my sun.

Her warm hand is on my chest while mine explores her. Charting the curves of her collar bone, her breasts, her stomach. She‘s full of elegant curves, never-ending liquid motion.

I‘m kissing her now, softly, but it‘s still all teeth and tongues - because in between conversation and trying to imprint her body on my mind, I found, I had to show her how much I love her.

The kiss quickly loses any innocence it had, her hands start to roam my body as well why mine rubs decreasing circles on her breast until it has reached its peak. She moans softly into my mouth which I can only answer with a groan. Knowing how she feels for me, how much she wants me - me, and not just a body - almost breaks me.

My desire for her is rapidly growing, like a wildfire - all consuming.

And I want her - like I possibly never wanted anything in my life; or un-life for that matter.

„Do you-“, I start to ask but her hand immediately grabs my shoulder to pull me down more to her and she nods eagerly while pressing her lips to mine again. I happily give in to my cravings and climb onto her, supporting myself with one arm and with the other grabbing one of her roaming hands to tangle my fingers with hers and push our joint hands down next to her head.

I am in between her legs that wrap around me. Her foot slowly wanders down my calf and almost turns me insane while I smoothly enter her, making her gasp.

She breaks the kiss and her eyes widen when she feels me inside of her - the silver in her irises look molten, swirling with lust and need.

I feel her heat and her wetness and relish the thought that it‘s me that has her writhing and moaning and wanting more.

Her free hand is on my back, softly wandering over it and the lines of a life I‘m trying to forget. Trying to be just here with her.

I move my hips and start kissing her neck and her hand grabs my neck softly, starts caressing the back of my head and tangle in my curls. The soft touch almost makes my eyes roll back in my head while I trail kisses from her one ear to the other.

Then her hand curls at the back of my neck, just the right amount of painful to heighten my pleasure. She arches her neck for me in an invitation - an invitation I might not be able to resist.

I can feel her pulse quicken under my lips while I keep moving - our bodies connecting time and time again taking us both further and further up.

Her intoxicating smell surrounds me, her scent heightened by her rapid heartbeat and lust. It‘s beckoning to me like a siren song, bewitching me, urging me to give in.

But this other need is way more urgent to me. So I kiss her again, teeth only grazing her skin but not drawing any blood, my pace quickens and becomes more desperate.

I lower my body weight almost fully onto her, desperate to feel her soft curves against my body. Being fully skin to skin with her - nothing in between. And she arches her back, her body pressing into mine in an even more intense way.

I look at her face again and see soft pleading in her eyes - wanting me to gently push her over the edge and then jump head-first to join her.

And I am more than willing to be her servant in the cause. I push up again, the sudden loss of body contact making her whimper softly, and I move to let the hand that was holding hers sneak in between us to help her give her what she desires.

But to my surprise she grabs my hand and looks deeply into my eyes while she‘s positively shivering and shuddering with unfulfilled pleasures. „This is about you“, she whispers. Her face and hand nudging me to let go and fall back onto her.

And I hesitate - just a moment - not used to being the one whose needs have priority. But she keeps pushing me, her hand at the back of my head again, pulling me down to her again.

And so I give in fully - giving myself to what I desire most in this moment and to her. Bodies, minds and hearts fully tangled in each other. Quickening the pace yet more, feeling her heat, hearing her and mine ragged breaths.

And then I fall, once more, for her but also for my pleasure, throwing my head back, eyes rolling into the back of my skull, moaning her name while the height of lust pulsates through me.

When I come back down I know she‘s patiently waiting, not expecting anything in return. But I still want to give it to her. She deserves it, every minute piece of affection. She who helped me break my chains, she who offered me her heart and soul with no other motive behind it than wanting to be mine.

I slide from inside her and quickly move down, making her gasp once more in surprise. I press my mouth to her core and start to suck and work my tongue around her most sensitive part - tasting her and myself through it.

It doesn‘t take long. She‘s eager to join me in my fall. And I feel it when it hits her, waves crushing through her, making her moan and press her thighs together around my head while I won‘t let the tip of my tongue stop moving - directing her through her downfall.

And this is where I want to stay - in between her legs, her body wrapped around me, in between the last day and the next, in between the last challenge and the next mortal peril; knowing there‘s no in between between her heart and mine.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction #astarion x tav #baldur's gate iii #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarions pov #smut

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webslingingslasher · 10 months

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frat peter has a mommy kink, he told me himself. ‼️

sex talk!

no, but he really did.

he let it slip one night, he had gotten a little wasted and couldn’t stop himself from hanging all over you. kissing your cheeks over and over until you pulled him up to his room.

it was a shift, a kind of hookup you hadn’t had before. he was the submissive, he was a whimpering wining mess below you, thanking you for fucking him so well, feeling so good around him, saying you’re so kind, always so, so, kind to help him out.

“i’m your baby, right?”

your hips didn’t stop, grabbing his chin you lock your eyes on his face. “course you are,” maybe he was drunker than you thought, he was being almost vulnerable. every time you thought you had him figured out, he’d send you for a loop.

baby brown eyes blinked up at you, looking for you to help him.

“so you’ll make me cum?”

“yeah,” you breathed it out, and connected your mouth with his, making out while you roll your hips and lightly bounce.

peters breath hitched, you rode him quicker but his hands gripped your hips to keep your slow pace. he wanted intimacy, feelings over actions, it was a first.

his body tensed beneath yours, hips bucking up as he curled into your body, his forehead glued to your chest, hands clutched your ribcage so tightly you hissed. grunting one word escapes as he’s come harder than he ever had before in his life

“mommy,”

it was soft, but you heard it. either he doesn’t care or he hasn’t realized what he said, holding his head to your chest you rock on him until he’s squirming with over sensitivity.

a kiss to your sternum, “please, mommy,” begging for the torture to end. you slow and ease off him gently, humming when he’s out, cold air noticeable.

hovering over his body his eyes are shut, you kiss the corner of his mouth, “you good?” he nods slightly, “mm hmm,” you kiss the same spot, “good, i’m gonna get a rag, hold on.”

the bed shaking when you move off, making a quick dash to his connected bathroom, and sitting on the toilet before wiping your thighs clean.

peter’s snoring when you return.

————

the next morning? oh you are for sure asking about this.

mommy kink? that’s a massive one, that’s one that doesn’t slip out, that’s one he’s been thinking on.

he may have escaped the questions last night but this morning, he was on his side, arm thrown over your waist as he slept. he was beautiful, he never let you get the chance to really fawn over him while he was aware of it, when he slept you could count every freckle and memorize every line.

your fingers ghosted over his lips before dragging down and pulling at the chain around his neck.

“you’re staring,”

why doesn’t it embarrass you?

“i am. you’re very pretty, mr. parker.” your finger sliding in and out of the ring around his necklace.

peter’s eyes blink open, he looks in yours and it’s a quiet moment. it’s like he’s thinking of a million things at once and trying to read you at the same time. the hand around your waist draws small circles, it tickles but you’ll cuddle with him as long as he allows.

“you didn’t finish last night.”

he’s testing the waters, subtly hinting he remembers. wondering if you’ll find him disgusting, leave him and tell everyone.

he’s never done it before. never brought it up to anyone before. he’s never felt safe or comfortable enough and right when he got a little too loose it spilled out before he could even ask you about it.

brushing small curls behind his ear, which pop right back up, “i didn’t. but it’s okay.”

“i’m sorry.” he’s never left you high and dry before.

your words had a double meaning, peter could see the twinkle in your eyes when you said it.

“there’s a first for everything, isn’t there?”

he shifted, you think you fucked up. you shouldn’t have pushed it, the one big scary thing he shared with you and you’re playing around with it.

instead he hovered over you, cupped your face and gave you the worlds softest kiss. it almost made you cry, the delicacy unlike anything else.

there’s a lot of walls and push back from peter but that kiss told you he fucking loved you.

“i better not hear anything about dating me for a month, i just gave you the ultimate girlfriend privilege."

it always made you mushy when he said the 'G' word, he avoided it at every cost so when he says it, it stands out.

your hand trailed down his chest, sliding over his abs you smirk.

"sounds more like the ultimate mommy-" his hand grabbed your wrist and pinned it down by your head.

"no. that's not how this works."

you wriggle your arm but his hold stays, "this is an absolutely only between you and me thing, and only in this scenario. we do not talk about this outside the bed, ever. i choose when it happens, and please, don't try to initiate anything with that word."

frowning, "so you'll tell me when you want me to be mom-"

"please stop saying it." he took a deep breath, "i've never... you know? with anyone. and it's not an all the time thing, i don't know. i'm still figuring it out."

you know what it was, "it's a when you want to be taken care of thing." peter's head tilts, he never thought of it that way but when he thinks about the times he'd held back the urge... yeah.

"i think you're right, trouble." then, a soft peck, "thank you, mommy."

"peter! you just said-" you take a sharp inhale as he kisses down your neck, humming when he trails down your torso, stopping when he reaches below your belly button.

"after last night it's only fair i treat you to breakfast."

#frat!peter drabbles

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