#fab!reader

[angeldoll2000]

Until Death (Part 1)

Arranged Marriage AU: Dark!Husband!Rafe Cameron x Wife!Reader

Word Count: +1,524

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Non consensual photographing, Domestic Violence, Humiliation, Forced breeding, Unwanted orgasm.

Author's Note(s): I wrote this cause I really wanna get married and find someone to love me but I don’t think it’s possible so here’s a fic instead 🥲

You never would've imagined being married to the Kook king himself, Rafe Cameron. But here you were, almost a year in. From the beginning you felt like an outsider. Even in the new home that Ward had gifted you. It was decision made by both of your fathers. Ward wanted someone from a family he knew very well. Your fathers were childhood friends and trusted each other enough to make the right decision. Whether their children were willing to or not. An arranged marriage between a Kook and a Pogue. One of the first of its kind.

Ward needed an heir from his only son. It was about time Rafe learned some responsibility. Ward needed to find a family with no authority or power. So, what better decision than to contact an old friend from the cut? Ward managed to pull himself out of there, your father on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. However, by Mr. Cameron's gracious offer, your father had been given a position in his company. Ward would handle the paperwork, while your father handled construction and remodeling.

It was enough to get by, but not enough to get out of the cut. That's why your father made the brash decision. Ward didn't see a problem with the arrangement given your family had no name for themselves. In a way it benefited the Cameron family. To Ward, having a family with no name or status is better than being involved with a tarnished one. It would avoid any unwanted attention for the Cameron family.

All your father wants is to make sure his only child would be taken care of once he's gone. You've only met Rafe during family events/outings, and when you did meet, he'd always tried tormenting you. Growing up, most of your time would be spent clinging to Sarah for safety.

You hadn't known about the arrangement until a week prior. You defiantly hadn't expected Rafe to get on one knee in front of everyone. Your engagement was a nightmare, Rafe had decided to ambush you during the Kook's annual midsummer event. A few months later you married into the Cameron family. The event being of the most lavish, expensive, and largest weddings in the history of the Outer Banks.

Rafe made the decision that your honeymoon would be spent ‘setting up home’. You bid your family and friends a farewell before leaving with your husband. It was awkward enough that he'd been drinking for most of the night. What was supposed to be a beautiful ceremony quickly became a frat party. It was awkward enough when Rafe (who'd been drinking most of the night) tried carrying you across the threshold of what was your new home. He stumbles a few times, almost dropping you on the front steps. All you wanted was to go to bed after a long and eventful day.

In a fit of rage you rush up the stairs and into the master bedroom. You hadn't even changed out of your wedding dress. Deciding that it would be done tomorrow, as would everything else. It was tiring, putting on an act in front of hundreds of people. You were relieved for it to be over with. Until the harsh turning of the doorknob catches your attention. In came a very intoxicated Rafe Cameron, stumbling in with his tie already undone.

His hair was a mess from wrestling his groomsman, his expensive cologne overtaken by the stench of alcohol. All you want now is to sleep after being anxiety ridden for the past few hours. But the shuffling on the end of the bed made your stomach churn. Maybe if you pretended to be asleep he would leave.

Rafe reaches down to brush the back of his hand on your cheek. He couldn't help but chuckle at his fiancee--no, his wife. You're his wife now and he couldn't believe it. He grins from cheek to cheek, hovering over to study your features. You could hear Rafe talking to himself, "You're even prettier up close..."

Rafe was fine with the wedding day being for his wife, but it was the wedding night that belonged to the husband. 

He gets on his knees, preparing to strike. He pulls you but the ankle, dragging you across the bedsheets. He locks his arms around your thighs to pull you in. It was futile trying to fight back. Rafe rips away at the fabric, revealing what was for his eyes only. He doesn't waste time getting to work, suckling, lapping, and teasing at your sex.

When he starts to dip his tongue inside that's when you crumble beneath him. Your thighs shake when coming undone. A gush of arousal splashes his face. Rafe doesn't stop there, instead he keeps going until you're brought to tears cumming for the second time. He retreats with a triumphant look on his face.  

"Hey...." he whispers followed by a harsh grip on your jaw that turns your attention back to him, "Hey," his voice boomed. He held you in place, looking you right in the eyes when he states, "Look at me," a small pause follows, "No one is coming through that door to save you," he readjusts his grip, digging his fingers into your jaw, "No one is coming through that door, we're the only ones here," leaning in, "And if they heard they wouldn't care, they know their place," before lifting your skirt up, "It's about time you did too," Rafe held his cock in one hand, his other held your hip in place. He pumps his shaft a few times before rubbing it against your slick. He moans, "Oh fuck...can't wait to stuff you with it..." Rafe dips his head into the crook of your neck, his lips find that sweet spot. He suckles until he's certain there would be bruising.  

"You can scream all you want, no one’s gonna stop me,” he presses his leaking tip against the small opening, pushing it in without hesitation, “Not you…” he just his hips, “Not our families,” thrusting his cock inside, “No one…” fastening his pace. He’d been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. You had no idea that Rafe had willingly entered this marriage.

Can’t you see? He’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember. Yet you kept denying him repeatedly. Now Rafe has everything he’s ever wanted. He’s inherited the Cameron family fortune, gained the trust of his father as well as yours, and now he has you.  

He doesn’t stop thrusting his hips back and forth. Reveling in the feeling of you squeezing his member. It was exactly how he’d fantasized about. No more having to spend late nights wondering what you would feel like. He has you right where he wants. Rafe pulls down your top, exposing both breasts. He nips and suckles at them until they’re nice and bruised. He takes pride in being able to do so. Rafe squeezes your mouth open before pressing his lips against them. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, swirling it around his. The taste of liquor makes you nauseous. His presence is suffocating.

This wasn’t how you wanted to end the night. In the end you never had a choice. Your entire life revolving around men in power. A lamb sent to be slaughter, given only the right to live. Even if it meant living for someone else. Rafe presses his sweaty forehead against yours. He snarls, "You're my wife until I fucking die, do you hear me? Until death," his teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder, digging hard enough to break skin.

A howl escapes your body as pain shot through it. Rafe held you close to him until he finally reached his limit and finishes inside. A deep, guttural moan is muffled into the bite mark. For a moment the two of you stay together until finally Rafe draws back. He’s a panting mess. He could practically feel how slick you became. He lets out a satisfying huff of victory. Rafe had won.  

A part of him wants to remember the day he finally got to take you. Then it hits him, “Wait…don’t move,” rummaging through a cabinet. He retreats down the hall. You could hear him searching for something in the unopened boxes. He then returns to you with a Polaroid in hand. He straddles your waist, aiming the lens at you. Rafe smiles, “Something to remember this moment...” he aims it right in your face, “...our first time as husband and wife,” before clicking it.

You could only give a startled look as you stare back at him. Like a deer caught in headlights. Rafe inspects the photo of you. He whistles at the beautifully captured moment. There you were, staring back at him with smudged lipstick and running mascara. You only blink as he stood there, snapping pictures like it was some heartfelt moment. What was supposed to be the most important day of your life, ended in the worst way imaginable.

"Smile for me Mrs. Cameron..."

Rafe was fine with the conditions of inheritance. In order to stay in his father's will, he would have to settle down first. But if there's one thing Ward taught him, it's to negotiate. Rafe remembers striking the deal in his father's office. For the first time ever, the young Cameron man put his foot down,

"No," Rafe states,

Ward looks up at his son, "I'm sorry?"

"I'm not getting married, not unless it's her," he's dead serious too. Ward sighs, he leans back in his chair, "Do you really want to marry this girl?" questioning his son's authenticity. Rafe nods, "It's always been her,"

Ward understands now, his son's mind is made up. Not even he could stop it, "Rafe...you have to understand that her father is a very important member of my company..." he starts, "...he's a bit of a... traditionalist," he pushes himself off the desk, approaching his son, "He expects a certain price for her hand, that I’m not worried about…” he held Rafe's shoulder.

Ward looks his son dead in the eyes to show how serious this situation was to both of their families, “Do not fuck this up, you only get one shot and then you're done, do you hear me? Done," he expects an answer. Rafe looks him in the eyes, there’s a spark of determination in the young Cameron man’s eyes, hope, “I won't,” sealing the deal. Ward immediately dials up your father’s number, "My friend, you're needed at the office, it's about time we discuss family matters,"

The best decision Rafe made was making you Mrs. Cameron.

[recareels]

Have you see March's outfit she is soo cute!! Would love to wear something dainty and cute for the ever polite and composed DAN HENG and watch him lose his mind

i have!!!!! and i agree!!! she’s so so so adorable and i absolutely adore the idea of wearing something so cute that just toes the line between innocent and provocative and teasing mr dan heng with it hehe (*ﾉωﾉ)

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, reader is a brat and a tease words: 590

he can’t take his fucking eyes off of you. no matter how hard he tries to keep his stare and attention from straying, it seems his gaze is automatically and uncontrollably drawn to your form. it’s an instinctual reaction, almost—a cliche moth to a bright flame, allured into your heat, enticed by your shimmer, desperate to bathe himself in you.

you have single-handedly and unknowingly corroded his self-discipline, worn it down right to the precious core and consumed the shreds. and the longer you linger, the worse it gets. because the longer you linger, the more he wants you. 

dan heng swears you must be doing it on purpose. there’s no way you’re bending over like that, arching your back into a perfectly smooth curve and causing the hem of your sweet little skirt to ride up just enough to tease the edges of your panties—lace-trimmed silk, blush pink, clinging delicately to the supple flesh of your ass—without consciously meaning to. 

but you are seemingly oblivious, flitting around the express without a single glance or acknowledgement his way. it’s almost as if you don’t care at all—don’t care that you’re torturing him, don’t care that you’ve got his cock embarrassingly yearning against his trousers with such simple motions yielding fleeting glimpses beneath flowing fabric, don’t care that you’ve devoured his concentration, wadded it up between your molars like that sweet pink bubblegum you favour so much and spit it right back out at him, warped and sticky and glazed with your spit. but he knows better, because he knows you.

his patience has been snuffed out to smouldering embers now, but he’s able to keep those last few flares kindling, glowing hot and heavy in the pit of his stomach until he is finally alone with you, secluded in the express’s tiny kitchen, the proximity of your presence a douse of kerosene. 

then that flame is bursting, raging, licking at his ribs and up his throat until it’s scathing his tongue and melting his teeth, spilling past his lips in a snarl. 

a sharp flash of ink and azure, he’s got you trapped between the counter and his body in a mere instant, granite edge digging into the base of your spine. 

the sudden action, full of uncharacteristic violence and vigour, punches a gasp from your throat, gaze gaping with shock as it flies across his contorted face, his features scrunched beneath the weight of his fury. 

“you think i don’t know what you’re doing?” he spits, stare searching your own with fervour, nostrils flaring with heaving breaths. 

the surprise in your eyes dissipates, devoured by the mischief lurking beneath—the mischief he knew was there all along, festering, barely hidden by the guise of ignorance. 

something sinister smears across your face, curling your lips into an arrogant little smirk, your irises gone dark, shaded by thick lashes, glittering with the lure of a challenge. 

“just wanted to see if you’d do anything about it.” 

a growl rumbles in his chest, his ribs rattling against yours, teeth bared like a primal animal. his hips shove forward in accentuation and you can feel his cock, hot and hard and throbbing with desire, complementing the cold tremor threaded throughout his tone. 

oh, he’s about to do something about it, right now. 

[thee-apple-of-my-eye]

Guys I was scrolling through JJK characters to see if I wanna watch this and..

WHOOOO IS THISSS?!

WHEN DOES HE APPEAR IM GONNA LOSE MY MIND IF HE HAS NO SCREENTIME

How the hell is this my most popular post

[inkykeiji]

Sukuna def calls you princess if he decides you belong to him. <3

oh absolutely, and it’s a term he uses both condescendingly and lovingly. he is the king of curses, after all. it’s only natural you’re his princess.

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, master kink, rough sex, marking, toxic relationship, mention of spanking, fem!reader words: 738

you’re his stupid little princess when you do or say something so adorably dumb, gazing up at him with absolute idiocy smeared across your face, contorting your features—mouth open and downturned, brow scrunched and heavy—as you whimper out but Daddy, why?, head quirked cutely to the side and confusion reflected in your eyes. because i said so, he usually responds with a condescending little pat to your head. oh, you don’t have to worry your pretty little brain about any of that, princess, he promises you. Daddy will take care of it all, Daddy will do all of that pesky thinking and contemplating and deciding; you don’t have to think about a goddamn thing. 

you’re his pathetic little princess when you’re sobbing after being split open by his cock and spanked raw by his hand, face buried in folded arms as salt stains your cheeks and claws pierce your hips, holding you high, holding you still. is your Master’s cock too big for you, princess?  he’s murmuring in your ear, the words hot and breathy as they curl around the shell, his question infused with a smirk. does Daddy’s cock hurt you, princess? he’s cooing out, sick and sadistic and sardonic, against the back of your neck, forehead pressed flush to the base of your skull as his hips pound, cockhead ramming against your sensitive cervix. can you take it for me, princess? he’s laughing as he nuzzles his nose against the hinge of your jaw, placing a chaste kiss to the bone. he wants you to show him how well you can take it for him; he wants to watch the way your sweet lil cunt struggles and stretches and swallows his girth. 

you’re his pouty little princess when you don’t get what you want, when he doesn’t give you what you want, eyes glittering with a thick coat of tears and lip jutted out in a trembling scowl, so deep it crinkles your forehead and puckers your chin. aw, is the poor little princess going to cry? he coos out through his own over-exaggerated pout, brow warped with false worry. is she going to stomp her feet and throw a fit because she isn’t getting her way? he kind of hopes you do, you can tell, can see it glimmering bright and sharp in his eyes, a sort of exhilarated anticipation that begs you to take on his challenge; go on, give him a reason to punish, make his fucking day, baby.

you’re his precious little princess when you stare up at him with adoring eyes, awestruck and shimmering with stars, and murmur out about how much you love him, delicate little fingers tracing his markings in clumsy caresses. the words are melty with affection, gooey and thick with spit as they dribble from your lips after he’s fucked you past the point of lucidity, mind turned to pleasant pink mush under immense pleasure and immaculate pain, body gone pliable and painted in strokes of him—ragged lines of red, blooming blotches of blue, purplish indents carved so deeply into your flesh that they’ll never fully heal, the tiny craters overflowing with sticky crimson. i love you too, princess, he tells you, the words quivering with quiet sincerity even as a sour sickness twists behind his sternum, true and real even as they are unfamiliar and unnatural.

you’re his pretty little princess when you giggle and twirl and strut for him after every single shopping trip, putting on a little fashion show and modelling all of the luxurious lingerie he bought you, lace clinging daintily to supple flesh, silk straps curling lovingly around all of your curves and edges, pieces encrusted with jewels and sparkles that catch on the light as you twist and turn for him. unblinking eyes watch you with a sort of conscientiousness, pupils blown huge and gaping, pitch black and ready to swallow you whole in a single glance. a smirk smears across his face, lopsided, leaning to the left and steadily spreading, as he relaxes back into his favourite armchair, thighs spread wide and a crystal glass of sweating amber dangling from his fingertips. c’mere, pretty princess, he demands gently when he can hardly take it anymore, when you’ve tried on several sets, when his smirk has grown into a grin and his cock is starting to ache, a large palm patting thick muscles. come give me a kiss.

[whenwewasfag]

Thought Tumblr would like my Altoid wallets of the Beatles. Gonna make one 4 Bowie or the other two if I can find more Altoids.

idk why George is sideways ignore him

[ljaylmaoo]

🎃HOOK KINKTOBER MASTERLIST 2024 🎃

Last minute kinktober line up! (There may be other kinks and themes in the fics)

Day 1 (October 6th)- cockwarming

Day 2 (October 12th)- virginity loss

Day 3 (October 17th)- wet dreams

Day 4 (October 22nd)- hate sex

Day 5 (October 31st)- exhibitionism

Day 6 (DELAYED)- punishment (fab 5 x reader SPECIAL)

[the-fab-fox]

Could you possibly do a Drabble with Idia x Reader with the cute pocky game you had going on?

@ Anonymous,

Thank you for the request. Literally no one has been requesting any so I was super excited to get yours. And it's Idia which tickles me. Lol.

I hope you enjoy and sorry about the wait. A lot of stuff came up. (I have gotten a lot more requests since the initial drafting of this. Also, I'll be making a collection of these on AO3 so if you'd like me to gift the fic to you, please drop your AO3 in the notes.)

Original Post

Without further ado—

Idia x f!Reader

[ One-Shot under the cut. ]

Idia was legit not surprised with how the game the Ramshackle Prefect introduced to them all had spread like wildfire throughout the campus.

They were teenagers, after all. Meat suits with raging hormones and maybe a couple handfuls of brain cells shared between the whole of the student body. And several of those brain cells were held in vice-like grips by specific singular students, making the overall pool of available brain cells even smaller for the rest of them.

The Ignihyde Housewarden was just glad that no one with half a brain would ever consider inviting him to play.

As if I'd want to? A game designed for normies who just want an excuse to suck face? No thanks! I'm good. He rolled his eyes. Tch, it's so cringe it hurts.

At least, that's what he continued to tell himself. If he didn't really buy his own words... well, that was his business and no one else's.

The problem wasn't the game itself, he supposed… if he really stopped to think about it. But he didn't want to think about it.

Ugh. Hope some new cringe fad comes out ASAP! This really triggers my rage.

He sighed as he watched his game load bar slowly inch toward completion. Because, of freaking course, the server would be hella saturated today of all days.

Groaning, he CTRL + ALT + DEL’ed out of the game rather than wait for it to load before exiting out.

This thing’s got me not even wanting to play my games. FML! This is the WORST!

He got up and jerkily opened his deskside food cabinet. Pulling out a random noodle cup, he slammed it onto his desk. Luckily, it wasn't hard enough to crush it. Much.

It was still functional, in any case, so whatever.

Smoothing out the cup as well as he could, he opened it and added some hot water from his electric kettle. Setting the lid over it once more, he idly played with the little ingredient packet as he grabbed a spoon from the little plastic drawer set on his desk.

Why can't these idiots think about anything, but making out and shit?

In reality, Idia knew why.

He was one of the idiots, after all. Not that he was going to admit that to anyone. In fact, he tried his very best to ignore it completely.

Admitting that he wanted to make out with someone would mean he'd have to think about the very person he wanted to make out with.

That person?

The one who had set this whole mess into motion.

“Meh,” he muttered, glancing at the little digital numbers at the bottom left hand side of his desktop screen. Meh, meh, meh.

After a few more minutes, Idia couldn't wait any longer. He pulled the top off the noodle cup and tossed it aside, giving it no mind to where it drifted. Ripping open the packet, he poured the ingredients in and used the spoon to stir them. Some of the broth spilled with how aggressively he stirred, which only further fueled his ire.

Damn it. Damn it all to Tartarus.

He began to eat, ignoring the slight crunch to the noodles as well as he could. He had just finished up his impromptu meal, downing both a small energy drink as well as half a bottle of water, when a sound rose in the air that he hadn't expected.

Knocking.

Glaring at his door, he was about to yell at whoever was on the other side to just leave him alone to his misery when he realized that there were only two people who would knock on his door.

The other Ignihyde students would never. If they needed to get ahold of him for any reason, they knew well they would need to contact him via technological means. Ortho-chan would just come right in. None of his peers outside the dorm would come to see him. He had no friends after all. Not really.

Well… maybe…

No. Especially not her. Like yeah, okay. She was like really sweet, and nice, and actually seemed interested in what he had to say when he went full fanboy and otaku mode, but that was just her being nice. Nothing more.

And yet, she was one of the two people who would be on the other side of that door.

The other was Crowley, but considering the fact that he was Crowley, the man would more likely just summon him to his office rather than pay a visit to his dorm.

Which meant it could only be the Ramshackle Prefect.

As if proving him right, another knock came upon the door, followed by the annoyingly cute sound of his crush’s voice.

“Idia? I know you're in there. Can I come in?”

What kind of event did I trigger? Idia sighed heavily. He hated this.

Somewhere along the line, Idia had come to realize that when it came to the otherworlder, he had a very hard—if not impossible—time denying her anything.

He brought his hands up to his face, letting out as quiet and muffled a groan as possible before pulling his hands away once more. Taking a shaky breath, he stood and crossed the space between his desk and the door.

The third year wondered if he should just ignore her. After all, if he didn't answer, she would have to leave at some point right?

“Idia Shroud!”

“Eep!”

“I'm not leaving until you let me in, mister!”

Idia tried and failed not to smile.

He could just picture her. Standing on the other side of the door, hands on her hips, glaring cutely at the door like some romance anime heroine.

For the love of STYX, why was she so freaking cute?

And why was she so determined to see him?

It made no sense.

Except that she likes and cares about you, another voice said. His mind, and the rest of him, silenced the thought as quickly as it came.

His face became a grimace and he decided that now was the time to get this visit over with, so that he could get back to his raging pity party.

Whatever she wanted couldn't take that long, right?

Just rip the bandaid and be done with it.

Spite forced his hand in the end. He unlocked and pulled the door open, his face still a deep scathing frown. The moment his eyes met those deep, warm brown eyes—however—he felt his demeanor and posture go shy.

“Ah, h-hey…” he said by way of greeting, with the smallest smile on his face. Then he remembered he was supposed to be annoyed, and tried to force the grimace once more. He wasn't sure if he managed, but the moment he took in the rest of her, he had to keep himself from laughing.

If he had to hazard a guess, he imagined he looked a lot more like the nauseous emoji rather than a scathing one.

The reason for his sudden urge to laugh was that the Ramshackle Prefect was, no cap, standing with a wide, determined stance with her closed fists on her hips as she looked up at him.

That made him feel off-kilter for a moment. He kept forgetting how short she was compared to him. She could still no doubt kick his ass TKO style, because who couldn't, if he was honest—but she was just so… fun sized and cute.

He longed to hug and cuddle her. He wanted to hold hands with her. Wanted to whisper soft couple things into her hair as he embraced her from behind. He wanted to keep her safe, since she didn't have any magic of her own. And to support her in whatever she wanted to do because, damn, this was a young lady who was going places. He wanted to beg her not to leave if a way was ever found, because who would he talk to then? (Other than Muscle Red, of course. But even then, this was different.)

“There! That's better isn't it? We can definitely talk better this way.”

Idia felt himself start to nod and smile along with her, before shaking his head and frowning.

“What do you want?”

Her brows rose and slowly she began to frown. Then her brows knit together and her stance became even more stern than before.

“You won't talk to me like that, Idia! No, sir. We're friends, remember? Besides, I brought you a gift. Doncha wanna know what it is?”

Idia felt his conviction slip.

A gift? For him? Had he really triggered some kind of event?

He frowned.

If it had been anyone else, he would have thought it was a trap. The problem was, it wasn't anybody else.

It was the girl of his dreams.

“Why?” He heard himself ask. He frowned, but he wasn't sure if it was at the situation itself or himself. “Why would you get me a gift?”

The Prefect sighed, now crossing her arms. Idia called himself several kinds of idiot.

That stance is never a good one in anime and manga.

Now he'd likely ruined everything, and she was going to leave, and he'd be in an even worse funk than before.

“I already told you, Idia. We're friends. Sometimes friends give each other gifts. And I care about you. Gift giving is a great way to support the people you care about.” She then grinned. “Or just chock it up to the fact that I wanna. Okay? Now—” She fell silent and only continued when Idia looked up, into her unfairly gentle and pretty eyes. “Can I please come in?”

Idia said nothing. He just scoffed under his breath and moved aside, ignoring the rush of affection he felt as she quickly moved into his room. That quickly turned to dread as he suddenly realized how much of a pig sty his room truly was.

Shit, shit, shit.

She didn't seem to notice, however. In fact, she didn't even seem to look around. She just turned back to him and the moment he closed the door, she moved in closer and closer.

Was she about to go plot twist villain on him? Well, he supposed there were worse ways to go than being murdered by a ridiculously beautiful girl in a school girl uniform.

“W-What are you—”

She stopped in front of him and rummaged in her book bag before pulling out a rectangular, shiny yellow box. He frowned.

He was a little ashamed to admit it, but he already knew what it was from the sight glimpse.

A box of Pocky.

A box of banana-flavored Pocky.

His favorite.

“What are you—”

She said nothing, only smirking as she opened the box, then the unopened package inside. Pulling one out, she held it up as she held his gaze.

“I'm guessing you've heard about the game?” She asked, though it wasn't really a question. She knew he knew it well. “Wanna play it with me, Idia?”

There was something new there. A sort of hint of something. A variation.

He would never vocalize his guess, but if he wasn't mistaken, it sounded a lot like flirting.

“M-me?”

She groaned and threw up both hands, the Pocky rising with the one that held it.

“You're not as dumb as you like to think, Idia—about people, I mean.”

She held his gaze firmly. He just continued to stare dumbly at the shorter girl. Slowly, it dawned on her that he had absolutely no clue what she was talking about.

“Okaaay… so you don't get it.” She sighed. “Fine. I'll tell you. In a way that even you won't be able to find a single way to deny it.”

Idia just blinked.

“I like you, Idia. A lot. And I want to be more than friends. But you're also really skittish. I only introduced the game in the hopes that I'd be able to play it with you, and the kiss would tell you the rest.”

Idia just stared. And stared some more.

She sighed, moved in closer, and held up the Pocky.

He took it without thinking.

“If me being your girlfriend is something you are on board with, play the game with me…”

Idia didn't think he had ever put anything into his mouth as fast as he did the Pocky.

There it was, just the tip of the flavored part of the cookie stick held between his lips. It was worth it, though. The Prefect smiled so brightly, a light tinge of pink coloring her cheeks.

“So you do like me!”

He sighed. Here it came.

Time for the ridicule to commence in 3, 2, 1—

“I'm glad.”

That's what I thought you'd say, because duh—wait what?

“You're… glad? Why?” It wasn’t easy to talk with a piece of pocky being held by his lips, but through luck or maybe he had a high enough stat, he managed.

She sighed. This time, however, it sounded fond.

“If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you.” She then beamed and Idia felt himself mirroring her without his consent. “But I'll give you a hint.”

She then closed the remaining space between them, took the other end of the Pocky in her mouth, and quickly nibbled through it until she'd reached his end.

Idia was pretty sure he short circuited for a moment. He blinked rapidly until he was finally able to register what was happening.

The Ramshackle Prefect had kissed him. Was kissing him.

Their lips were still touching.

He swallowed the bit of banana Pocky in his mouth and closed his eyes tight. He'd never kissed anyone before, except his mom and his figurines and—though he would take it to his grave—a couple of his character and idol body pillows when he was feeling particularly needy.

Still, he let instinct take over and did his best to match her actions.

Pulling away, he opened his eyes to meet her gaze.

“I knew you liked me back. Thank you for finally telling me.”

Idia blushed. He felt his throat trying to work, but all that came out was something like squealing—but less cute and more strangled.

Apparently, the Ramshackle Prefect had no trouble finding it endearing, if the fond smile on her face was any indication. Then a conspiratorial grin slipped onto her face.

“So what do you think about the game from my world?”

Idia had liked it. He was pretty sure she knew it too. She just wanted to hear him say it.

Unfortunately, he couldn't bring himself to do that just yet. Instead, he let some of his hair fall forward to obscure his face as he brought his index fingers together, tapping them against each other a few times.

“I don't… um… not really sure.” He cleared his throat, trying to speak up, but mumbling worse instead. “Maybe we should try it again… a few times… just to get a good sample size…”

The smile that radiated off her face in that moment took Idia to a whole other realm. His room no longer felt so gloomy and depressing. It looked brighter somehow.

His attention was immediately snapped back to the short Prefect, who still stood very close. He blushed as he realized how close, before reminding himself that they'd just kissed, which had been a hell of a lot closer. That only caused him to blush more deeply as the realization sunk in.

She had kissed him.

Him!

And he had, technically, kissed back.

His face felt like it was radiating heat.

She giggled and pulled out another Pocky stick, putting the cookie tip in her mouth. She then raised her brows and grinned.

A clear invitation.

It was one of the only invitations Idia had gotten for anything (outside of gaming) that he immediately RSVP’d on.

As they kissed, Idia felt his muscles loosen and his body warm. At some point, long after the cookie was gone, petite arms wrapped around his neck as his hands awkwardly settled upon her waist. He had successfully passed the surprise event and achieved the Best Ending.

Maybe I can convince her we'll need to go through the whole box, just to be absolutely sure I like the game.

He smiled into the kiss at the thought.

[seraphims-wing]

Can’t Sleep Love

kicking off this poly fab five x reader AU (i think this will become a series?? it’ll get a name eventually lol) with a dick grayson fic bc i need to honor my roots as a dick grayson stan 💙

donna and wally have mentions and of course roy and garth will make their appearances in due time hehe

i think that especially after growing up with Bruce he grew to appreciate comfortable silences a lot especially when things feel chaotic (maybe i’m projecting a bit but also i’m the one writing so…)

anyways, enjoy!!

-

Y’know maybe you forgot that if Wally drinks an energy drink at 7pm he can sleep just fine. You on the other hand?

Damn speedster metabolism, you thought to yourself as Wally’s head rested in the crook of your neck. You could hear his soft snores as his leg draped over yours. Wally would never admit that he was clingy and yet whenever he’d sleep with you, he’d end up pressed against you or whoever else was beside him. On the other side of you, Donna’s head was resting on top of yours, her hand draped gently over your waist.

The rest of your partners were a tangle of limbs on the oversized sectional couch. Post-mission movie night was a success as always, the exhaustion catching up to everyone.

Well, except you.

You let out a soft sigh before you heard a rustle amidst the darkness. Peeking up you could see a shadow slinking out of the living room, footsteps so light you could barely hear a thing.

Okay, maybe not just you.

Luckily for you, your metahuman partners slept like the dead. You gently nudged the limbs keeping you trapped (which took a while considering Donna’s gentle yet firm Amazonian grip) and followed after Dick.

Light spilled out of the room from the slightly open door, the sound of keys briskly tapping in the otherwise quiet Tower. You gently nudged the door open, seeing Dick’s shoulders tense for a moment before you spoke quietly.

“We need to work on your stealth,” he murmured.

“Says the one who got caught sneaking away,” you teased as you stepped into the room, shutting the door behind you.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, peering over his shoulder at the screens. He visibly relaxed as he turned to glance at you, fingers stilling.

“Forgot I had a report to finish,” he replied, eyes still darting back towards the screen. “You should go back to bed.” You raised an eyebrow at him, not buying it.

You plop down into one of the roller chairs beside him, glancing over the open files and paper spread across the desk. Now it’s his turn to raise an eyebrow at you and you just shrug, “You look like you could use the company.”

He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off, “I won’t bother you, I promise. Just… humor me?” He let out a sigh and glanced back at the screen. You scooted a bit closer and saw his lips quirk up into a small smile.

Taking one of the files you started to flip through them, noting down important info from each and sneakily (not so sneakily) placing sticky notes in the corner of his eye.

You fought back a beaming grin when you saw him take each note, skimming over them as he wrote.

You both worked in silence for a while until he finally spoke up.

“Beast Brigade is a kind of stupid gang name,” he remarked after reading one of your notes.

“Right?!” You exclaimed, gaze snapping up to his before you sheepishly winced. Your voice dropped to a whisper, “Like come on if you’re going to do bad stuff then at least get a cooler name.”

Dick snickered, “And they suck at covering up evidence too.”

You shake your head and let out an exaggerated sigh, “Amateurs.”

His light chuckle makes your heart practically soar in your chest. You buried your face back into the files, hiding a smile.

As the hours grew longer, you scooted closer and closer to his chair, finding comfort in the sound of Dick’s typing. You let out a soft yawn as the consistent noise started to lull you to sleep.

It was nearly 4am by the time Dick finally finished the report. He sent it off to Bruce with a relieved sigh, stretching his arms over his head. He glanced over at you, his gaze softening when he saw you had drifted off. He reached over and took your hand, squeezing it gently as he let out a yawn.

Maybe… just a few more minutes with you.

The next morning you both woke up, still in the chairs but with a blanket draped over each of you. You winced as you felt your back ache as you opened your eyes to see a sticky note stuck to Dick’s forehead.

‘Told you so :P’

You watched as Dick pulled it off of his forehead with a puzzled expression. You let out a huff,

“Wally!”

-

i hope you enjoyed this silly little fic!! i’m still very new to tumblr but i’ll hopefully learn more about formatting and all that as i write more lol, thanks for reading!! 💗

[cigar-aficionado]

red wine supernova

oz cobb x afab reader / 4378 words / explicit - mdni!

summary: reader is (sort of) oz's sugar baby -- you have a date (or, rather, a scheduled booty call), but shark week has begun. turns out oz isn't fussy about that kind of thing (and even enjoys it).

warnings/tags: period sex! piv, vaginal fingering, alcohol ment but no one's drunk, showering together, sugar baby storyline, fem nicknames (doll, sweetheart) but no pronouns used, no use of y/n

To everyone else, he’s The Penguin (of the Iceberg Lounge.) You’d never call him that. To you, he’s just Oz. 

You’re something of a sugar baby, though the honest truth is even if he didn’t give you the gifts or the money or the decadent nights out, you’d still be here. You’ve told him as much, but he insists. 

“Hey, um,” you hate having to make this call, but he was going to find out one way or another. “I know we had an…appointment tonight, but I’m a little bit indisposed.” 

“Everything alright, Doll?” 

“Ah,” you’re blushing a little bit, looking at the pile of papers on your desk. You don’t technically need to work anymore but giving up your job feels too weird. You clear your throat, “I got my period this morning, it’s nothing major, I’m just not – you know, at peak, don’t want to get it all over you.” 

“Gotcha. Well, I mean, if that’s all that’s stopping you, you can still come over. If you’re up for it, no pressure.” 

You laugh lightly, “I was looking forward to seeing you,” you say honestly. “But like I said, I know we were planning on getting physical and – “ 

“Don’t worry about it, if you want to see me then I’m happy to have you. We’ll find something fun to do.” 

“Okay. Thanks, Oz, I appreciate that.” 

“Of course. You need me to get you anything? Some nice tea or tampons or whatever?” 

You can’t help another little smile, though you’re pleased that he doesn’t hesitate when asking about getting you tampons – you really do trust that he’d go to the store and walk out with a box without getting weird about it. “I’m covered there, thank you. Though actually – what’s that Italian bakery by you?” 

“Mhm, there’s like four, Sweetheart, you got any specifics?” 

“Begins with an M. Mario’s, maybe…?” 

“Mauricio’s?” 

“That’s the one. If they have any of their Opera cake, can you get me a slice?” 

“Sure thing. Hey, listen, I gotta go, but I’ll see you later.” 

“See you later, Handsome.” 

You get home later than planned, so you throw a few things into the small overnight bag you’d packed the night before, texting Oz and rushing out. 

Oz lets you up to his apartment as soon as you get there, kissing you on the cheek, “Hey there, Doll, lemme take this for you,” he says, taking your bag before you can fight him on it. “Make yourself at home, I got’cher cake in the fridge.” 

“You’re an absolute king,” you say with a deep sigh, “you want a drink?” 

“Yeah, why don’t we open a bottle of wine, dealer’s choice.” He heads into the bedroom to set down your things and you go to the cabinet, pulling down two wine glasses. He talks to you as he walks back into the kitchen, “How was your day? I assume not so good…” 

You sigh, but you give him a genuine smile as you open the wine from the fridge and pour, “It’s getting much better now.” 

“Glad to hear it,” he says, smiling back at you in a way that makes your heart flutter. He takes the glasses when you’re done, carrying them to the coffee table in the living room. “All that in the pastry box is for you, by the way, so don’t be shy.” 

You blink, heading to the fridge and seeing the cake box – much bigger than one that would hold a single serving of Opera cake – and smiling. “Oh, Oz, this is lovely. You didn't have to…” you say, opening it up. Inside are two slices of the cake you asked for, along with a couple of chocolate cake truffles, an array of cookies, and a delicious-looking eclair. 

“Wanted to. I just picked out what looked good, it was nothin’.”

It really isn’t nothing; it means the world to you. You smile, taking over the pastry box and two forks as well as the bottle of wine. You set the goodies down on the table before sitting very close to him, your legs touching. “Can't eat all of it on my own,” you say with a little smile, leaning against him. “Tell me about your day, Handsome.” 

He always does a tiny half-scoff when you call him that, like he can't quite believe you're saying it. You've stopped discouraging it; all you can do is tell him again and again that you're into him. “It was pretty calm, not much went on.” You know him well enough to know that means he doesn't want to talk about it but he's too polite to say that. “There's a new Thai restaurant that just opened up – fancy, Michelin stars and all that. I was thinking maybe…if you're not doing anything one night next week? I could get us a reservation.” 

You smile, “Would love that.” 

These are the kinds of things you do together. He takes you to restaurants, gallery openings, the theater, places to be seen so everyone can see you on his arm. Sometimes, you’ll go to his club to see the entertainment or try a new cocktail or, again, just to be seen with him. He takes you shopping – he gives you a hearty allowance outside of your bills specifically to spend on yourself – but it brings him great pleasure to take you to boutiques and department stores, tagging along close by as you peruse racks. 

When it comes to your outings, your favorite is when he takes you lingerie shopping. You know exactly how to make him blush and giggle to cover how flustered you’re getting him; it’s fun to have him carry your haul of pieces (there’s something about all that delicate lace and satin in his rough masculine hands) and to hear his input. He’s offered to let you shop for it on your own, but you always assure him that you want him there and it’s true (and maybe Oz isn’t the only one who likes showing off your relationship.) 

Your very, very favorite dates with Oz, though, are this – back at this apartment, on his couch, in his bed. You love touching him and while you get a thrill from doing it in public, it’s different here, especially knowing you can rub his thighs and undo the buttons of his shirts at will. You rest a hand on his leg, rubbing over it gently. “What would you like me to wear for our restaurant date?” 

Oz practically purrs at the contact, closing his eyes briefly. He licks his lips, opening his eyes to meet yours, “Anything’s perfect, Doll. I’ll be in my usual. I did really like that dress we picked out last week – the green one? With the lace?” 

“The green one with the lace it shall be,” you smile, reaching for his hand. 

Oz squeezes your hand, moving it to stroke your cheek, “If you wanna get your hair and makeup done, you can put it on the card. Not that y’need it, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” 

You smile, moving your face to kiss his palm, “I’m not the only one.” 

Oz’s voice is soft, almost like it’s a confession, “You don’t have to say that stuff tah’me, Sweetheart. I ain’t lookin’ f’that.” 

“Can I tell you a secret, Oz?” He nods. You smile, putting your hand over his, “I’ve never messaged anyone first on the arrangement app before you. But your pictures were just – I thought you were so sexy. And I was so happy you replied to me, kicking my feet and everything.”

“Yeah? You really mean that?” 

“A hundred percent. You're even more handsome in person – that shirt you wore on our first date? That white, against your chest hair and the way your chest pulled at it, just about took me out.” You peck a gentle kiss on his cheek, giving him a little smirk, “And don’t get me started on how much I like what’s under your clothes.” 

Oz smiles a little stroking through your hair, “Am I better than the other guys you met on that app?” 

“Absolutely. It's no contest,” you answer honestly, nodding. You don't normally talk about this, but you’ve wanted to tell him for a while now, and you’re glad for the chance. 

Oz rubs your arm, takes your hand, “Y'ain't just sayin’ that?” 

“There were three others, I ended all those relationships first. It wasn't the money, it was…they never made me cum. I made it really easy for them to make me cum and they just never did.” You shrug and squeeze his hand. “This arrangement has two-way aspects. I have to want to be here for it to be sustainable for me. You're the only one that I've wanted to be with.” 

“Tha's really sweet, Doll. Thanks,” he leans to brush a gentle kiss on your forehead, which makes you smile. “They never made you cum, huh? Stupid guys, you give real good direction on that.” 

“Thank you! I thought so too.” 

“They missed out, you make the most gorgeous faces when ya'finish.” You giggle. He gives you a warm smile, “C’mere, Sweetheart, let me rub your back for you.” 

Sometimes you could close your eyes and it's like you're a normal couple. 

You smile too, moving to turn your back to him so he can work. He starts with your shoulders, running the back of his hand down your back, “You comfortable in this dress? I’ll let’cha go change if you need.” 

“Mm, can you unzip me? I’ll just get out of the top part…” 

He does just that, kissing your shoulder once you slip your arms out of the straps. You reach behind you to unhook your bra but he stops you, taking one of your hands and kissing it. “Did I buy you this one?” He asks as he unhooks it with ease and you can hear the little smile in his voice. 

“You did,” you smile as you take the bra off, setting it in front of you, “The underwear you buy me is my favorite.” 

“I do love seein’ you in it,” he murmurs a little huskily – you love how much you turn him on. 

Oz starts massaging your shoulders properly and you can’t help a loud moan, erupting into a giggle, “Sorry.” 

He chuckles as well, “No need, Doll, you know you can be as loud as you want. I’m glad it feels good.” You both are silent for a moment as his hands move over your shoulder blades and upper back. “I can run you a hot bath after this if that would help?” 

You smile, shaking your head, “That’s alright, I’m here to entertain you, Handsome. You don’t need to do all this for me.” 

“Eh, you don’t feel good. I wanna make you feel a little better.” 

The sentiment warms your heart but you know this isn’t really what your arrangement’s about and you don’t want to push it. “You’re a sweet man, Oz. Really, it’s okay – I kinda do this every month.” 

Oz laughs softly, “I know you’re right, maybe I just like takin’ care of ya. Don’t get to do it very often. Mhm, besides that, you deserve a little extra when you’re sufferin’, even if you're used to it.” 

“Mhm, stop being so nice to me, you're making me horny,” and you do say it like you're joking but you're leaving him bait. 

That makes Oz chuckle again, his hands moving lower on your back. “I ain't squeamish anyway and we'd both fit in that tub, is all I'm saying.” 

“I think I need you to be a little more subtle. Just like ten degrees.”

He laughs, “Alright, how about, I don't have a lotta experience firsthand, but I've heard sex can be good for cramps?” 

You laugh lightly, “Really, you don't have to offer that.” 

“I wanna. Offer, I mean – makin’ you feel good feels good to me too. If you don't wanna, it's alright, but if you're worried about me bein’ grossed out, I really don't care. We'll do it in the tub or put a few towels down.”

You bite your lip, “I'm not sure about the tub is the only thing. Don't like the idea of being a human bath bomb.” 

That makes him laugh, “Fair enough, Sweetheart. How's about bed and then we shower off together?” 

You can't deny that between all the touching and just being with Oz in general, you've gotten really horny. The way he wants this is turning you on too; you love being doted on just as much as you love taking care of him. Plus, Oz always makes sure you finish (which surprised you the first few times you did this with him) and you're so needy right now… 

“Honestly, my Darling, I'd really like that,” you say with a little smile. 

“Good,” he kisses your cheek, “you wanna head back there now or d'ya need a bit more time?” 

A shiver runs through you, “Let’s go now, I’ve needed you all day.” 

Like usual, you can’t keep your hands off each other as you head to his bedroom. Oz is warm and it feels good against your body, even better when he starts nibbling at your neck and you feel his hardness insistent against his trousers as his hips gently rut against you. Between soft moans and grunts, you both agree that having you on your back will be the best way to do this and Oz excuses himself to get a black towel from the bathroom. 

You take your dress off the rest of the way, admiring his bed – Oz has such good taste in furniture, all of it’s very comfortable but especially his bed. He comes back and smiles at you, naked from the waist down (save his socks), and his shirt unbuttoned most of the way thanks to your handiwork, the beginnings of a hickey coloring the base of his neck. Your mouth practically starts watering at the sight of his proud cock, hard and bouncing for you as he walks. 

Oz pulls back his duvet, spreading the towel over his satin sheets. You head to the bathroom to take care of your underwear and period product but you don’t dilly dally getting back to the bed. Oz kisses you, leaning to your ear, “You ready, Doll?” 

“Mhm, yeah Handsome.” 

He lays you down on your back, the towel soft underneath you. You take a deep, happy breath and watch as takes his shirt off and gets onto the bed, kissing your knees and opening your legs for him. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs as he gets himself into place. His cock is already flushed your favorite color and leaking, making you bite your lip: 

“I’m not the only one.” 

Oz laughs softly, reaching for the condom he put on the nightstand. You help him put it on and he kisses your knee again, tender like he means it. He shifts one more time to get closer, the cool tip of his sheathed cock pressing into your entrance, making you both moan in anticipation – though Oz only gets louder. 

“Oh, oh my fuckin’ – Jesus fuckin’ Christ –” Oz gasps as he thrusts all the way into you. 

You smile, stroking his cheek and kissing him, “Good?” You ask it innocently and he nods quickly, big brown eyes rolling in the back of his head. 

Oz shudders and kisses you, pulling back and licking his lips, “So good, so warm. Almost hot on me, oh my fuck…” 

You’re so wet, and the blood between your legs is only making it more slick, letting Oz effortlessly slide in and out of you. 

You don’t do it in this position very often – usually you’re riding him or you’re the one fucking him with a strap bigger than you’d be able to take – and it’s making his body get even closer to you than than you’re used to. It’s fucking good though, especially coupled with how big he is; he makes you feel surrounded in the best of ways, you might have to do this more often. 

“Oz,” you whine, eyes glassed as he reaches between you to rub your clit with his thumb. 

“The way you’re twitchin’,” he whines for you again and it only makes you twitch more. “Won’t last another fuckin’ minute.” 

Oz kisses your neck and rubs your clit a little more slowly. It draws a desperate little noise from you that’s more whine than moan. “Feels so good,” you groan, looking at him hungrily. 

“Feelin’ a little better, Sweetheart?” Oz murmurs. 

You nod and his teeth sink into your neck, pleasure jolting through your body at the feeling of his bite. He doesn’t let up, suckling a purple mark into your soft skin (adding to the collection of them on your body; he reveled in being submissive but he was also deliciously possessive, almost territorial.) “Good, good,” he pants into your neck, grunting and whining again. 

It’s not long before you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge –  your overheated, swollen core combined with Oz rubbing you just right is breathtaking and you can’t even get out that you’re about to cum before it happens. 

Cool shivers tear through you as you practically scream for him, waves of pleasure washing over your entire body. Your clit is pulsing to the beat of your heart and you’re trying to catch your breath as Oz’s hips stutter, that familiar low groan of your name spilling into your ear that always makes your heart race. 

“That was fuckin’ incredible, Doll. Might have to do it more often,” he pants, husky in your ear. Oz kisses your cheek and pulls back to throw out his condom and the amount of stickiness between your legs draws a bit of insecurity from you. 

“You too, Handsome, fuck…” You look him in the eyes, his gaze tender the way it always is with you, and you smile again. “I should get up, but I think my knees are gone.” 

He shrugs, laughing softly, “These’re thick towels, it’ll be alright if you take a sec.” 

You take a few minutes to lounge and cuddle with him. When you first got together you were surprised at his initiation of it – in public, Oz always puts on a certain image of himself and this doesn’t exactly fit his brand (especially nights where he wants to be held.) You’re happy for it, though. It’s sweet, it makes you feel more like this is something real. 

Once you feel ready, you kiss him and let him know. With a little blush, he invites you to get a head start as he doesn’t want you to see him take his socks off: “I’d also appreciate if you didn’t look at, uh, my feet when we’re in there.” 

You give him a warm, easy smile, stroking his cheek, “Eyes up here. Absolutely.” 

“Thanks,” he whispers, just barely. You kiss him chaste on the lips, rolling out of bed and heading for his bathroom. 

Oz’s shower is big. You’d never seen one with two shower heads before meeting him and his water pressure is much better than your apartment’s (in fact, you usually shower here after nights with him because it’s so luxurious.) 

You do take the opportunity to wash up. You’d just about taken care of your thighs when Oz knocks on the door a couple of times. You invite him in, sultry, and he meets you inside, slipping through the glass door to get under the water with you. 

You pull him into a kiss, gently biting his lower lip before you pull back, “Hi, Handsome.” 

“You miss me already?” He asks with a little smile. 

You giggle, “I like when we're close.” He kisses your head and you hand over a washcloth. 

Oz works on cleaning his cock and his thighs, which you don't peek at (you do really want to, but you want to respect his wishes more.) You work on your stomach, your gaze not leaving his hairy chest. 

When he's done, you take his washcloth and clean his hands. Gentle touches always make him a little bashful so you love laying them on him, kissing his chest when you're all done. He strokes your cheek, “You want me to wash your hair?” 

“I'd love that,” you smile, turning so your back is facing him. 

He strokes your arm before taking his shampoo off the little shelf – the one you always use (and revel in, because it makes you smell like him.) His hands are very gentle as they go over your hair, wetting it and working in the shampoo. “You’ve got such pretty hair,” he says as he lathers, his hands feeling like magic on your sensitive scalp. 

“I try to make sure it’s nice for you,” you smile. 

“Only right I give ya’ a hand,” he murmurs. 

Oz rinses your hair and you sigh happily, his hands trailing over your neck, then your chest. “How’re you doin’, Sweetheart?” He murmurs, running his hand over your hip, “You need more before we get out?” 

You blush, “You don’t have to…”

“Lemme take care of you,” he whispers, “turn around for me.” You obey and he touches your chest, then your stomach, his hand running lower to start working you with his fingers. You gasp, bucking your hips and earning a soft chuckle from him, “Aw, Sweetheart, that feel good already?” 

“Yeah,” you whine, licking your lips. “You feel so good…” 

“You can lean against me, Doll. I gotcha,” he says, slinking his other arm around your waist to steady you. 

You moan for him, leaning back against his body a little more insistently, which is more comfortable for you. He just about purrs when you do so, making you shiver but then his thick fingers rubbing over your clit pick up in speed and draw a louder moan. “Oz, yes…” 

“You’re gorgeous like this, Sweetheart. So fuckin’ stunning when y’comin’ apart for me.” He leans to bite your neck, not hard enough to leave a hickey (though you know he’s already left plenty.) He goes a little faster still and that’s what makes your eyes roll in the back of your head, panting harder for him as scalding ecstasy fills you to your brim. 

Your hips twitch as he discreetly rinses his hand on a strand of water running behind you – you feel so good that you can’t even be embarrassed about it. You giggle, straightening up and leaning to kiss his jaw, “Turn around for a second.” 

Oz chuckles and obeys, putting a hand over his eyes like a gentleman. You rinse the fresh red between your legs, turning around to face his back once you wash your hands. He makes a happy noise when you start rubbing his shoulders, turning his head to face you more, “Are you ready to head to bed?” 

“Yes, Handsome. I’ll dry off in here if that’s okay?” 

“Perfect.” 

You turn the water off and he steps out of the shower first, offering you a hand as you do. You wrap yourselves in soft towels and he kisses you before exiting the bathroom. 

You dry yourself enough to put on comfortable (but still cute) underwear, cramps slowly starting to re-bloom but you feel so blissed out that it almost doesn’t even bother you. You open the door and find Oz still naked in his towel sitting on his ottoman, his bad foot wrapped up in one of his hand towels. The way he smiles at you fills you with warmth and you go over to him and kiss him gently on the forehead. 

Your bag is on the floor by the bed and you open it, pulling out your little sleep shorts and looking for a shirt. You frown as you look through what you’d brought, and then you remember that you hadn’t actually packed one – last night when you packed, you thought it'd be lingerie at the most. You laugh to yourself, looking at him, “Can I ask another favor?” 

You barely even have to ask him to borrow a shirt. Oz directs you to the 2nd drawer of his dresser, telling you to pick whichever you like, looking even a little giddy about it. You smile and take a plain black one, slipping the loose garment over your form and pulling it down. He practically lights up when you straighten it on you, “Fuckin’ beautiful, you can wear whatever you like from my closet.” 

The shirt’s clean but it's still potent with his scent, which only makes you feel more happy and relaxed. You put on your shorts and sigh in content, making your way to the bed. “Lookin’ very comfortable, Doll,” Oz smiles, standing up. 

He opens the drawer next to him and you mock-pout, getting into bed. “Are you putting on clothes?” 

You look up at him with big eyes, his gaze meeting yours with a smile, “That a problem?”

You continue your mock-pout, “I wanted to feel you all over.” 

Oz chuckles, “Okay. I’d never deny ya anything you wanted, you know that.” He comes to the bed, getting in beside you and taking you into his arms, your body immediately relaxing as you curl up. Oz’s scent and the feeling of him so close fills you with a sense of calm, a smile crossing over your lips as you nuzzle against his deliciously hairy chest. 

“This is exactly what I wanted,” you say, sighing happily against Oz’s warm skin. “Honestly, you should be naked all the time.” 

Another little laugh, this time it’s his bashful chuckle (the same one you hear so often in the lingerie shops.) “I dunno, Doll, might make my job a little harder. Feel like, uh, I’d get some complaints.” 

You hum, looking up and stroking his cheek with a playful smile, “You direct those complainers to me, I’ll give ‘em a piece of my mind.” 

Oz smiles too, kissing your hand, “I’m sure ya would.” 

You curl up closer and close your eyes. It’s not long before you find yourself drifting off to sleep, Oz’s steady heartbeat in your ear and his hand rubbing tender circles on your back. 

[angeldoll2000]

Highest Bidder

Dark!Robert Fishcher x Sugarbaby!Reader

Word Count: +3,066

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Loss of virginity, Human auction, Housewife kink, Breeding kink, Misogynistic remarks, Insults, Just plain abuse, Robert is a warning himself.

Author's Note(s): I have been thinking about this for a hot minute. Inspired by @mypoisonedvine Robert Fischer fic go check it out!!

You couldn't stop checking your phone for an update. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. Did he bail? Part of you had hoped so. It would make things a lot easier. Years ago, if someone had told you that you'd be auctioning off your virginity, well, the first thing you'd do is laugh in their face.

That was before everything went to shit. Your parents ended up in neck-deep debt trying to pay off your college, borrowing money from some sleazy loaner company. Soon having no choice but to debate on filing for bankruptcy. Everything they've worked hard for, gone. You didn't want them to worry about that anymore.

This wasn't a huge deal for you. Personally, you've never had any luck with guys and would rather get this over with. Growing up you were always the awkward, ugly duckling of the friend group, so a boyfriend was out of the picture. Only sharing an innocent kiss with a childhood friend, but that was a long time ago. It was only after you reached your 20's where you began to bloom.

He'd bought your outfit and covered the cost of everything. He wants you ready and waiting for him, all wrapped up like a pretty present. He's very particular about these things, even making a list of errands to run before the big day. He requested for photos of the hair and makeup you'd be wearing for the evening. Scolding you every time you did something he disliked. He wouldn't even try hiding it. You reread his previous text message: Change the makeup. It makes you look like a cheap whore. You scoff at the response...how rude.

Even before all of this he would try to test your patience. Sending messages like, 'Do you know who I am? You should be more grateful that I'm giving you this much attention," or "Anyone would be lucky to be in your position,' which made you physically roll your eyes. This morning, he had given you a call as a reminder of where you would meet. He send you the hotel address with money for a cab.

He made sure to give you call in the afternoon as a reminder of what to do after arriving, ending it with, "I don't want to hear any complaining when I get there." before hanging up. You grumble a stray of curse words, this had better been worth it...

You couldn't believe your eyes on how luxurious the hotel was. It's entrance had been decorated with marble and brass statues. There wasn't a drop of it that didn't scream 'money'. You sheepishly sign in, allowing a worker to carry your bag to the room. It had taken a while before you could reach the top. Part of you was impressed, he had really gone all out.

As soon as you enter the room there was this sort of romantic ambiance to it. From the lighting, to the breathtaking scenery of the city. It was all so...dreamy. But this was no dream. You were going to have sex for the first time with some old, rich geezer, gross. You take note of a shopping bag left on the bed, opening it to find a lingerie set.

You held the fabric, inspecting the material. White lace, with hints of glitter that shine in the light. At least the old man has good taste. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, humming at the sight of it. Not bad...hell, you looked fantastic.

Suddenly the door knob jingles, then a heavy knock follows. You leapt from the bed, approaching to open the door for him. But before you could reach the knob it slams open. A man enters, sporting a well-tailored suit, dressed to the nines from head-to-toe. His hair is combed back, a few strands dangle against his forehead. As you scan the man's face, you couldn't help but notice how handsome he was.

There's a light rosy hue to his cheeks. You first notice the striking blues of his eyes and how long his lashes are. He looks like he'd have no problem at all searching for someone. So what is he doing paying for someone like you? For a moment, you were in awe of his presence. Staring back at the man like a deer caught in headlights.

The meeting today had taken its toll on Robert. He was supposed to meet with you hours ago, but there had been an emergency with the company's shareholders. He could practically feel his blood boiling, to the point where it felt almost difficult to breathe. He tugs his tie off and yanks for his shirt to open, a few buttons go flying. He lets out a huff, scanning the room with his blue orbs for something, more specifically, someone.

"So you're the one I've been talking to eh?" a hint of humor in his voice, "Let me guess, you're a good girl caught up in the wrong crowd? Is that it?" he taunts, "I'm sure you've 'never' done this before," the corners of his mouth turn upward into a sinister grin. His eyes are emotionless. Cold as ice. Yet why did they seem so comforting? As if you've seen them before.

He drops his suitcase at the end of the bed, turning towards you. He eyes you up and down, as if he were deep in thought, "Give me a spin," and of course you follow his orders. He raises a brow, "Come here," he commands. You stare back at him, unsure of what he'd just said. Robert sighs, he doesn't have time for this. He's slightly drunk and exhausted from work. Right now he just wants some hard, animalistic fucking.

He tugs your underwear to the side, examining his prize. He bunches up the waistband of your panties before yanking the fabric down. You held your breath, now riddled with anxiety. This was a bit too...casual for comfort. He fists the fabric, holding it to the side while the other hand held your hip.

His voice is deep, much deeper in person, "Hold it for me," he wants to get a good look at his purchase. His thick fingers slide down your pubic area, grazing against the bare skin, he hums, "Even waxed yourself like I told you to, good girl." he slaps the side of your hip, as if he were examining livestock. Your stomach coils at the realization. Never in your life have you felt so...objectified. Still, now wasn't the time to back down. He pushes you against a desk. Until you were now leaning on the table.

He spreads your folds with his thick digits, examining them closely. He held your clit between his fingers, pinching it lightly. You let out a whine from the sensation, bucking your hips from the sudden discomfort. He retreats his hand before flipping you over. His chest now against your back. He pushes you against the table, bending you over for a better view. He was in no rush.

He rubs his fingers over your bare slit. His thumb caresses your bundle of nerves. As soon as he retreats you finally snap the fabric back in place. Now lowering your head with embarrassment. He grips your chin, lifting it until you're face-to-face, "No don't hide from me now..." he plops himself on a chair, tilting his chin up, "Why don't you make yourself useful and help me get this off?"

If you weren't getting paid you would've scoffed at his rudeness. It was obvious he was into power play. Being in total control of everything. Now wasn't the time for letting your emotions emotions get involved. You help him remove his coat and tie, even unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. He's still wearing his pants, now unclasped. He stares you down, a smirk now lingering on his cold features, "Take off your clothes,"

When you start to quickly unclasp the garter belt, Robert's voice booms, "Stop." he orders, "Do it slower," he leans back in the recliner, already palming his erection. You shyly unclasp your belt, letting the straps fall off each shoulder. His hand grazes on an exposed breast, sending shivers down your spine.

He chuckles, "Oh...don't tell me you're that sensitive?" a crude remark. Your brows furrow, why did he have to tease you so? He notices your obvious discomfort, "Don't worry darling, your only job is to fuck," as if that would make things better, "Do you know how to suck cock?" he questions. You give him a hesitant nod, "No...I've never done it before this is my first time--"

"I didn't ask for a whole life story,"

"...No," your lips press in a thin line. He was really pushing it, "So you've never had sex or sucked cock before, tell me, what have you done?" he pulls out his member, already hard and leaking. It's tip was flush pink, the same as his lips. He spits into his palm before working himself up, he knows you're nervous. He wants you to be intimidated by him. He pumps his shafts with slow strokes, "Tell me, what gets you off..." he sighs.

You look down to your feet, suddenly his voice booms, "No, do not look away," to which you began to tear up. His voice is soft now, "Sweetheart, look at me," he huffs. You look up at him now with tearful eyes, he groans, "Oh...that's it..." stroking his cock faster. A finger points directly at you in a 'come hither' motion. You walk towards him, still eyeing his shaft. How was that going to fit?

You felt warm despite the lack of clothing, there's a pooling sensation between your legs. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap. His tongue darts against a breast. He teases the bud with his teeth. He made sure it was swollen and sensitive before giving attention to the other breast.

You never knew it could feel this...good. As soon as your hands reach for his hair he instantly stops, Robert remembers the reason why you're here. It wasn't to see him. You only wanted one thing, and he doesn't have time to play pretend. He just came here to collect what he's owed. At the end of the day, you were just a hired whore. He swats both hands away, giving you the cold shoulder. He lifts himself from the seat, throwing you against the carpet. You're confused at the sudden mood swing. It frightens you. Where the hell did that come from?

"It's a shame, you were doing so well," Robert sits up, his leaking cock now presses against his abdomen. He's pissed. He paid you for your time, you were suppose to focus only on his needs. Every word that came from his mouth dripped with anger, "It seems like you need a reminder on whore etiquette," he knows you've probably fucked a few before him, this was all part of your little roleplay act.

"I'm not a whore!" you detest lying, what made him not believe you? Forget it...this wasn't worth an argument, "You know what? You can take your money back asshole! Fuck this and fuck you--" a hand grips around your neck. He'll have to show you a thing or two of what comes with selling yourself out, especially to a complete stranger. You've always knew deep down that you'd regret your first, but this was downright terrifying.

This man, he didn't even see you as a person. As a human being. To him, this was all a transaction that was paid for, "What did you think that website was for? It's a human auction. Not just your cunt. Meaning I own your ass for the next few hours," he leans in, pressing his nose against yours, he growls, "Remember your place..."

Robert pulls you up by the hair, throwing you onto the bed. You scramble to get away but he's much stronger. He began to wrestle you. To which you land a slap on his cheek, hard enough to leave a mark. You pause, now too scared to move. He touches the tender skin, it would surely leave a bruise tomorrow. Which just so happens to be an important meeting, "You little bitch..." he grips your jaw until it aches, forcing your mouth to open.

He takes the opportunity to spit inside, covering your mouth and pinching your nose. You felt like you wanted to gag. Finally, after fighting to hold your breath, you swallow. He grins, "See? even if you try to fight me, I always get what I want..."

You, of all people, should know this about him. Instead you try putting up a fight, "I hate you! I hate you! Let me go!" thrashing around. Both of his hands now pressed against your throat. He scolds, "If you want it to hurt I'll make it hurt like nothing else..." he flips you over, pressing his body against your own, making it harder to breathe.

He lets his pants slide down. Tugging off his boxers. He spits a wad into his hand, that should be enough to get comfortable, for him. But for you? Well, he wants it to hurt you. Otherwise, how will you learn? Whores like you deserve to feel pain. That's what you get for teasing him in your photos. He growls into your ear, "Time to try my pussy..."

He yanks down your panties before pressing his leaking tip against your opening. He muffles your cries in his palm. You couldn't hold back the tears. This man is going to break you! As retaliation you tilt your head to the side and bit into his forearm. He grunts from the pain, it only encourages him to carry out your punishment. He thrusts harder, grinding down his hips to reach as deep as he could go.

You sob from the pain, going limp from shock. All you could do was cry into his hand, bracing yourself against the cushioning below. You turned your head to face the mirror, taking a good look at your own sad, pathetic reflection. You were being dominated by a complete stranger. How did it get to this point? When did you become so pathetic? So desperate to the point where you became a whore for hire?

He held you close to his chest. He knows now you're too tired to fight him off. He kept jutting his hips back and fourth, moaning in your ear with a deep grumble. You could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on his breath. It repulses you. The only sounds that could be heard in the room were of skin-to-skin slapping, Robert's insults, and your muffled cries.

"Fuck....fuck m'gonna cum..." he grunts. He rubs his nose against the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scented perfume. He drags his face across the soft, supple skin. He can tell by the shimmer that you applied an expensive lotion earlier. Of course you wanted him, what woman wouldn't? He's handsome, rich, successful, he's the entire package.

So why were you begging for him not to finish inside? You were just being stubborn, that's all. He'll have to remind you of who's in charge, "I bought this pussy fair and square. If I want to put a baby in it, then bitch, I will," he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, biting until the skin breaks. He doesn't stop thrusting his hips. Plunging his cock deep inside to coat your womb. He moans, furrowing his brows from the feeling of your velvety walls.

"You think you're better than me huh? Old enough to fuck but not old enough to get knocked up, yeah fucking right" he huffs, "You just wanted an excuse to be whore..." His voice becomes hoarse, as the pleasure began to increase, "Fuck...fuck I'll buy you a big house just so I can fuck you in it...hm...yeah you'd like that wouldn't you?" he doesn't stop his vigorous thrusts, "I’ll fuck some babies into you hm? You'd like that? I’ll give you a baby with blue eyes…something to remind you of me…" he flips you over, locking an arm around your neck.

All you could do was whine as you wait for the inevitable. Robert licks a stripe against your ear. He grunts with satisfaction, "Want you to remember this for the rest of your life....every time you think about your first time, you'll be thinking of me...." he fastens his pace. All you could do was stare back at your reflection. A tear trickles down your cheek. You couldn't help but agree. It was true, this moment would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Robert knows it. That's what gives him such an ego boost. He felt like he was on top of the fucking world. He growls in your ear, "Remember this, I.Fucking.Own.You." before unloading his spunk deep inside. He muffles a moan in the crook of your neck, bowing his head down to feel the bliss of it all. Fuck, he never came so much in his life. Was it the adrenaline or the pussy? He doesn't care. All he knows is that it's money well spent.

He slowly begins to pull out, hissing from the pleasure your pussy gave. He moans at the sight of his shaft dipped in a crimson tint, "Fuck me...if that isn't a sight for sore eyes..." he's made sure to mark his territory. He flips you over, you're too scared to even look at him.

He slides his hand from your stomach to your pelvis, "Hold on...I want to see it.." giving your lower abdomen a light push, forcing the rest of his seed out. It's mixed with a string of red. His lids are hooded, there's a twitch to his features. He grins, "Fuck...guess you weren't lying about me being your first..." he chuckles, "And here I thought you were just another lying whore..." playing with your emotions.

Robert lifts himself from the bed. He retrieves his belt on the floor, tying your wrists to the bed post. He doesn't want to risk you running away from him. Not while he still had a few hours left. He fixes himself in the mirror, coming his hair back to how it was before. Making sure that there wasn't a single strand out of place. He admires himself in the mirror. He felt like a fucking champ. Like nothing in the world could stop him, and so far there hasn't been.

Robert knew this was a good idea the moment he saw your profile online. He'd been tracking you down for quite some time, it's been a while. His obsession growing with each message sent. He had to own you. Mind, body, and soul. It was a good idea to install the hidden camera in the hotel. He could only stare at you from his office, viewing you changing into the set he'd purchased, admiring yourself in the mirror. He had to wait another agonizing hour before work was finished.

He notices the way you'd tried being presentable, all for him. How you would constantly check your phone just to see what his orders were. Submissive, compliant, needy. So fucking needy. That little pussy of yours needed his cock to break it in. He doesn't want it to end, he tosses a few bills onto the mattress, you don't even flinch. Your mind had already escaped.

Robert leans in, caging your body with his arms, "Why don't I keep you as my little plaything, hm?" he knows you've recently graduated. But what use was a degree compared to what he could give? What greater reward than being his pretty little housewife? You might as well put those looks to use. He plants a kiss against your lips, humming in satisfaction, "Need a good girl to balance me out..." he begins to rant, "And if you ever think of leaving me, I'll send a video of us fucking to your parents,"

But the thing is, you never told him who your parents were. It was then when the pieces began to fall into place. How could you be so stupid? His username was R-Morrow.

This was no other than the owner of Fischer Morrow, the man responsible for your landing parents in deep debt. Of course they trusted him, because he's your childhood friend. You lift yourself up and face him. Your voice in disbelief when you question the identity of the strange man, now with a tearful look, "R-Robbie?" you whisper. He pauses for a moment, head turning to the side as he looks your way, "Did you miss me?"

"...Why? I-I don't understand..." you began hyperventilating. This wasn't happening. Your childhood friend had taken your virginity. At one point, he was your entire world. He approaches you, no longer a lanky young boy but a man. He cups your face, pressing his forehead against yours. He sighs, "Don't you remember the promise we made? To find each other?" his eyes bore into yours, "I could only dream of it, but now?" he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him, "Now you're finally mine..."

[strawb3rri-le]

what if i told yall ive seen the fab four three times this year and im seeing them a fourth time next month- and ive seen the same paul mccartney performer 3/4 times 🤭 im a regular at this point yall have to drag me out of there. (this pic is from july when i went and sat in the front row.) if yall want ill make a separate post talking about the experience hehe

[recareels]

hello good morning i cannot stop thinking about sunday’s defined jawline,,, daydreaming about stringing a garland of sweet, spit-slicked kisses along his jaw, leaving a messy lil trail of saliva petals stamped into his skin ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚ and then when you giggle after, admiring your work and pressing one last kiss to his chin, he shivers, the melody of your laughter airy and cool as it dances across his damp flesh ♡ a small, soft, lingering caress he will feel the ghost of for the rest of the day, keeping one corner of his mind on you at all times

so strong and sharp it could slice through granite (*ﾉωﾉ)

[inkykeiji]

For Adam, Lucifer, Vox, Alastor and Husk

Which one would they have? A daddy, sir or master kink?🤭

adam: all three work, and i think it would really depend on his mood!! Daddy when he’s feeling softer and especially condescending, Sir when he’s especially upset with you, and Master at any and all times, because he just loves the connotation of sheer power that comes packaged with the term. like fuck yeah, he’s your Master, you’re goddamn right, baby!

lucifer: hmm Daddy, i think!!! he gives off such caregiver vibes, despite his seeming incompetence and his difficulty caring for himself + his daughter, which are more due to depression than anything else. i think Master and Sir would sound a little too formal for him, at least for everyday use + coming from you (a lil different when it’s coming from ordinary citizens and the like), though he might demand you use them when he’s delivering an especially harsh or brutal punishment (which is rare but not impossible).

vox: DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY and Sir as well. he’s just so 1950s, so condescending, and such a control freak. he’d love to take on a caregiver role with you, because that affords him the ultimate control. the power imbalance there is so skewed; he has a long list of rules for you to abide by and makes most if not all of your decisions for you, including what you eat, what you wear, and what you do. but on top of that, vox genuinely does just enjoy taking care of things. he enjoys nurturing his company and its respective sectors, he enjoys continually refining it to be as perfect as is possibly can be, he enjoys overseeing and approving all decisions made to shape it into exactly what he wants it to be. and he’d do the same with you.

alastor: Master, 100%. he owns you—it’s the only way a ‘genuine’ relationship with him works. you belong to him in every sense of the word; you’re nothing more than his little pet, expected to jump, sit, roll, stay the very moment he orders you to.

husk: husk is hard!!! maybe Daddy? i’m kind of torn between Daddy and Sir, though there’s a part of me that thinks Sir might be a little too formal or harsh for husk. he really strikes me as the type that would be so so so sweet on his partner/significant other, and would genuinely enjoy taking care of them, so Daddy just feels like it fits the best!

[whenwewasfag]

Record player // George Harrison x reader

Warningz: Not revised at all, kinda rushed. Gn reader

Summary: meeting George and the other Beatles (only Paul + John) at a record store. 1962

Note!!!: this is my first time writing 4 George so if it sucked that's why!! This wasn't revised but I think it's fine lol

You  slip on your coat and your shoes, flicking the lights out before locking your front door and stepping outside into the chilled air. It was a nice, slightly breezy day out and You had decided to head out to a small record store you had seen downtown.

You're house wasn't too terribly far and, as aforementioned, the weather was surprisingly nice that day. You walked past your apartment, then down the street, the wind blowing lightly against your face. You turn a corner or two, leading you up to the front step of the small, brick building housing the record shop. As you step in, you find yourself inside a warm and dimly lit brick shop, filled with musical instruments and records of all genres. The place is dusty and a little dingy, but not at all in a bad way. A record player sits off to the side next to the checkout counter, and the wall opposite it is lined with various instruments, (mainly string) with one lone drum kit resting in the corner.

As you walk in, you greet the cashier politely and begin to walk around, exploring the unfamiliar store. You flip through the records closest to the counter, beginning with the jazz, just searching for anything that you might like.

    The shop was small and relatively empty aside from your quiet presence.The records were organized in alphabetical order, so that was the order by which you searched them, taking out and holding any that interested you. Through the A's, B's, C's, then to the D's and. .. . . You turn your head to look at who enters as the shops bells ring

A loud clamour interrupted the quiet atmosphere of the small shop as a group of three ragged boys walked in, instruments in hand. One boy, the one with an almost baby-faced look (Paul obviously) haphazardly set a guitar onto the front counter, asking if the guitar could be repaired. You tried hard not to stare as you eyed the instrument, it was in rough condition alright. The sides of it had burn marks on it and the whole fretboard looked as if it had been run over by a bike. Poor thing.

In spite of this condition, the boy just leaned a leather sleeve covered arm against the glass counter and gave the shop owner a cheeky grin. The taller One of his mates shakes his head at the boy, while the other seems to be looking away and smoking a cigarette, nonchalant about the situation. You glance back down, opting to focus back on the records and silently watch how this whole scenario  might unfold.

The lad with the dainty face, who you soon find out is named Paul, starts trying to convince the store owner that surely the guitar isnt beyond repair. Because of the small size of the store, you have no choice but to overhear all of this, listening to the interaction as your fingers trace their way over to the E section. ..Elvis. . .Ella Fitzgerald. . . You took notice of how some of the records were out of order, like someone had put them back that way and they just hadn't been checked. Without realizing it, you soon become engrossed in the task of looking at the records, picking up new ones every so often.

You don't look at the group any more because of your focus, and cease to notice how the group had mostly dispersed across the store. It seemed that Paul had shifted from trying to convince with the owner to just settling for buying a new guitar, and was browsing around along with one of his mates. The third one, taller with an obviously curled mop on his head for hair, was peeking over, eyeing the records just across from you.

You hardly notice him, then hear a sudden "thunk!" Which wakes you up from this focussed state. You look over to see the source of the sound, eyes falling upon the taller lad as he reaches down to pick up the record he dropped, at least that's what you figured considering the noise and the timing. his eyes meet yours for a long second before he reaches a lanky hand back to the shelf putting the record back in its place.

You try your best not to notice, but as you continue browsing, the same lad seems to be stealing glances in your direction. He hadn't noticed you prior to locking eyes with you when he dropped the record, and it had just then sunken in to him that there was someone so beautiful and eye-catching next to him.

Time had passed with you taking your time to look through the store. Soon enough, his friends take notice of his quite obvious interest in you, with Paul elbowing him and telling him to quit his staring, and the other saying he ought to make a move before you notice and think hes creepy.

    You begin glancing around the shop, searching for a title of a record you would recognize, looking, scanning, searching and. . . . finding it. You calmly walk over to the record, it was one from an artist you had enjoyed listening to in the past and wanted to hear more music from, so you were so happy to find that they had that. You try to pull the record out from the shelf it was on, only to find that it was so wedged in between others that it would hardly budge. You spend what had to have been at least two minutes tugging at the vinyl before you heard a "need any help?" Coming from the taller lad, who was now at your side. "Uh, yeah that would be great." You reply, glad to at least get the record out. He pries it out with ease, handing it to you almost in one whole motion. "There. Glad I could help ya"

   You look up at him as hes speaking, now noticing how cute his face seems, with his prominent canines that almost resemble fangs alongside his well shaped jaw and lovely dark brown eyes. He looks down at you in a caring way, passing the vinyl over to you. You then take it in your hands, your cheeks reddening slightly as he continues to gaze at you for a moment.

You notice that from behind him, one of his friends seem to be looking at the two of you, one snickering and the other half whisper half chanting, sort of cheering him on.

    He looks back at his friends before looking shyly back down at you. "Ey, . . . Good choice, that's a nice album, great listen" he motions to the record, now in your hand. you could feel yourself acting shyer than usual, considering how attractive he was "oh, yeah. Thank you. I haven't been able to find much of this artists music."

   "Right. They're pretty good though, aren't they?" He scratches the back of his neck when saying this. You nod back up at him, happy that he's sharing this with you.

    He walks to the glass checkout counter, with you following not too far behind, record in cupped in your hands. He gently handed the cashier the set of guitar strings he's buying, then turning back to look at you, holding his hand out. You look down at his hand, mildly confused.

  "The record." He paused, looking back up at your face, thinking about how pretty you looked "I'd like to pay for it, if thats alright with you"

You're eyes widen as you hear him say that, definitely not expecting him to make that sort of offer towards you, someone he had just met. He waits patiently for your response, a moment of silence passing between you two. His mates continue to watch the scene play out with you and him.

   As the silence continues, it nearly becomes awkward, though you cut through it when saying "I hardly know you, I don't even know what your name is."

   He pauses, taking a moment to let what you said sink in "it's George, and you seem sweet." He looks to the side, adverting his gaze out of shyness, his face reddening slightly "besides, you're real cute. I wouldn't mind buyin it for ya"

    Your eyes widen as you look up at him, still in a surprised state as you nod your head again, saying "I'm y/n, and uh, that's so sweet of you. Thank you" allowing him to buy. You look happily back up at him, his eyes meeting yours; cheeks flushing a shade darker at his kindness. He passes the money to the store clerk, then hands you back the record, slipping it into your hand suprisingly gently. He guides you outside of the store, exiting himself then holding the door open for you to join him.

   You step outside, noticing the rest of the lads staying behind to talk to the stores manager once again. You thanked him again for buying your record, to which he stops you mid-sentance, telling you that it was no problem and he was happy to for someone as cute as you are.

    As you tell him that you'll be walking back home soon since you've bought what you had planned to, he looks deep into your eyes. "Could I have you stay just a minute longer?" He inquired, taking hold of the cuff of your sleeve, pulling you a little very gently.

Your eyes meet George's, with his cheeks flushed a shade of red, and an awkward but longing gaze looking down on you. "Sure, but only if it's short" you respond

He hesitates for a moment, gathering up the courage to say what he wants to without embarrassing himself. "I was wondering if you'd like to be mine."

A shocked look spreads across your face, not quite expecting this. You continue to listen intently, with George finishing what he wants to say "I know. I know we only just met, but I've got a good feeling about you, you know? You're real cute, kind, have great music taste." He points a long finger down to the record currently being held under your arm. 

"You seem like you would make a lovely partner, y/n" George continues, looking off to the side, rubbing the back of his neck in nervousness.

    Your expression shifted into one of sheer flattery and happiness, a smile spreading across your face as you heard his words. "I would love to!" You nearly yell, the excitement getting to you, almost forgetting you had only just met George. Though awkward, he came off as surprisingly charming and was so, so handsome in your eyes.

He smiled back at you, his fang-like canines poking out against the bottom of his pretty lips. "Ah, that's great love."

His gaze shifts back to the inside of the shop, where his mates seem to be paying for the instrument, almost a second away from walking out the door and approaching you.

   "In that case, how about you meet up with me?  Same place, this weekend? We could go out to eat after" George makes another offer, and its one you know you won't refuse. He seems to have slightly shaken off the initial nervousness, with a more comfortable tone to his voice.

You smile once more "yeah, that sounds great!" As you speak, Paul pushes his way through the door, guitar in hand, causing the bell on the shops door to Ring out. Paul starts chatting with George and as the lads get to talking,  you figure it would be best to start walking back. Turning around, you lift your hand, keeping it low as you wave back at George.

   Though hes being pulled in the opposite direction by both of the other lads, he turns his head around one last time.  Looking at you walk away, he half-shouts "I can't wait to see you again, y/n!"

   You feel your cheeks flush as you continue waving back in response, flattered by him. His words linger in the air and You cant help but smile at them, filled with excitement as you make the walk back to your apartment. You almost thought you were crazy, but you couldn't wait to see this beautiful, kind acquaintance again too.

[ljaylmaoo]

The Kinktober day 6 special is probably the smuttiest and filthiest thing I’ve ever written…….😀

Currently at 6k+ words and still going 🫡

[n0wheregirll]

𝘐'𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 (snippet)

1965!george harrison x member!reader

genre: gets kinda spicy bro

warning: drinking, sexual tension, yk wassupp

a/n: ik I said it was gonna be fluff and angst but I got a little carried away so its gonna turn into smut in the full fic, sorry not sorry. the first time i'm doing this, I'm still working on it but I thought I would feed y'all lol. I hope you all enjoy, feedback is always welcomed, let me know what y'all think :).

summary:

You’re a member of The Beatles, and you finally unwind in your hotel room after a long day of press conferences. But you get interrupted by someone who wants your company. 

Era: 1965

“That was a good conference, eh, boys?” says John, while messing around with Paul, ticking him. “I don’t think I can talk anymore,” says Ringo, “I ran out of words to say and things to think”. I kept on looking out the window, head resting against it, “I need to get drunk when we get back,” I say with my eyes closed, fingers playing with the hem of my suit jacket. “Cheers to that love, I’ll be expecting you in my office,” says John in a funny voice. Suddenly, I felt someone tap my shoulder, opening my eyes, I looked up to see George staring at me, “What would you want? I can call Eppy to get us something while he’s out”. I stare at him, I look down at my hands noticing the red acrylic painting my fingers, then I say, “Vodka, ya’ll can get whatever, I just want that”. George nods his head while still holding eye contact with me. The car then comes to a halt, the door opens, the driver holds his hand out for me, and I get helped out of the car. “Thank you, Sir,” I say as he helps me onto the steps leading up to the hotel door. “No problem, Ms. L/N, I wouldn’t want to see you struggle up the steps, especially with those shoes,” He says while looking down at my heels, they arent easy to walk in but I had to wear them due to the height difference of me and the guys without them, then he looks at me and I notice how young he is. “He looks a bit older than me,” I say in my head, “Probably a year or two.” He isn’t bad to look at, honestly: Good smile, blue eyes, he’s around 5’10, a bit of a height difference. “Thank you, you’re very kind,” I say to him while smiling. He blushes a bit, he opens his mouth to say something— “You should get back to the car,” says George, “Wouldn't want to leave it running out in the open,”. Dropping the driver's hand, we both turn to look at him. He’s walking up to us with his normal stoic expression but his eyes seem a bit rougher, his guitar case is in one hand, fag in the other, while the other three are just snickering, hiding their faces with their hands and smoke for their fags. The driver is stunned; he looks at me, then looks down, obviously flustered. “Yes, I’m sorry, sir,” he looks up at me and says, “Have a nice day, ma’am. It was an honor to meet you”. I give him a soft smile, “Likewise”, I say as the hotel door opens and I walk in. 

The boys and I went in the elevator to avoid the ruckus. When it opened, we immediately piled out and started walking to our hotel rooms. The boys go into John’s room, Paul asks me if I want to join, “No, I need some time alone right now”, I say as I kick off my heels. “Alright, love, we’ll get you at 5 sharp to start our fun,” He says, then winks. I giggle, and then I enter my room. “I need to shower,” I whisper while walking to the bathroom.

After changing into black sleeping shorts with a black long-sleeved shirt, I checked the clock; it was only 3:30, and I still had plenty of time to chill. I throw myself on the bed and close my eyes, beginning to succumb to slumber. *Knock *Knock *Knock, I open my eyes and huff my breath. I get up and open the door to see George standing there. He had changed out of the black suit, and he had a pair of black pants on, with a black turtleneck. He had a bag in left hand with a pack of fags in the other, “Could I hang with you? Ringo went to sleep, and John and Paul are in Paul’s room,”. Then he looked at my clothes and realized, “Did I wake you up?” He says with a tilted head. “No, I was just lying down,” I tell him. I don’t know why I lied, I honestly wasn’t expecting to see him until later. I make space for him to step into my room. He smells good, I keep my eyes on his back as we walk to my bed, his back shifts a little when his hand reaches into his pocket, showing off his slim but toned figure. Girl, stop.  He turns to look at me and then throws himself on my bed, “How come your bed is comfier than all of ours? That’s not fair,” He says while looking up at me through the sheets. “I’m not the one who picked the bed for the rooms,” I say to him. I throw myself on the bed as well, turning to my right to be face-to-face with him, “Did you call Eppy?”. George scoffs, playfully offended, “Of course I did, I’m not John,”.  He gets the bag and motions with his fingers to me, Come ‘ere. I scoot closer to him, then he pulls out a bottle of Buchanan Black and White. My eyes light up, immediately snatching the bottle from his grasp, “Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite?”. His eyes widen a bit and he turns his head to the side, as a pink hue decorates his cheeks,” Shut up, you, we all know it’s Ringo.”. I look at him, still holding the bottle, “I could kiss you right now,” I say jokingly.

He looks down, then turns to me, “Don’t say things that you know you wouldn’t do”, his voice got a little deeper, speaking in his delicious accent.

The atmosphere in the room changed, and something sparked between us. I set the bottle aside, still holding eye contact with him as I get closer, and I stop once I get face-to-face with him. Slowly, I lift a hand, gently caressing his jaw, “You don’t know me, Harrison.” He looks surprised, I don't think either of us expected for this to happen, he leans a little closer, oh no, I close my eyes, It’s okay, let it happen, he smells like cologne, cigarettes, and mint, I could get drunk from his scent alone. He grabs my face, turning it to the side to bare my neck. I can feel his hot breath on my nape, his lips lightly pressing on it, going higher until he reaches behind my ear, and then he presses a kiss, making me gasp. “I want to see you try”.

a/n: LOL THATS ALL YALL GONNA GET RN. I'm really sleepy and I'm gonna try to write tmrw, gonna be really busy. Again, feedback is welcomed! I want it, I need it, I crave it, lmk if y'all liked and if you would like to see it all, might do some more :)))