#he's just beautiful and gorgeous and i want to draw him in so many ways to try to capture every little bit of his character

[saturniere]

it's been SO LONG since i've drawn any lucio related things oh my GOD (it's been half an hour)

[nereidprinc3ss]

fixation

in which you love spencer reid's hands so much you could... well, you could practically eat them. or at least let him put his fingers in your mouth.

18+ (fluff, suggestive) warnings/tags: finger sucking...lol....., established relationship, ummmm d/s adjacent dynamics, like softdom spencer but there's no sex, pet names, teasing a/n: this was inspired by @gublersg1rl who said 2 nights ago she would suck spencer's fingers as he was reading a book. my beautiful angel with so many great ideas in her beautiful head. anyway this will not be my magnum opus in terms of quality but its just a fun short little thing I hope u like :D

Spencer is reading. 

He got home forty five minutes ago, and he’d hugged you and he’d kissed you—and they were good hugs and kisses, but as you sit curled on the opposite end of the couch from him, watching him read, it doesn’t feel like enough. Three days isn’t the longest he’s been gone, but you missed him like he was gone longer. And now, he’s not truly ignoring you—but he’s not giving you enough attention. It’s unintentional, but it’s making you feel all kinds of needy and overly-affectionate anyway. 

Especially when he’s so gorgeous. Ankle crossed over knee, lithe fingers skimming over the page to keep track of his place. Those hands are truly distracting. It’s unlike you to be struck by such wildly inappropriate thoughts so out of context, but here you are, having been without him for days, practically feverish on the couch as you imagine all the things they could do. All the things they have done. The way they've traced down your bare spine, up your side, so lovingly in the middle of the night... how they've touched you elsewhere...

And... that's enough.

Despite the whole committed relationship thing, you still feel a bit scandalized picturing him like that. And you know from experience these thoughts will only get worse if you stay over here, staring at him, wanting him, so you crawl across the couch and under his arm, settling your head in his lap and looking up at him expectantly. He chuckles—a quiet, dry thing, that says he’s only partially surprised by your behavior. 

“Well hello,” Spencer says, taking one hand off the book to settle on your leg. 

“Hi.”

For a moment he just studies you, affection seeping into his eyes along with the humor already there. “Can I help you?”

“Mhm.”

His brow darts up. 

“With what, baby?”

Baby. Your whole body tingles. He only calls you that when he’s feeling especially soft toward you and your whims. In turn you soften, and you both become rather mushy. 

Unfortunately your brain is not excluded from melting, and you look up at him helplessly. 

“Um…”

Spencer’s hand falls from your knee, taking an unnecessary but appreciated route down your thigh and up your stomach before settling on your cheek. He brushes away a few baby hairs before two knuckles begin drawing soft lines from the corner of your mouth up toward your ear and back again, and your stomach becomes a hail of butterflies. He’s got this soft smile on his face and you love him so much and he’s so sweet and perfect, you could just—

You’re not thinking very clearly when you tilt your head, angling your chin up until you catch his fingers against your lips. His eyes remain on yours as he traces the shape of your mouth with those same two knuckles—until you’re slowly parting, obstructing his path and offering a very different kind of invitation. Spencer’s eyes narrow fractionally and you watch the way his focus changes, the way he only tests the waters at first, letting the tips of his fingers trace the length of your bottom lip, before barely tugging down just enough to feel the soft warmth of the border of it. They skate over the ridge of your teeth and find the tip of your tongue, at which point you can’t help from closing your lips around his fingers, eyes fluttering contentedly as you draw them deeper into your mouth. His brows draw together, and those pretty pink lips part soundlessly like you’re the eighth wonder of the world in a way that has your thighs clenching. You hear the book shut and fall carelessly to the side table. He doesn’t even bother saving his place—too busy bringing that newly freed hand to your hair and combing gently against your scalp. 

It’s strangely calming to have him like this—he’s undeniably with you, undeniably close, against your lips and tongue. All your worries about his distance dissolve and you feel incredibly comforted. With his other hand, his thumb begins stroking a line from the bridge of your nose up your forehead, and you could pass out. 

“Comfy?” He asks after a long moment, slowly withdrawing his fingers from the heat of your mouth. You pout. 

“I was.”

Spencer hums, eyes soft on you. “I don’t think I should be nurturing your oral fixation, angel.”

“You didn’t like it?” You challenge, turning your head inward to nose at his stomach. He  cups your cheek with damp fingers and pointedly turns your head outward again. If he wasn’t so blushy and flustered and cute you might’ve cared more about the feeling of your own spit on your skin. 

“Don’t make it about me.”

You allow a minute to pass in silence. 

Fine.

“I liked it,” you say shyly. 

Spencer’s response is deeply fond as he smiles down at you. “Did you?”

Like he couldn’t tell. 

“Mhm. You should let me do it all the time.”

His smile flickers wider the way it does when he’s about to tease you. 

“I don’t know if you deserve it. I don’t know if you can be good all the time.”

You make a face. “Shut up.”

“Is that what we say when we want something?” Before he can pull his hand away, you nip at his fingers. He laughs. “You’re off to a terrible start. I think you need to work on your manners. Not bite the hand that… goes in your mouth.”

“Is that the saying?”

“I’m pretty sure,” he nods sarcastically, helping you up until you’re sitting across his lap. He lovingly tucks hair behind your ear, eyes warm as they flit across your face up close. “You know, that was incredibly unhygienic. So much bacteria it boggles the mind.”

“Yeah? That kinda turns me on.”

Spencer leans in to kiss you sweetly, choosing your mouth over his worry about bacterial transmission. “You are so psychologically concerning,” he whispers against your lips. You sling your arms around his neck. 

“Because of the bacteria thing or the oral fixation thing?”

His hands settle on your hips. “Both, lovely. For so many reasons.”

It’s only another tease, but you pull back anyway so he can see the full force of your pout. “Don’t say that. It’s mean.”

“I was kidding! It was a joke. I was joking.”

“It was mean.”

“Okay,” Spencer begins, patient and happy to untangle this ridiculous snag if that’s what it takes to make you content again, “Freud’s psychosexual stages of development are contentious at best. I’m not worried about your oral fixation because I don’t really believe in such a thing. I was just teasing you, but I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

“So you’ll let me do it again?”

Spencer pulls you back into another kiss. 

“You’re kind of insatiable, you know that?” 

When you don’t answer, only wait for him to respond, he sighs goodnaturedly. 

“You know you can have any part of me whenever you want it.”

You give him a winning smile and kiss his cheek in reward. 

“You’re so nice, Spence.”

“I thought I was mean.” 

“Now you’re nice.”

“Because you got what you wanted?” You nod enthusiastically. He seems not quite as thrilled, though perhaps distantly amused by his own helplessness when it comes to you. “Yeah, I feel like that happens a lot, doesn’t it?”

But it clearly doesn’t bother him that much. He’s still smiling when you kiss him again. 

[kurooh]

SUMMERTIME SEX.

☆ includes: aged up! bakugō katsuki, todoroki shōtō, kaminari denki, takami keigo.

☆ warnings: 18+ content, fem! reader, fluff + smut, not proofread..

☆ note: thank you to pinterest’s summertime bucket lists. happy summer! even if you hate it (: also experimenting with a new layout

KATSUKI.

— though he usually doesn’t care about what you wear and finds you gorgeous in everything, there’s something about seeing you wear sundresses or skirts that genuinely makes him go insane.

— “the red is fuckin’ beautiful on you, baby.” katsuki’s rough hand rests on your thigh, pushing the skirt of your dress up ever so slightly. he’s driving to the your favorite restaurant, reservations already booked and awaiting for you in a half hour.

— suddenly, not far from the restaurant, he pulls over into a semi empty parking lot and exhales hard, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “okay, get in the damn back seat.”

— “why, katsu?” you ask innocently, adjusting your skirt so that it hikes up further, the lacy edge of your slutty panties peeking out at him.

— of course, he stares, his face warm. crimson eyes meet yours and he demands, “get in the backseat right now.” as you unbuckle and start to climb into the backseat, you wiggle your ass ever so slightly and he slaps it hard, drawing a surprised moan from you.

— immediately he’s in the backseat with you, all over you; his lips desperately slam into yours, his hands groping you all over. despite how badly he wants to see you naked, he doesn’t make any moves to pull your clothes off and instead twists his fingers into the fabric of your skirt in frustration.

— dazed from his kisses and on fire from his touch, your body falls back onto the seats and your legs spread for him, still in your skirt. he tugs your clothed pussy towards him, nearly tearing off your lace panties as he yanks them to the side. “careful, kat.”

— katsuki ignores your warning and eats you out rather roughly and quickly, sucking on your clit just right. he groans when you cum all over his tongue, his cock growing tight in his pants; he draws you into a sex flavored kiss and allows you to taste yourself on his lips.

— now, he yanks off his pants and boxers, leans back on the seats. he grips his cock at the base, “be a good girl and fuckin’ sit on it.” you reach to take your dress off and he shakes his head immediately.

— panties to the side and slicked up, you slowly push down onto his cock, gasping when the head nudges right against your sweet spot. katsuki groans desperately when you roll your hips onto him slowly, smacking your ass hard, another way of telling you not to be a tease.

— “okay, okay,” you relent, suddenly bouncing on him fast and hard. your red skirt rises and falls steadily, and he’s so fucking breathless. it’s uncharacteristic for katsuki’s eyes to roll back as much as they are now, for his mouth to be entirely dominated by sounds rather than words.

— “you like it, kat?” you smile at him, and it quickly dissolves into an expression of absolute pleasure. “i—fuck! you know i do, don’t stop,” his cock throbs inside of you, almost pulsing as he shakes beneath you.

— he cums with a shout, hissing as you ride him through it steadily, fending off your own in order to stay in charge like this. when you do eventually get close, he flips you over and fucks you through it, yanking your skirt to ground himself.

SHŌTŌ.

— the two of you were at a bonfire with friends and assistants of the agency, when you snuck away with shoto after one too many beers. now, behind a barnacle covered rock, you’re on your knees in front of him.

— “sho..” your moan is muffled on his large cock, which is pressed tightly between your lips and deeply at the back of your throat. he’s been stressed at the agency lately, coming home and having dinner with you and going to sleep, leaving no time for sex.

— of course, you were frustrated by this, hoping that the cause for his stress would finally blow over and he’d be back taking you in the hallway again. you’d seen his stress dissipate over the course of the 3 hour bonfire at the beach, over some beer. together, you drank and drank until he was grabbing at you and leading you behind some rocks on the shoreline.

— shoto hushes you, cupping the back of your head firmly and bucking his hips into your mouth. “oh god, i m-missed this so much, you have no idea,” he gasps, slurring some of his words. “i’ve missed you so much, my love.”

— your fingers slip past your swimsuit and rub sloppy patterns against your clit, trying to keep up with the pace of his thrusts into your mouth.

— you choke when he spears his cock into your throat a little too deeply; “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry—fuck!—your throat feels amazing, i’ve needed you so badly.”

— his balls smack against your chin and shoto continues to groan, the alcohol and horniness making him surprisingly talkative as he fucks your mouth. “it’s just, the people at that a-agency!” his cock stays hard, despite the fact that he’s thinking of his coworkers.

— out of the corner of you eye, you watch the waves crash on the sand, and after a particularly large one, the pace of his hips grows erratic. “ah—shit, i’m gonna fill up your mouth!”

DENKI.

— you and your boyfriend had been enjoying a picnic in the middle of a grassy field, far away from anyone in all directions. you shared fruit together, cuddled, watched clouds, but then things got a little sweeter.

— “denki!” you giggle with him as he lays you down on the picnic blanket, shifting his body so that he’s on top of you. his lips mesh with yours, and you taste the sweetness of the watermelon you’d shared with him earlier. your hand tangles in his soft golden hair, tugging gently, but just enough to draw a whine from his lips. denki’s hips grind against yours with a sloppy desperation, the lovely picnic and its food forgotten.

— he pulls his lips away, peppers kisses all over your cheeks, then starts to trail some down your neck. denki takes in your smell, the sounds you make, the feeling of your hips twisting beneath him; he nips at the soft skin, then sucks at it lovingly. “i want some more sugar,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, his breath warm against your hot skin.

— “denki, we just finished a whole watermelon.” “mmm, i’m not talking about fruit.” unable to hold it back, you let out a laugh, and he finds himself laughing with you.

— “may i?” he pulls away, and moves towards your pelvic area. his eyes sparkle with joy, and his fingers rub quick circles into your thighs. “of course.” your breath hitches when his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your thighs. he flips your skirt up, then makes himself comfortable on his stomach, facing you. your thighs fall open easily, and his eyes are on yours as he moves to give your clit a kiss.

— denki’s large hands rest on your ass cheeks, his fingers digging into your skin as he swipes his tongue against you. he savors your taste, whining slightly as he dips his tongue inside you. all you can do is moan and shame as he fucks your pussy with his tongue; it feels so good, and yet so teasing.

— “babe, stop teasing me.” you jerk your hips towards him, spreading your thighs wider.

— “but it’s fun,” he disagrees, now licking your clit slowly. he stops playing his little games with you when your fingers twist in his soft hair, yanking his face right into your pussy.

— now, he’s fingering you roughly, and sucking at your clit as though it’s a lollipop. denki holds your thighs open when they shake, threatening to close on him as your orgasm mounts, the pressure inside of you becoming stronger by the second.

— “denki, i-i’m gonna cum, please please don’t stop..” he doesn’t stop, licking your clit hard as you cum and fingering your puffy pussy even after you do; he likes to hear you cry about how sensitive you are.

KEIGO.

— when there’s a blackout in the early evening due to a thunderstorm, the temperature in the house quickly rises to 85° f / 29 c. you and your boyfriend sit on the floor, covered in a thick sheen of sweat. you’re both eating melting popsicles and worrying about how you’ll sleep without the ac on. you are the first to rise to your feet, dropping your thin shorts and shirt on the floor. his wings flutter when he unabashedly looks over every inch of your body, and your cheeks warm at the obvious desire visibly thickening in his shorts.

— “kei, let’s take a cold shower together.” you groan in distaste as you sweep your fingers over your perspiring forehead. he stands, strips off his clothes, and pulls you into his arms bridal style.

— “where to, dove?” he nuzzles his nose against yours, then gives you a sweet kiss. giggling, you wrap your arms around his neck, “the shower!”

— when you arrive to the bathroom together, you’re barely out of his arms before his lips are on yours, eager hands impatiently pulling at boxers and panties. keigo moans as you lightly palm his hardened cock, fingers sliding from the base to the tip.

— “you’re perfect,” he mumbles against your cheek as he practically claws off your bra with one hand, the other tugging your body impossibly closer. thunder rumbles outside of your apartment, the room darkening as it starts to rain and storm outside.

— “oh, we probably shouldn’t be doing this,” you giggle, remembering the dangers associated with showering during storms. “fuck that,” is his swift answer, and he pulls open the glass door and turns on the faucet.

— as you stand closely beneath the misty spray, a warmth presses against your backside; you gasp when he angles his cock to slip between your thighs, his hot tip bumping against your slick folds.

— his wings shift behind him when you turn to look into his eyes. he kisses you, “bend over for me, okay?” you plant your hands against the shower wall and angle your ass towards him, arching your back just right. his wings flutter, and he moans at the sight of you, wet and ready for him. with one hand, he reaches behind him and shoves down his rising wings before he finally presses into you.

— just feeling your tight heat on his tip already has him gasping out, his eyes rolling back and his face crumbling as he pushes all the way inside. “o-oh, angel,” he moans, then laughs nervously, gripping your hips and thrusting into you steadily, “god, i’m already gonna cum.”

— he does end up filling you up rather quickly, but he doesn’t dare to pull out. keigo fucks your creamy pussy with tears in his eyes, shuddering as he forces himself through his refractory period and cums again. this time, he’s rubbing your clit, desperate to cum at the same time.

[shegetsburned]

❝ a man of honor ❞ w. kento nanami 𝜗𝜚.

BRIDGERTON AU⌇

• — dearest reader. this author finds herself bearing the most curious of news, for it isn’t without surprise that the viscount nanami has caused ruckus amongst the young ladies of the ton, upon his arrival. gracing us with his presence, he has not yet announced himself eligible for this social season and, i believe, does not intend to do so. but doesn’t love find itself in the most peculiar of places when one least expects it? • — a/n. let’s just say that bridgerton has, yet again, a hold on me, also, i am in no way an historian nor a perfect writer but i do hope y’all can enjoy this different little piece.

.nsfw.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who, despite himself, had found the need to return to london for a matter of affair and is set on departing as unbothered by the social season as he was when he first arrived.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who has never taken his social standing lightly and knows he’ll be the object of many desires considering his status as a seven and twenty years old unmarried man. described as a man of honour, suited for the finest lady, but buried in his work and duties.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who attends most balls, making quick appearances here and there and avoiding hungry mamas at all costs, partially hiding in the gardens or engaging in business conversations with other suitors, always eager to return to his chamber. that was until he found the most beautiful excuse to not participate in any courting competition and declare himself ineligible to the ton. you.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who had found you hiding in the very same place he was, that night. a very debutante, who didn’t feel yet a need to marry. you had approached him in need of advice, not in need of a husband. you knew who he was but had no intention nor expectation for any kind of courteous exchange. you just wanted to know how he was successfully avoiding many of his greatest admirers without breaking a sweat.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who did not give much thought to the both of you talking at first, it was easy and the conversation never felt forced. you did feel like a breath of fresh air. you had attracted attention amongst the men of ton quite easily with your gorgeous smile and attentive gaze, which kento had immediately noticed but when you felt like he was really listening to the words you uttered, you became quite acquainted to the viscount’s presence.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami whom you had invited for dinner with your family and was confirmed to be quite the gentleman everyone said he was. well, at least, that’s how he appeared before your family. from across the table, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. the way you parted your lips to eat or placed your mouth so carefully around the gorgeous glass to drink hypnotized him. your warm smile and laughter were music to his ears, therefore most of his attention was directed towards you.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami whose thoughts becomes dreams in a matter of weeks. your body draws itself in his head. every time you graze his shoulder with yours, his heart flutters. he’s almost ashamed to admit that he’d rather sleep than awaken alone in his bed when he’s been having the most indecent dreams about the gorgeous debutante he’s unable to have. your words resonate in his sleep until they become pleads and moans he wishes to hear.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who despite his title, his honor and even his words, became aware of the fact that he wanted much more than being friends with you. although he didn’t want to burden you with his occupied life, he couldn’t help but boil when one curious man came to your encounter, asking for a dance. you weren’t a fool and quickly noticed the viscount’s name written all over your dancing card moments later. you did wonder how it would look to the eyes of everyone else, but he surely didn’t care.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who has privatized your company not only by dancing with you all night during the ball but also by inviting you to his estate in london. it wasn’t long before you realized how occupied he was but also how he tried his best to escape your chaperone and have you all to himself in his bureau.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who loathes the thought of not having you close to him. he had offered no ring nor promises, yet here he was, teaching everything your mama hadn’t. taking away every ounce of purity you once displayed to every other eligible suitor with his careful hands. you could still feel his lips along your neck and his hold around your waist hours after the act.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who truly believes he is a man of honour, even with your legs parted for his hand to explore your most sensitive places with your naked back against the walls of the library of his estate. the sound you make, he wished no other men to hear when it graced his ears, hurrying his movements and developing the most intense of needs. he trailed your back ever so gently to detach and remove your gown with such delicacy it made your whole body shudder.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who, despite engaging in such shameful activities, roams around you, just as before. having eyes only for you and ignoring every little distraction that came his way. the rest of the ton surely did wonder how the most anticipated pairing of the season will officially come to be. many questions lingers in one’s mind when two individuals such as yourselves spend so much time together. had he purposely made you wait to attract the other suitors’ attention and find you as desirable as he did? had he already compromised your integrity and claimed you for himself in secret? he did fancy himself the gentleman, so why hadn’t the big question been asked already?

surely, you did know it wouldn’t be the last time you’d be able to call him "my lord" and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time he’d be able to look at you in the eyes and call you his lady.

© shegetsburned 2024 please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

[nyao-mi]

NOT MY ASTARION BRAIN ROT CONTINUING CUS LIKE i just got the scene where he literally says he misses seeing his face and that like he wishes he knew what he looked like and i??? WANTED SO BADLY FOR IT TO BE AN OPTION TO DRAW HIM

LIKE IMAGINE STARING AT HIM ACROSS THE BONFIRE, watching the way the light dances across his pale skin. youve been through hard times and one of the things you've learned to get through it was to draw

at first, you loathed the fact that you had to paint rich people for mere couple pieces of gold when you knew your art was worth more than that. you loathed even more that they'd upturn their posh noses at you and scoff when, truly, they knew what a treasure your art was.

now, seeing astarion, the way his white hair seemed to almost form a halo around his head, reflecting the moonbeams that graced his body, watching as he crossed his legs and meditated; you knew that you didn't regret a single second of the trials and tribulations that led you to this point.

you could finally put this agonizing skill to use. you could draw him.

and so you scrounged up some paper, an ink well, a quill; all things you'd pocketed during your adventures with the rather willful vampire.

you sat there, nib of the quill scratching against the parchment.

your art was nothing compared to the paintings you'd done before; these were mere lines and ink blots. you wished you could truly show him how beautiful he was through water color or pastels. instead, trapped in a land you barely knew, all you could do for him was this.

he had his eyes closed, of course, so you drew them from memory. strikingly red, like rubies, like blood. you didn't forget his crow's feet; you loved the way they wrinkled when he laughed. you shaped his lips, soft but rough from years of bite and chew, and formed it into his infamous mischievous grin.

his hair always seemed unruly but, drawing it now, it felt like drawing gorgeous chaos; there was an order to it, the way the bangs fell across his forehead, the way the sides feathered in front of his ears and curled behind them.

when you stopped, you realised you'd drawn him over and over, across several pieces of parchment.

the way he frowned and his fangs would glance across his lips. the way he'd look confused and his eyebrows would furrow. the way he'd look longingly at the stars, mind distant and eyes almost empty, like he'd made so many wishes that were never granted by the cosmos.

you never liked tooting your own horn but you felt like you truly captured him.

so, you took your pieces of paper, all drawings of him, dozens of them, small and sketchy; you took it all and you sat beside him and spread them out in front of you.

it took him a second to realise you were there. he'd been letting his guard down recently, especially when you were on watch duty, and it took you laying your head across his shoulder for his eyes to flutter open.

he opened his mouth, like there had almost been a retort slipping off his tongue, but the sight of your drawings stopped him.

he let out a ragged breath, eyes flickering across all of them. his clawed hands hovered in the air, trembling, as if taking a hold of the drawings would make them crumble under his touch.

and perhaps, in his head, he really believed they would.

'darling,' he'd call you, his voice wet with unshed tears 'what's all of this?'

of course he'd still joke. it was how he coped with things. he joked to hide how he truly felt and, of course, you were always there to understand.

'it's you,' you answered a matter-of-factly, as if you hadn't just turned this vampires world upside down 'its you the way i see you.'

and that's what makes him crack. because maybe, since you were the one that drew all of it, you hadn't noticed. but he noticed.

he noticed all the love and devotion you spilled across the page. every single detail, every single stroke, it was all from love.

and as someone who had never been on the receiving end of it, astarion cracked and he hid his face into your neck and he cried.

they were soft sobs, almost unnoticeable. but he cried nonetheless.

he cried for his past that he'd lost under his sadistic master, he cried for his difficult present that seemed impossible to escape, and he cried for this hopeful future you seemed to lay out in front of him.

he cried because he didn't realise that he had this much hope left inside of him. because he didn't know what else to do in the face of your devotion.

you just sat there, humming and rubbing his back, ignoring the way his arm wrapped around your waist, claws digging into your skin as if you'd disappear in front of him if he didn't hold on to you as tightly as possible.

[munson-blurbs]

Rockstar!Eddie x Childhood Best Friend!Reader

Summary: Eddie's got a new girlfriend, which means you get put on the back burner indefinitely. But there's only so much you can take.

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, rockstar!Eddie, takes place around 1989, drinking/tipsiness, Eddie is an idiot, kinda insecure!Reader

--

Lena was beautiful. 

There was no denying that. You’d seen how beautiful she was the night Eddie had picked her from the crowd, dark makeup and denim miniskirt that ended mid-thigh. She walked backstage like she owned the place, with a confidence you could only envy from afar. 

You were used to it: Eddie would find a groupie, they’d hook up for the night, and then she was all but forgotten as Corroded Coffin moved to their next tour destination.

But not Lena. She’d been around for the last six months. Always touching Eddie, kissing him, drawing him in with her gorgeous eyes. She was everything he wanted, and she knew it.

You tried to get along with her and get to know her; after all, she was your best friend’s girlfriend. You asked her to grab a cup of coffee, to hang out at the mall, to get your nails done at the salon. All three times, she’d turned you down with some half-hearted excuse. 

And now she was here, at your birthday party. Her legs were draped over Eddie’s as they sat on the couch, his arm around her and her fingers in his hair. All you could focus on was his smile, that same dopey grin he used to give to Chrissy Cunningham whenever she’d give him an iota of attention back in high school. 

Eddie Munson was smitten, and he had no intention of hiding his feelings.

You downed your drink, the harsh taste of vodka burning your throat, and quickly poured yourself another one. What was the saying? It’s my party, and I’ll drink myself into a stupor if I want to? Something like that.

“Hey, Birthday Girl. You okay?” Gareth spoke up, yanking you from your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized he was beside you. “I haven’t seen you drink this much since the Grammys afterparty.”

You nodded, your head heavy with tears and liquor and lies. “Fine. Just…tired.”

Gareth scoffed. “Tired of watching Eddie and Lena tonguing each other, you mean?” Your wince betrayed your indifferent facade, and Gareth laughed softly. “Yeah, me, too.” He took a swig of his own drink and continued. “I mean, I get it. She’s hot as hell, but she’s also kinda–”

“Bitchy?” The word escaped you before you could stop it, another effect of the booze.

“You said it, not me.” Gareth raised his cup in a pseudo-toast. “But, yeah. Tour went from being about the band to being the Lena Show. And if you try to push back even a little, she just pouts and whines to Eddie that we’re being mean to her.”

You rolled your eyes. There was a freedom that came with confiding in Gareth, with no longer having to keep your feelings to yourself. “He used to call me at least once a week,” you say of Eddie, “and I figured that would change once he got a girlfriend. But the last time he called me was…two months ago.”

Could you even count that? It was just Eddie saying that the tour was good and that he’d be at your party–with Lena, of course. No silly stories from the road, no play-by-play of the shows, no begging for you to come see them again soon. It was as if you’d been a temporary placeholder until a better option came along.

And now, here she was, leaving red lipstick marks on his cheek. Staking her claim.

Eddie was never yours–not like that. Not in the way you wanted him to be yours. You’d been best friends since high school, and your crush had only blossomed from there. You were drawn to him the moment you saw him command the room during Hellfire, crafting and weaving a tale of a fantastical world with magnificent and terrifying creatures. It was as though you could see it right in front of you.

That storytelling talent extended to his songwriting. Sure, some of the songs were about the heartbreak that comes with being a teenager, but so many others were rooted in big problems: war, poverty, and the general injustices of the world. You were in awe of the way his eyes saw beyond the tiny borders of Hawkins.

Gareth slung an arm around you and pulled you close. Though you’d never told him about your crush on Eddie, he knew. All of Corroded Coffin knew—and probably all of the old Hellfire crew, too. Everyone but Eddie. 

“It’ll be okay,” Gareth murmured. “He’s an idiot. He’s always been an idiot, but with her, it’s amped up. Stupidity on steroids.”

You laughed at that despite the sadness brewing within you.

“Go enjoy your party. You deserve it.”

Heeding his advice, you pried yourself from the kitchen counter and over to some of the other guests. You managed to have fun, pushing away the nagging reminder of heartbreak just feet away. It got easier as the night went on—until it didn’t. 

“Baby,” you heard Lena whine. “This party sucks. I wanna go back to the hotel.”

Say no, you silently willed Eddie. Tell her that you want to stay. Tell her that she can leave, but you’re going to stick around and—

“Yeah, babe. We can go.”

Five words that anchored a pit in your stomach. He didn’t even consider an alternative option. Lena was his only priority. 

You blinked back the tears in your eyes as he said his half-hearted goodbye. Lena stood behind him, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Super fun party,” she drawled, donning a saccharine smile. “So sorry we have to leave early.” With that, she grabbed Eddie’s hand and led him out of your apartment. 

The rest of the night was a blur. Even as you ate birthday cake and talked with other guests, your focus stayed on the remnants of your friendship with Eddie. Of course dynamics changed when friends got partners. But to be completely iced out? That couldn’t be normal. It shouldn’t be normal.

You decided that night that you were done. The friendship was already beyond repair. It wasn’t Lena’s fault, though it would be much easier to blame her and keep pretending that Eddie was still the same thoughtful guy from Hawkins High. No, Eddie was the problem, and the solution was letting him go.

Weeks went by, then months, with no word from Eddie. The first few days hurt, your heart still convinced that he’d call and apologize for bailing on the rest of your party. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ that might spark a flicker of hope.

It got easier after a while. You filled your days with work and friends. When you heard a Corroded Coffin song on the radio, you simply changed the station without tears falling. And when Entertainment Tonight declared that “a young woman previously linked to Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson was spotting cozying up to a more popular band’s lead singer,” you only chuckled and snapped off the TV.

The first call came a week later when you were at work. Your answering machine button flashed red, and you pressed play to hear the new message.

Hey, um, it’s me.

You froze, your blood icing over in your veins.

I know it’s been a while, but…a lot has happened. And I’ve been thinking, and I really wanna see you. Talk to you. I miss you. Um, the tour just finished, so I’ll be back in Hawkins. Let me know when you’re around.

Absolutely not. There was no way you’d talk to him again, and you finalized that decision by erasing the message.

But two days later, there was another one.

Hey, it’s me again. I was talking to Gareth, and he told me that I royally fucked up. Which I kinda knew, but hearing it from him…yeah.

Anyway, um, I don’t wanna just hang out–I mean, I do, but I wanna apologize first. In person, i-if that’s okay. I think my first message made it sound like, ‘Hey, let’s go grab a drink and bullshit around,’ but I want to say that I’m sorry. Shit, I’m rambling. Okay, I’m gonna go now. Bye.

And then another the day after that.

Okay, so, you don’t wanna meet up in person, and I get that. But I still want you to know how sorry I am, so I’ll just say it here, I guess. I never should have pushed you aside like that. I got caught up in everything with the band and the tour and…and her, and…y’know. That’s not an excuse or anything, just…explaining my series of fuck-ups. I miss you so much, and I wish we could just be friends again. I know it’s not that easy, but…fuck, I fucked this up. I’m really sorry, and you don’t have to forgive me–shit, Wayne’s home. I’ll talk to you later. Or, um, talk to your voicemail, I guess.

Wayne was home. That meant that Eddie was twenty minutes away from you, leaving voicemails from his uncle’s trailer. You grabbed your jacket, willing yourself to stay focused on the road as you drove to Forest Hills. That asshole wanted to talk to you in person, but couldn’t even stammer out a genuine apology over the phone?

You knocked on the trailer door so hard that your knuckles ached by the time Eddie opened it.

“Wha–did you get my messages?” His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you standing before him.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “You mean the ones with your half-assed apologies? Yeah, I got ‘em.”

Eddie took a step back. “No, no, I meant them. I really am sorry.”

“Convenient how you found time to be sorry once your girlfriend started fucking someone else,” you seethed. “Couldn’t squeeze out a minute to call after you ditched me on my birthday, but you’ve got plenty of time to grovel now.”

“That’s not–she wasn’t good for me,” he supplied lamely.

You couldn’t help the snort you let out. “What, did she hold the phone hostage? Did she pick you up and carry you out of my party? You,” you jabbed your forefinger into his chest, “are the reason we don’t talk. Not her.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” You snapped. “Because I have a feeling that you think this is on Lena. And maybe she didn’t help, but she certainly didn’t force you to be a shitty friend.”

Eddie rubbed his palm over his eyes. “I know,” he repeated, the frustration evident in his tone. “I…I was a shitty friend. I never should have left your party early, and I should’ve stayed in touch with you. I should’ve listened to the guys when they warned me that you wouldn’t keep putting up with my bullshit for much longer.”

You felt a spark of reassurance that the other band members had stood up for you, but you kept your attention on what you needed to say. What you needed him to hear.

“And now what? You’re back in Hawkins, no groupies around to keep you company, so you figure it’s a good time to reach out to me?” You stepped closer to him as you spoke. “I’m not your back-up plan when your life comes crashing down. I’m a goddamn person, Eddie! And you just threw me away like our friendship meant nothing to you.”

He was silent for a few moments, his sweat sock-covered foot grinding into the carpet. His hair fell in front of his face, but you could still see him chewing on the inside of his cheek as he considered his next words.

“Gareth told me…he told me that you liked me,” Eddie said softly. “Like…more than just a friend.” With trepidation, he looked into your eyes, tears forming in his own. “And he said I’m an idiot for not seeing what was in front of my face the whole time. A really beautiful woman who has always been there for me. Who never gave up on me, whether I was playing to five drunks at the Hideout or to sold-out stadium crowds.”

“Right. All of the things I’ve done for you. But what have you done for me? How have you been my friend?” You waited for him to respond, but he said nothing. “Exactly. I was just a groupie you never fucked.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of pride wash over you at his utter shock. “I’m–”

“I know you’re sorry. I got it.” You pivoted on one heel and turned your back to him, starting towards your car. Before you got there, you called out over your shoulder. “And if you leave me another pathetic voicemail, I’ll throw my answering machine through your window.”

Then you drove off, leaving him standing where you left him, just as alone as you’d felt all this time.

--

[julietsbody]

lace garters

words : 3,903

tags : 18+!!! mdni! escorts , sex work , reader ! sex worker , vaginal sex , finger fucking , finger sucking , porn with feelings , brothels , oral sex , save a horse ride a whattt

p.s : this is also posted on my ao3!! ( divider by siren4u & gif by drewstarkrs )

billy was a virgin, surprisingly, he didn’t have time for a girlfriend, and the quick fucks from the escorts never enticed him much. many offered, when he would stop quick at towns for a simple beer or to take care of things— he would typically get stopped by the escorts dressed in their gorgeous silks, tight corsets, and sleeves that fall off their shoulders so easily it has your fingers itching with desire to fix it. it would make even the most sane man turn mad, and somehow billy never allowed himself to fall for it. 

not until now, an escort stops him before he walks in a bar, “how old are you, dear?” 

“19, ‘bout to turn 20,” his voice is smooth and sweet, southern drawl sweeping out with ease. 

the girl hums out, tipping out of the way to allow his eyes to another girl standing far behind her, you, “you’re too young for me, dear, you should talk to her. she can show you a good time.”

typically billy would say no, offer a few coins for their efforts and simply walk into the bar like nobody had offered. but something was different when his eyes fell on you, you weren’t like the other escorts, quick to talk to the men and get some money for the events that take within the confines of the motel walls. you were rather looking off in the distance, your position more reserved rather than comfortable. it had him wanting to know more. 

to be fair, billy was bored these days, all he did was travel and go from town to town, never leaving a mark on those behind. other than his wanted posters, which by the way, had an awful drawing on it. how the hell was he ever supposed to get a girlfriend with drawings like that made about him? each step is slow, calculated, as he moves over to you. he notices that mid way, your attention seems forced away from him. 

are you afraid of him? he tips his head in your peripheral, easily looming over you, “darling.” 

your eyes snap to him almost immediately, widening as if you didn’t think it would truly be him, yet you mumble out a, “honey.” 

“lady over there told me to talk to you,” his head tips up, blue eyes piercing into you, even through the deepest of the night. 

“i don’t want trouble,” you finally turn to him, the smell of musk and gunsmoke filling your nose as he bites through the toothpick in his mouth, “i hear you’re wanted.” 

“wanted, but not trouble,” he corrects, smirk tugging at his right lip, “you don’t gotta tell anyone.” 

“wasn’t plannin’ on it,” your voice is so sweet, it nearly has him doubling over. you’re teasing him, clearly, but billy has never backed down to a challenge once in his life, he can bet on that. 

his eyebrow twitches upright slightly, “how much for thirty minutes, beautiful?” 

“you can satisfy me in thirty minutes?” you tease, smile widening at your own joke. 

his head cocks to the side, and he can’t help the way he licks his lips, cockiness coursing through his veins, “i probably could in ten.” 

you can’t help the way your flesh feels like rubber over molten, cheeks flaring to a new maroon that you hadn’t expected. your eyes dare to match his, the lust unsheathed in the teal of his eyes, “thirty will be just a few coins.” 

his hand moves to your jaw, tipping your head up further to look at him with ease, now you have no choice of looking away, “you don’t think i can in ten?” 

“i doubt it,” your skin is hot underneath his touch, despite your bold demeanor. 

“we’ll see.” 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

the motel carried the same smell as it always did, the mix of mustiness, smoke from cigars, and whiskey. billy’s gut churned as you led him to the room that you always rented, surely, he was cocky at first— then he began to worry if he would even be good enough. he was a virgin, after all, and he’s sure you’d been with mostly experienced men. he doesn’t say anything once the door opens, seemingly every worry dissipates as you look back at him with a different look, your lashes flutter over your eyes with ease, the look is more seductive, siren like. 

if you were a siren, consider him the sailors in those tales, lost in the tides and addicted to the song that oozed out your vocals.

he allows you to guide him to the bed, sitting him down on the thin, firm mattress with your hands lingering on his shoulders, “what would you like me to do?” 

“i’d like for you,” he trails off, eyes tracing down your body, “to get on your knees.”

your hands leave his shoulders as you ever so slowly kneel down, every movement is well thought out, calculated, your body flowing in the most seductive ways. despite your lowered body, your eyes still remained up at him, the sudden doe look in your eyes making his legs spread ever so slightly. his hand is gentle when it touches your cheek again, pinky lining underneath your jawline as his thumb threatens against your lips. 

it’s dangerous, the way you look at him, like your gun is being drawn to him with your finger teasing the trigger. 

“and?” you add, his thumb teasing your now open lips. he tried not to flinch when your mouth encased his thumb, the warmth wetness of your mouth enveloping the skin. he finds himself unable to speak, unable to wonder whatever he wants— he wants to be stuck in this moment forever, it was greater than any other treasure he had come across. you were so good at your job, it made him want to know the lengths of your skills. 

“suck me off,” he finally speaks, gentle to remove his thumb from your mouth. 

it was a statement that you were used to, the firm tone, the expectation to get to it immediately— yet you are somehow surprised when it comes from him, it’s less firm, not like a demand but rather an offer, and there wasn’t a feeling of being rushed. for a man who seemingly had no time for women, he surely had a way to talk to them, to be gentler with them, unlike the other men. it was always cowboys who had the better ways of treating women, respectful with every word, or touch. his eyes are heavy on you, the curtains of your eyelashes blinking up to him, your lips tinted a sweet rouge due to a patted on lipstick, and he finds himself pushing his thumb across your lips, smudging the burgundy ever so slightly. 

your hands smooth over the fabric of his pants, fingertips teasing the leather of his belt which accompanied his gun holster as you palmed him through his slacks. the touch of the leather was rich, sturdy and every loop was clean cut, rather than loose and falling apart like many belts you had undone before. you hear him groan as your hand gently pushes against his clothed cock, his back stiffening ever so slightly as a chill runs up it. 

he tilts his head to the side ever so slightly as you undo his belt, your fingertips threateningly close to his gun holster as you pull the leather from the metal to loosen it. a chuckle vibrates from his chest, voice lower than usual, “careful, princess.” 

he lifts his hips as you tug down his pants, boxers following soon after to slip down to his ankles with ease. a hiss escapes him as soon as his hard dick is released to the cold air, with the opposing blow of your warm air on his tip. he was already so hard, as if he had been aching for a day like this. his hand moves to wrap around his base, hips scooting closer ever so slightly. 

“open,” his voice is husky, yet velvety, like the thorn of a rose to the petals. 

you’re quick to allow your jaw to fall slack, tongue smoothing out past the burgundy that coats your lips, as if you expected his next command. he taps his tip against your tongue, biting back the groan that thunders inside his every limb at the feeling of the warm, wet muscle. he allows you to take the lead, your tongue following the underside of his dick, memorizing each vein. when you reach his tip, you press a few sloppy kisses to it that has his breathing roughen, allowing you to open your mouth once more and take his length inside. 

he sucks in a deep breath, a hoarse groan escaping past his lips when he exhales, allowing his teeth clench on the thin wooden toothpick that still remained in his mouth. his head tips back when you hollow your cheeks only mere seconds into sucking him off, his hat slipping off his head and falling onto the plush of the bedsheets. 

his breath becomes ragged with the more you bob your head, allowing the tip to reach the back of your mouth, to the throat. his free hand moves to pass through your hairline, gripping at the beginning of your hair, even through your updo, loosening the tightening of the strands. the muscle in his arms flex underneath his short-sleeved button up, veins popping out every time you reach the base. 

“good girl,” he breathes out, the whimper that vibrates around his cock making his release come quicker than expected, hand bunching up your hair as he has to move you back, off his dick to stop his orgasm. he heaves, noticing the way strips of saliva connect your mouth to his dick. he moves his hand from your hair down to your lips, watching the way your mouth instinctively opens then closes around his fingers, sucking them in with pure ease. 

he allows you to wet them with your saliva until he pulls them out and mumbles a soft, “come.” 

he helps you up onto his lap, the metal of his gun is a cooling sensation on his heated skin as he moves back, reaching under to toss his gun elsewhere. he had his guard down now, despite the large bounties on his head, he was too focused on you, and giving you the pleasure that you deserved. as you straddle him, his fingers dared to touch the bottom of your dress, threatening to raise, “may i?” 

your eyes are tantalizing when they meet his, like the threatens of the deepest lust lie within them, and billy is willing to dive in, “you may.” 

his hair is messy now, like he never took off that damn hat, and when he did— he didn’t bother to fix the hair underneath.

every movement is careful, meant to be more meaningful than a quick fuck, he raises your skirt until his eyes catch on to a white lace garter that’s propped around your upper thigh. so sweet, the purposeful placement of it all, it’s like a prize for whoever gets to raise your skirt. as you sit on his lap, your arms rest on his shoulders, a hand threatening the skin on the back of his neck as his hands move back around your waist, through the silk of the corset to the strings that hold it together on the back. his eyes are stuck onto you as his fingers begin to tug at the tie of the strings, they were in a harsh knot, but billy always knew his way around things. 

kissing clients was typically a line many of the women wouldn’t dare to cross, sometimes not even you, but the way his eyes kept tipping down to your lips had you threateningly close to the now faded line. as the laces of your corset loosen, your head tips down to where your lips barely brush him, you can smell the mint already before even getting a chance. your lips move to close around the toothpick that he kept in his mouth, moving to spit it out and he was quick to chase your lips. as soon as you had spit out the toothpick, his lips finally pressed against yours, allowing your freshly manicured hands to curl through his brunette hair. 

the fresh smell of your rose and jasmine was quick to his nose as he inhaled you up close, tongue teasing against your lower lip ever so carefully. there was a certain thirst that billy found himself feeling as he moves to spread your mouth open with his own, allowing your tongues to both clash, the mix of spit and remnants of mint and a cigarette becoming prominent to the taste. he wanted to drink every word from your lips, to suck in your siren song like his life depended on it. 

when your hips bucked up against him, needy to feel a form of friction, it had encouraged him to finally free you from the confines of your corset. your lips part when he breaks the kiss, his lips trailing kisses down to your jaw, throughout until he meets your neck, the softness of his kisses making it feel as though doves were flying through the confines of your body. when his lips begin to move to suck on the delicate skin, you hiss, “dear, dear, you can’t leave marks.” 

“your rules or brothel rules?” he murmurs against your skin, moving to toss away your corset onto the floor. 

“brothel rules,” you hush out, and you feel his lips curl onto your neck. 

“then ‘m gonna leave as many marks as i want,” he falls back into your skin, lips taking in the skin between his teeth as he moved to mark you as his own. the desire to have a prostitute as your own was a dangerous game, but billy had been a part of many dangerous games before, and now he was pulling all his money in with the unluckiest of cards— yet he still finds himself with the pride of feeling he will win. his lips pause at one of the pulse points on your neck, noticing how your heat beat quickens, and flutters, was this typical? 

he wasn’t sure, but he finds himself praying it’s a good thing. he chuckles as your hands are desperate to unbutton his shirt, pushing each wooden button through the loops with ease, you had done this a million times before, this is the only time your heart is thumping in your chest when you do, though. he moves his hand down to take a hold of one of your wrists, “easy, girl, easy.” 

“you said ten minutes,” you remind him, smile dripping on your lips. 

“mm, i want longer than that,” he helps you unbutton the last few before taking off his shirt, noticing how your eyes trail down his figure. 

“just sayin’ that because you can’t make me cum,” you break into a soft laugh against him, and he can’t help the way a small smile curves his lips as he takes off the dress that you were wearing. your body is alike to the statues you could only dream of seeing in those beautiful stories about gods and women who ruled. women who were worshipped, even as billy knew you for mere minutes, he found himself wanting to kneel at your altar, to worship the ground you walk on. to make you cum would mean more than he imagined at first, he wanted to be that man, to pleasure you in ways others haven’t. 

his fingers slip underneath the hem of your panties, immediately exposed to the wetness underneath as it coats his fingers, “can’t make you cum yet you’re so wet for me, hm?” 

you bite your lip, allowing your hips to sway against his fingers as pleasure envelopes your every thought almost immediately. though billy wasn’t quite sure about what exactly to do, he had heard the other cowboys speak of this, and he hoped it delivered as much pleasure as they said when he dips a finger inside of you. you’re loose around him, wet, yet sucking him in so easily. he’s quick to add another, finding his rhythm almost immediately and getting cocky with it. he dares to let his thumb tease the edges of your clit, as if he didn’t know it was there and he was merely looking for somewhere to place it. 

he notices the way your nails dig in to his scalp, biting your tongue so hard that crimson may bleed from it with ease. 

billy had kissed many women, been on the brink of sex, and yet none have reacted the ways in which you do. they were quick to show how they react, every emotion not blanketed behind a curtain of embarrassment but now, despite it being your job to over exaggerate the pleasure, you found yourself shy to make noise. he moves to allow another finger to push inside of you, the pink velvet of your insides encasing his fingers with ease. he hears you gasp when his fingers threaten to curl, and he allows himself another smile. his thumb moves to your clit again, and that’s when your grip becomes lethal, biting your lip no longer becoming a guard for your moans. 

“please,” you mumble out, whimpering. 

“please what, princess?” you’re putty in his hands, and he’s kneading you with ease. 

“i.. i need you,” you moan out, to be saying this to a wanted man, one who has killed, and committed theft, as well as escaped from prison— it was something you swore to never do. yet you were having sex with him and his touch felt so gentle it was as if it never happened, how could a man so dangerous be so kind? you feel a vein pulse from his neck as he finally pulls his fingers out, his eyes following yours as he moves his hand up to his mouth, allowing his fingers to move in between his lips and the taste of you to savor his tastebuds.

your pupils dilate at the sight of him tasting you, skin warming before you can even realize that you’re moving to take his fingers out, replacing them with your tongue as your mouth presses against his again. his hand falls on your waist, other hand guiding his dick to your cunt as he deepens the kiss to feel you moan against his mouth. your tongues fight for dominance, each movement a hunger of it’s own but yours falls submissive as soon as his dick slides into you with ease. your velvet is tighter around him than he expected, and he feels the vibrations of your whines against his tongue, mumbling a small, “you’re so big—“ against his lips. 

once you reach his base, you pull away from his lips, a mere string of saliva connecting you both like a lifeline. 

now you have the lead to take, your lips connecting with his neck to leave marks on him, you wonder how the other cowboys will react as your hips start swaying on his dick, riding him with ease. will they laugh at him for all the prominent hickeys? there’s no way he could hide it, you’ve heard billy had girlfriends all around in many different towns and parts of the state, what if he went back to them and they saw all the marks? it would trace back to you, you’re sure of it, but something about that fills you with a sense of pride rather than fear. you’ve always adored the outlaws, even though you were raised to be a good christian woman, a good girl. the outlaws were always the sweet talkers, as you were told from the other girls at the brothel. you were told stories about how well they treated the women, their touch being better than most the regulars, their words so dirty you’d only dream of being told it until you had finally heard it. 

now you found yourself in love with the idea of trouble, as you wrap yourself in the silks of his touch and the pleasure he gave you. his head tilts back to allow you more access to the free canvas of his neck, his hand raises, then immediately smacks onto the flesh of your ass. the slap tore a cry from your throat, into the skin that coats his neck, and a plain redness forms around the mark of his hand, branding you. 

somehow, this was more intimate than your previous affairs, even despite the roughness of the sex. it felt like a wild play of ballet, an opera you would only dream of seeing, the gracefulness of each movement and the sweetness that drips like honey off each sound, even the sounds of skin slapping as you ride him. you taste the bitterness of his cologne as you reach the sides of his neck, sucking the pale skin with a need to create marks that last. he’s fascinated by your every movement, if this truly was a ballet, he would find himself in the crowd, watching the dancer move with such purity even during such a lewd act. 

you felt yourself curl as your orgasm builds again, and it seems he is too in the way his hips begin to rock. every movement feels like being coated in molasses, trying to swim through it, the orgasms scorching through your inner thighs to your core until it wracks your body, hitting you harder than it had any other time. you don’t know what it was about him, but you were quick to flutter around him, and that had him pulling out, stroking himself for mere seconds until white stripes fall in messy streaks across your skin. 

he pulls you closer when your lips move so your head tilts onto his shoulder, both of your guys’ chests heaving as if you had just been working out, as if you were running towards danger and felt the warmth of it’s embrace reel you in. it was billy’s arms, his eyes closing for a mere second before they open again, “thought i couldn’t make you cum.” 

you hate the way you smile so easily at anything he says, the way you melt into his touch, the way even though you were merely a one night stand it felt like you wanted this to be an eternity, you wanted him to be a regular. 

“mm, i faked it,” you say with a smile, so clearly a lie. 

you move so he slips out of you, your cunt clamping around nothing as it missed the feeling of him inside of you. soon, you reassure yourself as you stand, convinced he will be returning. poor, poor girl, you were just another victim of the sweet talkers with pretty faces. it worsens as your legs become jelly, and he’s quick to stand, hands fastening to your waist and holding it to keep you balanced. his chuckle turns to a laugh, a deep, hearty laugh, “you sure, doll?” 

you roll your eyes, pressing a kiss to his cheek, somehow your lipstick remained and it kept the mark staining his cheek as you left your kiss there. then you moved, taking your clothes and putting them on, “goodnight, billy.” 

[lightsoutletsgo]

names the f1 drivers would call their partner ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

word count: 2k

warnings: cheesy cringy fluff I just thought this was a cute little idea so I decided to turn it into a whole post of it's own! I noticed that I've kind of started assigning names to specific drivers just because that's the vibe I get from them! as always this is entirely personal opinion. happy reading! mimi ₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･ it isn't all the drivers bc I don't write for the entire grid but if you wanted to see one driver in particular then pls send in a request and I'll see what I can do!

cl.16 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔  Ma belle (my beautiful or my lovely) Simple and sounds divine when it rolls off the tongue with the French accent! Charles can't remember when he first called you the name because it's all he ever calls you! He adores the way you smile when you hear it and knowing you like it just as much as he does makes him say it again and again and again. 

"Ma belle" is the first thing you hear as your eyes slowly blink open in the morning light. You smile happily with a hum as Charles' lips press against your cheek slowly,  "Good morning ma belle, how did you sleep hmm?" With a giggle you roll over to look at him properly,  "You know I always sleep better when you're home, handsome." You poke his nose gently and it scrunches up before he's pulling you into his arms, hating that you're not as close as possible to him,  "Well then ma belle, let's sleep a little longer..."

cs.55 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔  Princesa (princess) It's classic and sweet without being too cringy!  Carlos originally started calling you princesa as a joke but found that he actually quite liked it. You're his princess and so giving you that title only made sense! Carlos swears his heart melts when you pout up at him and he realises all over again he's more than happy to keep calling you his princess.

"Carlooooos!" You whined, "My feet hurt..." You pouted as you squatted down on the pavement, unable to take another step.  "Princesa..." Carlos sighed, "I told you those shoes would hurt your feet." You stared up at him, bottom lip jutting out,  "I can't walk anymore..." Carlos chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip gently,  "Here, princesa," He guided you up and over to a nearby bench before kneeling in front of you. You sighed as his warm hands eased your shoes off of your feet,  "Better?" You nodded, "I'm going to get the car, it's just around the corner okay?" You smiled at him,  "Thank you."  "Of course princesa... And when we get home I'll run you a bath and give you a foot rub, okay?"  

ln.4 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔  Sunshine  Cute and different. Lando has many names for you that all depend on both of your moods and the situation; jellybean, pretty girl, babe, mamas, peach, but sunshine is his favourite. He tells you it's because you're his little piece of Monaco sunshine when he's far away from home and missing you. He draws his inspiration from lazy mornings spent with you in the bed of your shared Monaco apartment, the sun dappling soft patterns on your skin as his lips chase the sunlight.

"Hi sunshine..." You giggle as Lando's scruff tickles your bare shoulder, relishing in the way his lips trace a line of soft kisses across your back as the sunlight pours in through the floaty net curtains. You roll over and loop your arms around his neck, "Good morning gorgeous..." You nuzzle your nose into his and he presses a kiss to your cheek, humming happily as the sun warms the room. "What are your plans for the day?" He asks, desperately hoping that they revolve around him, you contemplate for a moment before rolling over on top of him, "Nothing at all!" Lando finds himself breathless as he gazes at you, the morning light highlighting the colour of your eyes, the glow of your skin and making your lips look so damn kissable. He knows that when he's far away from home, this is what he'll remember. His own slice of heaven and his very own sunshine.

op.81 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔  Angel  sweet and gives you butterflies! Is very nice to hear in all sorts of settings and moods... The first time he saw you, Oscar thought you looked like an angel and though it took him a while to pluck up the courage to call you angel for the first time, it's now the name he always uses for you! Even when you're not around he still refers to you as his angel (much to Lando's annoyance because he thinks you two are icky sometimes).

"Hey angel!" You gave a watery smile at your boyfriend through the call, hating that he was so far away, "have you been crying?" You nodded slowly, knowing how guilty Oscar felt leaving you behind. "I'm sorry angel... Hey," he said lowly, "I left one of my hoodies in your wardrobe, why don't you go grab it?" Following his instructions you grabbed the hoodie and cuddled into bed, holding it up to your nose and desperately trying to imagine he was there with you, "You look so cute angel..." You giggled, "Even when I'm all teary and snotty and sad?" "Especially then!" He beamed back at you, "Who you talking to Oscah?" You heard his teammate's voice drift through the phone, "Just talking to my angel." Oscar cooed, earning a groan from Lando that had you and Oscar bursting into giggles, "You're not even here in the same room and you're still being mushy!"

ls.2 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔  Baby Simple and understated Logan likes to keep things simple but sweet and so baby is his go-to name for you. He's worked out that it suits a variety of situations and moods whether you're feeling happy, down, excited, angry or... needy. 'Baby' is usually followed up with a quick smooch to the cheek or forehead. 

"Babyyyy?" Logan dragged out the last syllable, sitting next to you on the couch, "Babe? You can't stay mad at me forever!" He whined, flopping down onto the pillows.  "My last brownie Logan. The last one." You hmmphed, crossing your arms for emphasis,  "Baby I'm sorry! I didn't realise it was the last one..." You looked at Logan who now sat up next to you looking very dejected. You sighed,  "It's okay,"  "Thank you so much baby," he kissed your cheek, "I will never eat your brownies again no matter how many are there." You giggled as he gave a mock salute,  "Now, go put your shoes on baby, we're going to go and get more brownies!"

gr.63 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔  My love  Classic and to the point! It’s sweet without feeling like too much. With or without the ‘my’ it still feels intimate.George knew not long after you’d started dating there would never be any other name for you. He loves saying it even when you’re out and around other people, it’s not too much that it’s cringy or awkward but it lets people know just how important you are to him. Sometimes he’ll drop the ‘my’ and just call you love, but even that is enough to have your cheeks heating up and to make you bite your bottom lip through a smile. 

“My love?” You heard George call out as the door to your shared apartment opened, “In the kitchen!” You called back, hurrying around to make sure everything was ready for dinner. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” You whirled around to see George standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. You smiled fondly at him as he approached you, pulling you into his arms and settling his hands on your waist, “You look beautiful my love, is this the dress you bought with Lily the other day?” You nodded, looping your arms around his neck and leaning up to peck his lips, “It is, speaking of, is she here?” George nodded, “Yeah, they’re in the dining room.” You squealed with excitement and untangled yourself from George to run to Lily, after the squealing and hugging had died down, George poked his head out of the kitchen, “Do you want me to bring the plates in here love?” Alex laughed shaking is head at George, “You’re so whipped for her.” George nodded, not even phased at Alex’s teasing, “She’s my love, of course I am.”

lh.44 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔  Darling  Iconic and timeless, this name has stood the test of time. Darling sounds so good falling off of his lips. Whether it’s tinged with that slight American accent from time to time or sounds completely British, Lewis loves the way your hand always searches for his or your head drops to his shoulder once he’s said it. Lewis isn’t one for big PDA but he will always use this name, especially if he wants to check in with you mid-event or at a large gathering. Using this name is just one of the many ways he takes care of you. 

“Darling,” You stopped mid-conversation with Toto and Susie as Lewis suddenly appeared behind you, his hand sliding down your arm before linking his fingers with yours and subtly pulling you to stand a little closer to him “are you feeling okay?” He knew you hated these big events, especially when he couldn’t stay by your side the whole time. You turned to look at him a sweet smile breaking across your face as you squeezed his hand, “I’m okay, I promise” He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head before noticing your glass was empty, “I’ll be right back darling,” He plucked your glass out of your hand and made his way to the bar, you staring after him lovingly, “The two of you are so sweet.” Your head snapped back to Susie who stood there watching you with a fond expression, you giggled, “He takes good care of me,” “You’re good for him too.” Toto acknowledged with a nod, “Here you are darling,” A hand appeared in front of you with a fresh drink, followed by Lewis. Taking the glass from him you pecked his cheek and linked your hand with his, “Thank you love.” 

[dancingbirdie]

Idk if you’re taking requests but if so could you do bottom Astarion with an afab Tav?

Hi hi! Thanks for giving me the opportunity to write more plotless smut! Hope you enjoy xoxoxo.

Like my smut writing? Find more here.

Take What You Need

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Words: 1K

Warnings/Tags: top!fem!Reader, bottom!Astarion, penetrative sex, penis-in-vagina sex, soft fluffy lovemaking, plotless smut, sweet domestic bliss

Summary: You and Astarion share an uninterrupted bath time, complete with fluff, smut and domestic bliss.

*****

The bath water had grown tepid, not that either of you noticed. You were too lost in the moment, too love drunk within this brief escape to heaven. How the two of you had managed to carve out such sacred time alone was a true stroke of luck. There weren’t many opportunities these days to spend time like this. 

Neither of you were about to waste this gift. 

Straddling Astarion between your thighs, you had an incomparable view of his delicate, pointed features. His lean, muscled chest. The sharpness of his jawline. His beautiful carmine eyes, how they darted about, taking in every inch of you poised above him. You marveled at how the water drops, peppered throughout his dampened curls, glistened in the dancing candlelight. He was stunning, in a tragically gorgeous sort of way. 

“A copper for your thoughts,” he murmured, lifting your hand from the water and drawing your wrist to his lips. His nostrils flared slightly as he breathed in your scent, felt the thrumming of your pulse beneath the thin skin. 

“Are you sure you want to know?” you smirked, watching him lavish open-mouthed kisses against your wrist. “They’re rather lascivious.” 

You felt him twitch and begin to harden beneath you once more. That burning desire deep within you didn’t need rekindling, but his subtle movements caused the blood in your veins to quicken nevertheless. Your hips answered him with a gesture of their own, canting down to rut against him. 

“Again already, darling? Greed is a deadly sin, you know,” he crooned, dipping his other hand beneath the water to touch you where you so desperately craved. His thumb easily found that sensitive spot at the apex of your thighs and caressed it with a deft stroke. 

“And I’m your supplicant, begging for absolution,” you breathed, rocking yourself into his hand. 

His throaty chuckle at your retort had goosebumps skittering across your exposed chest. You let loose an unabashedly loud moan as he leaned forward to capture your breast in his mouth. He sucked, hard, as his other hand released your wrist to capture your other nipple between his thumb and finger. Between that and his continued ministrations beneath the water, you couldn’t help as your head lolled back, mind inundated with the luxury of Astarion touching you everywhere, everywhere that mattered. 

He released your breast with a soft pop, lifting his head to take in your now fully-bared neck. 

“I adore when you get this worked up. You look delicious enough to eat,” he breathed against your chest. 

You knew what he was asking without really asking. You were all too happy to comply. 

“Use me,” you whispered, eyes clenched shut as his thumb continued to flick against you, maddeningly slow. You could feel the blunt tip of him poised at your entrance, just barely parting your folds. “Take what you need.”

Astarion laughed darkly at your wanton reply. “So charitable. I could say the very same to you.”

You lifted your head up to stare at him, confused. 

Giving you a devious little grin, he guided one of the hands you had braced on the side of the tub down beneath the water, to where his length stood at attention. 

“Take what you need,” he parroted your words, although they sounded so much sweeter coming from his silken voice. 

Needing no further encouragement, you repositioned him beneath you and speared yourself atop him. Both of you groaned at the sensation of him stretching you once more, that delicious tightness giving way to the even headier sense of absolute fullness. 

Your hands came to rest flat against his chest as you began to move, rocking up and down atop him. Your thighs burned after a few moments, exhausted from your earlier travels, but the dull ache only encouraged you to piston your hips harder. 

The rhythm you had found almost toppled as Astarion pulled you in closer, mouth descending upon your neck as his fangs broke the delicate skin there. That familiar icy feeling flooded your head and upper torso, the perfect contrast to the growing heat pooling in your stomach. You lifted a hand to cup the back of his head, keeping him close as he fed from you. 

In your lust-dulled gaze, you registered the ripples your movements were creating in the water. It was a marvelous sight. An echo of your lovers’ embrace. A dance made possible only through the two you, joining and parting, joining and parting, over and over. 

“I want to taste you as you come, darling,” Astarion murmured against your neck, breaking your focus on the rippling water. He paused his feasting long enough to slip a hand between you and resumed playing with your clit. 

The added sensation all but overloaded your mind. You whined out a garbled reply, your hips bucking with even more fervor. He met you swipe for swipe, matching pace easily as he bit down once more on your neck. 

You knew you wouldn’t last long. It was futile to resist that call to unravel, to explode, to freefall. With a final, frenzied jerk of your hips, you stuttered to a halt as your release barreled through you, taking with it any sense of time and spatial awareness. 

You barely registered Astarion’s euphoric groan as he took in the taste of your blood, as his hands clutched at your hips, hard enough to bruise. Pumping into you once, twice more, he found release of his own and clutched you tightly against him. You were a boneless thing, slouching atop him, fingertips grazing the surface of the water. 

After a few moments of blissful silence, Astarion began to stir beneath you. Gathering you in his arms, you could feel his preparation to stand. 

“Going somewhere?” you murmured sleepily. 

“Taking you to bed, darling, before you fall ill in this cold bathwater,” he returned, kissing your temple and rising from the water with ease. 

“After all that transpired here, it would be a heavenly way to die I think,” you yawned, wrapping your arms and legs more tightly around him. 

His laugh, true and full and delightedly boyish, was the last thing you remembered before falling into a peaceful sleep.  

[theotherbuckley]

a thousand ways to call you mine BONUS CHAPTER

bucktommy | Chapter 3/3 | 1.6K/14.2K | Rated E

For @bucktommypositivityweek nicknames and terms of endearment 💜

Pet names +1 +1 husbands (read on ao3)

Wrapped up in the love of his life’s arms is exactly where Tommy wants to be forever.

He didn’t really think this would ever be a real possibility for him.

Tommy had grown up with a dad who made it clear that he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than a perfectly masculine, woman-loving man. And so that’s what he became.

He pushed down any other feelings he had, squashed them deep down into the depths of his mind until he was sure they couldn't escape.

Every time he’d find a guy attractive, he’d tell himself it was their feminine features that drew him in. It didn’t matter that half the time, they were massive, built like a Greek god, men. He didn’t let himself think about it any more than that. Maybe he was just jealous of them. He repeated that like an oath.

He joined the army because his dad wanted him to — and Tommy wanted nothing more than to make him proud. He did well in the army, he followed orders like a good little soldier. He learnt to fly helicopters, something that would become a place of solace.

He always felt in control as a pilot. The one place where he could be himself without any expectation. Where it wasn’t others' rules that dictated his actions. Just him, in the air, a place where he could breathe.

When he became a firefighter, he found a crew that felt so much like his family at home. He understood how to behave there, he didn’t mess up like he had done so many times with his dad. He knew the unwritten rules. He played his part no matter how many times that little voice inside him told him he was a liar, a hypocrite.

It wasn’t until he was back in his element, flying aircrafts with people who respected each other, that he finally managed to unlearn every piece of hatred that had been engrained so deeply inside of him since he was old enough to understand what it meant.

And then he met Evan. Evan wasn’t his first boyfriend, but that didn’t matter. He was everything in the end.

Evan introduced himself, stumbling over his own name in a way that Tommy found far too cute for the impending emergency they had at hand. He didn’t dwell on it at the time, but he was comfortable enough with himself to be able to look and appreciate the man without hating the thoughts that swirled around his mind like he once had.

What he saw was a gorgeous man who said the most outlandish but well-meant things. Someone who loved so strongly. Someone brave and kind, who blushed so brightly at any compliment. 

He never anticipated that after that, he would end up here — holding that beautiful man in his arms, able to call him his. 

Evan fits in his arms like he was made for them. Okay, maybe it takes a lot of shuffling around for a massive firefighter and pilot to sit comfortably together. It didn’t matter, though, it always felt so right. 

They’re sitting in a hotel bed, lazily drawing lines on each other’s skin with their fingers, smiling up at each other every time the light catches on the silver bands adorned on their ring fingers.

“I love you,” Evan whispers, as though speaking any louder would break the precious bubble they’ve created for themselves.

“I love you, too, husband,” Tommy replies, shooting Evan his signature smile, his eyes scrunching up in the corners. Evan raises his hand to Tommy’s face, fingers trailing the soft lines etched there.

continue reading or read on ao3

“I love you,” Evan says again, he can’t seem to stop saying it, hasn’t been able to stop since the ceremony. Tommy isn’t complaining. He feels it, too. He feels the way his heart wants to burst from his chest because of the magnitude of love contained inside. The way he needs to repeat his love for his husband over and over again just to keep his heart in check.

Tommy presses a gentle kiss to Evan’s curls, a move that always has Evan melting into his hold. “I love you, too,” he says back, just because he can.

“I never imagined having a husband,” Evan says, staring at the ring on his finger like it contains all the secrets in the world. 

“Neither did I,” Tommy admits. “But I’m so happy I got to have one. Got to have you.”

Evan shuffles even closer to his body if that’s even possible with the way they’re pressed up against each other, but he tries anyway — tries to merge their atoms together until there’s no telling where one ends and the other begins. 

He kisses right above Tommy’s peck before staring back up at him, smiling lazily, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

Tommy doesn’t think he’ll ever get over this look. His husband’s curls, free and slightly dishevelled, perfect for running his fingers through. He’ll never get over his husband’s rosy red cheeks and bright eyes filled with awe and love. The blooming love bites adorning his smooth skin, evidence of their well-spent honeymoon. The silver ring, engraved on the inside with a simple yours because that’s what they are — inexplicably each others. Each others to love and to cherish. For as long as they each shall live.

“What are you thinking about?” Evan asks, his fingers running down the groves of his chest.

“You,” Tommy says. Always you.

Evan shoots him his award-winning smile, the one that makes his eyes shine. Love so clearly evident within the blue pools of his irises.

“Yeah?” Evan asks.

“Yeah, baby. Just thinking how lucky I am to call you mine.”

“Mmm, yours,” Evan agrees, rolling himself fully onto Tommy's body as he kisses down his neck. Sucking every inch of skin available like he’s starved for it. 

Tommy lets him take his fill, wrapping his arms around Evan’s back and holding him close so that not even an inch separates them. Tommy’s hips jerk when his husband bites at the sensitive region behind his ear. The movement makes Evan laugh. The soft chuckle filling the air with warmth and love. Tommy loves that sound. He wishes he could bottle it up and store it for later to listen to whenever he needs it.

He doesn’t have to, though, because Evan’s not going anywhere.

“Come here,” Tommy says as if they’re not practically glued together already. Evan, always on the same wavelength, understands him anyway.

He lifts his head from the groove of his neck to hover in front of his face.

Their lips move to each other like magnets until they meet in a kiss. Tommy opens his mouth, lets Buck’s tongue explore inside like he hasn’t already spent many months mapping it out. 

Tommy grips Buck’s hips tighter, pulling him flush against himself until their groins meet, electricity rushing through his gut. Tommy swallows down the moan Evan lets out at the action, smiling into the kiss as he rolls them over until his husband is lying on his back.

Evan pulls back, panting, squirming on the bed as he seeks the delicious friction. Tommy gives him what he needs, rutting leisurely against him until they’re both groaning into each other's mouths. 

They’re barely kissing anymore, but neither is complaining, content to trade breaths like they need it to live. Tommy thinks that maybe he does.

Tommy licks his palm, too lazy to reach for the lube sitting on the bedside table. He reaches down to grasp both of them in his hands, jerking them slowly, like they have all the time in the world. They do, of course. Right now, there’s nobody but them; they’re just two men trying their damnedest to become one.

Evan whimpers when Tommy’s thumb brushes over his slit, collecting the precome gathered there, his hips bucking further into Tommy’s large hands.

It doesn’t take long for the both of them to get close. Tommy speeds up his movements, erratically jerking them to the finish line. Evan lifts his legs to wrap around Tommy’s back, desperately trying to press himself even closer. His fingers dig into Tommy’s back, no doubt leaving indents in the skin. Tommy’s not one to complain, he wants the world to know that he’s taken, married to someone he never dared to dream he could have.

“I love you, husband,” Tommy breathes between open-mouthed kisses.

“I love you, husband,” Evan repeats, like a prayer. 

That's all either needs to send them over the edge, come shooting onto their stomachs, marking each other as their own. Evan goes boneless, dropping his arms and melting into the mattress. Tommy feels much the same, dropping onto Evan’s chest, their come sticky between them, but neither cares too much at that moment.

Evan lets out an “oomph” as Tommy rests his weight on him, but he doesn’t tell him to move, craving the feel of his partner in every way he can have him. They stay like that for a while, neither in a rush to move. 

“What was the point of me coming up with pet names when husband was a possibility all along?” Evan says after a moment.

Tommy can’t contain his laughter, tucking his head into his husband’s neck as he shakes with the force of his laugh. 

“I don’t know, husband,” Tommy says with a wink. “But it was a lot of fun.”

“Mmm, it really was, husband.”

[writingoddess1125]

Buggy Catching you in a New Costume (HC)

Fluffy Fluff with a Touch of spice

Support me on Ko-Fi

Main Masterlist<<<

• You being the main costume designer and creator with the Buggy Pirates defiently had its perks and downsides.

• A downside being you having to create new peices on the fly. Like the one currently in your hands.

• It was giving you one hell of a time, so many ripples of fabric and pearls that seemed to want to battle you. However one part on the front leg was extra difficult- it needed a particular angle in order to see how it felt-

• You knew the performer couldn't come down for a last minute fitting anyway since it took too much time and the costumes never lasted long anyway.

• You two were about the same size anyway..

• So you slipped it on quickly, figuring a few moments couldn't hurt-

• You adjust some of the fabric accordingly- glancing at yourself a few times since... the costume did look damn good on you

• Unaware of the door being opened and a figure making their way inside.

• "Holy fuck-"

• You turning around quickly to see your partner Buggy standing there, fresh from drinking it seemed as he stared at you in total shock. A wave of worry hitting your chest at the way he was staring at you which you'd never seen before-

• "Oh my Gods-"

• ...

• "Wow! You're so damn gorgeous!" He gushed, his eyes wide with amazement as he stares over your form with awe and desire.

• "Wow!"

• You can't help but giggle at this words and shyly cover your face as you feel his gaze practically worship you.

• "Oh my Gods~" He awed, you Not noticing his steps coming towards you as he gave a wide crooked grin.

• "If thats for you, You can't wear that as a costume- It looks too damn good and I wouldn't be able to control myself during a show-" He chuckles out, floating his gloved hands around your waist to give you a small twirl. "I'd just turn the whole show into getting to gaze at you"

• You blush and bat his hand away playfully making one of the many pearls jingle and clank.

• "Well it's for one of the performers- I put it on since we are the same size and-"

• His lips crashed against your own suddenly, drawing you in as his form seemed to be all over you.

• "B-Bugs" You manage to whisper out as you feel him closing the space between the two of you

• "You're so beautiful~" He purred out, a crooked grin on his lips as his lips traveled to your exposed neck.

• "Bugs I gotta finish this-" You whine weakly, already feeling your will power giving up on finishing this damn costume.

• "So do I~"

• He winks- And just like that you've practically been swept out to Sea as Buggy wisk you off to the couch in your little studio space.

• You end up apologizing to the performer and saying you had to make her a completely new costume-

• Cause somehow the original ended up ripped and stained-

[infiniteimaginings]

VIOLET BRIDGeTtON PLEASE PLEASE

A Courtship? (Violet Bridgerton x GN!Reader)

Summary: You court the dear Violet Bridgerton and she is surprised, but quite flushed at the idea. Pronouns: You/Yours, They/Them Warnings: Slight angst Word Count: 4.8k A/N: I've had this idea for months. Months. I love this woman with my whole heart. There will be a part two because this got too long. Tagging: @etherynn @theonefairygodmother @ignaciocv

The Bridgerton home was a home that everyone wished for. The structure itself was beautiful, multiple floors, dozens of rooms, chandeliers, paintings of the family. It wasn’t the structure itself that the people of society were necessarily jealous of, no, it was the family themselves.

The Bridgerton family were blessed with handsome sons, beautiful daughters, all from a gorgeous, loving pair of parents. They were blessed with talented children in the arts, in the mind, and even in the heart. 

When the new season arrives for daughters to find husbands, mothers are already preparing their own children for the Bridgerton daughters arrivals. Daphne was the diamond of the season, she was almost engaged to a prince, and she is now a duchess. Eloise consistently gained the attention of each suitor on the floor, and Francesca was named the ‘Sparkler’ of the season for her intelligently beautiful compositions on the piano, which everyone knew the meaning of. The Bridgertons were a family that could not be out-charmed.

That wasn’t the only reason that society was jealous of the Bridgertons, they were jealous because the family seemed to love each other so dearly. Whenever they were seen out in the gardens, at the lakes, at balls, they were all laughing with one another, dancing even. Not many families can reflect such a powerful bond, that is why everyone is jealous of the Bridgertons, because they have each other.

It was an early afternoon where the birds were chirping, the sun was shining warmly through the windows, and everyone was ready for the day. The family were all in their day clothes, already having eaten breakfast and practiced any compositions, writings, and or drawings they wanted to complete that day. Due to that, the Bridgerton home was lively and bustling with laughter as it typically was in the day. 

Gregory and Hyacinth were up to their usual troubles, swiping sweets from their siblings plates, discussing future plans that were way too far out for them to worry about, and playing games that they couldn’t understand how they were losing to each other.

Anthony was teasing Colin for his activities at the prior party quietly, away from their mothers sharp ears across the room. Though they hid their whispers and scolding, anyone could see how Anthony gently hit Colin in the back of the neck before shaking him by his shoulder with a gracious smile.

Francesca was practicing one of her pieces, creating a peaceful background to the activities at hand. This was also known as her not wanting to involve herself in the activities of her siblings, which everyone was quite fine with. Kate was enjoying the music as she sat on the bench with Francesca, enjoying her cup of tea as she listened to the melodies. 

Two others who weren’t invested in what was happening with the rest of the house were Eloise and Benedict, who constantly looked as if they were planning something. Eloise would point to something in her book and Benedict would chuckle, rolling his eyes as he looked away. The brown haired girl would close her book and smack her brother in the shoulder with her hand and he simply laughed harder. No one knew what they were talking about, but everyone knew that it was just how they were.

Watching all of the Bridgerton children happily tending to themselves within the same room, within the comfort of each other brought a smile to someone's face. That someone was Violet Bridgerton, the mother of each and every one of those beautiful children. She had her hands rested on her lap, her eyes shifted from the couch across her where Benedict and Eloise sat to the piano where Francesa and her daughter in law Kate didn’t speak, but enjoyed each other's company. She watched her youngest children run across the room, almost knocking into their older brothers who stopped their conversation to grab hold of them and join in on the excitement. 

Violet Bridgerton loved her family, and they all loved her dearly as well. That’s why they fit together, that’s why they always worked.

It wasn’t unusual for the Bridgerton home to receive visitors, so when the footman walked in no one paid him much mind. The only person who turned their head was Violet, as she had been the one to pay more mind ever since Daphne's first season.

The footman stood tall as he entered, hands at his sides, the door now open. “My lady,” He greeted, not looking anywhere in particular, “a noble has arrived to call upon you.”

The Bridgertons focus was now set to the footman before they all looked at one another, more specifically they all looked at Eloise, the girl who has yet to find a husband. 

The brown haired girl looked around for a moment before turning to look at the footman, “Me?” She asked hesitantly, grabbing hold of Benedict to hide herself from whoever may have walked through the door. The brother, in response, shoved her from him with a teasing smile, causing the girl to only pull him even more to shield herself.

The footman didn’t look at Eloise when she spoke, he looked at Violet for a moment before speaking. “For the Viscountess Violet Bridgerton.” He announced slowly, no clear expression on his face.

The Bridgerton children all went back to their typical tasks, a little quiet since they had a visitor, but they did not mind the visitor at all. It could’ve been anyone, Lady Danbury, any of the neighbors, or simply her friends. It didn’t necessarily concern the children, so they continued with their afternoon.

Violet clapped her hands and stood with a smile, “Please, send them in!” She spoke happily, walking from the couch to the center of the room to be able to greet the visitor.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t a known person on a personal level who had walked into the Bridgerton drawing room, it was someone Violet had only ever spoken to for a few moments at balls or other parties. 

You were a noble who was well known within society for your estates, businesses, your family lineage, and overall your general charm. There were no rumors about you, but there were also no praises within Lady Whistledown nor from the queen, you were simply a sharp noble who kept up with expectations.

Though it was a bit surprising, Violet still greeted you with a gentle smile and sparkle in her eyes. “How unexpected!” She announced, causing her children to turn their heads to the door where you stood with a soft expression. “It’s wonderful to see you, Noble.” She spoke as she curtseyed, greeting you.

Her children all followed suit with a collective, “Good day”, all bowing and/or curtseying to greet you.

You walked in a little further, facing Violet as you bowed, “Good day, Viscountess Bridgerton.” You spoke softly, soon turning to face the others before greeting them as well, “Good day, Lord and Lady Bridgertons.”

After greetings ceased, Violet tilted her head a bit, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She asked, gently turning her body as she awaited your response. 

You finally remembered that you hadn’t expressed why you had found yourself at the Bridgerton home, you bowed once more as a sign of apology, “Dearest Viscountess-” You began to speak, but Violet soon filled the room with her laughter, waving your words off politely, “Oh, please, call me Violet.” 

You nodded, taking a bit of a deep breath. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as all of the Bridgerton eyes were on you, something you should have expected, but you did not account for. “Dearest Violet, I’ve come to inquire if…” You trailed off, seeing if you could find the right words to let this visit go smoothly.

“If?” She asked expectantly, shoulders raised high, polite smile still gracing her face.

She was met with no answer for a moment before you let out a shuddered breath and stood tall, your eyes only meeting hers. “If I might seek your favor in courting you.” You finally spat out, your voice stronger than you expected, but as long as you didn’t stutter, you didn’t mind.

The room filled with silence. Francesca abruptly stopped playing, the children all stopped their giggles to stare at the doorway, any conversation was paused at the sudden announcement.

Anthony walked to stand next to his mother, getting a good look at you, “Court?” He asked, brows furrowed in a bit of confusion. 

Kate quickly stood from the piano and walked to Anthony, grasping his arm gently, “Anthony, I implore you.” She mumbled into her husband's ear before turning to smile at you, “I apologize.” She spoke on his behalf, trying to stay as polite as possible.

You bowed gently to her, “There is no need for that Viscountess Bridgerton, I do understand why he would ask.” You assured her, standing straight as you made eye contact with the man of the house who you had yet to answer. “To answer your concerns, Viscount Bridgerton, indeed. I wish to court the Lady Violet.” You spoke, turning to the subject of the matter, the subject who held a shocked expression on her face.

Violet couldn’t even respond, she could feel her face warming but she was unsure if that was because she was flustered at the sudden position she was in, or if she was flattered. Before she could open her mouth to speak, someone else weaved their way into the conversation.

“You’re asking her?” Gregory asked from the side of the room, voice filled with confusion as he stood next to his sister. 

The room seemed to murmur with agreement, typically if you were courting a dowager, you would go through the eldest son to ask for permission. Anthony seemed just as confused as Violet, so it seemed you didn’t ask him.

You let out a nervous laugh as you finally noticed all the eyes boring into your figure, all you could do was stand awkwardly as you tried to think of an answer for your choices.

Violet noticed your sudden pulse of anxiety and clapped her hands, “Children, could give the noble and me a moment, please?”

Anthony began to shake his head, “Mother-” 

Kate gently tugged at Anthony, “Of course.” She spoke quietly with a nod, looking at Anthony sharply as she led him out the room.

Gregory and Hyacinch were ushered out by Colin who followed behind, Francesca stood from the piano quickly and quietly to walk out the door. Eloise stood with a slightly impressed expression and Benedict did the same, holding out his arm to her to which she took, the two walking out, turning their heads ever so slightly to observe you a bit more.

Soon enough, you and Violet Bridgerton were alone in the drawing room, sure that all of the children were listening at the door. You didn’t mind, you just couldn’t handle all of their eyes on you at once.

Violet laughed a bit, turning to sit on the couch, “I beg your pardon for my children’s behavior, we are all deeply involved in each other's lives.” She spoke softly, turning her head to see you standing in the same place stiffly. “Please, come sit.” 

You nodded with a tense smile, walking to the couch and sitting a respectable amount away from her, turning to face her. “They’re remarkably kind to be as protective as they are.” You responded to her, thinking about how even the youngest was concerned for the break in societal norms.

“I love them dearly.” Violet stated a bit awkwardly, placing her hands in her lap as she looked down at them. “Um, I do not wish to be impertinent, but why are you asking me, initially?” She asked you, looking over at you hesitantly, a bit scared to look at you fully.

You paused for a moment to gather your words before you adjusted your clothing, “I wanted to inquire directly, as I was unsure of your interest.” 

“In you?”

“In a caller who holds interest for you.” You specified, taking a deep breath. “I would never want to place you in a situation where I inquired of another if you were comfortable with someone courting you.” 

Violet hummed, her eyes crinkling as the corners of her lips gently upturned, “So, you sought to ensure that I was… ready?” She tried to confirm, licking her lips slightly.

“If you are not, I completely understand.” You responded, your body relaxing slightly now that you were comfortable in the conversations. 

The woman in front of you thought for a moment, “I shall be honest, this is all so-” Her words were interrupted when the doors broke open, shocking the both of you. Violet let out a small surprised gasp and you clutched the side of the couch in shock of the sudden interruption.

Hyacinth rushed in, looking around before locking onto her mother, “Mama! The noble brought gifts!” She announced, looking behind her and running when Benedict came to collect her. 

“Hyacinth!” Benedict spoke through gritted teeth before giving you both a sweet smile, turning to grab his little sister.

Due to the interruption, everyone filed back in, as did carts and carts of presents for the Bridgerton family.

Violet stared, wide eyed, at the collection of different items, some of which she had never seen sell in their town. “This is too much!” She spoke, standing, hand over her chest as she watched more gifts appear. 

You stood as well, dancing on your heels slightly, “Having developed an interest in you and your family over these past few years, it only felt appropriate to present gifts.” You expressed, looking to make sure everything was there.

“You neglected to mention that you brought gifts.” The woman told you, an unexplained feeling being expressed on her.

“I will be honest,” You began, chewing the inside of your cheek, “your family is beautiful as well as intimidating.” You breathed out a chuckle, looking to the floor before looking over at Violet, “I did slightly forget.”

The woman couldn’t hold back her laughter at your words as she placed a hand on your shoulder, “This is all so beautiful.” She told you, watching as the children all went to separate carts before she herself walked forward to one filled with flowers. “These are gorgeous.” She told you, hand gently running over the petals of them.

“I did not know which were your favorite.”

She turned to you, “Hyacinths are my favorite.” 

“I shall note that.” You told her gently, standing back as they all admired the presents.

Eloise stumbled upon a cart filled with books, strange material dawning the bindings, “I’ve never laid eyes on such books before.” She commented, mostly to herself. 

You overheard her musings to herself and spoke up, “They are from my expeditions. Journals penned by philosophers and doctors I have encountered.”

She spun to face you, “Oh, how delightful. More men regurgitating the same ideas they’ve echoed for ages.” She spoke sarcastically, sighing as she returned her attention back to the books.

You nodded a bit at her blunt response, “Most of the writings are by women from different cultures.” You responded, walking over to where Benedict was eyeing another set of gifts.

Eloise watched you walk off and tilted her head thoughtfully, “Oh.”

Benedict lifted a polished wooden box, opening it to reveal a spectrum of vibrant paints within it. “These paints…” He began, marveling at the richness, his gaze shifting to the other boxes, a few engraved with his name, “They’re extraordinary!” He complimented with a smile, examining all the different shades and colors. 

Hearing footsteps approaching him, he assumed it was a sibling and turned to tell them about the paint sets with enthusiasm, but it was you. You grinned at him and asked, “Do you enjoy them?”

Surprised, Benedict responded with, “How did you know I like to paint?”

“I’ve seen your pieces.” You responded simply, not elaborating further.

Benedict scoffed within his laughter, “Where on earth-”

“I cannot divulge that information, unfortunately, I do hope you like them.” You interrupted gently, walking over to the others, leaving the conversation to hang.

This is the way that most of the conversation went, from the sweet treats for the children, the jewelry for the women, the saddles for the men. When you reached Francesca, on the other hand, she wasn’t drawn to any of the items necessarily.

You stood next to her, “Do none of these catch your eye?” You asked, gaze fixed forward rather than towards her.

The girl looked over at you briefly before returning forward, “Everything is lovely,” she replied in a soft voice. 

“None of them catch your eye?” You repeated, your tone calm, almost peaceful.

Francesca shook her head, “They do not.”

Acknowledging her response, you nodded. Leaning forward to one of the carts, you picked up a rather thick box and handed it to Francesca. 

“I do not paint.” She informed you, anticipating what was inside of the wooden boxes due to Benedict's reaction.

Leaning closer to her you whispered, “They are not paints,” before walking back over to Violet who was still looking over everything, unsure of how you were able to get so many items into her home in a short period of time.

When you walked away, Francesca sighed and settled at the piano bench, opening the box you had given her. She was surprised at the sight, they were indeed not paints. A smile broke out onto the girl's face as she eagerly scrambled through the wooden box. It was paper, they weren’t blank sheets, but they were intricate piano compositions. They hailed for composes she had never heard before, but they seemed just her pace, she couldn’t wait to try it out.

Once you finally reached Violet again, the woman seemed calmer than her originally nervous stature. She met your eyes and thanked you over and over again for the gifts, she spoke about how happy her children looked, she spoke about all the beautiful things you brought.

You looked at her with a gentle light in your eyes, not speaking over her, simply listening. When she finished her thankful rambles she awaited you to speak but you gently took her hands and kissed them, almost feather-light. 

Your eyes flicked up to her and stayed in her gaze as your head lifted to its original position, “Please, do think about it.” 

That was the final thing you said to Violet Bridgerton before you took your leave, removing yourself from the Bridgerton home, your mark being made on the family.

The Bridgerton home was now filled with conversation about the almost mysterious noble who filled their drawing room with gifts, and basically asked for their mothers hand. The only topic of conversation at dinner was everyone expressing the presents they had been given, their reviews, how interesting they all were, and more. The only person eating in silence was Violet herself.

After dinner Violet found herself in front of her mirror, brushing her hair quietly as she prepared herself for bed.  A knock sounded at her bedroom door gently, almost too quietly. She rose from her seat in front of her mirror and opened the door, greeted by the face of her eldest son, Anthony, who appeared troubled..

“Anthony, darling, is something the matter?”

Anthony had a deep frown on his face when she asked such a question, “I should be asking you that.” He told her, silently seeking permission to enter the room. 

Violet opened the door wider and walked into her room, sitting on her bed as Anthony closed the room door quietly, opting to stand rather than sit. 

His mother hummed quietly, “Something seems to be wrong.”

The eldest son huffed as he looked at his mother intently, “How do you feel about this?”

She blinked, slightly taken aback, “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean,” Anthony began, sitting next to her, “the noble asked to court you.” He reminded her, looking at her a bit confused on how she would have forgotten. “It doesn’t matter how they’ve charmed the family, they’ve asked to court you, personally.” He told Violet, crossing his arms slightly, “How are you feeling about that?”

Violet turned her gaze to the wall in front of her, contemplating. She had thought the initial shock had settled when you had left, but it was evident that it was still there. She gently placed her hand over her heart as she took a deep breath, “I find it quite flattering, unexpected, but flattering.” She whispered, avoiding her son's gaze.

“But, are you going to accept their request to court you?”

There was a pause as Violet pondered deeply, “I do not know.” She admitted honestly, shaking her head as she imagined the possibility, “I do not know if I can.”

Anthony sighed, gathering his thoughts. “What do you mean, if you can?”

Violet shook her head again, her hand still pressed against her chest, it suddenly felt painful to breathe. “I do not believe I am allowed to.”

“Allowed?”

“Am I able to just…” She took a breath, tears welling up unexpectedly. “Am I able to just move on like that, so easily?” She asked, her vision fogging as a sob quietly choked out. “Would Edmund ever forgive me?” She covered her mouth with one of her hands to stifle any further cries but it proved ineffective.

Anthony had witnessed his mothers vulnerable moments and it had always been difficult. After his father's passing, he had assumed the role of head of the household, yet he had never seen his mother so distraught.  She was giving birth to his youngest sister, and she was devastated at the mere idea of his father not being there. Anthony froze in the moment, he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know how to be there for his mother…and he realized that now, he still didn’t.

Seeing her cry over the guilt of moving on from her first love, questioning if she deserved to be loved by someone new, shattered Anthony's heart into pieces. He slowly wrapped an arm around his mothers crying figure, letting her lean into him as she wept. He smoothed her hair with one of his hands, cheek to the crown of her head as he slowly rocked them both. 

She had every right to feel this way, he just never expected it to hit her all at once. It must’ve been overwhelming, so Anthony just held her quietly, smoothing her hair until her cries quieted down to small hiccups.

“Mama,” He whispered to the woman, waiting for her to respond.

She hummed to let him know she was listening, but she couldn’t find the strength to say anything more in that moment.

Anthony nodded, still holding her close, “I think father would just…” he tried to speak but the words caught in his throat as he thought about his father. 

He remembered how kind his father was, how he wanted nothing but the best for all of their family, how he was never a man to raise his voice. Anthony considered a world where he could speak to his father one more time, where he could ask one last question. He wouldn’t ask if he missed them, if he wanted to be with them, because Anthony knew he would want to. He would ask if his father would truly forgive his mother, and after a moment of contemplating the idea, Anthony believed he knew the answer.

“I think father wouldn’t forgive you.” He suddenly declared, feeling his mother shift her head to look up at him. He knew she would try to speak, but he stopped her with a gentle hand, “I think he wouldn’t forgive you, because there’s nothing to forgive.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, her voice trembling.

Anthony blinked back his own growing tears as he spoke about his father, it was always hard, it would never become easier. “Father always wished for us to be happy, to live, to love, to enjoy ourselves…” He trailed off, trying to find the courage to continue.

“He did always want us to enjoy ourselves, what does that have t-”

“I believe father would want you to remarry if you were ready to love again.” Anthony interrupted, his words were rushed and emotional. It almost seemed as if he struggled to get the sentence out, as if it were hard for the reality of the situation to be accepted.

Violet blinked at Anthony, taken aback “Pardon?”

“Father would want you to live happily; he always wished for it.” He spoke, looking at the floor as he cradled his mother, “I believe…no…” Anthony interrupted his own thoughts, “I know he would want us to remember him fondly, but he would never want to be the reason we hold ourselves off from moving on.”

“Anthony, I am happy with all of you…”

“If you truly had no intention of accepting, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Anthony stated firmly, pulling back from his mother to look her in her eyes. “If you really weren’t considering it, you would have declined the noble’s offer.” 

The words rang in the air for a moment and Violet found herself unable to respond. She couldn’t articulate her thoughts because Anthony was right, she wouldn’t be agonizing over Edmund if a part of her didn’t yearn to accept the courtship.

Seeing as his mother wasn’t ready to reply, Anthony gently withdrew himself from her embrace, “Think about it a bit more, Mother.” He urged gently, walking to the door, “Goodnight.” He bid her, closing the door behind him and leaving Violet Bridgerton alone in her bedroom.

The only thing the woman could think of as she laid her head on the pillow were her son's words, “I think he wouldn’t forgive you, because there’s nothing to forgive.”

A week later, and there had been no sign of you. Violet seemed quieter than usual, but the children didn’t necessarily comment on it, neither did Anthony as he had seen how conflicted his mother was.

In the drawing room, only Violet sat, she would sit alone for a few more moments, even after her family had left. No one questioned her sudden solitude or asked if she wished to join them, they knew she would in due time

Lost in thought, Violet was absently playing with her fingers. She gazed at the windows where she could see people walking the streets, the sun shining on them heavenly. After a while, she stood and brushed herself off with a soft smile, making her way to the door to rejoin her family.

She would’ve continued had the footman not arrived at the door, hands at his sides when he entered. “My lady, you have a caller.” He announced, awaiting her response.

Violet straightened, her eyes widening briefly before she composed herself, “Yes, of course.” She mumbled slightly. “Please, send them in.” She told him quietly, standing in front of the entrance. 

You entered with a warm smile on your face, holding a bouquet of the most exquisite flowers Violet had ever seen. 

Violet curtsied graciously, “Good day, Noble.” She greeted, looking up nervously, her demeanor resembling a debutante in her first season.

You bowed in return, “Good day, Viscountess Bridgerton.” You replied, standing tall as you approached her, gently presenting the bouquet. 

“My favorites…” Violet whispered, observing the Hyacinths with lightly sparkling eyes.

“I took note.” You responded quietly, admiring her reaction.

Violet lightly laughed in response, turning to arrange the flowers in a vase. “Um, do you have time for lunch?” She asked somewhat hastily, attempting to be welcoming, but she was overall fairly nervous.

You shook your head regretfully, “Unfortunately not, I’ve come to bring you a gift and thank you for accepting my invitation.”

“Oh, well, you’re welcome.” She spoke a bit solemnly.

You stepped closer, gently taking her hands in yours. “I have business this morning, but I would like to return tomorrow. Perhaps we could take a walk in the afternoon, if you would enjoy that?”

The woman gently nodded, a stray curl from her pinned up hair gently escaping, “I would enjoy that…” She responded, her voice falling off as you tucked the curl back into place.

“I shall look forward to it then.” You said, bowing gracefully before making your way out of the Bridgerton estate.

Once you were gone, Violet couldn’t help but gently smell the flowers you had gotten for her. You were quite thoughtful and she recognized that early on, but the flowers only reinforced the sentiment.

The brown haired woman smiled to herself, “Maybe this really will be good for me.” She whispered, walking out of the drawing room to join her family.

The beautiful hyacinths rested on the ledge amidst the family portraits, appearing as though the space there was meant for them all along. As though they belonged there.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Do it for Us | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Mr. Jeon has got your mind all mixed up and you don't have the strength left to say no. Pairing: fem!reader x Father in Law Jungkook Word Count: 2.3k Warning: Yändere sumt, manipulation into cheating, suggestive and explicit language and an excessive amount of crying lol a/n: This is part two of Do it for Him requested by @coralmusicblaze I hope you guys end up liking it! I got so many new followers and notes after the first part so thank you so much!

As my lips move against his I can't help but let the tears continue to fall. "It's okay love, there's no need to cry" he says pulling back a bit and brushing a few of them off my cheek while studying my features. "I wish you wouldn't cry but you really do look gorgeous when you do, I'll have you crying for other reasons soon though, don't worry" he says caressing the side of my face before taking my hand and leading me out of the room. My whole body cringes at his words but I follow him blindly nonetheless. The tears never ceasing while my heart breaks with every step we take. 

Crossing the doorway into the bedroom I share with my husband I stop dead in my tracks, the guilt overcoming me, the gravity of what I'm about to do finally sinking in. "Mr. Jeon I don't want to do this anymore" I say trying to wipe the tears off of my face, proving useless as they continue to fall evermore. "Darling we're already half way there, let me take care of you" he says turning back around to face me, closing the distance between us. 

He caresses my face again and laces his fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck, gaining a better hold on me to keep me in place. I reciprocate the kiss as best as I can but I can't stop the trembling of my lips, still so disappointed in myself. He pulls me in against him by my waist and walks us closer to the bed without parting from my lips. Once we do he softly guides me down onto the mattress, placing his hand on the small of my back, making sure I land softly. 

"You look so pretty laying there, being so good for me" he says while loosening his tie and throwing it on the bed beside me. "You know you're doing something amazing for our family right? My son will be so happy, finally giving everyone what we've always wanted. The child will be beautiful, just like their mother" he says while unbuttoning his dress shirt and taking it off, my eyes automatically tracing his figure, making me want to vomit once I've realized what I had done.

"Baby, eyes up here please" he coos sitting next to me on the bed encouraging me to look in his eyes. "Don't call me that" I say glaring up at him "and stop talking" I say sadness dissipating, irritation taking it's place. "Aw there she is, the brat I've always taken you for" he continues, still cooing at me despite my defiant nature. "I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you" he whispers in my ear as he gets on the bed hovering over me. 

"Play nice and I'll make this pleasurable for the both of us darling" he continues, tracing his hand down my figure, his fingers now coming in contact with my bare waist, my shirt having risen up a bit from when he had laid me down. I flinch at how cold his fingers are and he smirks knowingly. "I'm sorry angel, I'm sure you'll warm me up soon" he says and gets up to take off his belt, the clanking of the metal making me feel sick since I had heard that same sound just hours ago when I was with my husband, being in this same position. 

I can still smell his scent on the pillow next to me, the thought of him close helping me escape for only a moment before I feel the bed dip, signaling the presence of his father next to me. "Will you let me undress you?" he asks, his fingers trailing up my shirt and drawing circles on my waist. "I'll do it myself" I say getting up off the bed, giving my back to him and doing so as quickly as I can, wanting to finish this as soon as possible. 

I can feel his eyes following my every move before I feel his hands on my hips while he places kisses on the back of my shoulder "Gorgeous" he whispers in my ear, nose nudging into the side of my neck, taking in my sent. "I'm not doing this for indulgence Mr. Jeon, I'm doing this to take the pressure off my husband. That's it" I say feeling myself get slightly breathless feeling one of his hands rubbing over my stomach almost caressing it. 

"You're going to look so gorgeous when you're pregnant with my child. Watching you stomach swell day by day, knowing that it's mine. It'll drive me mad knowing that I won't be able to have you like this again" he says starting to kiss and bite on my skin. "No marks, he'll notice if I have new ones" I choke out and feel tears forming again, hating that I have to worry about something like that. I despise cheaters and I swore never to become one but I'm not doing this for myself, I'm doing it for him, for my husband and for our future. 

"They'll fade by the time he get's back love don't worry, and if they haven't I can make his time away last even longer if you would like me to" he says before biting down on my shoulder making me let out a moan that I wish I could take back. "There you go, keep making those pretty sounds for me" he says and places a kiss where he had just bitten to soothe the pain before guiding me to lie back down with little to no fight left in me.

I have small burst of it left but nowhere near as much as I need to stop this so I lay motionless and wait for him to finish getting undressed, his boxers the only item left on him. Once he takes them off he comes back to hover over me once more, trying to kiss me again but I turn my head away. "I don't think kissing is necessary Mr. Jeon" I choke out and I see him tilt his head to the side but ultimately agrees. "Too intimate for you? I understand, I can respect your boundaries" he says and settles on kissing my neck, setting my body and mind at odds. 

I try to hold back any noises I may make but it's impossible since the skin there is so sensitive and he seems to know it. "You don't have to hold back, you can be as loud as you want. No one will be able to hear you scream, it's a natural thing to do you know," he says trailing his fingers up my inner thigh "a way to thank the one that is giving you pleasure" he finishes using his hand, urging me too open my legs for him. 

He decides to slide back down on the bed and takes his time ravishing my body. "Been thinking about this for so long" he says looking down at my cunt which is already wet but not as much as he would like it to be. He sticks a finger in and watches as I whine softly "Aw this pretty cunt has already been fucked today hasn't it? You're still sensitive, I guess he has been treating you well" he says nuzzling his nose in against my clit leaving my body jolting at the contact. "But not as well as I can treat you" he says and licks a long stripe along my slit paying special attention to my clit. 

Although his kisses on it are tender and almost loving in a sick and twisted way it still drives me into over sensitivity. "Please" I whine more, hating the sound of my voice right now begging him to stop. "Please what Pretty?" he says looking up at me through his lashes. "Please just do it already I don't want this to go on longer than it has to" I say looking up at the ceiling, hating the sight of him between my legs like this. 

"Alright" he says sounding as if he's been denied something he's been craving for for so long. "But don't you think for a second that I won't be coming back here to eat that pretty little pussy the next time we do this" he says regaining his positing on top of me. 

"Next ti-" I start questioning but am cut off by my own moan as he shoves himself inside of me. "Fuck, you're still so fucking tight. One dick wasn't enough for you today sweetheart?" he taunts, brushing a hair off my face. "Shut up" I say through gritted teeth before he thrusts in harder this time. "What was that love? Couldn't hear that" he says clearly doing so in punishment for my disrespect. As if I could ever respect him after this. 

I stay silent and don't dare to make eye contact with him and angle my head up to the celling, closing my eyes trying to block everything out. "Fuck no wonder he wanted to marry you. Between your pretty little face and this addictive cunt I wouldn't dare to let you go either" he groans, prolonging my torture. "Stop saying things like that, please" I say blinking back the tears. 

"Why? You don't want to be reminded of the fact that you're cheating on your husband with his father? Is that it?" he ask and thrusts into me harder this time "Yes" I cry, tears falling again from all of the combined emotions and sensations he's giving me. "The deed is already done love, why not enjoy it?" he taunts, wanting me to give in to him and again, I'm losing the battle. 

He slows down his thrusts and changes them into something more sensual, more intimate. "Stop! Just go faster please, just finish already" I beg wanting to keep at least some form of intimacy left untouched by him. "If that's what you want" he says and picks up the pace again showing me no mercy anymore. "You like being fucked like this? Having your cunt ruined, leaving you sore, barely able to walk straight" he taunts and I cry out, feeling nothing but pain, the pleasure never enough to overcome the anguish I feel for betraying to only man I've ever loved. 

"Shit, are you close?" he questions a few minutes later, having kissed and sucked and bitten all over whatever parts of my body he can reach while inside me. "Yes" I lie, clenching around him purposefully. "Fuck do that again" he says his thrusts stuttering and I do as he asks. "Y/n look at me" he says using my name for the first time since we've started. "Say my name" he say holding himself back from his release. "Who is giving you this much pleasure?" he says sticking him fingers in my mouth for a moment, getting them wet enough so he can bring them down to play with my clit. 

"No please I don't want to" I sob, the pain getting to be too much for me. "Say it! Say it or I won't cum inside you" he say which brings my eyes snapping back over to his, scared to be denied what I had been searching for, the only reason I'm doing this. "I-" I start but he thrusts inside me harder again leaving my back arching off the bed and before I'm able to think twice I do as he says. "Jungkook! J-jungkook please, please just finish already" I yell sobbing from being so close and also begging for this to be over. 

"Look in my eyes and say my name again. Fuck-" he groans through gritted teeth and I look over at him eyes glossy from all of the mixed emotions I'm having. "J-jungkook" I sob one last time which has him cursing and thrusting in as hard as he can and a few seconds later he's stuffing me full of his release, finally getting what I wanted, the only thing I wanted. He lets out a chant that sounds like a slur of my name, the rest incoherent fucking himself into me to ride out his high, mine still on the edge not having tipped over. 

He pulls out of me, watching as he does so and sees some of his cum start dripping out of me. "Can't waste any of it now can we?" he says using his fingers to gather it up and stuff it back inside me. "You never came" he says brushing the hair out of my face after opting to sit next to me on the bed. I flinch at his motions, wanting to be as far away from him as possible now. "It's fine, just go" I say placing both of my hands over my eyes trying to get them to finally stop shedding tears. 

He reaches over and kisses my waist which again has me flinching, opening my eyes and snapping them back to him, surprised by the gesture "Ease your mind" he whispers,  "It's all over" he finishes and places one last kiss on my stomach. "See you soon" he says mumbles to my stomach, taunting me with the fact that I'll soon be carrying his child. "Get out!" I yell, picking up the first thing I find and throwing it at him, with him narrowly dodging it. 

"I'll come back tomorrow to see how you're doing since you won't let me take care of you now" he says and grabs his clothes and walks into the bathroom in the hallway to get dressed, but once he emerges I call out to him before he goes. "Jungkook" I say having him stopping in his tracks, coming back in and leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. "Not a word" I say while glaring, repulsed with everything about him. 

"Not a word, just trust me".   

Read the epilogue here I did it for You

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @goddesofimortality @kaitieskidmore97 @coolbluedude @00frenchfries00 @bangtans-momma @coralmusicblaze @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater @marvelbun @j3nni-rs @evidive @forevrglow @beomieboi @jesssssmaybankk @teugiie @chaconnelatte @whoa-jo @rainfprest @mystikat

Join my Taglist

Feel free to fill out the form or comment below to be added :)

[pocket-watcher]

The following is a collab between myself and the amazing @blissful23 !

Ding-Dong

The doorbell sounded and Suzie looked up from styling her long, blonde hair in the mirror. This always happens when she’s just getting ready to go out! She had readjusted the shirt she had “borrowed” from her roommate, as it was slightly too tight, checked her eyeliner was even for the 50th time, and was just finishing her lipstick with a satisfied pop.

She sighed frustratedly, stood up, and made her way to the source of the offending sound. Opening the front door, she was greeted by a man she’d never seen before. Dark hair and - oh God - a curled moustache framed a sharp featured face, adorned with a rather ostentatious top hat. Finely attired in a black suit, jacket resplendent with coattails, he gave a slight bow in greeting. It took all her willpower not to outright laugh in the face of this antiquity standing before her.

“Good day ma’am, it’s a fine afternoon, is it not?”

She stood, arms crossed in exaggerated frustration, staring back at him.

“How can I help you… Sir?”

She put the extra emphasis on that last word, wishing him to know quite pointedly that she was being interrupted. He smiled in return - whether it was sincere or strained in response to her standoffishness, she couldn’t tell.

“Well, you see my dear, I’m selling these very fine pocketwatches.”

With exaggerated flourish, he swept his coat open, revealing a dazzling array of pocketwatches hanging on the inside of it. He held it in place, and as if by magic - more likely the momentum of him opening his coat, she thought to herself - each of the pocketwatches begun swinging in unison. Probably a bit of showmanship designed to wow a potential customer, but still, it was fascinating to watch as they swung back and forth, back… and forth… back…

Suzie shook her head, dispelling a sudden onset of light-headedness, and redressed her gaze to The Salesman. He pulled his coat closed and smiled once more. A little less sure of her cold reception to him initially, she spoke again.

“Those are very lovely, but… I have no real need of a pocketwatch.” She said, gesturing to her phone.

“Ah, but my dear, you didn’t even take notice of our finest model!”

She bristled inwardly at being addressed as “my dear” again, and fixed her gaze to the pocketwatch he was now dangling in front of her face. It was silver, hooked by a long thin strap. The outer shell had some sort of pattern cut out of it to reveal the clock face behind, but with the shell popped open she couldn’t quite tell what was meant to be on the front. The spindling hands on the clock ticked away excitedly.

“Look at this gorgeous embedded crystal, and how it changes in the light! Let me swing it so you can see how it changes colour in the light…”

As he began swinging it from side to side, her jaw almost instantly fell agape at the sight of it, finding herself unable to draw her soft, blue eyes away from it.

"So many colours! Which colour do you prefer?" 

It was so hard to decide. So many splendid, beautiful colours to pick from. She tried to follow them as they shifted moment to moment. It was hard to think of a favourite. So hard to think… was all Suzie’s mind could muster for the moment, her thoughts, plans for the day, all of them fading away, replaced by her fascination with the tantalising kaleidoscope dancing before her eyes.

"I, uhh.... c-colours..."

The Salesman smiled wide. It wasn’t always this easy, but they all ended up this way eventually.

"Yes, pretty colours... and as each one shines, your worries and cares fade just that little bit more..."

Not having to think and just being able to enjoy the colours did sound nice to Suzie. Joyous, even; and she allowed herself a little giggle at the suggestion. She tried to help him how wonderful that sounded, but her mind was already so devoid of thought, all she could utter was:

"Hee-hee… colours...!"

Knowing he had her right where he wanted her, The Salesman followed on with his scheme.

“Can you hear the ticking? No? Maybe you should invite me inside where it’s quieter so you can really focus in on the sound…”

Had she heard the ticking? She wasn’t sure. Probably best to listen to him. A dull, errant thought in the back of Suzie’s near-blank mind warned that this was a bad idea, but was immediately overruled by the obedient thrall she found herself in.

"Uhhh… Won't you... nghh... won't you... please come in..."

“My dear, I thought you’d never ask…”

—

As he stepped through the doorway, another voice could be heard deeper inside.

“Suzie? You haven’t seen my top, have you? The low-cut one with the ruffles - oh.”

Suzie’s roommate Miranda - a stunning redhead - entered the room. Always a favourite, those, The Salesman thought to himself. She stopped upon seeing him eyeing her.

“Uh… hello. And you are?” Miranda asked, curiously, confused at the way Suzie stood there smiling blankly at her.

“He’s… He sells… pocketwatches…” Suzie answered for the strange man.

“Yes, and I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance. Would you like to take a look, my dear?”

“No, thank you. We,” Miranda looked sternly at Suzie, “are actually running late. So if you’ll excuse us…”

Suzie didn’t move, however. As Miranda went to grab her arm she simply smiled up at her.

“But… They’re so pretty…” She said, as if she struggled with every word.

The Salesman pulled out the watch. “See for yourself.”

Miranda looked at him, exacerbated, before huffing, turning back to Suzie in confusion. 

“Come on. We’re leaving.”

"But they’re so pretty..." Suzie whined. “Just take a closer look. You know you want to…”

Miranda looked. She couldn’t see anything special about this pocketwatch. Though, truth be told, she was struggling to take in any of the details as she tried to follow it with her hazel eyes. If only this guy would stop swinging it in front of her… back… and forth… and…

“What, are you trying to hypnotise me into buying one or something?” She laughed. But, then, she thought…

Looking at her usually headstrong friend standing quietly with her eyes tracking the watch’s every movement, everything seemed to click into place.

“Aha… w-wait. You’re not… You’re not actually trying to… right…?” 

Miranda was getting nervous, hiding it behind laughter. No. Of course he wasn’t. Hypnosis wasn’t real.

“My God, you are trying to hypnotise… me, aren’t you? And what have you done to Suzie? I’ve had enough of this, please leave.”

The Salesman frowned at this, placing his watch back inside of his jacket. She was going to be tougher. Luckily, he liked a challenge. Reaching into his jacket once more, his fingers brushed along the watches until he found… yes. Perfect.

“But my dear, you haven’t seen our Timepiece de Resistance…” He pulled out a small golden watch. Its chain was more detailed than the other, with a texture almost like woven vines. The numbers were roman numerals. Or were they? Miranda couldn’t tell. 

Shit. She’d been staring at it, hadn’t she?

Miranda covered her eyes and turned away,

“We call it that because it’s the Timepiece that causes all your resistance to melt away…”

His voice was deep in her brain now. It was so… so tempting to look back at him. And Suzie’s pleasant hums of approval weren’t helping.

“No, I won’t… you’re not going to… hypno… hypnotise… me…” Miranda managed, looking up to see Suzie had walked over to her. 

“Go on… just a little look… it would feel so good, Miranda…” Suzie spoke softly, almost dreamlike.

Then another thought hit her. If Suzie could sneak up on her, this guy could be anywhere! She had to check for certain if he was still between them and the door. 

She looked up at him and her attention was captured by the watch once more.

“Get… get out…” Miranda said as firmly as she could manage.

“Please calm down… You don’t need to be so on edge, so angry… Maybe you didn’t get enough sleep last night…”

Her eyes started to droop. All this fighting was exhausting. The only easy thing right now was keeping her eyes on that watch.

“No, I… I don’t need to… sleep… I’m completely…” She tried to stifle a yawn “… Awake…”

“We both know that’s not true, my dear… Look at you. You’re struggling to stay awake. You can barely keep your eyes open…”

Her hands, once balled into fists, were now relaxed and hung limply by her side. Miranda found herself struggling to keep her eyes open.

“No… I’m not - yawn - sleepy…”

The man approached her, guiding her over to the couch, where Suzie had, at some point, also had found herself.

“There’s no need to fight it anymore… You want to give in to it… You want to surrender to slumber…”

“Surrender… to slumber…” Miranda felt a smile grow on her own face as she repeated after him, her weary eyelids now stuck at half-mast. 

“That’s it…” He looked at his pocket watch. Another job well done.

“Well, ladies, it appears I may have lost track of time.” He chuckled, leading the girls to giggle mindlessly… although, they weren’t quite sure why they were laughing. But Master was so funny, wasn’t he?

“I’ll just leave this here.” The Salesman said as he placed a business card on the coffee table in front of them. “In case you know anyone else who might appreciate my services, hm?” 

He watched as Suzies head slowly slumped onto Miranda’s shoulders, both girls blissfully asleep. He straightened his hat, closed the door behind him, and moved onto the next house.

[littlemoondarlingarts]

Did an artstyle study of the gorgeous art of @iliothermia and I genuinely learned alot so I'm very thankful that he gave me permission to do this 🙏🏻🙏🏻

As usual, rambles and process pics under the cut, be warned that I talk alot because this drawing was a true labor of love both for his art and Rouge

I wanted to use elements from his art but at the same time i know how deeply personal his art is to his own life and struggles and culture so i tried to be as respectful as possible (and if I failed at that please tell me I have no problem in deleting this) and tried to minimize my use of direct elements from his art to keep it to the skull which was heavily inspired by a drawing he has done, the waves which are such a beautiful staple of his art that I just couldn't not put it and the use of candles and small floral patterns and the style of the mold, but I tried to keep the rest to things that are symbolic to the character.

While he may have restraint to not explain everything, I'm not famous for that lol, so I will be explaining the symbolism behind my choices.

Part 1: the symbolism:

The red rose is Rouge's flower and it is heavily associated with him. The meaning of it being romantic desire and passion mixed with the thorns of it perfectly sum up his position as a beautiful black widow.

Voyeurism is a big part of this drawing and it is first noticed with the eyes motif on the roses' leaves, this symbolises his response to his trauma which left him feeling like an unwanted pervert on his own self. I can talk about this aspect of his story for hours but I'll spare you lol.

The X-ray cutouts are his complicated relationship with his own body and death, it is a thing that is constantly on his mind as he suffers from suicidal thoughts but at the same time he is always running away from it in fear, but he knows that eventually, he will have to stop running.

The candles melting represent him being only wanted when he is useful, when he is giving parts of himself up for others to use and abuse, when he is lighting their lives by slowly draining his own.

The piano is one of the rare things that bring him happiness and peace, but he needs to be heavily dissociated to be able to enjoy it which is represented by the hands being disconnected from the rest of the drawing and just floating in their own reality.

The snake represents two things, one is him being venomous to those around him, the mistakes he's made, the promises he's broken, the pain he's caused etc. But it also represents those who slowly wrap themselves around him in a warm embrace, presenting themselves as a saviour in his most dire times only to end up being the ones who will hurt him the most.

The book is about his obsession with keeping track of everything and of studying people, accidentally turning himself into an unwanted voyeur on their lives to the point where he has written the life stories of many people who would never want to be remembered through his eyes in his little books.

The butterflies are him, both in the way they are seen as "the good insects" and the beautiful delicate ones despite the fact that they eat flesh sometimes, it is also related to the way his simple presence for a few minutes in someone's life can create a whirlwind of change that will leave it unrecognizable, or he can simply be another body in their bed.

The hair turning into waves is meant to reflect the way he is always drowning in his own thoughts, a hand crafted constant state of misery.

The beta fish are some of the most beautiful and colourful fish out there, yet they are seen as cheap and easy first pets, leading to them being neglected and given environments that are too small and crammed, making their beautifully slow death the only thing they can offer to their owner. I don't think I need to explain more..

The skull is probably someone he's loved, or someone he's killed, or both.

The heart is his, it is rotten and covered in mold, any love he offers is tainted by his inability to heal and it is spreading to infect every aspect of his life.

Part 2: the inspirations:

The roses are a homage to the way Rachamim always places flowers in his art, either in the background or as a focal point of the illustration, most of the flowers he uses are cultural in nature, so I opted to not reuse any of them and changed it to a flower related to my oc.

Eyes are a repeated theme in his art, whether it be angel eyes, the evil eye or anything else, and as you can tell both of these are cultural and religious and while the evil eye exists in my culture, it does not in my oc's so I didn't use it. Instead I opted to pay homage to one of his beautiful merman drawings in which he used the plants to make an eye-like shape that stares at the viewer.

I thought I was being real smart in turning the hair into waves but yesterday I saw an illustration where he did the same so rip to me thinking i was being original lol.

The snake and butterflies are my way of replicating his use of animals while trying to not directly copy any animals that have a connection to himself or his culture/religion.

The beta fish is just to reference the ever present fishies in his art. I know he uses them because they represent friendship for him and they are the only animals safe from the evil eye (thanks for the fun fact) so I uh... I don't really know if this was disrespectful or not to be honest but I tried to use a different type of fish, idk this might still be slightly problematic and again I'm always ready to delete this if it makes anyone uncomfortable.

The waves are a direct copy of how he draws the gorgeous waves in his art, another case of something I fear may be crossing the line because the waves are drawn in the style of cultural jewelry 😭

The tiny flowers are an obvious reference to his own tiny flowers that decorate his art and characters.

The skull with the candles is heavily inspired by a specific drawing of his.

The cutouts are my way of paying my respects to my absolute favourite piece of art he's done without directly copying its concept because as far as I can tell, it is a very personal and emotional piece.

The mold style is a reference to his mold man (I forgot his name I'm sorry).

And the candles are another repeated motif in his art as well as the pillars and the pant style.

And ouf I sure do talk alot don't I? I just really love the amount of things I was able to cram into this piece and I haven't even mentioned everything😭😭 I will NOT be doing this again because I'm simply not as patient as he is and as proud as I am of the result, this was torture. I hope I didn't disrespect him, his art or his culture and I genuinely tried my best to be as respectful as possible but I might have some blind spots due to our experiences being so vastly different so again, please don't hesitate to inform me if you want this deleted!

[radiant-reid]

omg cate the dad bod!spencer post😭 could u please write smth about that but like, not him being insecure about it because i see that all the time! but him using his new weight and filled out form to pin his gf/wife on the bed, face down and just breed her <3

i was a couple mojitos deep when i wrote this

Spencer Reid is so hot.

It's the only thing you're thinking about while he's undressing in the walk-in wardrobe without the door closed, leaving so many beautiful inches of his body to your sight.

The heat inside you is definitely his fault.

"Did you see Belle's art this morning?" He asks as he walks through the door, looking absolutely delectable, only dressed in pants that hang low around his hips.

"Mhm." You mumble, pretending to be reading your book.

Spencer catches you ogling him. It would be practically impossible not to, especially for a profiler who has lived with you for years. "What's your pretty little brain thinking about?" He walks closer to the bed slowly.

"You." It's the honest truth that he knows, and there's not much else to say.

His gloating grin grows as he walks across the room to the foot of the bed, climbing on and crawling up the bed. It gives you the perfect view of his body, where his chest is softer now, his stomach protrudes more, and he's filled out. It's so attractive. Your legs fall open under the covers, letting him stop in between them.

"Yeah? What do you want with me, baby?" He asks.

"Spencer, don't." You hit him on the shoulder, predictably shying away from telling him what you want. "You know what I want."

"Tell me." He growls.

You glide your palm down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his pajama pants. "Another baby." You say before you can help it, which is not the answer either of you expected.

He doesn't flinch at the confession, his eyes darkening. He leans in to meet your lips for a quick kiss. "You're serious?"

"Very serious." You assure him. "We can handle two, right?"

Spencer doesn't miss a beat in nodding. "Yes." He answers. "No more discussion needed."

He works quickly once you nod, grabbing your hips and flipping you over. You pull the covers off, lifting your ass off the bed and pressing your hips against his, where you can feel the evidence of how much he wants you.

"Needy, baby." He coos, hands gliding up under your tank. His wide palms press into your sides while his gorgeous long fingers spread across your stomach.

“Could say the same thing about you.” You bite back, reaching behind yourself and making contact with the hard length in his pants. “Did I do this?”

He groans as you touch him, easily being distracted from getting you undressed. “You’re the only person in the world that can do this.” He tells you lowly.

“Prove it, Spence.” You request, challenging him. “Put a baby in me.”

It acts like an accelerant to the fire inside him and in one swift move, your sleeping shorts are being tugged down you legs, flung across the room.

“First time last time, you know?” He reminds you, still feeling cocky about it. “Think I can do it again? Because I know I can.”

You scoff, determined to tease him to ensure you get the best sex possible. “You’ve got no way of knowing if it was the first time.”

It’s true that you don’t technically know since back then you were having sex so much your daughter could have been convinced on a number of occasions, but you’re both confident it was the first time.

Where you’re expecting words from him, you get actions first. His weight pins you to the bed as his hips rest on top of yours, and it makes you let out a moan without him even touching you. “Wanna try that again?” He offers.

You shake your head into the pillows. “Stop teasing.” You scold when he slots his thigh between your thighs, softly brushing your dripping core with his pant leg.

“You know I’ll always give you what you want.” He promises. He draws his thumb through your wet folds, making you moan as he hums in satisfaction. “Warm up round?” He offers.

Adamantly, you shake your head. “For round two. I need you inside me now.”

He does what you ask, lining himself up and gliding into you in one swift motion. “Fuck.” He groans instantly. You can’t see him put you know that he’s throwing his head back in pleasure.

“Feels so good.” You agree.

It’s not just his cock hitting inside you at the perfect angle. It’s how good he feels on top of you, how his gorgeous body molds so perfectly onto yours.

You muffle your loud moans in the pillow, absolutely not wanting to get caught and have to stop the intense pleasure all over your body.

“God, I want to put a baby in you so badly.” He groans, on hand sneaking back under your tank to touch your nipples.

“Do it.” You plead, rolling your hips against his when he thrusts fully inside you.

He dips his head so his breath is right against your neck before starting to kiss your skin. He speeds up, pounding his hips against yours each time.

“Spencer!” You moan out his name followed by a trail of expletives.

“I know, baby. I know.” He coos softly against your ear. “Touch yourself.” He prompts and you struggle slightly under his weight to draw your fingers to your clit. “Help me make you cum.”

You’re over the edge in seconds, pleasure waves pulsing through you and all your senses focusing on how good it feels.

“Fill me up, Spence.” You beg, tangling your hand in his hair.

He pants against your neck as he stills, releasing cum deep inside of you while he moans out your name.

He falls forward onto you, slightly sweaty chest sticking to you, as you both come down from your highs together. His weight grounds you and it’s warm like being hugged by him.

“That was so good.” You declare, catching your breath.

He nods in agreement. “Love any chance I get to fill you up.” He kisses your shoulder. “And make more perfect babies with you.”

“I just love you.”