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amphitriteswife · 1 month

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📝✂️Ror/ Snv characters as Students📝✂️

Qin shin huang:

🪭 never listens to the teacher. Like ever. He just does a lot of shit and the teacher is fed up with him so they let it slide

🪭 He’s the type of student to never study or show up and still pass with ease. No one knows how, not even the teachers.

🪭’ Qin you have had like 43 periods of missed lesson and it’s not even the second semester. How the hell did u even pass my test’ ‘Sir, i am literally God’s chosen emperor’

🪭 If you’re partnered up with him, prepare to take the lead cause bro either doesn’t know shit or he aint even present to begin with

🪭Even though he doesn’t do much for projects, he still buts whatever you need for it as a way to repay you. Including if he gets food or drinks, he’s paying for them too.

🪭Has very random subjects. Mainly cause they have China in them, including Chinese.

🪭 ‘Alright, what subjects do you wish to choose to take exams from?’ ‘China’

🪭 Violates dress codes. You need to dress in uniform? He’ll wear the most lavish suit you have ever laid your eyes upon. The school has a gala and you need to dress fancy? He’ll pull up w the most casual and basic outfit ever.

🪭 If he’s actually present, which is a rare sight, he’s usually loud. Mainly cause he has lots of friends and basically knows everyone since you can get along with him greatly.

🪭 complains about a lot of subjects. Math? He hates it. Biology? It gives him big brain moment and he doesn’t get it. Literature? Not Chinese? He don’t want anything to do with it.

🪭 ‘Ma’am i’m innocent, why does thou must bestows such suffering upon me?’ ‘Qin i just asked you if you could read page 34 out loud’

🪭 popular with girls. U know how bro rizzed up Alvitr? Yeah he does that with other girls too. He’s one of the popular dudes so it’s not like it’s hard either💀

🪭He’s a kpop stan. You can’t prove me otherwise. He listens to BTS, Straykidz, Ateez, KAI, EXO, Tri.be, Itzy and a lot more.

🪭 has lots of friends to the point he almost knows the whole school. Even the new comers.

🪭He a player actually. You know how bro had like idk 39291819101 concubines? Yeah that doesn’t change here either. ‘Hannah? She was In February. Mao mao? She’s so last week’

🪭Throws house parties. The extravagant ones too. Big house, a pool, big garden, many floors. You name it. Funny thing is: it aint even the main house.

🪭won the vote for: ‘Who will most likely become a stripper at the end of the school year?’ In the year books. Most think it’s not even cause he needs money but because he’ll do it for fun

🪭 passed out during the School Gala cause he heard someone say that Sushi is Japanese.

🪭doesn’t eat cafeterias food. ‘I, Qin Shi Huang, refuse to eat this….stuff…I have my own glorious food. You’ll never catch him eat anything that isn’t Asian food.

🪭Bothers ppl during lectures. As in he turns and just stares. He’ll either smile or just keep staring to annoy you.

🪭 always goes to school functions, yet ends up being the one yall wait for to go back. He just disappears when yall arrive and spawns back 34 min late.

🪭Has started a campaign for trips to China

🪭 Had a lot of baby momma’s. He a cool dad and rich enough for it. Lowkey knows how to be a dad too

Poseidon:

🔱 he’s in the school’s swimming team and even won awards for it.

🔱 straight A+ student. He a boring one okay. He dont party, doesn’t even hang out after school. Straight home and learning.

🔱 You’ll only catch him drinking water during breaks and eating nutritious. He actually enjoys salad’s. Especially when it’s middle eastern ones. Does he know what’s in it? He thinks. But he dont care. If it healthy and it bussing it works for him.

🔱 ‘My body is a temple’ ahh student. It wouldn’t be surprising if his ass did Yoga or some meditation.

🔱 only goes to school trips if it’s on the beach or it’s for a grade. He the type of person that actually does the assignment instead of having fun.

🔱 he doesn’t have many friends and usually sticks to his brothers or has his earphones in. He’s the one that’s usually silent during that time too

🔱 He’s the honor graduate. Didn’t give a speech tho. He just grabbed the diploma and dipped. He did grab some food that was prepared

🔱 actually has a gf??🤨 like legit, and she’s the captain of the swimming team. He lowkey simps but he’s Poseidon so you probably will never notice.

🔱 was at a house party once. ONCE. Bro got wasted. He didn’t know punch contained alcohol, bro thought it was lemonade. Ate too much with alcohol in his system. I think yall can guess that it didn’t end well for em😭

🔱 He wears casual clothes, sometimes blazers. He doesn’t like yoga pants cause they look ‘lanky’ not even during Yoga

🔱 He takes notes during classes. Like every class. Every moment. He either writes them or types it on his laptop. Only shared with ppl likes. It’s always organized too.

🔱 if you’re partnered up with him, it can go two ways. He’s either doing only his part and leaves you to fend for yourself. Or he helps (rare sight) with the difficult parts.

🔱 he prefers communicating in the chat document. That way he can be home and still communicate if he needs to, he doesn’t like calling cause his brothers are loud asf, and he wouldn’t talk until necessary.

🔱 supports the school library. Mostly because it’s quiet and he likes quiet, but also because he wants to read a lot and it’s an excuse to not go home. He usually studies there too.

🔱 goes to waterparks during school breaks and posts pics on insta. Insta only too. No snap, no facebook, no bereal, no nothing. Even if he does have it, he doesn’t want others to know.

🔱 surprisingly has discord. But it’s only to play games. He curses ppl out in voice chat.

🔱 would either never have kids or ends up being a teenage dad. Dw tho, his gf can support him if he ends up being a stay at home husband.

🔱 models for extra money. Mostly tight clothes cause they gotta use that body for good advertisement.

🔱 he also hits the gym regularly, so he posts pics about him at the gym too.

🔱 has an onlyfans?????

Loki:

🎭 probably sees the school therapist. Every month too. They give him candy.

🎭 Actually likes literature, art, music and surprisingly p.e🤨 he likes p.e cause he can get his mind off things and look hood.

🎭 probably has or is in an emo phase. He has his ear pierced and wears black cargo pants. Might even have some tattoo’s.

🎭 He either annoys ppl or is very quiet. Although ppl are mostly scared when he’s quiet cause he unpredictable.

🎭 He probably goes out for walks with his earphones in after school. Like y’know when it’s raining a lil and you can smell the grass n all while you listen to music? Yeah that’s his nostalgic experience.

🎭 He writes poems in his free times or spents a lot of time in the atelier.

🎭 Had a very messy break up with sigyn and it was the hot topic in the school. It was in the school’s newspaper and everything. Even the teachers knew

🎭 he listens to a lot of music. Mostly during making art or writing. He mostly listens to: Mitsuki, Chase Atlantic, Beach Weather, The Weekend, Tylor the Creator and The Neighborhood.

🎭He either hates or loves school trips. Even if he hates the school trip he still goes, mainly because Sigyn goes. But he won’t talk to her though. Cause he too scared.

🎭 He takes aesthetically pleasing pictures of different things. He has a nature page, a dark royal one and a school one. All of em are on insta though.

🎭 he does sometimes go to parties, but he either spends a lot of time with his friends and gets wasted or goes home early.

🎭He’s friends with Hercules and Ares. Who are mostly concerned for his well being.

🎭 he also might have gotten into heavy metal and vkei. His ass might may have since it cause Sigyn likes it.

🎭 if you pared with him you, he either does stuff ir leaves it and does it on the last moment before tge deadline. His ass likes working alone. Secretly prays to be put w Sigyn

🎭 Legit had a mental breakdown in class once. I think bro is used to having em.

🎭 Got voted to be one of those pissy teachers later on in life in the year book.

That’s all for now💀 might make a part two w more characters.

⭐️tag list⭐️ @miss-seanymph-pani @tinyy-tea-cup @heldril @nicasdreamer @monstertreden @riseofamoonycake @imperfectbloodmoon @salmonpoki @snowmantita @rukia-writes @swallowtail-lotus @brokensenseofhumor @bromeliae

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok #snv poseidon #ror poseidon #snv #poseidon #ror #ror qin shi huang #snv qin shi huang #ror poseidon x reader #snv poseidon x reader #ror characters as student #snv characters as students #ror loki x reader #ror loki #snv loki

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spookysteddie · 3 months

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Tillmans Girl

18+ Minors DNI

cw: stripper reader, drinking, drug mention, murder mention, oral (m receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, pet names, slight choking, hair pulling, exhibitionism, biting. (Let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 3.9k

A/n: this is based off of the song Gibson Girl by Ethel Cain (pre warned about this here) and I need to make it very clear that this is LOOSELY based off of the song. It’s more about how I feel while listening to it and how I fit the reader and Gator into this. I also let Gator have some friends because he needs them for the story purpose. I love the concept I came up with and I hope you do too!

A/N 2: friendly reminder this is fiction and half the shit in here wouldn't happen IRL. ❤️

…

He was here again.

Sitting in his usual spot, surrounded by his friends and drinking shit beer. And he’s watching you, like he always does. Like he has since he first came in here a little over a year ago, dressed in his sheriff's uniform to investigate a murder.

And now, he’s here every Saturday, just watching. He isn’t the first guy to come to this club for you. He isn’t even the tenth. But he doesn’t speak to you like the others do, not more than he needs to and typically you’re the one to instigate the conversation.

Gator Tillman has a pull to him, like he’s the sun and you're a planet in his orbit. You don’t know why he makes you feel the way he does, like you need to touch him. Every time you meet his eyes, he’s already looking back at you. It is unnerving but yet you look forward to Saturday nights. Look forward to the attention (and money) he gives you.

Even an hour outside his home town everyone knows who he is, of course they do, half their parents voted for his father. Plus, you’ve all heard the stories about the Tillmans. You knew what you were dealing with when he came in. The other girls are afraid of him, though. They’re sure to make his and his friends drinks correctly and letting them all break a few rules, like touching the dancers. But not you. Gator Tillman didn’t scare you like he should, mainly intrigued you. It’s been a year of this cat and mouse game. You the cat, him the mouse, toying with him in the hopes he’ll ask for more time with you.

His friends do get dances, most of them picking a new girl every week and tipping them well. But not Gator. The girls have tried to get him to buy dances from them, but he always brushes them off. All while staring at you. You’d never offered, again letting him come to you. But you also didn’t do private dances. You made most of your money on the stage, not really feeling like killing someone if they got handsy with you.

Tonight though, was different.

You could feel it in the air the second you saw him. The charge was there as usual, but when you handed him a drink after your stage time, he spoke to you.

His voice was like silk as he spoke, pushing his dark sunglasses onto the back of his hat. It was night time so he kind of looked like a douchebag with them on. He didn’t care. He was a Tillman, just as cold blooded as his father, if not more. Obsessed with his power and the way people fell at his feet, gave him whatever he wanted.

But not you.

Never you.

“You look very nice in red, sweetheart.” It takes you by surprise but you do well to not show it, a practiced mask. Never has he spoken to you for more than a drink order.

You did, however, look nice in red. But it was rare you wore it because you didn’t need to give the men more reasons to want to touch you. You made plenty of money in any other color. Red, also was the color of the invisible blood that stains your fingers. The blood you can’t get off no matter how hard you try.

You put on your prettiest smile, “that’s very sweet of you.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. He’s fucking beautiful and it’s painful to look at him, actually.

“You do dances?” The question takes you by surprise because, like you said, he doesn’t get dances from the girls. He just drinks and tips very well.

You cover it well, “only for you.”

It’s not a lie. You would do dances just for him, any reason to get him closer. To get him alone.

He nods, “how much?”

You smirk, “$350.” That was way more than the other girls charge. It’s North Dakota, it’s rare the men here can afford that.

But he can.

“Deal.” You watch as he pulls the money from his pocket, counting it out and handing it to you.

You count it again just to be sure, slipping it in your top, “follow me, pretty boy.”

He takes his drink and downs it before getting up and following you. He walks with confidence but you know better. He’s nervous, you can see it in the slight tremor of his hand. You decide you’ll let him break the rules, but not because he’s Roy Tillmans son.

No, it’s because you have wondered for months what his hands feel like on your skin. You’ve also wondered what it would be like to get him in your bed; what he sounds like when he fucks. You know he’s more than experienced considering people like to talk. But you want to see it for yourself. You need to experience it for yourself.

You take him to one of the private rooms, the red room considering he likes you in red. He sits down tentatively, running his hands down his jeans. He’s so hot when he’s nervous. It makes you smile as you shut and lock the door.

The music is a little quieter in here, the small knob on the wall allowing you to turn it higher or lower. Some of the girls don’t like these rooms, scared they’ll get hurt by the men they bring in here. It’s understandable, most opting to give them in the room where extra security is.

But Gator would never hurt you.

“Surprised you asked for this, pretty boy.”

He takes a deep breath and leans back, “like I said, look nice in red.”

You slowly walk over, standing between his spread legs, “too kind to me, Tillman.”

He balls his fists as he tries to respect the law of not touching strippers. But Gator was the law, he could do whatever he wanted. His father would get him out of any shit he gets himself into. Either way, you’d let him touch you in any way he wants.

You bend at the waist, running your hands up his thighs. His breath hitches a little and it makes your stomach flip with satisfaction. He’s affected by you, you’ve known this for a while. But the verbal confirmation makes your head spin.

Your hands slide over his stomach and onto his shoulders, pushing off his black leather jacket. “Let’s take this off and get comfortable, yeah?” He lets you take it off and toss it to the side. His black shirt grips his body perfectly, showing off his muscular build.

You stand back up to your full height, turning the music up just slightly, enough for you to hear him if he decides to speak to you. And then you go back to him, dipping low and letting him run his eyes all over you. For once it makes you feel sexy. Maybe it’s because Gator isn’t an animal. He’s respectful. Or, well, as respectful as one can be in a place like this.

You look up at him through long lashes as you straddle his hips, being careful not to let your centers touch. You don’t want to force anything on him, scare him away. But you do run your hands up his arms, putting his hands on your hips.

“Can touch me. You’re the exception to that rule,” you giggle and wink at him.

You can see his confidence starting to rise. Typical man who just wants to feel special. Gator, though, deserves to feel special. You didn’t grow up with him, between living one town over and your parents opting to send you to private school. But people talk. You know about the shit his dad does, how he uses religion and intimidation to keep his son in line. It was sick.

He grips your hips, guiding you down to grind against him. He’s hard, of course he’s hard, all of them are. They can try all they want but their cocks have a mind of their own. You can tell he’s worried about it, about how you’ll feel. You don’t care. You never care. In fact, the friction on his hard cock on your clit feels… nice.

“Why am I the exception?”

You grin down at him, hands by his head on the couch, “use your big boy brain and think about it.”

He laughs a little, “cause you’re afraid of me?”

That makes you throw your head back and laugh hard, “oh, pretty boy, neither you or your daddy scare me. In fact, I’d be more than happy if you put me in cuffs.”

He’s taken by surprise at your admission, shuddering a little, “should be ‘fraid of me.”

You stand, turning the lights a little lower, “it’s you who should be afraid of me.”

You can still see him, even in the dim, red lights. Fuck he was so beautiful. You start back your dance, his eyes still looking over your body.

“I ain’t afraid of anything, angel.”

You know that’s a lie. He’s terrified of his daddy, and everyone is afraid of death. But you brush it off, getting so close to him you could kiss him if you wanted. And you do, but you won’t let him know that. Not yet.

“You, Gator Tillman, are the exception because everyone here thinks you’re so pretty.”

He raises a brow, “pretty? Not the word that should be used f’me.”

You shrug, “agree to disagree.”

“I was told ya don’t do dances,” his voice is gravely and you know he’s doing everything he can to not kiss you. “Decided to ask anyway.”

You pull back settling in his lap, not dancing anymore, “I don’t, but like I said, you’re the exception.”

He hums, letting his hand run up your thigh, “I’m honored. Prettiest girl in this building.”

“Flattery, Tillman, won’t get you much round here.”

He smirks, the look making you want to kiss him just a little more, “will get me the ability to take ya home?”

You think the shots he took some time ago are finally hitting him. Or he’s snorted some cocaine and it’s just hitting him. Probably the former.

“M’not supposed to go home with the customers. Sorry, pretty boy.”

Not a lie. You aren’t supposed to go home with the men here, both for fear of being murdered and because it can cause issues for the owner. The girls too, of course. God forbid you date a patron and then break up. It’s just awkward for everyone here.

His hand slides further up your leg, resting right under the crease of your ass. Men have been killed for touching you there without asking. But this time it doesn’t make your blood boil like it should. It makes your stomach flip and your heart race.

“I’m the law, baby. The rules don’t apply to me,” he’s looking up at you with big brown eyes, though they look black in this light.

The rules don’t apply to him, you told him as such earlier. You remind him as such and he squeezes your hip. You swallow the squeak that threatens to come out, instead moving to straddle him once again.

“Come on, baby, we’ve been playing this game for a year. Come home with me.”

You swallow. You would be a liar if you said you didn’t want to go home with him. To let him get the rest of your clothes off and fuck you. For him to slide his cock down your throat while you’re on your knees.

You know it would feel good. You know you’d enjoy whatever he threw at you, enjoying men who are rough but respectful. And by the feel of the hardness nestled on your clothed core, he could throw a lot at you.

You can feel your mouth water at the idea of what he looks like under his pants. But he’s going to have to work harder if he wants you to go home with him.

“Gonna take more than that to get me in your bed, Gator.”

He thinks, hands roaming to grab the fat of your ass, “I could give you everything, angel. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

You giggle a little, “yeah? Anything?”

He nods, licking his lips, “anything. I’d give you anything. Could treat you real nice.”

“How do you know I don’t already have someone treating me real nice? Hmm? Bold of you to assume I’m single,” you raise a brow at him. You’re lying through your teeth, making him work for it.

“Trust me, baby, I know you’re single.” His eyes fall from yours to your lips and back.

You get a little closer, his scent masculine and woodsy, “doing research on me?”

That should be creepy, it should result in a knife in his neck (it might’ve happened a time or two..) but not with him. However, you know why he did the research. He had to after the murder last year, to rule you out as a suspect.

“I did. So, you can’t lie ya way out of it. Lemme treat you right, pretty angel.”

“I’m no angel,” your voice is just above a whisper, enough for him to hear you.

He laughs, “agree to disagree.”

He slides his hands to your hips, squeezing gently.

“And if I say yes to goin’ home with you? Will you hurt me?”

“No more than you ask me to.”

You decide you can’t take it anymore, needing him too much. You’ll curse yourself later for folding too easily. You close the gap, a whole year of the chase coming to a head. The second your lips connect with his you feel like you’re on fire. He kisses you softly, nervously and it isn’t till your tongue begs for entrance into his mouth, that he kisses you harder.

His hands are all over you, running up your sides and letting his fingers tangle in your hair. You rock your hips absentmindedly, needing more friction.

Gators lips move down your throat, kissing and nipping at the skin and making you moan. He smirks against you and gently lips his hips to add more pressure. Fucking asshole. You grab his face, pulling him back to your mouth, your tongue licking into his mouth.

He pulls back first, breathless, “I need you. I need to be inside you.”

Your stomach flips again because you love when a man begs for you. Especially men in powerful positions. You feel his confession right in your core.

“A Tillman begging? What would your daddy say about this?” You’d never say a word to his daddy about this, of course. Roy Tillman can kiss your ass.

Gator, of course, also knows this, “I don’t care what he’d say. He doesn’t need to know what I do when I’m off work.”

You smirk, you’re more than willing to let him inside you. But first, you needed to see what you were working with. You slither to your knees, looking up at him, “this okay?”

He nods, only giving you a verbal answer once you lift your brows, “yes. Please.”

Your hands move to his belt, unbuckling it and popping the button of his jeans. You can feel his cock jump in his pants and you swallow down a giggle. It’s cute how excited he is actually. You’d be a liar to say you aren’t excited. It’s been a while since you had sex with someone and it’ll be the first time you’ve fucked someone at your job. You’re glad there are no cameras in this room because you’d absolutely get fired.

You pull his jeans and boxers down till they puddle at his feet, allowing his cock to spring free. You can’t contain your reaction to the sight of his cock. He’s huge, his cock thick and has a slight curve. It’s beautiful and you feel dumb admitting that to yourself. It’s not the first you’ve seen but it’s definitely the prettiest you’ve seen.

“Wow…” you whisper it but you know he heard you by the smile that spreads across his face.

“You like it?” He’s cocky and it’s clear you aren’t the first girl to react this way.

You just nod, gently gripping it in your hand. The weight of it makes your mouth fill with spit. You lean forward, licking a long stripe up it. He lets out a long moan, his head falling back against the couch.

You smirk to yourself before taking him into your mouth. You work slow, making sure your throat is relaxed. You bob your head slowly, looking up at him as you work and for the first time he’s not looking back at you. He looks so pretty like this, head thrown back, hands balled into fists.

“Fuck… this is s-so much better than I imagined,” his voice coming out rough and strained.

You just moan against him, bobbing your head a little faster and taking him a little deeper. He hits the back of your throat and his head snaps down to you. The second your eyes meet his cock jumps in your throat, making you gag slightly.

“Ah! That’s it, baby,” his hands fall into your hair, pulling and pushing you into his cock.

You can’t help the moans that leave you from the pain of his hands in your hair. You know your cunt is soaked, your clit throbbing. So, you take him deep and hold him there, letting spit drool from your mouth and onto what you can’t fit in your mouth before pulling off of him. You lick your lips as you stand and straddle him.

“How bad do you want to fuck me?” You kiss him lightly, just a taste.

He takes a shaky breath, “s-so bad. Been thinking about it since the first time we met.”

You pull your panties to the side, settling down so he’s resting against you. The head of his cock bumps your clit the second to start to rock your hips. The friction feels incredible against your aching clit.

You need more but you’re trying not to rush it.

“Been thinking about being inside me for over a year huh? Such restraint you have, pretty boy.”

He shakes his head, letting out a small grunt, “I-I didn’t. S’why m’ here every Saturday. Gotta get my fill of ya for the week.”

“Yeah? You sound a little obsessed.”

He nods, “j-just a little.”

You sit up on your knees using your hand to steady his cock and look up at him, “you still want this? You can say no and it’ll be fine.”

He shakes his head so fast, you’re worried he’s gonna get whiplash, “no! Please fuck me. Please. Need it so fuckin’ bad. B-but I didn’t bring a condom with me. I-I’m clean I swear. I-If that ain’t okay I’ll survive. But I really wanna fuck you.”

You kiss him softly, loving the consideration and to stop his rambling, “I’m more than clean and I’m on birth control. Is that okay? Still wanna continue. I do if you do.”

He lets out a breath and relaxes, “that’s fine. I promise.”

It’s all the conformation you need before slowly sinking down on him. All you have inside you is the tip and already the burn hurts so good. Gators hands grip your hips, mouth falling open as he helps you sink down more.

“Oh my god, Gator,” you feel like he’s in your throat and you don’t even have him all the way inside you. He’s everywhere all at once and you love every second of it.

Gator pulls you down more and captures your lips in a deep kiss. And then, he thrusts up inside you, seating himself fully inside your tight pussy. The action pushes all the air from your lungs, making you pull back from the kiss. You decide then that if you died this way, you wouldn’t be pissed.

Even if God decided to bitch about all the sins you’ve committed.

That is, if you even go to heaven. You doubt you will at this point.

Whatever.

Gator stays still, letting you adjust and letting you rest your head on his chest to catch your breath. It’s slow to come back but once it does, you lift yourself and slam yourself back down.

“Fuck! Fuck!” He’s loud and you're glad the club is loud enough that no one can hear you. Not that you’re opposed to that, but again, people like to talk and you aren’t keen on ending up in an unmarked grave. Gators daddy would kill you if you spread rumors that make Gator look like the sinner he is.

You do it again, finding a rhythm, “you like that, pretty boy?”

You slide your hands into his hair, loosening the strands there with a hard tug. He groans, his hips bucking up and hitting against your cervix. You’ll probably be bruised there tomorrow but that’s not your issue at the moment.

The curve of his cock hits your sweet spot perfectly, making you whine and ride him faster.

“Uh-huh. S-so tight and warm and perfect,” he’s rambling but it’s cute. “D-didn’t think we’d ever do this.”

You smile, pulling a little harder at his hair, strands falling loose from their usually gelled place. “Paid me a lot of money, baby. Gotta treat you special.”

“I-isn’t that prostitution?” He pushes out a breathless laugh.

You can’t stop the giggle that comes out of you either, “maybe. But only if we say it is. I was j-joking.” You lean forward, changing the angle to hit that spot a little harder, “dedication got you here. And of course you’re so pretty. Prettiest boy.”

Gators hand slides from your waist and finds your clit with ease, thank god. He uses his thumb to draw small circles, making that coil grow tighter and tighter.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll cum before you do. C-can’t have that.” He plants his feet and sets the pace. He fucks you hard and fast. It feels so fucking good and you know this isn’t the last time you’ll be doing this.

Can someone get addicted to another's cock?

Yes is the only right answer considering how all you can think about is Gators cock and chasing your orgasm.

“Such a gen-gentleman, Gator.”

“Only for you, angel. Only for you.”

The band inside you snaps, your orgasm slamming into you hard.

You cry out, leaning forward to bite Gators shoulder and muffle your screams. That is what pushes Gator over the edge, emptying inside you. Thank god for birth control. You both deflate, him growing soft as your cunt spasms with aftershocks.

Gator breaks the silence first, “gonna let me take you home and take care of you?”

It makes you laugh but you do think about it, weigh the pros and cons. “If I agree, you can’t ever come back here again. S’a rule not to date our customers.” You sit up so you can see his face, judge his reaction.

A slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face, “deal! Won’t need to see you here when you’re coming to sleep in my bed.”

All you can do is laugh and kiss him, deciding this time, you won’t have to murder a man you dated.

#gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman fic #gator tillman #gator tillman smut #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman imagine #joe keery fargo #fargo fanfic #fargo spoilers #fargoedit

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pupcuck · 3 months

Text

HONEYTRAP !

ft. leon s. kennedy x reader x ashley graham

tags. p in v, threesome, president leon, daddy-daughter incest (ashley/leon not reader), voyeurism, oral

note. haiii :3 sorry for mistakes it’s unedited! not the proudest of this! got messy and clunky 😭 but rbs and feedback always so appreciated :3

tumblr has started to remove fics that for example use tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

“No, babe, it’s online, you can watch it, and can you tell Chris to watch it? I’m excited, I know he’s not happy about it, but, I am,” Claire’s voice is obfuscated by the chatter in the background, “This is a big deal for me, I mean—“ She cuts herself off, voice distant, “Oh, yes— No, not at all, it’s lovely to meet you—“

Beep!

You blink at your phone. She hung up on you. Granted, she’s been one busy bee so you let her off. For now. You shoot a message to Chris, tell him that as Claire said, this means a lot to her, and as tight as he is with the Kennedys, that she’s his sister, she should come first. You’re well aware that he knows that, that he wouldn’t dare put anyone above his sister, she’s at the centre of his world - it’s just for good measure.

The interview is lengthy, you suppress a groan because really you should very much be interested in the state of current affairs. And this is Claire’s line of work, and Claire is your girlfriend, and you should support her in her endeavours. Clicking on the link she’s forwarded opens up a grayscale website. The first video is President Kennedy in all his glory, which is not a lot of glory to be quite frank. He’s an eyesore to you. Like, that chin? Seriously? He should consider some sort of medical procedure, you don’t know if that’s a thing, but you know a girl who got her cleft lip fixed, so why not the chin?

Most of the video is full to the brim with political jargon that you fail to understand. Completely different language. Could understand Morse code better than this.

Skip, skip, skip.

“The issue with Penamstan? I hate to be rude, Mr. Kennedy,” No, she does not, Claire loves to be rude, “But do you know where that is on a map?” Claire, always straight to the point.

“I know all the stans,” President Kennedy smiles, charming and stupidly stupid all at once. He’s kind of cute when he smiles. It’s really just that chin. Very American though, you’ll give it to him. Named Kennedy too? America loves a Kennedy, he had it easy.

“What?” Not even an excuse me.

“Pakistan, Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, Penamstan… The, uh, more forgettable stans,” He trails off, taken off guard by a woman in a pantsuit leaning down to talk to him, a hand cupped over her mouth, he blinks up at her slowly, “Uz-beki-stan,” President Kennedy sounds out as if the word is foreign on his tongue, and it is, so incredibly foreign, “Turk… Turkmenistan, and Penamstan, of course.”

That’s all you needed to know he has the brain density of a wafer. Was the most interesting part though. He would’ve made a good stripper or a boy-toy, you think. Instead, he’s being marketed as this all-encompassing package of a man, which he is not.

Skip, skip, skip.

Penamstan— Foreign Policy— Penamstan— Voting— Penamstan— Radicalisation— Terrorism— Your predecessor, Graham— Sexual relations— Gaffe—

You pause, rewind a minute or so back. Sexual relations. This is what you’re into. No idea who Monica Lewinsky is, know all about the dress though.

“You’ve heard of the accusations, yes?” Claire frowns so much like Chris you have to turn away.

President Kennedy’s lack of jaw tightens, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him behave so offstandish in the fourteen minutes you’ve ever seen of him. “Yes.”

“You didn’t like that,” Claire notes, her lip twitching upwards.

“Didn’t know we had a psychologist with us today,” His lips are stretched thin into a smile that resembles a grimace more than anything. There’s scattered laughter, and the lady beside him, poised as ever, taps him on the shoulder. “My apologies,” He straightens up immediately, “Ask away.”

“Thank you,” She responds coolly when she is anything but, “You- I mean you have to admit that it’s strange to behave that way with your daughter of all people, otherwise there wouldn’t be accusations in the first place,” Claire challenges him with a tilt of her head, he mirrors it.

The lady taps his shoulder once more, leans down once more, whispers conspicuously, they nod to each other. A gesture to someone behind the camera is made, and then, much to Claire’s clear dismay: “We’re sorry to cut this short—“

The video ends, and the opening frame pops up once more. Huh. So President Kennedy is tonguing his daughter on the side. Maybe you need to pay more attention to things that are actually important, or you need to listen to Claire more often unless she’s failed to mention the most interesting part of whatever case she’s building. As far as you’re concerned, if voting doesn’t go in the red, you’re fine. Claire says being a centrist is the worst thing you can be, it’s just that you’ve got your own shit to worry about. Work, college, Claire, family. It takes up your life. You pitch in to vote for whoever’s democratic, watch the descent into chaos and forget about it in a week as most do, an attempt to forget the state of the country.

You wonder what she looks like. His daughter. If it’s worth risking the presidency over incest she must be a cutie. And she is indeed, cute like a teacup terrier, you can see why he’d be balls deep— but that is purely because you’re a bit of a horndog. Harvard Law School, a privilege you’re sure, girl looks like a total ditz. Barbie doll legs, the palest of blondes, and her smile is adorable. Not like her father’s smarmy one in the slightest, sweet and genuine for a girl whose teeth look done. Braces? Veneers? Not a single gap between them, not a single one out of place, not a single one is coffee stained.

The headlines pretty much say the thing. Kennedy fucks his daughter. Kennedy said she reminds him of Marilyn, so what does that make him if he’s a Kennedy? Truly, they harp on about it with no proof, apart from that photo of them too close for comfort— And the other one where they’re too close for comfort— And the last one where they’re too close for comfort.

Claire returns in the early hours of the morning, her jacket squeaks when she takes it off, hanging it the back of the vanity chair. She gets into bed, touches your hand to check if you're awake, her eyes sparkle even in the dark when she asks, “Did you see it?”

“Mhm,” You pinch her doughy cheek when she grins, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Claire says, head dipping to rest in the hollow of your neck, “I got cut off at the last minute.”

“I saw… He got touchy about the daughter-fucker thing.”

“He always does,” She huffs out air through her nose, “Only people who fuck their daughters get defensive when people accuse them of fucking their daughters. Oh, and his wife, she doesn’t go to a single event, it’s always Ashley, Ashley, Ashley— it’s so fucking strange.”

“True,” Your fingers slip beneath the loops of her hair tie, loosening her ponytail, sometimes you fear it’ll come off clean with how tight she makes it. It’s like Claire’s intention is to recede her hairline on purpose. “What can you do though, right?”

Her lack of response is eerie, you pass it off as her falling asleep. She’s had a long day, an exciting one at that, Claire’s likely just crashing. So you kiss her head, let her nestle into your chest, the spot where she’s most comfortable.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Giving your girlfriend the benefit of the doubt when she’s putting you up to the most outrageous scheme quite possibly ever is hard. “I have work, Claire.”

“Work can wait, babe, this is seriously important, it means a lot for America’s future,” Ugh, you don’t like when she talks like that. Sounds like a propaganda poster come to life.

“I don’t care about America’s future, I care about mine, babe, I care about ours, I don’t think Kennedy fucking his kid has anything to do with America’s future.”

“Babe, America’s future is our future,” She insists, “I won’t ask of you ever again,” Claire clasps her hands together, kneels in front of you as if you’re in fresco on the ceiling of a half-painted chapel, as if Claire Redfield, famous and outspoken atheist activist is the most pious woman to set foot in the USA.

“I have work, I have to get ready, I don’t have time for this.”

“See, this is what I mean, you’re so—“ Before her frustration reaches its boiling point, you watch Claire mouth the words one, two, three and onwards to fifteen. “Baby, darling,” She cups your cheeks, “This would mean the world to me when I say I would never bother you again with my shit, I promise. Pinky swear.”

“Don’t call me darling,” You wriggle out of her grip, “I can’t risk another day off, Claire.”

“There’s an opening in the office,” She offers, “It’s not much, but it’s better than what you’re doing now.”

“How so?” Your interest is piqued.

“Desk job,” Claire shrugs, “It’s easy, babe, you’re smart, too smart for retail.”

“I am too smart for retail,” You agree with a sigh, it keeps you on your feet all day, then you end up blowing your paycheck on pedicures.

“You are,” She coos, kissing the back of your hand as if you’re the most delicate thing since butterflies, “And you’ll do so well, that’s why I want you to do it, babe, ‘cause I just know you’re the only one who could do it,” Flattery does get Claire somewhere, it gets her in your good books, “The, uh, you don’t mind the, uh, y’know, incest part.”

“He’s not my dad, she’s not my sister.” Detaching yourself from the incestuous element would be best, you don’t know if you have a strong enough stomach to handle it in any other way.

“You can’t kiss me,” Claire frowns, her professional face on, “From now on, we can’t be seen with each other, okay?”

“Babe,” You pout, she scowls, “You look so good tonight, I don’t want to leave you.” The notched lapels of her suit make her shoulders look broader, you want to drag your nails over the cashmere, over her tender skin.

“Your name is on the guest list,” Your alias, she means, you don’t know how she did it, but Claire manages to manage, “Please…” Don’t fuck this up for me, you assume, “Good luck, okay?”

The security process is tedious, they drone on and on about a topic in which you have no knowledge, they pat you down— Should they be doing this to someone who might be an esteemed guest?

You pass through, the crowd is full of beautiful girls with made-up faces and dark ringlets and dresses like wedding cakes. There’s less than savoury men. She doesn’t stand out in a crowd like this, but you spot her anyway. Nobody in their right mind would wear that shade of orange. Ashley Kennedy, according to your girlfriend, is fucking her father, and so she is clinically and mentally and psychically and biologically and any other ally insane. So, yes, she would wear rust orange proudly, she would go out of her way to purchase a floor-length evening gown in that exact colour. Just to prove that, yes, she is indeed fucking her dad. Would calling it quits at this very moment be justifiable to Claire? Would your reasoning be enough to accuse a girl of fucking her father?

To your utter astonishment, both Mrs and Miss Kennedy approach you first, both as in Ashley. As she is both his wife and daughter if Claire’s deduction is correct.

“Hi,” Ashley’s smile is as perfect as it was in the tabloids, her skin is dewy, and her lashes light with no attempt to darken them. It would look unnatural.

“Hi,” You grin back at her, focus on the pendant that swings low, a silver eagle that sits cushdy between her perky tits.

“Daddy told me I had to—“ Her face drops for a split second, “Oops,” She covers her mouth, swallows back a nervous giggle, “Dad told me I had to socialise, make connections,” She imitates his formalities, “Oh, gosh, I am totally being so rude right now!” Ashley waves her hands at you, “My daddy- Dad is the president, sorry to come onto you like that like you were supposed to know, gosh, I’m Ashley by the way.”

“I know,” You take her hand in yours when she offers it, squeeze it warmly, “Don’t sweat it, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know you.”

“Right, right, I guess that’s true,” She hiccups, “Sorry, god, champagne, I’m so new to drinking, I really don’t think it’s for me.” This girl is making it too easy for you.

“You just haven’t tried the right one, I love your dress by the way, colour brings out your eyes.” Like how grass brings out the pumpkins on a pumpkin patch.

“Oh my goodness, thank you!” Ashley follows after you, lost and clinging to the person she has deemed friendliest.

“Have you ever had a French martini?”

“Oh, no, what’s that? It sounds exotic.” She’s bubbly, excitable, so sweet you almost feel bad setting her up like this.

“Do you like pineapple?”

Ashley ponders, “Only juice, eating pineapple eats at my tongue, I totally know that’s what it does, but still it feels so weird.”

“You’ll like this then.” You assure her, and she bobs her head up and down in agreement, her trust for you is unconditional within five minutes flat. Claire deserved that spot at Harvard.

“There’s vodka in it,” She hums, “Daddy,” Her third slip-up of the night, “Dad doesn’t even let me near vodka.”

“Really?” You raise a brow, then your glass and she does the same.

“Never, he sucks when it comes to me doing, like, adult things,” Her nose twitches at the first sip, she reminds you of a bunny, an energiser bunny.

“Like what?”

“Drinking, driving, partying,” Ashley lists off, “He’s okay, but he’s protective, I know it comes with, like, president’s daughter territory, it just totally sucks!”

Drinking, driving, partying— Dad doesn’t mind when she’s doing adult things like sucking his dick though. That’s not a problem!

“I like you,” Ashley says, two French martinis and one cosmopolitan in, “You’re so fun, I don’t really get to meet people other than, like, the one daddy introduces me to. Don’t get me wrong, I get it, I’m privileged so I talk to privileged people, but they’re so…”

“Stuck up,” You finish for her, “I didn’t expect you to be so sweet.”

“Oh, I can see why, I get it, I’m not offended or anything,” She sighs softly, gazes at the chandelier as if she longs for more than ball gowns and Havard and spending her days shifting idly through the clothing racks at Dolce & Gabbana while her daddy lounges on the chaise chairs. “I just think you’re so down to earth,” Poor thing, it’s a shame she’s fucking her dad, you hope to uncover an entirely different truth, that they’re close and it’s nothing more, “Who did you come with by the way?”

“I’m a plus one,” You knock back your drink, grip tightening on the glass, “No one important, just lucky, I guess.”

“Huh,” Ashley takes in your words, she nods, another drink slips down easily, and by the end of it, she is clinging to your arm like you mean the world to her, “You should sooo come back to my room!” Her words slur until her sentence is more of a single word, “We could have fun,” Whether she’s soliciting sex or she wants your company, you don’t mind, “Me and daddy are staying here tonight.”

“Really?” You ask, as if Claire hadn’t briefed you on the room number prior to this, “Then I guess I wouldn’t mind coming.”

“Yay!” Her security detail emerge from the crowd, and you’re dumb for not having noticed them beforehand, but what Ashley says goes. “Gosh, you don’t have to tell, daddy, he’s busy right now. No, we’ll be fine, you can leave us to it, when daddy’s done then he’ll come up.”

An elevator ride up and up and up to the top floor, through the stretch of hall to the finest suite. Ashley is high energy, for a lack of better words, she is tiring. She kicks off her heels, still stands tall, modelesque in shape. Boyish hips jutting out of her square torso. The key card is left on the side when she’s not paying attention, which luckily for you is most of the time, you slide it beneath the door frame and shoot a text to Claire who is hovering nearby. A minute later, she confirms her success.

“Ugh, I was so over it,” Ashley groans, “Do you mind helping me out of this?”

“Of course not,” You say smoothly, wondering if this is an invitation to something more. The silk of her dress is made by the wealthiest of silkworms, just as you get your hands on her, the door unlocks.

“Ashley,” President Kennedy is panting like he ran up all twenty-nine flights of stairs at the Fairmont, “Princess, you worried me.”

“Daddy, you scared me, you scared us,” She gasps, he’s swift in his steps, tips her chin upwards as if he’s checking for damage on her angel face, he thumbs her smeared lipstick.

“Did you kiss… Did you?” Kennedy’s eyes flit from your lips to Ashley’s, you wonder why he’s so wound up about a kiss, must be the incest. Her lipstick is smeared on the rim of her martini glass, not your lips.

“What? Daddy, no, don’t be silly, not yet at least,” She makes her intentions clear, “I thought you were busy, daddy.”

“Ashley, I’m not too busy for you, I have things to oversee, but…”

As your father, I have to oversee your sex life, Ashley! I demand to watch!

“But, what?” Ashley cocks her head to the side, her hands running along the shape of his shoulders, then downwards over his chest.

“You’re more important, you know that.” Kennedy strokes her head, she bats her lashes at him, they’re barely visible so it’s more a flurry of blinks.

“Oh, daddy, you’re so sweet,” She giggles, puckers her lips and the sentiment is shared between them— They kiss like lovers do, dirtier than you and Claire. Unaffected, Ashley looks over his shoulder at you, “We can still have fun,” She promises, “Daddy can just watch, won’t you?”

Jesus Christ. Now that you’re actually faced with it. Incest in the flesh. It’s nerve-wracking. How is one meant to digest incest?

“Ashley, I don’t watch you catching anything nasty,” He tries to be discreet, you hear him loud and clear.

“Daddy,” She scolds, hitting his chest. He shucks off his suit jacket, laying it out on the back of the chair adjacent to the Alaskan king bed that could fit a family of five let alone the three of you. He sits, stares at you with his glassy eyes. President Kennedy is handsome in real life, you kind of get the appeal now, the camera does add ten pounds, ages him by ten years too apparently. There is something about him that is effortlessly masculine yet soft, sweet almost.

Ashley’s dress comes off next, she cares little for the way it is left wrinkled on the ground, her hand finds its way between your thighs. She’s not inexperienced. She knows her way around your body like she would her father’s. Her fingers are long and slim, nimble when the pads come to ghost your clit, lifting back the hood to press her thumb into it.

Instinctively, your hips buck into her hand, she kisses you, smiling into your mouth. Claire is at the forefront of your mind, she’d given you the permission to do this, but it feels wrong still. The incest feels even worse. You’ve been trying to ignore it so far, pretend it’s just Ashley here. Ashley’s lips on yours, her fingers in your cunt, her tits pressed flush to your chest— His eyes are so blue.

Ashley scissors you open with two fingers, you suck on her tit, both of you tangled up within each other. Pulling off with a pop, she takes out her fingers and you’re left empty. You taste yourself on her tongue, on her fingers and grow sick of it.

“C’mere,” You take the pillow that’s propped up against the headboard and slot it underneath her hips to keep ‘em raised. Ashley’s cunt is perfect like the rest of her. You wonder if there are procedures to get it this pink, her labia pokes out past her parted pussy lips as does her swollen clit, you give a tentative lick to her cunt, unsure of how she likes it. Claire likes it messy, but Ashley’s rich, she might like it classy. You could eat pussy classy if you tried hard enough.

She lies back, her head sunken into the mass of pillows - the one you had taken barely left a dent in the pile, her tits are small but round and her nipples are pointed and as pink as her pussy. Ashley takes initiative, daddy’s been giving it to her real sloppy it seems, ‘cause she pushes your face into it. Your nose bumps her clit and she sighs sweetly when your tongue works its merry way up her slit, from her slick hole to her twitching bud that you pay extra special attention to. It deserves it, pretty like a pearl, wrap your lips around it and suck till her thighs close around your head.

“Outta the way,” Mr. President, fully clothed, cock hard straining in his slacks, takes Ashley’s leg and spreads her further, “Keep it there for daddy, princess.”

When you lift your head out of pure curiosity, he kisses you, jams his tongue into your mouth to taste you like your tongue wasn’t just jammed in his daughter’s cunt. His daughter who is spread-eagle on the bed for The United States of America. Though, from the way they’re behaving, Ashley is a renowned patriot, this isn’t her first time confessing her love for all things red, white, and blue. And rust orange.

Dumbfounded by his takeover of the pussy you were having so much fun eating, you crawl back over to Ashley while daddy blows raspberries on her clit, spits on the First Daughter’s, his first daughter’s, cunt like she’s a corner whore.

“Daddy,” Ashley moans, she’s unabashed, grabs his hair and forces him deeper, she tells you to suck on her tits, she’s bossy when it comes to sex. Mastered the art of fucking.

“I’ve got you, princess,” Her daddy says, he can talk while he’s eating it, impressive if you do say so yourself. The most you can do is go down on Claire till you get lightheaded, breathing is out of the question.

She cums sweetly because there is no other way in which Ashley can behave. The blood that runs through her is inherently sweet unlike her father’s. Mr. Kennedy slurps away even as she jolts due to aftershocks, he’s intent on drying her out.

When he does decide to join the two of you above, it’s to press kisses into Ashley’s neck, to sniff her perfume, “Good girl,” He praises, “Daddy’s good girl.” Those lines sound like something out of a cheap porno. Hard to believe that it’s real. That you seriously just sat there and got cucked by Ashley’s father.

“Thank you, daddy,” Ashley giggles, stroking through his dark hair as he suckles on her nipple, spit stringy on his lips and her breast when he pulls back. “No, not me,” She refuses when he, with his slacks mid-thigh, presses his cock to her inner thigh, “I want to watch you, daddy.”

See, you’ve taken dick, you take Claire’s silicone dick often. Taking presidential dick, it’s new to you. Presidential dick that could’ve possibly at any time today been lodged inside his little girl, meaning you’re being double dicked not only by a presidential cock, but an incestuous one. It’s fat, browner than it is pink, uncut, the tip is leaky like nobody’s business.

“Aw, oh my gosh,” Ashley coos, “Don’t be scared, you’ve got this!” Your nerves don’t stem from taking his mediocre, prized dick, but from everything else about this situation. “Daddy’s good at it, it never hurts.” She holds your hand, brings it to her lips to kiss, fluffs the pillows and peppers kisses all over your face as President Kennedy, a man of assumed integrity pushes your legs to your chest.

His cock rubs up and down your cunt, catches on your clit, the fat tip is sucked into your stretched hole and inch by inch he forces his way into your hole. With each inch, not that there’s many, it gets thicker, till the base is engulfed into your greedy pussy. Ashley wipes the sweat from your brow, “Isn’t it good?” She gushes, “Daddy’s just the best, I don’t think I could ever be with anyone else, he’s just so good at it, isn’t he?” In response to her blabbing, you can only whimper, giving a quick bob of your head to satisfy her.

Inside of you, each vein embeds itself into your walls, the head jabs at your cervix painfully, and most of all it feels stupidly good. His cock is thick and sturdy like all good dicks should be. And he’s fucking you like he hates you. Which he does. Deep, hard, slow and nasty.

“Is it good, daddy?” Ashley asks innocently enough, her hand rests on your tummy, grows bored and trails lower to flick at your clit.

“Not as good as you, princess, never,” Comes his instant answer. You take offence to this and clench around him so tight he groans and his head drops to your neck, lips on your collarbone. There’s a sticky sound each time he draws his hips back and pushes in, you’re dripping for Ashley, for him— You don’t know anymore, head so clouded you’ve let the incest slip.

“Aw, daddy!” She places a hand over her heart, then she’s back to pinching your clit between her fingers, forcing you to unravel.

His thrusts are deliberate, mean, and he fucks you like it’s all your fault. As if he doesn’t get to hump Ashley at all times of the day. The squelch of your cunt is embarrassing enough for you to be over and done with, each stroke is a hit on your ego and on your cervix, the latter being a more delicious hit, but a hit nonetheless. When he cums, he does it on your stomach in white, watery ropes, and it pools in your belly button as you writhe with the immense pleasure he and his disgusting cock have bought you. Ashley’s bony fingers helped to some degree.

“Is it my turn now?” Ashley perks up when her dad kisses her all sloppy on the mouth, spit and drool included.

“Give daddy a minute, princess, I can’t keep up with you,” He chuckles, pats her head, they’ve started their incestuously affectionate display, so you cover yourself up and shoot Claire a second message while they begin to act lovey-dovey in bed. Let their guard down, and you hate to do this to such a lovely girl, but your girlfriend is an even lovelier girl.

Soon enough, she and the gaggle of reporters burst through the doors, flashing cameras in hand. Ashley was foolish for letting off her security detail for the night, President Kennedy is the bigger fool, and Claire, well, you’ve never seen her smile so big.

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

216 notes · View notes

444rockstargf · 4 months

Note

idk if youve already done sum like this buttt, fem reader is a pole dancer and jack or euro pay for a private lap dance or sum and reader gives him a lil somethin more when they alone 😝

since yall voted for euronymous!

"i drop it like it's hot on the pole." | euronymous

midnight dancer girlfriend. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @vanlisbon @livingdead-reilly @oliviah-25 @lankysimp @auggiethecreator @livingdead-materialgirl @monkeyfart

stripper!female!reader x euronymous

word count: 1.6k

contents: pole dancing, striptease, teasing, masturbation, fingering, public sex, unprotected sex, squirting, slight overstimulation, a little aftercare

euronymous’ eyes were locked on you from afar. you could feel the burn of his stare along with at least one hundred pairs of other eyes that couldn’t remove their eyes from your body. you effortlessly slid down the pole, your hair flowing and perfectly covering your illuminated face as your black leather skirt lifted a little, leaving almost nothing to the imagination of all those who gawked at you from the crowd. awestruck men couldn’t help but throw dollar bills onto the stage as a token of appreciation for the show you were putting on.

euronymous sat at the bar in the corner, slowly sipping from his beer, the cold glass bottle chilling his pale fingertips. he had ended up at the club on a late saturday night, craving a different kind of excitement than his usually rowdy concert scene. and boy, did he get exactly what he was looking for. he had been lured in the second you walked onto the stage, and decided to make himself comfortable as you discarded your pieces of clothing one by one until you were left in your lacy black bra, matching panties, and a tight skirt to keep the crowd thirsting for more.

he watched a bead of sweat drip down your neck, rolling in your cleavage before disappearing into your bra’s fabric. he wanted to lick those droplets while you had your hands in his hair, moving up and down on his cock as you screamed out moans of ecstasy. he began to feel extremely overdressed in his leather jacket and dark jeans, especially as his manhood pressed against the tight denim.

the lights in the club went red-tinted magenta as you flipped upside down on the pole, spreading your legs in a perfect split before getting yourself back on your feet, kicking off your heels as money rained down onto the stage. your stage. the undeniable flush in your cheeks from the thrill made you look all the more enticing. like a succubus on earth that was delivered as a blessing to whoever laid eyes on you. you were glowing underneath the electric pink light. truly a tempting sight that implemented sinful thoughts into the minds of everyone who saw. you got on your knees, running a hand through your hair.

you held a hand out to the crowd, silently asking for a drink. mulitple people held out their beers, desperate to have their bottles touched by your lips. you snagged a bottle, throwing your head back as your took a greedy gulp from it, a waterfall of liquid pouring down your neck and chest, earning a roar of cheers as you handed the bottle back to the lucky man, leaving a lipstick stain on the rim. he took it, hugging it to his chest as his face lit up like he had just won the lottery. you had seen people sell things you’d touched outside the club. you knew they went crazy for shit like that.

euronymous’ body trembled as you crawled across the floor, saying your hips in a way that was enough to make him run mad as you collected all the cash, stuffing the bills into your bra and a few into the lace of your panties, just barely peeking out. his eyes trailed down your curves, starting at the tops of your breasts and trailing down to your hips. he wanted to run his hand down your body while you were lying on your back with two of his fingers shoved deep inside of you. you brought your hands to the back of your bra, and that did it for him. he called the bartender, trying to get the words out of his tightening throat.

“what can i get for you, sir? another beer?” the bartender spoke loudly over the music while he cleaned a glass. euronymous cleared his throat, trying to sound like the “terror incarnate” that he’d forgotten he was. “i-i wanna book tonight’s dancer for some alone time.” his voice sounded more squeaky than he’d like it to. “alright then, sir. ill just need you to sign this sheet.” the bartender pulled out a leaf of paper and placed it on the counter in front of him, handing euro a pen. the paper had the words “private sessions” in bold at the top of the page with the price right below it. €100 per session. but he was too horny to give a fuck. he saw your name and an open time on a line at the bottom, a space for a signature. he picked up the pen with his clammy hand and messily scribbled down his signature, slamming the money onto the counter and returning the sheet. the bartender looked at him with a satisfied smile before pinning the paper in the wall. so euronymous was finally going to get you alone. perfect.

~ ~ ~

that was 30 minutes ago, and now euronymous found himself in one of the club’s backrooms, sitting on a little bed as he fidgetted, waiting for you. his scheduled time was 9:30pm, and it was currently 9:29. he mindlessly studied the mattress, a variation of cumstains littering the blanket. now he really knew what he was in for tonight, and his mind raced with disgusting thoughts that would be frowned upon if he was anywhere else. the sound of the door closing interrupted his thoughts, and there you were. you were all sweaty and tired, but somehow that only made you more alluring to him. you had slipped a jacket onto your skimpy outfit, granting you a little more modesty.

you locked eyes with him immediately, frozen in place by his appearance. you had never seen someone like him at a place like this before. his long, midnight black hair contrasted his snow white skin that made way for crystal blue eyes. he was like a fairy tale mixed with your darkest nightmares. he sized you up hungrily, and you felt heat pooling in your core. you broke the silent, a grin tugging at your lips. “so i’ve got you for the night…” euro’s groin sizzled at your hint of possessiveness, which he instantly found he liked. your voice was low and smoky, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would sound like when he pounds into you, making you cum for the umpteenth time as you whimpered out his name. you walked around the room, lighting a few candles before glancing at him once again.

“i don’t see many guys like you around these parts.” you come to sit on the bed beside him, checking out his body from a closer distance. he was jacked. you could easily make out his defined biceps through his leather jacket, and you could see his nipples sticking from his thin black tank top. you seemed slightly amused at his silence. “you dont talk much, huh? that’s fair. what’s your name?” he cleared his throat. “euronymous, lead guitarist of Mayhem. call me oystein.” your expression grew sly at the mention of this. you casually crawled into his lap, slipping off your jacket and his. you sat down with your legs on either side of him, resting yourself right on top of his aching boner.

a barely audible groan slipped from his lips as his eyes instantly fell to your tits. he so desperately wanted to tear the bra off of you and take them into his mouth, pinching and biting at your nipples until they were all red and sensitive. you held his hands, bring them to your hips so that he was gently straddling your ass. you brought your lips to his ears, whispering softly enough to turn his bones into putty. “you know… i don’t think i’ve ever been fucked by a rockstar…” as his hands touched you, you felt the callouses on his fingers, and you pussy throbbed at the thought of those fingers curling inside of you, making you squirt over and over again.

the room fell silent as you turned around, your head by his feet and your ass pressing right against his knotted stomach. you unbuttoned your skirt, adding it to the pile of clothes on the ground. and there it was. those curvy hips, plush thighs, and round rear that had caught his eyes at the very start. goddamnit, he would cum right now if he couldn’t get himself together. you start to grind your hips against him, your clothed pussy coming into contact with his boner every now and then. he leaned back onto the bedframe, starting to really enjoy the show. he didn’t even realize his hitching breath growing louder.

you kept your back in a perfect arch as you continued to tease him, rubbing your hard clit against his belt buckle as he gave your ass a squeeze, followed by a firm slap that make your ass jiggle. the movement made his heart jump. he began to get touchy, slipping his thumb in between your legs as he gently rubbed your pussy through the fabric. he was instantly coated in your juices as a quiet moan slipped from your lips. then you started to pick up the pace.

you sat back up, turning to face him. you backed away a few feet before reaching your hands to the clasp of your bra, unclipping it in one swift movement. your tits were revealed to him in an instant, your nipples brushed to stiff peaks by the cold air. you tossed your bra to him and he caught it effortlessly, starting to unbuckle his belt. he tossed it to the side, unzipping his jeans. his cock sprung out and slapped the base of his stomach, leaving a drop of precum behind. he wrapped your bra around his dick, starting to pump it as quicker cum dribbled from the tip.

“o-oh, fuck…” heat coiled in his gut as you slipped your thumbs underneath the band on your panties. you kicked them off your ankles, now sitting completely nude in front of this hungry predator. “y-you’re fuckin’ perfect…” he brought a hand forward to start pulling you to him, bringing you to sit on his lap once again. he wasted no time connecting your lips in a dirty kiss, his tongue tracing your teeth and locking with your tongue as he brought his fingers to your swollen clit, using your cum as lubricant as he rubbed quick circles onto it. you moaned into the kiss, bucking your hips into him as you covering his fingers with your liquids.

he flipped you around so that you were laying on your back. he was now face-to-face with your perfect little pussy. he dug his teeth into it, hungrily lapping up every single droplet that your folds produced. he shoved two fingers into you, them sliding in with ease as he curled them. he hit your cervix within seconds, and you completely lost it. you were screaming, crying out his name as you rutted your hips against his nose, the tip bringing more stimulation than anything else. your hands were tangled in his hair, digging into it as your sensitive bud began to pulsate. “j-just like that, oystein..! i’m fuckin’ cumming!” he forced your legs apart even more, his hips helplessly bucking into the mattress as puddles of cum formed underneath him. his face was covered with your nasty fluids, but he had never been happier. as his fingers hit your g-spot once more, the floodgates broke open. you screamed as water rushed out of you, drenching his hair and face. he stuck out his tongue, drinking you up and not letting a single drop go to waste.

he flipped you over again, making you sit on his lap as he locked his lips with yours, backing into the headboard. he lifted up your hips and set you onto his cock, finally granting himself some relief. “s-so fucking tight!” you began to ride him, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. he grinned as he groaned breathlessly, growing needier by the second. he began to take off his tank top, revealing himself to you. but your eyes were screwed shut as they filled with lustful tears. he grabbed your throat, hungrily kissing your neck as your body started to shake. “...all fuckin’ mine, baby…” his words made your skin vibrate as you felt that familiar feeling polluting your insides.

“g-gonna cum again..!” your words were cut short as another powerful orgasm tore through your body. your cum poured out like a waterfall, covering his as hot strings shot out from his tip. he growled like a wild beast as he filled you up, stuffing you with warmth. you collapsed onto your side, panting heavily as cum leaked out from your hole and onto the bed, adding to the collection of stains. you were tapped out in less than 2 minutes. euronymous sat up, looking at you as he twirled your hair in between his fingers. “all fucking mine.”

author's note: in my flop era 😝😝😝

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #euronymous #lords of chaos #smut #oystein aarseth #euronymous smut #eurorory #444rockstargf #lana del rey #pelle ohlin #hellhammer #jan axel blomberg #r!euronymous

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thisapplepielife · 4 months

Text

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Dirty Thirty

Prompt Day 24: Birthday | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Childhood Trauma, Language | Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Steve & Gareth, Eddie Turns 30, Birthday Blues, Hurt/Comfort, Steve POV

"It's his dirty thirty," Steve says, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear, "We have to do something."

Gareth laughs through the receiver.

"Well, you can dig your own grave if you want to, but I'm definitely not crawling in it with you," Gareth says, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut.

Eddie usually loves his birthday, but several weeks ago the decree came down that he wanted nothing for his birthday. He wanted to pretend it didn't exist. But is Steve really supposed to do nothing to celebrate Eddie's thirtieth birthday? That's a milestone.

Eddie almost didn't make it to twenty-one. But he did, and that birthday party was so fucking wild that Steve still doesn't remember everything that happened. All he knows is he woke up with a tattoo on his arm that looks suspiciously like Eddie's handiwork, though Eddie still denies it.

So, Eddie turning thirty should be celebrated. Maybe not a kegger that ends in beloved, if unplanned, tattoos. But still. Something special.

"What if-"

"No," Gareth says, "whatever you're thinking. No."

Steve sighs, in disappointment.

Gareth's right, is the thing. Eddie isn't one to say he doesn't want something, but secretly does. He said he didn't want anything, so he really doesn't want anything this year.

Steve knows Eddie isn't the type to dwell on getting older. He usually loves that shit. Loves that he lived, and has kept on living. So, this is out of character, and hard for Steve to swallow.

"I know," Steve finally says, "you're right."

"What was that? Say it again, a little louder. You know my hearing is shitty from years of drumming."

Steve laughs, "Gareth, you're right. Even if I loathe to admit it."

Gareth cackles, but then turns serious.

"I know you mean well, Steve-o. But let's just do what he wants, okay? Not what we want. Of course, I'll want you to throw me a huge dirty thirty. Strippers coming out of the cake, the whole nine yards," Gareth says.

"I think your wife might have something to say about that," Steve says, dryly.

Gareth just laughs.

Steve finally relents, "Okay, I won't plan anything."

"Smart man," Gareth says, and hangs up the phone.

Gareth is Eddie's best friend, but maybe Steve should float this situation past Jeff and Goodie, too. Just in case. Get a second and third opinion. Gareth isn't the be-all and end-all.

So, Steve gives them each a call.

Jeff is kind, but firm, with his hard no vote.

Goodie is a hard yes, but it's a trap, and Steve knows better than to fall for it.

It doesn't take long for Gareth to call back.

"Steven."

Steve hangs his head, "I just had to ask them, okay?!"

"No means no!" Gareth shouts.

"I won't do shit, I promise," Steve says.

"You better not," Gareth says, and hangs up on him for the second time today.

And Steve doesn't plan anything.

Eddie turns thirty, and nothing happens. Steve hates it.

He takes Eddie out to eat, but Eddie wouldn't even pick somewhere nice. No, he just wanted to grab food from the taco truck that always sits in the parking lot of the hardware store.

So, they eat messy tacos, standing up, outdoors, in January, while people carry lumber to their waiting trucks.

Eddie never mentions it's his birthday, and nobody else does either.

It's weird.

That night they lay in bed, and Steve feels like he's missed something big here. It's a gnawing sensation in his gut, and he hates it. Eddie doesn't even seem in the mood for birthday sex. Not that he needs a reason to get Steve into bed, but he usually likes to pretend it's a special gift, just for him, and Steve always goes along with it.

Not tonight.

Tonight, they lay in the quiet, and Steve feels like this whole day, this whole week, has been off. He's running through every damn thing that could have led up to this, when Eddie finally speaks.

"I'm older than my mom ever was, now," Eddie says in the dark.

And there it is. The piece Steve was missing. Of course.

Steve rolls onto his side, wrapping his arm around Eddie. Hugging him tight.

"I'm sorry, honey, that must be weird."

Eddie nods, and then tucks his head into his own chest, and cries. Steve can feel his back shaking with the movement.

Steve presses his face into Eddie's back, holding him. There's no fixing this kind of hurt. Steve knows. Eddie has to feel it. But Steve holds him tight, and Eddie lets him, leaning back against Steve's chest, seeking comfort. They've been that comfort for each other for years, a decade now, even if Steve gets it wrong sometimes. Still can't read Eddie's mind, as much as he'd like to, especially in times like these.

"I'm sorry I've been so weird," Eddie says, his voice thick.

"I love you," Steve tells him.

Eddie suddenly rolls in his arms, pressing his face into Steve's neck. Steve just hugs him tighter, rubbing his back.

"I feel like I'm a little kid again, crying like this," Eddie says, and Steve presses his face into Eddie's hair.

"It's okay to cry," Steve tells him, because it is. It took Steve a long time to realize that, because crying wasn't okay growing up in the Harrington household.

But as an adult? If he wants to cry. He'll fucking cry. Steve finds he always feels better after he's let it all out.

"I know," Eddie says, "but it hurts today like it's fresh, and not decades old. I hate it."

Steve rubs his back, then pulls back, "Put on your shoes."

"What? Why?" Eddie asks, and Steve touches his arm, urging him on.

Twenty minutes later, Wayne is holding Eddie as he cries, and this is definitely what Eddie needed. Steve's absolutely sure.

Eddie can't have his mom, but he still has Wayne. His dad, in all the ways that matter.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #birthday #hurt/comfort #steddie #steddie ficlet #birthday blues #steve harrington #gareth (stranger things)#eddie munson #wayne munson #gareth & steve harrington #stranger things #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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