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totalswag · 4 months

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pairs love - DREW STARKEY

authors not since drew is in pairs at the fashion shows i thought why not write something cute and adorable. like can we talk about how freaking good he looked walking around ugh. the poll is officially over and the rafe series won! ima start working on the master list and have it up.

summary you come out to visit your boyfriend in pairs during fashion week.

warnings kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower

Drew was invited to two fashion shows in Paris: menswear for Prada and Loewe menswear. He left three days ago, while you stayed at home to put the finishing touches on your flower garden.

You couldn't be more proud of your boyfriend with all the success he's gained over the past couple years. He truly deserves this. Getting the recognition he deserves.

Last night, you landed in Pairs, drained from hours on the plane and eager to shower and sleep on a bed. It felt good seeing Drew and being in his arms. Although it was three days without each other, you always miss his presence.

Drew had the day off, so he planned to take you out to dinner, walk around, shopping, and visit the Eiffel Tower. He advised you to get enough rest early so you have enough rest to explore the Pairs at night.

During dinner, Drew spoke about what the shows were like and meeting celebs he's seen in movies or other people for the first time. It was really cool hearing what he had to say.

You were quite excited to visit the Eiffel Tower. You've always wanted to see it in person someday. Your inner child was jumping up and down inside.

"That restaurant was so delicious; I can see why you enjoy it so much," you tell Drew, tucking your hands into your coat to keep them warm from the cold.

"I'm glad to hear that you liked it baby," He smiles, tilts his head to the side, and blushes.

You chuckle as you playfully nudge his arm. He pretends to fall on his side, with a dramatic expression on his face.

"You are such a dork," you laugh.

"Your favorite dork, dork," he responds in a playful tone, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you continue walking down the sidewalk.

Drew and you went inside a few stores that caught your eye; you might've bought a few things. Drew watched you in awe as you showed him different clothing throughout the store.

"What do you think about this one?" You inquired Drew, holding two clothes that piqued your interest.

Drew hurriedly glances aside from the apparel rack he was browsing. His brows furrow as he casts a stern stare with his pointer finger on his chin.

"I think both will look great on you, but I'd go with this one because it draws your eyes out," he says casually, sweeping his arm toward the shirt you first showed him.

"You are too sweet, you know that" you reply as you turn around, putting back the other clothing item.

He loves seeing you happy. He knew how much you've always wanted to visit Pairs and thought this was the best time to go.

"Thank you for the stuff, baby," you grin, gripping his hand and lifting the bag with your other hand.

When you went out of the last store, you heard people heading in your direction, fans. They walked forward with grins on their faces, carrying items for him to sign and their phones for photos.

When one fan spotted you were with him, she screamed your name out in delight, and the rest followed after. You put your free hand over your heart with a pout before beaming at the little fans.

We love you Drew

This is the best day of my life

I can't believe he's in front of me

He's so beautiful in person

Drew started taking pictures with the fans; giving them hugs, making videos for fans that couldn't make it, signed a few things, and had conversations.

Fans also came up to as well. They were all so sweet and caring. One fan came up to you with tears forming in her eyes, you opened your arms to welcome her.

You are so sweet, Y/N

You are so gorgeous

Can't believe you are here too

I love your relationship with Drew

When word spread that Drew was in a relationship, all of the fans went crazy, searching for who this mystery girl was. You were apprehensive about how the fans might react.

You eventually posted a TikTok video with your best friend, Madelyn Cline, and Drew happened to be in the background; people then connected the dots. In the end, they loved and admired you.

Being in a relationship with someone in the public spotlight offers advantages and disadvantages, but you wouldn't alter it for anything, especially if you love them.

"Don't cry now love," you tell her softly, "what's your name?" She tells you her name and goes on to explain how much she loves you and your content you post.

"That's so sweet of you, thank you."

You spent ten minutes with the girls until it was ready to go look at the Eiffel Tower.

The Eiffel Tower was everything you've dreamed of. Seeing it in person was one of the best feelings in the world. So many emotions were going through your body.

You got out your phone to capture some photos and videos to share later tomorrow. Drew snapped a photo of you with his digital camera, capturing the tower, and he couldn't help but smile.

He carefully put his arms around your waist, drawing you into his front, chin on top of your head, rocking you side to side slowly and silently while savoring the moment.

"This has been one of the greatest days of my entire life. Being here with you in your arms in Pairs. I just want to say thank your for bringing me out here and experiencing this."

You feel your body relax in his touch, allowing a sigh to escape your lips, your head to strike his chest, and giving him the opportunity to kiss you.

You two don't give a damn whether anyone witnesses you kissing at this point. Right now, just the two of you matter because you are in love. And you are in Pairs.

"I had to bring you out here with me, of course, sweetheart. You keep me warm, too, and I love holding you in my arms. However, when you consider it, this is our first trip to Europe as a couple” he says.

You move your body around so that your chests are against one another. In return, you up on your small toes and wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him all over his face.

I love you.

I love you more.

my taglist!

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line over your name that means i couldn't find your account.

@runningfrom2am @winterrrnight @chenslucy @brooklynscherry-z @johannelis2302nely @rosezza @kaydr3venge

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey blurb #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagines #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n #drew starkey/rafe cameron 🍒

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suuuupernovaaa · 11 months

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Clean | Hobie Brown x f!Reader

You got yourself into a little bit of a fight, and Hobie has to patch you up.

Mature. 18+. Mention of blood.

The cloth meets your tender skin, and you hiss and try to pull your hand away.

"Hobie, that hurts," you say through gritted teeth. "What is on that?"

Holding your hand tightly to your chest, as if to protect it from him, you look up to see an exasperated expression on his face.

"Stuff to clean it. Give me that back." He grabs your hand a little gruffly, and puts the cloth back on. When the sting subsides, it does feel nice and cool.

"Someone out to teach you how to throw a proper punch," Hobie says, dabbing the cloth gently, moving it up your arm to where your other scrapes are. None of them are terribly deep, except a slight gash on your thigh from, you think, falling onto some broken glass.

"I know how," you reply quietly. He moves to your other arm, and you feel the stinging again. "It wasn't much punching, anyway. It was like... clawing and shoving. It was chaotic."

He gives you your hands back, and looks down at your legs, noticing the cut on your thigh. He lets a whistle out from between his teeth, and stands up. He rinses out the cloth he's been using, and grabs a new one from his kitchen drawer. He puts more 'stuff' on it, and returns to you, sitting down.

"This is gonna hurt." He scoots close, so that your legs are between his, and without another warning, presses the cloth to your cut.

"Oh crap!" you shout, and you're annoyed when Hobie starts chuckling.

"Oh crap!" he mimics in a high-pitched voice, meant to resemble yours. He places a large bandage on your leg, and a couple others on cuts that look a little nastier on your arms, and then sits back. "Think you'll survive," he comments. "Now, you need to tell me why you were in a fight. Looked like a couple of cats in a bag when I arrived."

You turn away, looking from where you sit at his kitchen table over to the TV, which is showing the news. Hobie always has the news on, even though he hates it and everything they ever talk about.

"It just, escalated. She was a fan, I guess, of the band. And she asked if I knew you, and I said yes. And she said... some not nice things. She was just drunk."

You're his whore, then? Do you think I could get in on some of that? I'm sure he's not very picky. I mean, look at you.

You can feel the way she grabbed at your stomach, pinching it. It felt like something scripted out of a bad teen movie, except it was really happening, and she just wouldn't stop.

"What did she say?" Hobie asks. When you look back at him, he's leaned forward, eyes narrowed, lips pursed.

"It doesn't really matter. It's over."

"It matters to me."

You shake your head and wave your hand in the air, as if to dismiss the conversation. "Really, Hobie. It was just, I don't want to relive it."

He reaches out and places a warm hand on your bruised knee. "Tell me."

You roll your eyes and sigh. "She said like, I must be, uh, sleeping with you and your standards must be low because... I'm like, fat, or whatever."

Hobie sits up, his back straight as a board, his eyebrows raised and his jaw a little slack. "And you beat the shit out of her?"

You draw your line into a straight mouth and nod. "Sort of. I mean, I can't fight but, she was bleeding and crying at the end of it. I was bleeding too but, I wasn't crying."

He nods, as if in approval. "Why does she think we're sleeping together?" he asked. "She's seen you, at a show or something?"

"I didn't get a whole backstory, Hobie. I guess so."

"Hm." He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Must've noticed how I look at you. Everyone has. 'Cept you."

How Hobie looks at you? You try to think of what he could be referring to. Sometimes when he's on stage, he finds you in the crowd and smiles. But, you're good friends, so that doesn't seem all that exciting to you - does it seem that way to everyone else?

"How do you look at me?"

"Like I'd like to fuck you, Y/N. Like the shape of your body is all I can think about, and it really doesn't fucking matter what anyone else thinks about it. It fucking keeps me up at night."

It feels like you've been slapped in the chest, and all the air has left your lungs. Your mouth is instantly dry, and your legs feel weak.

Hobie is so dry, so even-toned, it's hard to tell if he's joking or not - but would that be a funny joke right now? Hobie is a lot of things, but he's not insensitive, and he certainly wouldn't try to hurt you on purpose.

"It does?" you ask finally.

He leans forward again, bringing his face just a few inches from yours. "I want you, Y/N. I thought I'd made it obvious, but now I see, I didn't."

You lick your bottom lip, and Hobie glances down at your mouth.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask, and a soft moan escapes his mouth, as if asking for permission turns him on. You feel his fingertips on your cheek, running upwards, until he cups your face in his hand.

You should close your eyes, you think, but the sight of him coming towards you is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. His soft brown eyes, his full lips, his sharp cheek bones, his glistening piercings; you want to remember every sharp edge and round corner.

He pauses, just before your lips meet and whispers, "Anything you want to do to me, you can."

#hobie brown #Hobie brown x reader #hobie brown fic #hobie brown smut

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neominthe · 5 months

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Practicing character design with some novel's MCs. Here are my headcanons:

Cheong Myeong

Bulky and beefy body. Big arms and hands, which can't be seen as his robes are too big on him

Tanned skin as he trains in the sun a lot, but only on the hands, face and neck since they aren't covered by his Mount Hua robes

I headcanon him as short since he started exercising from an early age in unhealthy amounts, stunting his growth

Super curly hair which Cheong Myeong keeps constantly in a ponytail. At one point in time he will pull in a bun to keep it from tangling

Sharp eyes with extremely long eyelashes

Han Yoojin

I'm a sucker for gaining weight representing character is in a safe and happy place for them

His nose is like a button, a feature he shares with Yoohyun

Yoojin has curlier hair than Yoohyun, though does not care for it. As a result, it's constantly messy and tangled, adding to the 'single mother who has two jobs' look

In the novel (I can't remember which chapter) it is mentioned that Yoojin gained a bit of skin color, making him look healthier. I followed the webtoon skin color (which was like white paper) and darkened it a bit, to look healthier but still very light

Yoojin has pieces of Sung Hyunjae's wardrobe on him. The guy has a lot of money, surely he won't be missing his 100k dollar suit right? (Hyunjae allows it since it is Yoojin stealing and it kinda "marks his territory". You know, like a dog)

Park Moondae

After receiving Idol Inc' sweather, he always wears it as Moondae is too lazy to go buy his own clothes (and to save money)

He got the shoes from Seon Ahyeon, which were one size bigger than his. Moondae doesn't bother telling Ahyeon he got the wrong size, so wearing it causes blisters

Moondae has "dead fish eyes" and a small mouth, making him look like the emoji '-' Fans find it adorable, though

He got a soft jawline and a thin face, as well as a pointy nose

It's possible to determine Moondae's emotion by the glint of his eyes, but only his close friends can do it precisely

Kim Dokja

I didn't intend to make him look like a corpse, but as I kept drawing it felt more and more right for him to be that way. He was an office worker and only had one happiness: a webnovel

Dokja spends most of his time indoors, so he is very pale and lacking of vitamin D. As he became a constellation and Demon King, his complexity worsened and looked inhumane, turning grey ash

He is able to retract his wings, but not his horns. They are constantly out and a burdensome, since Dokja often forgets they are there, making him hit the doorframe several times

Dokja's hair covers a part of his face (an ode to the damn censorship Bihyung added) and is choppy because he cuts his own hair. If cared and brushed almost every day, it would be like his mom's: flowy and soft

He has long eyelashes, especially on the lower lid, and downturned eyes, which makes him look gloomy and teary-faced

I imagine Dokja having a bit of a hunchback from all the time he spends in his phone and working in a computer

Dokja also has long legs, which he keeps hidden under his tattered coat

Cale Henituse

The man has a thin and tall body, to the point he seems both elegant and fragile at the same time

Cale has light skin due to his time spent indoors or under every shade he can find whenever he has to go out

Cale's features are mostly pointy, with sharp angles and straight lines running down. His nose is upturned, has arched eyebrows and sharp eyes

The straight hair was inherited from Deruth's parents, Cale's gradparents and red obviously from Jour

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teddybeartoji · 10 days

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lays down and kicks my feet, tell me some thoughts you have about satoru, draws circles on your blog with my finger

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII JAZZ HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII:3333333333 IT'S SO GOOD TO SEE YOU HEREE HEHEHEHHEEE i have a bunch of smaller headcanons for him i hope that's what you were looking for!!!!!!!!

HE DROOLS WHEN HE SLEEPS!!!!!!!! like actually drools. he also snores but the snoring is so fucking cute??????????? i hate him why is everything he does always so perfect?????????? bro can't even fucking drool and snore in a bad way smhhhhhhhhh

HE LOVES WATCHING YOU DO "HARD WORK"!!!!!!!!! and by "hard work" i mean shit like carrying around heavy things and idk putting together furniture or smth lmao. it most definitely turns him on too.......... there's just smth abt your dirty clothes and your sweat and your concentrated face and he loooooves when you tell him that you don't want his help!!! he always offers bc he's a Gentleman like that even though he knows you don't necessarily need it. but the way you just go "no-no, i got it." gets him going!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he wants youu!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he's bringing you drinks like he's a proper malewife and then proceeds to just admire you while you work lmao.

HE LOVES CALLING YOU!!!!!!!!! calls you over the smallest things. he just wants to talk to you and he wants to hear your voice!!!!!! some of the calls are literally just minute long (and that's only bc he spends 30seconds on saying that he loves you), while some calls are hours long. oh and he absolutely adores if you do the same. he wants you to call and send voice messages!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LOSES HIS SOCKS ALL THE TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and he steals yours btw. he's constantly going "baaaaaaaabee! have you seen my sock?!" while the said sock is literally sitting on the chair right next to him SMHHH ok but when you show it to him he just turns to you with a dopey smile and gives you a sloppy, haste little kiss, mumbling how he doesn't know what he'd do without you............... i wanna marry him jazz i wanna marry him

LOVES KISSING YOUR TUMMYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he's always smiling while doing it too. you could just be lazing on the couch, scrolling on the phone and he's crawling on top of you. he pushes up your shirt just so he can see and feel your skin before pressing light, gentle kisses on you. if you peek at him from under your phone, you'd just find him staring back at you with sparkling eyes.

HE DOESN'T LIKE TEA???????? idk this just feels right okay... don't judge me i am an avid tea drinker so i am upset abt this too. no matter how much honey or sugar you put on it, he's always scrunching his nose at the taste. he is willing to try different ones just for you but i really feel like he's not a fan of any of the flavours. (FLAVOUR???? TEA FLAVOUR???? idk english is weird ok)

(he knows exactly how you like yours though. suguru has taught him how to make good tea, so satoru relishes in making you smile whenever he surprises you with a cup!!!! he knows when you want it too; he's a bit of a mind reader honestly. you sit down on the couch and he's already marching into the kitchen with a mission. it's his love language<33)

SHOWERS EVERY MORNING!!!!!!!!!! i think he loves showering. just overall. it gives him so much energy and it makes him feel so good, so fresh - it's the best way to start his day!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also sings in the shower. or more like yells in the shower. a lot. he's dumb and i love him. and then he always steps out of the bathroom with wet hair and just like a pair of pyjama pants on and he smells so fucking good aaaand it makes you wanna get him all dirty again!!!!! i said what i said.

(he sometimes just leans on the doorframe as he's brushing his teeth and just grins at you knowing full well that you wanna EAT HIMMM)

OKE I THINK I'M GONNA STOP HERE BEFORE I FULLY LOSE IT!!!!!!! BUT WAHHH I LOVE TALKING ABT HIM SOOO SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR DROPPING BY AND THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME JAZZ<333333333333333 I HOPE YOU'RE HAVING AN AMAZING DAY MY LOVEE MWAH MWAH MWAHMWAH!!!!!

#MY BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#HE'S SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO BOYFRIEND #SOOOOSO BOYFRIEND #IT'S CRAZY #HE'S LITERALLY A LOVERBOY #LIKE HE'S JUST MEANT TO BE A LOVERBOY #!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#my sweet angel #angel boy #jazz <3 #friends!!#mickey is daydreaming #gojo #gojo headcanons #gojo fluff #gojo satoru

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fatescaprice · 3 months

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hi black swan fan #1, you don't know who this is. i really like your series of dreampeek calls and i was wondering if you could do one for sunday..... twiddles fingers. thank you so much for your time (if you do it or not), i love your writing & have a good dayyy!!!! ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

dreampeek calls: sunday

content warnings: none

note: hello anon who i definitely do not know . thank u v much :) i get very ill about tiny details so the dreampeek calls were like getting blasted in the face . here is ur biblically accurate boyfriend !!! i'm sorry if he's ooc . there isnt much content to reference yet . either way i hope u enjoy :)!!!

For all the reverence that’s granted to him, the dream SUNDAY always finds himself returning to is the one where he’s greeted with the sight of you asleep on the sofa, your head lolling back on the backrest, your hair splayed out around you — a more magnificent halo than anything he could ever hope to see.

You, blinking your bleary eyes open. Him, asking why you hadn’t yet gone to bed. He tugs the gloves off of his hands and leaves them on the coffee table, draws the back of his hand up to your forehead to check for a fever, but you only drag his hand down to nuzzle your cheek into his palm. “Dearest love,” he says, soft, gentle, shedding the ‘Sunday’ that belongs to the people of Penacony and becoming the ‘Sunday’ that belongs to you alone, “tell me what troubles you.”

“I just wanted to wait for you,” you reply, and his heartbeat, always so steady and composed, stutters for a fleeting moment.

Sunday dreams of revering you the way you deserve. Shall he prepare festivals in your honour? Dress you in the most opulent clothing the Family can provide? Or would you prefer he brush the hair out of your face, dance with you in the living room and guide you back to bed? He has no qualms, regardless. He was yours since you both came into this world, and he will be yours long after the last star dies out.

The dreamchasers of Penacony travel the universe in search of a sweet dream, but the only one he has is to hold you in his arms just a while longer.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #sunday x reader #✎... writing.#im on a roll today i think . i have gotten approximately 6 hours of sleep on average this week

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allfearstofallto · 2 months

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Could I please have Nsfw alphabet B, F, K, O for Lyney?

Apparently Lyney is a fan favorite for this one!! I'm glad people think I wrote him okay!!

Lyney x Fem! Reader

TW: 18+ MDNI, body worship, cum eating, unprotected sex, finishing inside, exhibitionism, oral (f. receiving), overstimulation

B ody part - Their favorite body on themselves and on their partner

Such a thin waist, it'd be a shame to not show it off. Lyney loves his stomach, his midriff, his abdomen, whatever you prefer to call it. Such a lean build means his gorgeous body is androgynous, his soft stomach and small waist doing nothing but drawing attention. He loves to lift his shirt to tease you, to show you how soft and beautiful his skin is beneath his clothes. He wants you to grab him by the waist, to hold him there while you worship his body.

On your body though, his interest is lower. Those plush thighs of yours drive him absolutely insane. He can't help but to grab and squeeze them, to sink his fingers into the fat of them. He loves resting his head on them as you pat his head or spreading them and burying his face in their warmth. Slicking them up with his saliva and rubbing his cock between them, using the thickness of them to make himself cum and then licking it off of your flesh.

F avorite position - This goes without saying

You on top is like a work of art. He wouldn't have it any other way. He's so used to being the one putting on shows, that having you do one for him has him cumming without much resistance.

Your hands planted on his chest, your breasts bouncing, your plush thighs on top of his. If he lasts even more than a minute inside you like this, you know something's wrong. All you have to do is sink down onto his cock on top of him, and he's singing out words of praise, telling you how close he is to filling you up and how beautiful you are. Truly a sight to behold.

K ink - One or more of their kinks

An exhibitionist at heart, he loves to be seen, that's with or without you of course. If you're watching he's satisfied, and if he's pounding into you from behind, making you go dumb on his cock, he wouldn't mind a few eyes on him as well. Knowing that someone is seeing him perform gets him going, it makes him fuck you harder and faster, makes him cum quicker but still keep going.

He loves the act of strip teasing. Taking off all your clothes at once is so boring, isn't it? Make it slow. Sensual. He wants to eye up each individual piece of flesh that is exposed after the clothing is removed, he wants to take you in slowly. And he wants to do the same to him. Praise his body as he undresses and he'll praise yours. Words of affirmation going back and forth until the both of your are so desperate to touch each other, that the moment you finally do, it's like animals rutting.

O ral - Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

Always a giver he is, and he absolutely loves it. His tongue isn't only for gaining the attention of a crowd, he knows exactly what he's doing down there. Lyney can and will talk you through it, lapping at your folds, he'll tell you just how good you taste just for him, and how he'll keep tasting until you can only say his name.

He loves to eat while you're sitting on his face, thighs on his head and the weight of your body comforting him. Lyney loves the way your cunt drips down into his mouth. Heaven is between your legs, he says, and heaven should be clenching around his tongue. He won't let you leave, no, not while he's enjoying his meal. His vice like grip on your legs is tight, keeping your there and his skillful tongue forces another orgasm from your body.

#mai<3 answers #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin lyney x reader #genshin lyney #genshin lyney smut #lyney smut #lyney x reader #lyney x reader smut #smut #mdni

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earlgreyflowers · 6 months

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hi love! your prompt list is great, i immediately thought of prompt 60. « look at me » with dr3, if you feel like it!

Word Count - 1.3k

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You and Daniel had been together for a long time, you’d been by his side during the highs and lows at his previous teams, and now here you were as he raced for AlphaTauri. It was the second race of the triple header, Mexico, and after all the fun of COTA he was desperate to score some points. You held your breath for the whole race, fingers crossed behind your back as he crosses the line in P7. You can't help but smile when he comes into the garage, congratulated by everyone for the points for the team.

He comes to you, smile wide and arms outstretched. He engulfs you in a hug, pulling you up into the air whilst laughing. "Never thought I'd be this happy for P7 but I did it!" He laughs as he places you back onto the ground. "You did, I'm so proud of you, you drove so well!" You tell him, watching his eyes crinkle as his smile gets almost impossibly bigger. You can almost see the hunger in his eyes, the urge to celebrate as the corner of his lip quirks.

It only takes a few hours for you guys to get back to Daniel's hotel room, and it only takes a few seconds before he's leading you into the bedroom, barely giving you time to drop your bags by the door. He doesn't even look back to make sure you're following, dragging you behind him. "Get naked." He commands, an excited tone to his voice. "Now." He says when you don't immediately remove your clothing. You pull your Enchante t-shirt off, allowing it to fall to the floor along with your bra. Your cargos are next, joining the growing pile of clothes, topped now with your underwear.

"You're so gorgeous." Daniel says, turning you to face the mirror. He towers over you, shirt discarded in the corner, his large hands smoothing over your stomach. He presses soft kisses to your neck and trails them down your shoulder. "Gonna let me celebrate my best race of the season sweetheart?" He asks, smiling as you nod.

"Look at me."

Your eyes lift to his in the mirror as his hand slides down from your stomach, running over your thighs before stopping in the centre. Your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his fingers but his other hand comes to hold your jaw. "Take your eyes off me and I stop." He whispers, slipping his hand to wrap around your neck. He feels the vibration of your whimper as his middle finger swirls around your entrance, collecting your arousal before dragging it over your clit. He can't help but admire your body, the way your knees bend and back arches slightly as he continues his movements. Your heavy breathing and soft whimpers fill the room, replaced by a loud moan as he slips his finger inside you.

"So wet honey, is it all for me?" He asks, watching as you fight to keep your eyes on him.

"All yours Danny, fuck please, I need more." You moan out desperately.

He heeds your request, slipping a second finger in easily. Both his digits begin curling against your walls, hitting that one spot that makes your stomach twist. You cry out his name, your hand coming to tangle in his hair as he bends to suck a purple mark into your neck. "You're so beautiful honey, and so wet. Can feel you clenching around me already." He groans into your skin. "Want you to cum around my fingers, please baby, for me." His mouth continues its exploration of your neck as you cum, his fingers drawing the orgasm from the depths of your body. If it wasn't for his hands you probably would've hit the ground as your knees buckled with its force. "So good for me." He groans, sucking his fingers clean.

"That's one." He mutters, picking you up before finally kissing you. You wrap your legs around his body as you taste yourself on his tongue, moaning into his mouth. He lays you down on the bed, your hair fanning out underneath you. Daniel discards his trousers and underwear, before grabbing you by the hips and pulling you toward him. He slides his cock between your lips, bumping your clit with his tip.

"Please Dan, want to feel you." You beg, pushing your hips up into him. "Can't keep my girl waiting can I?" He questions, sliding his cock into you with a groan. He reaches deep inside, making you moan at the feeling of fullness. "Feel so good honey." He moans out, dragging his cock in and out at a slow pace.

He hooks your leg over his shoulder, pressing the other down by the thigh as he drives himself into you. Daniel can't help but groan at the way your stomach bulges with each push of his cock. "Look at you, taking my cock so well." He murmurs, turning his head to press kisses onto your raised leg. Your moans fill the room once more, making you feel sorry for Yuki next door to you both. "That's it baby, want you to cum again for me, what do you need?" He asks, his hand on your thigh beginning to slide toward your pubic bone.

"Touch me, please." You moan out, jaw dropping in pleasure as his thumb comes to rub your clit. Your walls clench around him, making him moan out. He consumes your thoughts, his name spilling out of your mouth. "There we go, cum around me baby that's it." He groans, feeling your walls tighten even further. He chases his own orgasm, continuing to push into your aching pussy. "Want me to fill you up?" He asks, "Want me to stuff you full honey?" You can only whine in response as he buries himself inside you, cock twitching as he finishes with a groan of your name. You faintly hear him whisper "Two," before he presses a kiss to your forehead as he pulls out.

"Can you take one more beautiful? For me?" He asks, placing feather light kisses across your cheeks. "I-I think so." You murmur, nodding your head. "Tell me if it's too much." Daniel requests, kissing his way across your body. His tongue swirls around your nipples, the slight burn of his moustache leaving behind red marks. Once he reaches your stomach his hands pry your shaking legs open, leaving enough space for him to slot in between.

He presses his lips to your sensitive clit, relishing in the whine you release at the feeling. Daniel's tongue licks a stripe through your folds, collecting the salty taste of the combination of your cum. He continues lapping up your juices, his nose bumping your clit with every movement. His fingers press against your entrance, pushing his cum back inside you. "Oh my god Daniel, so fucking good." You moan, placing a gentle hand on his head. His tongue continues its ministrations, his fingers curling in the process. Your back arches, legs shaking as you tell him you're close. His other hand comes to press on your stomach, the pressure causing your release to spray all over Daniel's face. He groans, pressing his face further into you as your thighs close around his head.

With one last kiss he removes his fingers, licking them clean once more.

"Let's get you in the bath honey." He whispers, running his hands through your hair as you cuddle into him.

#f1 smut #f1 x reader #fem!reader #f1 x female reader #daniel ricciardo #the honey badger #dr3 #dr3 smut #dr3 fanfiction #dr3 imagine #dr3 x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #scuderia alphatauri #y/n

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daydreamgoddess14 · 10 months

Text

Complaints Procedure

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent x F!Reader

Literally just 1.5k of pure filth. Sorry, not sorry?! 😅Taken from this prompt.

Inspired by this image:

~~~~~

You knew to avoid the locker room immediately before and after matches. The less than stellar performance of the team during the season had seemingly made everyone angry - even Sam was down. Jamie Tartt continued to annoy and degrade everyone who so much as glanced at him, and the so-called Captain looked about ready to throw in the towel. Getting rid of George Cartrick may have been a wise decision, but his replacement was certainly unorthodox. You had your work cut out for you in HR, it was like babysitting 2 year olds - they all still bit, kicked, and scratched. Seeing you always gave them the initiative to put complaints in, complaints that you had to be seen to legitimately deal with, even if dealing with it meant sitting the idiots involved down and giving them a telling off. You had never told off Roy Kent, though. The man terrified and turned you on in equal measure.

Just the low timbre of his voice made your heart pound and flooded your body with want. Training was long over, so you figured you were safe to take some paperwork down to Ted Lasso's office. Your heels clicked on the concrete as you made your way through the maze of rooms. Wage slips for the folks in the ticket office, holiday forms for the staff in the medical and treatment areas, and the weekly update on player relations that Ted had asked you to draft. Who was fighting with who, who had you had to threaten with suspension, and who you'd just had to give an arse kicking to. As you turn to leave Ted’s office, Roy is coming back in from the showers. With just a towel gripped in his hand. You look literally anywhere else. The ceiling tiles become particularly interesting.

"Oi, what you doing in here?"

"Just dropping some paperwork off, no need to be rude."

"Sorry, just… thought I was alone, that's all." You drag your eyes from the ceiling to his, drawing an invisible line across his nose so you do not look any lower. "See something you like?" He teases, as if he knows it's taking all your will to not look at his chest or the towel.

"Definitely not. I'm done now, I'll leave you to it."

You're sure you must hold your breath on the walk from the locker room to your office because as soon as you shut the door, it all comes out in a whoooosh. As good-looking as he is, you can't stand his arrogance, dominance, and anger issues. You knew it was nothing new in football or in work at all, really. You'd seen every layer of the food chain, and it was always the top of the tree who thought they were gods gift. You knew he could be kind and thoughtful. You'd seen it for yourself with the younger, less experienced players and with fans too. It was definitely a certain calibre of person who set him off - the Jamie Tartts and George Cartricks of the world. You're still leaning against your office door when you feel and hear it knock. When it begins to open against your back, you have to jump out of the way so it can swing open. Fully clothed, Roy is on the other side.

"Do I scare you?" He asked, frowning.

"Course you don't scare me, I'm not a sodding child." You roll your eyes. "Did you need something?"

"I might need to put in a complaint." You arch an eyebrow at him,

"Really? Go on?" He took a step closer to you, so you take a step back.

"I saw the way you looked at me downstairs -" you scoffed,

"I did not look at you at all. I actively didn't look at you," you start, angry until you see the smirk. "Oh fuck off, did you come up here just for a laugh? I've got enough to deal with picking up

after Jamie Tartt since he can't stop making everyone miserable." He holds up his hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright, just a joke," he laughs a little. "You wanted to look though."

"You are just like the other idiots. So full of your own self importance, you all think everyone wants you." He narrows his eyes and takes another step towards you.

"At the risk of sounding like any of those pricks, tell me you don't?"

"What makes you think-"

"Humour me." He looks at you like he might devour you at any moment, his eyes dark with just a hint of mirth. He knows what you think about when you see him. You feel your breath quicken, and the urge to press your thighs together is desperate, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of being right. Before he can catch you in a lie, he forces you to take one final step back against your desk and leans down to capture your mouth in a messy, obscene kiss.

The shock of it makes you gasp, giving him access to deepen the kiss. Your hands grip at his shoulders to keep him close, trying to get him even closer if it's possible. He leans you back against your desk, the edge of it digging into the back of your thighs while his hands are trying to touch as much of you as possible. By leaning back on the desk, he can kiss along your jawline. It would be impossible now to make out that you don't want him, your greedy hands roam up his arms and into his hair and the sighs and moans he's pulling from you with just a kiss are insane. The length of his body presses against the length of yours and you feel him hard against your hip. Feeling how much he wants you only makes you need him more. Your hand brushes across the front of his jeans, making him jerk to meet it. He breaks the kiss and watches you breathlessly as you move to undo the button in the waistband. You can tell he's about to ask if you're sure, so you place a soft kiss to his lips,

"I want you to fuck me," you tell him quietly. There is still just a hint of hesitation in your voice, but it's more a fear that he'll reject you than anything else.

"Fucking hell." He sighs into you. He grips your hips and turns you to face the desk, you rest on your forearms. He has your skirt rucked up around your waist in no time at all and nudges your feet a little further apart. You don't have the time or inclination to feel embarrassed or to consider something more meaningful. The singular thought in your mind is having him inside you. You hear the tear of a condom wrapper and feel him at your core. His hand cups you first, wanting to check that you're ready. "You're so fucking wet," he mutters almost proudly. He gives your hip a little squeeze of warning and pushes inside you.

"God, Roy yesss," you hiss as he fills you completely. Fully seated, he pauses just a minute to reach down and sweep your hair to one side so he can kiss your neck, "please, Roy-" you push back against him, desperate for more. He takes the hint and pounds into you over and over. He’s hitting exactly where you need him with each thrust, and it's enough to have you believing in some sort of deity. You can feel the pressure building and you're so close to the edge it's overwhelming. "I'm so close, please daddy-" the words tumble from you, unfiltered and unexpectedly - that is a brand new one for you, and when you feel his pace slow just slightly, you're terrified that you've repelled him. He moans low in his chest and redoubles his efforts, unyielding, until you come hard, crying out his name.

"Say it again," he whispers against your ear, his body draped over your back. His hand reaches around to rub circles over your clit and you're so sensitive that the payback is almost immediate and you can feel another orgasm building.

"Fuck, make me come again daddy," you beg. He does exactly that within seconds of you asking, his own release coming at the same time. He holds your hips while your legs shake, his forehead resting on the center of your back. He slips out of you and disposes of the condom before turning you gently to rest you back against the desk. You keep your head down, chin to chest, mortified at what's just happened until his nose nudges against yours and he kisses you softly.

"Holy fucking shit, I should threaten to complain again, that was insane," he breathes, still holding your hips and trying to get you to look up at him.

"I shouldn’t ha-"

"No, don't do that. You're definitely going to say it again," he chuckles against you, "I fucking promise you'll say it again."

FIN

#roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent imagine #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent smut #roy kent fic #roy kent fluff #roy kent x you #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #rail me roy kent #pure filth #this is literally just sex

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siriusleee · 10 months

Text

Like Blood on Iron | 3

Historical Executioner AU

Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

Warnings: mentions of blood, family dynamics, semi-forced marriage mention, implied age gap, future smut, future blood and gore.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: This chapter was getting so hefty I had to cut it in half; the next chapter is so drama filled.

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 4

"Is this the smallest we can get her waist?"

You grimace as the seamstress pulls harder on the corset lacing, your hands trying to find some purchase underneath the boning to keep some breath in you.

"I think," you gasp out, pulling at the neckline where it digs into your chest, "that if we pull any tighter, I'll faint before I can make it down the aisle."

You intended for the words to come out dripping in irritation, sardonic, and cutting, but instead, they come out breathless. Behind you, the seamstress, an old woman who's probably made every dress in town for the past hundred years, chuckles before sticking a pin at the small of your back.

"She is a beautiful girl," the seamstress says through a mouthful of pins, "it doesn't matter how small her waist is - it won't cancel the wedding."

If only . You scowl at yourself in the mirror, skirts billowing out around you. You look ridiculous, your hair haphazardly piled on top of your head, the beginnings of a wedding dress pinned to you. You've been here for hours, stripped and measured, compiled and put back together. The heavy white brocade Mother picked out draped on you this way and that until she and the seamstress found it falling in a way they liked.

Sweat beads and drips down your neck, the hair that's touching you is drenched. Mother comes behind you and wipes at your chest with a cloth.

"Why are you sweating so much?"

"It's hot underneath all of this fabric," you protest, fanning yourself with your hands. "I'm tired, my feet hurt and this is like torture."

Mother studies your face, no doubt seeing the dark circles underneath your eyes. You know she's wondering what you're doing at night - if you had left the night before, but she doesn't say anything, her tongue sticks out just faintly from the corner of her mouth; a sign you know is her trying not to say anything.

The seamstress taps the back of your thigh as she stands, her back cracking from the struggle.

"Here you can sit on this stool. Careful - I don't need you sticking yourself and getting blood everywhere."

You lower yourself, knees aching from the scrapes and bruises you'd gotten the night before. You'd seen the way the seamstress and Mother looked at them when you had to strip down, saw the way their eyes cut to each other, and the way they bit their tongue. But you'd gotten them scampering across the new ship Uncle Henry had talked about. It had sailed into the port three days ago unexpectedly. Uncle Henry had been sick, Father said tense from his spot standing behind a dinner table; they'd needed to come back quickly for medical treatment. Maggie and Lily had offered to go see him, to take something to make him feel better but Mother had cut them off.

The entire conversation had been odd to you - the way Mother had cut off Lily and Maggie's kindness so quickly, the way Father had gone right when he left the house that night, whispering that he was going to check on Uncle Henry when the doctor's house is left. You'd spent two nights in the house, watching for Ghost's figure to appear at the end of the street, a tell-tale sign that he was open to some conversation for the night. Last night you'd gotten tired of waiting to see Ghost and tired of trying to eavesdrop on a conversation between Mother and Father that never seemed to be coming.

Once night had laid across the village, dark and muffled, you'd pulled a pair of father's old paints and a worn-out tunic from underneath your bed - you'd smuggled them both with the pretense of stitching up a hole for Father. It'd been easier to leave since Mother's ultimatum - Lily had been moved into Maggie's room and no one questioned your coming and going. But you knew if anyone caught you in men's clothing, the questions would be too much. So you'd dressed quickly and shoved your hair down the back of the tunic to try to hide its length and crept down the trellis.

You'd expected it to be difficult, to creep onto the ship. But it had been empty, all the usual night watch lanterns extinguished as it rolled lazily in the bay waves. You didn't know much about ships, you'd never paid attention to Father and Uncle's ship talks like Maggie, but you could see the differences Uncle had been talking about. This one was much smaller and sleeker than the ships that were usually docked there. Creeping on had been easier too - it was nearly abandoned.

You'd been hoping to overhear some drunken conversation, something that could give a hint to what was really going on with Uncle Henry, but no one was there. You'd tripped across a coiled rope, hidden in the deep shadows, and laid there, waiting for someone to hear and come shouting. But no one came. So you'd crept back home with more questions than answers.

And this morning Father was gone, absent from his usual place of breakfast. In your whole life, you could only count on the days he was gone at sea for him to be absent from breakfast and once he'd started having enough people to sail in his place and could stay home, he'd never missed breakfast. Before you could snoop anymore, Mother had swept you out of the house and to the seamstress.

While you sit, the seamstress runs a measuring tape down your arms, around your wrist, and elbows. She wraps it gently around your neck - each measurement committed to her memory, iron even in her old age. Finally, after running it down your spine and adding another needle, the sharp metal cold as it touches your skin, she tells you to stand up. Her fingers pull each piece of pinned fabric deftly off of you, the pin's edges barely scraping your skin as she strips you layer by layer until you're nearly naked again.

Mother hands you your dress - a simple blue one made to easily come off for the seamstress, and you slip it over your head, fingers working at the laces at the front to tie it back together. You're almost finished tying when the church bell tolls, but it's not the hour. The three of you freeze, counting the out-of-time tolls.

One.

Two.

Three.

You hold your breath, waiting to see if it will toll again. Three tolls mean an emergency at the port but -

Four .

- means a council meeting, an emergency execution. Execution without trial. Mother's hands rest on the door, and before the fourth toll is dissipated in the air, she pushes the door open and rushes out, leaving you in her wake. You thank the seamstress quickly and rush out after Mother. She's running, skirts bunched in her hands - something you've never seen her do. Even in the most tense moments, she's always walked calmly, a believer that overreaction can only make situations worse. The sight of her running towards the house twists something inside of you, and you take off after her, tripping slightly over the rough edge of your skirt, your hair whipping you in the face.

You slam into the front door of your house, as it swings shut behind Mother - it sends a shockwave through your wrists. Inside it's a frenzy, the dining room looks as if it's exploded. You can just see Maggie holding Lily as men, men you recognize as members of the council scream across the table at each other, Father's booming voice - a voice you only remember hearing like this yelling at sailors who did something dangerous and once at you when he caught you trying to sneak onto his ships - shouts over all of them. But you can't make out what he's saying as you push through their bodies, reaching for Maggie and Lily across the war being waged across the dining table.

Maggie pushes Lily to you; you grab her wrist and pull her out of the room, Maggie following closely behind. You shove Lily towards the steps, yelling at her to go upstairs. Her skirts sweep the stairs as she runs; you turn your attention to Maggie, her face so pale she looks ill.

"What is happening?" You ask Maggie, pulling her in towards the wall, far enough away from the dining room that the two of you can't be seen by the council but close enough to hear them.

"I don't know. They were all in the yard arguing with Father and when the bell tolled they all came in yelling at each other I don't-"

She's cut off by a roar from Father, finally louder than all the other men in the room.

"You will not come into my house and threaten me!"

You can never remember a time when your father yelled like that in your life. Not when he caught you smuggled away on one of his ships, not when Maggie pushed you from the second story down the stairs, not when you refused a marriage over and over.

"Come on, we need to go upstairs," Maggie says, voice hoarse as she pushes you towards the staircase. You trip up it, falling up the stairs with Maggie until the two of you are crouched down at the top, peering down at the men in the front. For a moment, you flashback to the two of you being little, laying on your bellies to hear the conversations you were banished from.

Mother pushes past the two of you, not stopping to chastise the two of you for laying down at the top of the stairs. Her skirts fill the stairs as she rushes down; the men push out of the dining room and into the foyer.

"He is my brother, and if you think I will condemn him to that bastard's sword you are wrong!"

"Bastard's sword?" Maggie whispers, shooting a look to you that you can't decipher. She goes to open her mouth again, but she's cut off by the front door slamming shut, and the tell-tale sound of Father's boots on the bottom of the stairs. Maggie's hands are on your back pushing you into your bedroom. The door shut behind the two of you before Father's steps breach the top of the stairs.

Maggie whirls to you as the door shuts - eyes wide.

"Uncle Henry is being executed?"

"No," your voice stumbles, thinking of the sword in Ghost's hand, swinging down on Uncle Henry; Uncle Henry who used to pick you up swing you around, Uncle Henry who used to tell you you'd make a wonderful sailor.

"Why would he be being executed?" Your voice shakes in the stillness of the room while you cross the room and push open the window. "What could he have done that could warrant an execution?"

"It has to do with that ship," Maggie says, pacing around the room like a trapped cat.

"It was empty last night," you admit, watching the men as they file out of your house, sweat beading off of them.

"What do you mean empty?"

"I," you pull back in the window as one of the men looks up at you, "I heard Mother and Father talking strangely about Uncle Henry and I was bored. Anyway, I snuck out to the ship last night and no one was there."

"There had to have been someone there." Maggie contests, hands wringing together.

"No - it was like a ghost ship."

You sink onto the bed, skin erupting in a clammy sweat. The house is silent - more silent than you've ever heard it before.

"You need to ask your friend not to do it."

A sliver of ice runs through your stomach and you freeze, hands pausing where they were picking at a loose thread in your skirt. You wait for just a pause too long before answering, your guilt bleeding through the cracks in the conversation.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

When your eyes meet Maggie's, hers are sharp - sticking you to the bed so that you can't move.

"I've seen you," she explains, "at night. You think no one can see you because it's dark outside, that no one is looking. But I am."

You rise, eyes never leaving hers, hands gripping the bedpost. Maggie's back is board straight, her hands folded nicely in front of her like she's not speaking about a secret that could ruin your life.

"Why haven't you said anything yet?" You're breathless, mind already whirring to what you'll do when Mother and Father find out.

"I haven't needed to yet."

The unspoken words cut through the undercurrent: but I will when I need to .

"I can't change anything. He won't listen to me about this."

"He's our uncle ," Maggie pleads with you, crossing the room in two strides. "We have to try something."

A horrible thought flashes across your mind.

"What could Uncle Henry have done to deserve this?" You wonder out loud. You know, by the way, Maggie looks into your eyes that she's thinking the same thing. Neither of you speaks out loud the horrible thought that he might deserve it.

Father left when the other council members did, and hadn't come home yet. Mother didn't tell any of you to go to bed that night, and you, Lily, and Maggie sat in front of the fireplace as the sunset. You wait until the street is empty before standing; Maggie keeps her attention on the fireplace, watching the way the fire pours across the logs. But Lily snaps to you.

"Where are you going?"

You ignore her as you tie your hair back.

She repeats herself, this time half standing from the chair she'd sat in for hours, but Maggie reaches over to her and presses on her shoulder to force her to sit down.

"I'll be back later Lily. You need to go to bed. It's late."

"I don't want to go to bed, I want-", her voice rises in pitch until Maggie cuts her off.

"Stop Lily. She's right - you need to go to bed."

But Lily doesn't listen. She follows you to the front door where you shrug on your cloak, a heavier one pulled out of the closet for the chill that's started cutting through the nights you spend with Ghost.

You leave her at the door before she can ask you another question.

The way to Ghost's is empty, but you can hear people talking around each corner - no doubt gossiping at the news of Uncle Henry's execution and what he could have done. No one but rapists and thieves had been executed in a long while; it turned your stomach to think of Uncle Henry committing such crimes.

The dirt path to his house is cut up, fresh dirt turned over from horses coming back and forth all day. You think of Father coming out here today; did he beg Ghost for Uncle Henry's life?

That's the thought that sits with you when you rap on Ghost's door. He opens it before you can knock twice, his body filling the doorframe.

The words die in your throat. The skin around his eyes is sunken, the circles so dark they look black. He's slumped against the doorframe; you can only imagine the exhaustion he feels.

"If you are here to beg for his life you're wasting your breath. Your father already tried. It's done."

His voice is rough, ragged - like he's been yelling and arguing. And facing the pack of men who had been in your house today, he probably has been.

"I-I had been coming here to do that."

Ghost levels a look at you, one you've come to know means he's studying you, trying to think of the words to say back to you. But he doesn't say anything, just pushes himself away from the doorframe and walks back towards the inside. He leaves the door wide open for you, a silent invitation to come in.

So you follow him inside. It's warm, almost too warm, and small. The table sits in the middle of the room, with a fireplace on one side and a small kitchen on the other. There's a door in the back corner, his boots propped beside it. You look down at him and almost smile at the sight of his bare feet on the wooden floor.

Ghost collapses into one of the chairs surrounding the table, a glass of something dark brown in front of him. You don't hesitate to sit across from him.

"You have to at least tell me what the charges are," you start, pulling the tie of your cloak around your neck, trying to get rid of the feeling of it choking you. "My mother and father refuse to say. They're scared that if they say what the charges are then they have to admit they're true."

Ghost studies the contents of his glass carefully, fingers tracing the rims. You don't want to push him; you've had enough late-night walks with him to know that if you do he'll leave. But your knee bounces all the same. When he finally speaks, the words are slow, measured.

"Your Uncle got caught by one of the King's ships. They needed supplies, so they boarded your Uncle's ship and when they searched it they found people below deck. Mostly women. Your Uncle intended to take these women to some of our neighbors, and sell them off as slaves."

Your heart quickens - leaning forward you press your hands down on the table, it wobbles beneath you.

"You're lying to me."

"Ask your father about that."

It's like a bolt of lighting runs through you, the implications of his words. Ghost swirls his glass lazily - tired and you wonder if he's wanting you to go away so that he can drink it.

"My father would know nothing about this." You know your father isn't perfect, but you can't imagine that he would know anything about Uncle Henry using slave ships.

"And that's why he came here earlier to beg for me to make sure that your Uncle doesn't say anything about your father?" His voice is cutting as he pushes himself away from the table, glass in hand. He turns away from you and you watch as he pulls his mask down just enough to take a drink.

"My father-"

"Knew what your Uncle was doing and doesn't want to be put to death by my hands because that would bring even more shame on your family; it would ruin you and your sister's weddings."

The mask is askew when he turns back, the edge of a jagged scar on his right cheek peeks at you from the edge of the black fabric. Ghost doesn't speak to you as he pulls the curtain back from the window in his kitchen, eyes scanning the edge of the woods.

"You need to go home. No doubt some member of the council will be here again; the last thing your family wants is for you to be caught here with me."

"Ghost I-"

"Go. Home."

For the first time since you'd first caught him staring at you on the beach, a shiver of fear runs down your spine at the roughness in Ghost's voice, at the sharpness in his eyes. He notices the way you tense, the way you pull yourself back in your chair away from him, and his gaze softens.

"I'm sorry I can't help you. But you need to go home."

He waits for you to move, his fingers poised on the front door, ready to open it for you. On weak knees, you push yourself up; you refuse to look at him as you pass, not wanting him to see the way your eyes water as you walk past. He pushes the door open for you; you feel his warmth as he steps closer to you as you walk through the threshold.

Your foot hits the ground when Ghost calls your name lightly. You half turn towards him, enough to see the way his hands grip the door frame and you imagine the wood groaning beneath them.

"Yes, Ghost?"

You hear the sharp staccato of him swallowing once.

"Don't watch tomorrow if you don't have to."

He doesn't wait for you to reply before he lets the door swing shut in your face.

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#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost #my fics #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod fanfic #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you

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boba-beom · 11 months

Text

stay still | CHOI BEOMGYU NSFW

p: beomgyu x fem!reader | g: smut | w: fwb!beomgyu a tease, heavy petting, fingering (f!receiving), marking, degradation; (slut, whore), pet names; (baby), smut with plot, possessive but also annoying gyu 🙄, ruined orgasm rip, not proofread, lmk if I missed anything! | wc: 1k | summary: while visiting beomgyu his friends and family just so happens to stay over too. instead of sleeping in the guest room you end up sleeping in his bed where you talk to him about your crush on one of his friends and wanting to stop your fwb agreement, but he tries to make you think otherwise. | a/n: guys,, this beomgyu is tainting all thoughts in my head omfg

!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

continue under the cut ❤︎

“didn’t we agree to stay quiet? hm?” beomgyu’s low whisper raised hairs along your neck. the deep rasps in his throat never failed to make your eyes subtly roll to the back of your head. or was that because he’s been teasing you since he joined you in his bed. here you are back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling with beomgyu laying on his side.

“gyu- fuck. can you just hear me out for a- a second?” you struggle to face him after having your eyes shut a little too tight, causing you to see luminescent colours whenever you tried to blink your eyes open.

he stops his ministrations of rubbing your clothed bundle of nerves, knowing that your satin shorts have a dark patch spreading across the material. he has your one leg trapped between his thighs and the other spread out a little.

beomgyu knows how to get you shaking, he knows what makes you crave for more and how to tease you. but for some reason he just doesn’t seem to understand the fact that you may or may not have a small crush on his friend whom you’ve only met twice.

“what do you even have to say? that you want to drop me for yeonjun? he has many friends with benefits to go to, what makes you think he’ll drop them for a filthy whore like you?” he sighs, adjusting his position beside you, now resting on his arm and looking at you. his finger grazing strokes up and down your thigh hidden under the blanket you were both sharing.

“why are you being such a dick right now?" you stare right at him with your hand grabbing his wrist, stopping him at a halt from the embarrassingly delicious tingly sensation against your skin.

"me? baby, I'm satisfied with you. but it's starting to sound like you've only been hanging out with me often just to coincidentally see yeonjun too." he air quotes with his other hand.

"maybe I am? I think I like this guy, beomgyu. you're just selfish." you huff, rolling your eyes. he was beginning to irritate you.

"I'm selfish?" his fingers trail closer to your clothed core, slowly pushing the satin material aside. "no panties, as expected. it's very much whore behaviour if you tell me."

you inhale a sharp gasp as he prods at your sopping hole, gathering the slick between his middle and ring finger and gliding it up to circle lightly around your nub.

"see, my whore." he hums closer to your neck, his hot breath fanning against your skin. "you like that hm? is that why you're in my bed and not in the guest room with yeonjun?" he smirks as he watches your chest heave just under his field of vision, noticing the way your nipples start to perk up.

"I- I wanted to confide in you," another sharp gasp intrudes your sentence as his fingers prods your entrance and gradually sinking his fingers inside you. "but- oh fuck- you don't care. you're.. so fucking stupid." you manage to mutter.

beomgyu draws out a hum as he leans forward to leave kisses and nibbles along your neck while his fingers work inside your clenching cunt. the familiar feeling of his fingers curling up just how you like it.

"I'll fuck you stupid with my fingers, now stay quiet."

he sucks at the exposed area of your neck as you turn your head away in attempt of burying it in the pillow. his fingers don't stop plunging in deep, picking up the speed in contrast of his slow licks after he sucks at your skin. a short-high pitched squeal leaves your lips as he speeds up.

"did you want yeonjun listening in? he possibly could. you think he knows how much of a slut you are for me?" beomgyu continues his actions, now littering kisses along your chest and clothed nipples.

"beomgyu, I'm-" you swallow back a moan but your shaky breath and heavy heaving doesn't stop. neither does beomgyu's fingers, adding his thumb to simultaneously rub your clit while his two digits are non-stop pumping in your clenching cunt.

"tell me you want me. not yeonjun. just me. and I'll let you cum." he whispers against your chest, licking your perked nipples through your satin cami top.

"okayokayokay, I want you beomgyu. so fucking bad. please make me cum like you always do." you begin to squirm under his body in attempt to reach your climax quicker.

"stay still, yn. you don't want yeonjun anymore, do you? just me, right?" beomgyu returns to kissing your jaw as you sigh in his ear, murmuring countless 'yes's, borderline whining.

"mmm, gyu, m'gonna hah-" your ears are met with beomgyu's low chuckles, fascinated by the way your body won't stop squirming.

"choi fucking beomgyu," you exhale. "why the fuck did you stop?! I was so close." you almost sob from the loss of your orgasm, almost reaching that state of euphoria that only beomgyu's been able to give you for god knows how long you've been friends with benefits.

"sorry baby, it's late and I didn't want to wake anyone up. you were starting to get a little too loud." he whispers the last sentence, shooting you a wink with his stupid grin crawling on his lips. "at least now I know you want me and not yeonjun. you're mine."

he pulls his fingers out of you, not without a few twitches from you, and sticks his soiled fingers into his mouth, taking them out with an exaggerated pop and satisfied groan.

"sweet as always." he winks at you and you scoff at his ridiculous gestures.

beomgyu wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you in closer to him as he rests his head on your boobs, which he likes to call his personal twin pillows. in no time he was silent with light breaths as you instinctively run your fingers through his outgrown hair.

"gyu, you're so annoying. but at least I know that you want me too." you smile to yourself, falling asleep with him.

taglist: @ahnneyong @prodsh00ky @wccycc @lizdevorak @fairybin @laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @ttyunz @cha0thicpisces @fairybinie @vatterie @hyuntaena @ja4hyvn @yunkiwii @aprilisque @bb-eilish @ericyjun @bluejin0812 @luvsoobs @yeonyeonyeonjun @junniieesbby @day6andetcetera @dainsleif-when-playable @txt-yaomi @soobinsman @kookthief @lovejoshua @robin-obsessed and just assuming you wanted to be tagged bc of the rbs hehe @hyewka @gyuspeach

#kflixnet #k-labels #smiles hard hours #mdni #beomgyu smut #beomgyu x fem!reafer #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu drabble #txt smut #txt x fem!reader #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt drabble

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twinklelilstarkey · 5 months

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Tutor: Dress Picking

Words: 2.4k Type: Angst? Warnings: This is literally a chapter just to announce that I'm back, so, yeah, settle in folks :) because shit is about to hit the fan, but not yet.

Tutor Masterlist

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

Hours later, when stepping into school, you are more than in a good mood. You must admit, you almost got to school late due to oversleeping with Rafe after having conversations that led until 5AM. Your headache has gone away with a simple aspirin, and most of your worrisome thoughts are in the back of your mind, safely tucked away.

You also were able to leave the house with Rafe without his family noticing, and the same thing goes for your parents. You made it home safely, put on new clothes as you had already showered at Rafe’s house, and he dropped you off at school. Your parents would never know of such a thing as they weren’t home when you got there, and you, supposedly, were with a friend of yours the whole night – one they know very well, but have no idea you don’t even speak to anymore.

Almost late or not, every minute of this morning was better than any other. You wish you were still in bed and that today was a Saturday, not a Wednesday. A day where you could just lie in bed with Rafe, talk about life, and get affection. Gosh, you would sell a kidney for that. Your poor kidneys.

You still got a few minutes in the car with him, even though different, it was still minutes that you had for yourselves. A lot of kisses and reassuring words were exchanged. As well as promises that everything will go well and nothing bad will happen. And if it does, he’ll be parked outside as soon as you call, ready to get you home.

Because of this, when the bell rings to tell you to get to class, your mind is still cloudy and warm.

You sit on your chair and stare at the empty page of a notebook while remembering the dumb ways Rafe made you laugh this morning, from the time in bed to the shower. The way his kisses were always soft and warm, and his arms would always hug you tightly and close enough for all your worries to fly away. Ugh, that kidney is about to go.

The classroom's door closes as the teacher walks inside, and the class begins. You lift your eyes off your notebook and notice a bit of movement beside you. You don’t have to look to know. Kristy wasn’t missing school again. She’s in class. In her usual seat, beside you. Her eyes are currently drilling a hole into the side of your head with all that staring, kind of hard to ignore.

Overall, the class itself is very uneventful since school is about to end, and there isn’t much the teacher can do to make everyone still find it in their will to study or work further. Due to this, the hour is slow, and there aren’t many notes that you can take from what is taught and discussed between the teacher and the other students.

In the corner of your eye, you see a small piece of paper being slid over to your side of the table, but you look away as soon as you can. You’re sure that Kristy is better than sliding small pieces of paper asking for an apology or time to talk, but maybe after the stunt that she was able to pull on you in that car... You probably need to draw new conclusions about this girl.

Throughout this one class, you continuously saw how Kristy tried to get your attention by sliding the piece of paper closer and closer or even trying to write a completely new one. You ignored all of her attempts. But also hesitated to check your vibrating phone as the possibility of it being her was just as large as the piece of paper she last tried to slide into your field of view.

The bell rang, and the teacher screamed the small assignment over the loud chatter that quickly erupted. You took a quick note of it in case you forgot it and got up to put your things away. Five different pieces of paper are just by your notebook now, and you almost want to scoff at the stupidity. Curiosity is also biting at your skin for wanting to know what is written in all of them, but you are better than that. Kristy sits there as you put your things away, almost as if waiting for you to address her or pick up her papers.

You slide your bag over your shoulder and take a step to the side to begin walking to the door. You ignore the hand that stretches in your direction to get a hold of your arm (but fails) and walk out of the room. Once outside, your phone begins to vibrate in your pocket, and you pull it out, knowing for a fact that Kristy isn't that ridiculous. The caller: Mom.

“Hello?” You say as soon as you accept the call and put your phone by your ear.

“Guess who just got invited to a party?” Your mom asks excitingly.

“You?”

“All of us!” She corrects excitingly. “Rose Cameron just called, saying that there will be a small get-together with the few families close to the Camerons at the country club. We’re all invited to celebrate your and many others' graduation. Isn't this amazing?”

You open your locker while an expression of surprise is more than obvious on your face. She continues to talk to you all about the details of the party, like how many people, what to wear and what will be there for decoration. You move your books around in the locker to switch classes, and not once do you need to speak because your mother speaks for the both of you.

The call drags out until the next bell calls you into class, yet not a new word has been said by you during the whole thing. You smile at your mom’s rare excitement for a party because, sincerely, it's hard to forget how any event organized by Rose has left your socialite of a mom more than pleased with the range of guests, food, or conversations. You’re in for a hell of a night.

“When is it, exactly?” You ask right as you get near the classroom.

“At the end of this week. Rose said something about it being a great way to celebrate the end of classes for all the graduating students invited.” She explains, leaving you to nod to yourself, “When are you free to go dress shopping?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, we won’t need more than an hour,” a lie, “to find a good dress for you, so as soon as you know a day we can go, call me back.”

“Will do.”

“Now, go to class. Your bell must have rung almost 5 minutes ago.”

You chuckle at her exactness and say your goodbyes before ending the call. Inside the classroom, you find everyone already seated, but the teacher is still absent. You walk towards the back of the class and ignore the same pair of eyes as before - since it seems the person has failed to gain something more interesting to look at lately.

You take your usual seat and think back on the conversation with your mother. The party doesn’t seem bad, but you can only wish for good company during it. Usually, your company in parties such as this is not exactly talking with you, much to their disappointment. And standing by your parents the entire evening doesn’t seem exactly exciting, as the conversations will be quite… uninteresting for your ears, surely.

While you occupy your free time on your phone, ignoring the constant whispering and glaring from all directions of the room, the teacher continues to take his sweet time to appear. Long enough for the guy in front of you to turn around and hand you yet another piece of paper. At this point, trees cry with all the attempts at communication Kristy happens to do.

Maybe it was how annoyed you felt. Maybe it was the fact that all their attention left you as soon as the teacher decided to walk in with a mug of hot coffee in hand. But you opened this last piece of paper. Truthfully, you did it so quick the unfolding and folding back up wasn't noticed by a single soul, and you read it.

Are you going to Cameron’s party? – Kristy

(…)

“Definitely not my color, mom.” You say for the thousandth time while looking at yourself in the mirror of the boutique.

“Are you sure? I like it on you.” She says while tilting her head to take another good look at you.

“I like the style, just not the color.” You admit to her, in a calm tone, nothing to start fights over - as you usually tend to do when picking a dress for a party your mom is so excited about. “The red looks better on me.”

Your mom gives you her usual look, ‘Well, but I hate red’, which only lets you know that this discussion about a dress will lead you to another hour of dress shopping. Nothing ever made you feel as grateful for yourself for clearing your schedule the way you did for this entire evening. As always, your mom is against any color that isn’t light and sweet or any cleavage that isn’t conservative enough. While you happen to like a lot of different styles of dresses and have dealt with your mother’s antics for years, your tastes still tend to clash.

“Red is too much, I think,” she comments, turning to look at the large number of dresses she has asked the worker to get for her. “What about blue?”

“Depends on the shade.” You try to ignore the look she sends you over her shoulder but fail miserably while looking down at the ground to chuckle.

“This one is too dark, I think.” She says while holding a silk dark blue dress with thin straps, “What about this one?”

“It almost looks white, mom. I’m not getting married.”

“Okay, Miss Picky. You pick one, then.”

It went on for hours, but soon you two came to an agreement after much begging on your part and almost on the store’s worker's part as well. You settled on a blue, not too light or too dark, dress with straps (your mother insisted). It has a straight neckline, but due to it being silk, it sits well on your chest. It tightens at your waist (again, due to your mother’s request: not too much), and its length rests gracefully at your feet – leaving you enough room to walk, but not much.

The moment you dramatically took in the fresh air outside, your mom wasn’t shy to pinch the back of your arm for the drama you decided to drag throughout the day. This also helped keep her distracted as your phone continuously received texts from a certain group of people who still are desperate to know if you were going to the party. They made it impossible for you to show her anything on your phone, like dress ideas, without her seeing the messages constantly being sent.

You take your seat on your mom’s car seat and set the bag with the dress inside by your legs, beginning to block the entirety of the group of girls on your phone. They have been asking you for, you assume, the same thing that Kristy had written in those papers yesterday in class: another conversation among all of you.

In all the messages you’ve received from them, you’ve read the ridiculous words of ‘unfair’ and ‘selfish’ all directed at you for either not answering the messages or not speaking to them in school, though all they did was stare at you once they saw you. You’re not sure you heard a single word come out of their mouths the day before or this morning. They all stayed silent while their eyes scanned your every move. It was obsessive, and they were driving you insane for it.

You’re just thankful that you were able to spend the evening with your mom, away from their gazes, as well as for the recent silence coming from your phone now that all contacts are blocked. Now you can finally relax and stop thinking about them and your conversation. But maybe you spoke too soon.

“Is everything alright between you and the girls?” Your mom suddenly asks while driving you both home. Her tone is calm and sweet, with nothing hidden behind it.

“Why do you ask?” You try to sound as calm as possible.

“I just feel like they haven’t been hanging out in our house that much lately. You’re always the one going out to see them,” She explains, not knowing that all the times you’ve gone out to see ‘them’ lately have been to see Rafe or Patty instead. “I sort of miss having the house full of girls.”

You two sit in silence while you simply look out of the window into the night, trying not to make any faces or sounds that could lead you into a lie that will snowball into the avalanche that is your current situation.

“We’ve just been busy, you know? With finals and all.”

“Will they be at the party?” She asks, still unphased by anything you’ve said.

“Yeah,” You assume, yet still make sure your tone makes you sound sure of your words.

“Well, good. I’ve missed talking to them. Maybe we can plan something.”

You almost zone out as soon as she begins to talk about the possibilities of having something cute like an afternoon tea party, or anything along those lines. How will you even be able to tell her the truth? You'll break her heart.

“Yeah…” You look out of your window again, “We could do that.”

As you continuously look away, your mother takes a look at you when stopped at a red light, with her smile still bright and sweet, ready to get one in return. But your eyes and mind are elsewhere - far away from the conversation you’ve just had. She noticed how your tone had just dipped from dramatic and happy to something so different it was hard to pick apart with such a short answer.

Your mother opens her mouth to say something, maybe even question your sudden change of mood directly, but the light turning green was enough to take her attention away. Some other time, she’ll be able to make you talk to her, confide in her about what could’ve happened to make you so moody. She’ll be there to hear it no matter what, right?

Am I back 100%? I have no idea. Did I write this while having no plans to do it? Also yes. I hope it was good!

Hope you enjoyed it!! AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fluff #drew starkey #outer banks #outer banks season 2 #outer banks season 3 #obx

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pixeechix21 · 6 months

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All I want for Christmas 🎄

Simon!Ghost!Riley x fem!reader 12 days of Christmas

Summary: It's your turn to sit on Santa's lap. Tell him what you want and maybe he's feeling giving enough to grant you your wish.

TW: nothing really just good old smut, with some role play?, n sweet names and praise the usual 😊💕

I'm sorry but what the heck is this man doin in this gif?? 🤨

You promised your best friend you wouldn’t get that drunk. But after hearing the 141 boys were hosting a Christmas party you couldn’t help yourself.

Dancing and chatting with your friends, you abruptly hear clapping and jeers. Entering the room is a dressed up Price. You and the girl's dog whistle him as he walks past. “Red looks good on you Simon,” you cheer.

Johnny had managed to coerce Simon to dress up as Father Christmas. Placing him on the “throne” near the karaoke machine. “Come up! Come up everyone! Santa’s lap is open for all. Don’t miss your chance lassies and you Gaz I ya lookin’ at him!” Everyone lifts their cheers as Gaz is shoved to the front. Smiling widely, Simon’s cheerful eyes meet yours. He winks subtly, making your stomach flip and turn.

Gaz does his theatrics, sitting on his lap and fake fanning his face in excitement. He leaves, giving Simon a sloppy kiss on the cheek, “thank you thank you! I promise I’ve been good!”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Simon shoves him off jokingly. Keeping his eyes on you Simon opens his legs leaning back and patting it, “for you,” he mouths.

Jonny sees you in your costume. You’d lost a bet and had to dress up as a slutty elf. “Maybe Santa’s elf wants to finally sit on the throne,” he comes to you, you weakly attempt to back away. From behind you’re shoved into his arms . He takes you to Simon, excitedly. Sitting on his lap, Simon snakes his hand around your waist. Johnny is about to open his mouth ready to make a joke but Simon beats him to it. “That’s enough Soap, now fuck off.” He doesn't spare him another glance.

Sitting there on his lap, you pray he can’t feel heartbeat. “So, tell me, have you been good, my sweet?” His tone has changed, low and private between the two of you. Your hand loops around his neck running your nails through his hair. If it wasn’t for the loud music and chatting crowd you swear you would have heard him groan. “I’ve tried to be,” you sit up further on his lap, “I’ve tried to be a good girl, just for you,’ you whisper, he looks hungrily at your soft lips.

“Is there anything you want this year, since you’ve been on your best behavior?” His thumb starts to draw lazy circles on your exposed inner thigh. Close, so dangerously close, you lightly clench your thighs.

“There is one thing you could give me,” you don’t recognize your own sultry voice. Glad everyone is too drunk to notice.

“Mmm. What’s that my sweet?” he inhales as he pushes away your hair, leaving your neck exposed. You inhale shakily.

“You.” you let out weakly melting into his increasingly possessive grip. You’re without a doubt that he can feel your heartbeat throbbing, on his leg.

“I didn’t hear you my little elf,” his hand inches up, under the mini skirt.

“I- i want- you.” you place your hand on his muscled chest.

“Me too darling,” he doesn’t waste time scooping you up in a bridal hold. He gets up leaving the room smiling at Soap as you two pass by. Over his shoulder you see Johnny’s shocked expression, mouth wide open.

Simon is on a mission, he bursts through an office door. Shutting it he adjusts your legs to wrap around his waist. He captures your lips between his, crashing into you removing all air from your lungs. You sink into him, inhaling his deep kisses. Your hands scratch all over his body trying to take off his ridiculous clothes. “God y/n,” he kisses hot trails across your collarbone.

“I need you Si. I need you in me,” you whine as he helps you undo his belt. You’re so wet against his palm, his index and middle finger running along you sweet cunt.

“I know, I can feel you,” he pinches lightly the growing bud of your clit. A shot of fireball couldn’t compare to the dizziness that fogs your mind. You buck and moan beautifully in his ear. “Don’t want the others to see how bad you’ve been,” he takes out his cock, running himself up and down. Slapping your clit you jolt at the sharp sensation. He moves the panties to the side. “Let me give you what you want luv. Relax for me,” biting his neck, his enlarged tip pushed past your entrance. “Take it, it’s just for you my sweet,” he pants as one hand supports your ass, the other caging you in, hand on door.

Using his powerful muscles he fucks you. You tighten your grip on his shoulders and sinch his waist. “Fuck- Simon- I need you,” head resting on his shoulder, you kiss his neck refraining the loud whines from falling past your lips.

“That’s it baby, it’s all yours,” he growls. And you do, you take every fucking painful inch of his throbbing cock. Hitting the sweet spot deep within you.

“Simon,” you moan, clawing at him. He doesn’t stop. The friction of your panties stimulate your clit. You fuck him back, taking his lips with yours. Licking, biting, breathing messily. Your climax overcomes every single muscular control you hold. Sighing into his mouth he sucks your hot whining. He’s not far behind you as he jerks, coming as he feels you around him.

Setting you down gently he steadies you, before you can stumble. Putting your panties back as you help zip his trousers.

Flushed and tired, you figure it’d be best to go to bed. Holding you close he walks you to your room, always alert.

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moremaybank · 6 months

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🍸 with dark!rafe maybe? 👀

COME HAVE A DRINK WITH ME ! || 18+, fem!reader, dark!rafe, knife play, unprotected sex, language (0.7k)

The cool metal of the knife in Rafe's hand remained slotted against the side of your neck. He dragged it downward, not scraping but gliding down your hot skin.

"You better stay still, princess. One little movement and I could nick your carotid. You'd bleed to death."

His eyes searched yours, looking for any fear. He was happy to find that for the most part, you were calm. There was the slightest trace of worry, but you masked it well.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You know I'd never hurt you. Not unless you wanted me to."

Rafe pressed a searing kiss to your lips, one that you fought hard not to return. Your mouth betrayed you, though, subconsciously melting into his. Despite your anger, even when you couldn't stand the man in front of you, your body still called out to him. Yearned for every last touch he would grant it.

"This is the last time, Rafe. I deserve better. You need to let me go."

The words scalded your tongue as they left your lips. There wasn't any universe in which he'd take those words well. Or at all.

"I am better. I'm the best you'll ever have."

As if his answer wasn't enough, you're proven right once again when his free hand grabs you by the throat, pulling you a hairsbreadth away from his stern face. "How many times do I have to tell you, huh? You're not leaving me. You're not goin' anywhere, you got that?"

His breath fanned over your lips as he pants, the anger rising in his chest. The blade of his knife ran down to the straps of your bra, slipping beneath them one by one and pulling until they're each sliced in two. The fabric snapped against your skin, stinging harshly and growing heated.

"Take it off."

He stepped back only slightly, allowing you to shrug your now useless bra onto the floor.

"Drop your skirt 'n panties. Then get your ass on the table."

You didn't want to. You knew the minute he saw those panties, drenched with excitement you couldn't drown out or push aside, a shit-eating grin would plaster on those pink lips. But Rafe left no room for you to take anything other than the order he gave you.

"I'll make it hurt if you don't do what I say."

The low growl only made your core flutter, your stomach doing backflips as you begrudgingly shimmied the clothing around your hips onto the marble tiles. You scooted onto the dining room table, the glass cold against your bum.

Rafe wasted no time pulling your thighs apart and slotting himself between them. His fingers worked quickly to draw his cock out from his briefs. He spat onto your core, watching it slither down your folds. He gripped himself, rubbing the head against you and coating himself in the saliva. Once he pressed himself against your entrance, his eyes found yours, and the knife in his left hand found home on the side of your throat again.

"There isn't a single place on this earth you can run to where I won't find you. You'll never be able to hide from me."

He impaled you with his cock right then, watching your eyes roll back and your mouth fall open. He started to move, hard, deep thrusts knocking the wind from your lungs. You couldn't help but cling to his sides. You pulled at the black dress shirt adorning his torso, nearly enough to tear it as you bit your lip to keep quiet.

Rafe presses to blade against your skin harder, threatening to break it open. "You know you like what I'm givin' you. Let me hear it before I force it outta you."

You glared up at him. "I hate you."

"That why your pussy's squeezin' me so good? 'Cause you hate me?"

Your eyes fell from his scorching stare as the guilt washed over you. He was right. It didn't matter how much he drove you up a wall. He could do it every second of every day, but it would never be enough to erase the way your body craved him. Maybe it even craved him more than it did your next breath, and that was dangerous. But it was Rafe. That danger and insurmountable thrill shouldn't have been a surprise.

"You might hate me, but you'll always fold for this cock. Like I said, I'm the best you'll ever fuckin' have."

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justanamesstuff · 1 year

Text

Unrequited love backstage - Matty Healy x f!reader

Part 2 of Unrequited love at the studio.

A/N: Guys, don't expect this every week/weekend, but I got a little obsessed with this concept. I'm a sucker for this kind of angsty vibe, unrequited love, friends paining, etc. HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

Warnings: paining, fluff, little angst, typos.

Word count: 1.7 k

Blog masterlist

Part 1

Y/n entered the dressing room excited about the show. She was meant to give some words of encouragement to the boys before going to her seat. Matty was the only one inside the room. He was standing in all his glory in front of the big mirror, fighting with his tie.

Matty’s friend whistled for him, trying to get his attention. He turned to his side; Matty glanced at Y/n annoyed. Y/n arched her eyebrows, silently asking. They could read each other’s mind without even speaking sometimes.

“Can you help me with the tie?” he punctuated his question by sliding the tie off his neck.

Matty extended the piece of clothing towards Y/n. It was kind of an offer to her, a silent way to say ‘come closer’. His hand was moving anxiously between them. Y/n step forward, carefully, analysing his aura.

The show that night was the biggest one the band was going to offer for the fans up to that moment. Y/n empathized with Matty. Her stomach was twisting, her chest hurt a little with all the anticipation; and she wasn’t going to perform.

Y/n came closer, taking the tie on her hand. She let the piece round her own neck, so she can reach for the collar of his shirt, pulling it up. “Haven’t you done it like a hundred times?” she asked him in a funny tone.

Seconds later, Y/n placed Matty’s tie around his neck. She reached behind his head, bringing both ends of it to the front of his shirt. Matty’s breath was fanning over her face. He was close.

He was focused on every one of her actions. “Yes, but my hands are shaking…” the frontman admitted.

It wasn’t a total lie. Matty was nervous about the night, he wanted Y/n close as well. He wasn’t going to tell her that, though.

“Aww, are you nervous, baby boy?” Matty tried hard not to blush. He was putty on her hands when she addressed him with nicknames, silly ones were his favourite.

He scoffed, “Man.”

“Right, I always forget.” Y/n looked up at him, detaching her sight from the tie for a single second. She sensed Matty pinching her left hip, Y/n whined and laughed about it. Matty let his hands rest there. He needed physical contact with Y/n.

The way she showed the tip of her tongue while she was focused on doing the perfect knot for him warmed Matty’s heart. Her soft lips, the bridge of her nose, her eyes, everything about her enamoured him. She was perfect for his eyes.

“You know this is one of my favourite outfits on you?” Y/n confessed, bringing him out of his trance.

Matty wasn’t expecting her revelation, although the apple of her cheeks turning red excited the singer. “All black?”

“Yeah.” Y/n declared, without looking up to his face. She finally finished the knot, tagging the short bit under, so it was right in place.

“Are you blushing, baby girl?” Matty teased her, bringing the collar down, hiding the tie around his neck.

Y/n pushed his chest, leaning backwards far from him. “Shut up!” she exclaimed.

Matty studied her factions. Y/n was indeed embarrassed about admitting –partially– she fancied him in that outfit.

“Oh, you are!” he tried to bring her back into his embrace, rounding her with his strong arms.

Y/n tried to change the subject, patting the centre of his chest where the tie laid. “There, all tied up!”

“Kinky.”

“You’re impossible…”

Y/n blanked her eyes at his comment. She decided it was time to leave and wait with the rest of the crowd for the guys to perform.

Matty tensed the muscles of his arms, preventing her from leaving. They were chest to chest close. “Don’t go.” He begged in a whisper, drawing little circles on the upper part of her back.

Y/n dared to look at his hazel eyes, “You need to warm up and all of that, Matt.” she reminded him.

Matty ignored her words, bringing Y/n impossibly closer to his body. “Just one more second…” he said, going to hide his face on her neck, resting his cheek on her shoulder.

Y/n let him, sneaking her arms over Matty’s shoulders. Her mouth touched, slightly, the lobe of his left ear. “You’re going to smash it, handsome!” Y/n’s breath touching his skin sent shivers down his spine.

“Mmm.” Matty let out, lost in her essence, her touch, everything about her.

After a few minutes, rocking their bodies –still intertwined- slowly from side to side, Y/n’s sight fell on the clock adoring the wall. It was time to go now.

“Okay, time to shine. I’ll go get my seat.” Y/n pushed back, looking at his face.

Matty smiled at her, bumping her nose, while telling her, “I’ll see you later, alligator.”

He let her go, but kept his attention on her body moving toward the door. Suddenly, she turned around, smiling wide.

“Break a leg!”

“I don’t want to break-“ Matty went to joke about it, but Y/n’s words shut him.

“Don’t dedicate a song to me!” Y/n interrupted, bringing to present a previous situation with Matty.

She hated to be the centre of attention. Once, during a show, he didn’t name her but explained that the next song they were going to play was dedicated to one of his closest friends, someone he adored deeply. Y/n knew it was about her when they started playing her favourite song; the one she admitted to absolutely adore, after Matty’s insistence. Y/n complained about it after the show but ended up thanking him as well. It was a song they rarely played, so she couldn’t deny it was a nice gesture.

“We’ll see about that…” Matty responded cheekily.

“Healy, I’ll break your leg myself if you do that again!”

“Insignificant threats.” he brushed her off.

Y/n stared at his eyes, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. “Do it and face the consequences.” she warned him, pointing at his face with her finger.

“Oh, come on…last time, you cried and then hugged me. That was all the damage…” Matty recalled the events as they were. Y/n blushed again.

Before she could add anything else, George’s voice came from behind her back, “What damage?” he asked.

“He’s threaten with dedicate me a song again…” Y/n shared with G.

George looked between the pair, he laughed at Matty’s face. “Whipped Matty.” he stated, faking coughing. He passed by Y/n’s side, touching her shoulder as a greeting.

“Fuck you, George!”

“If you’re going to fuck George, at least wait for us to leave.” Adam said with a polite tone, entering the room.

Ross shivered in horror thinking about what Adam said, “I don’t need those images in my mind.” his shoulders shaking dramatically.

Y/n loved the whole band and crew, they were a second family for her. All of them were friendly and welcoming. She watched the guys interact like adolescents. Y/n had to leave.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys to it…good luck!” she wished them all.

They chanted in unison “Bye, Y/n” and “Enjoy the show!” except for Matty. He ran to the door, setting his eyes on her back while she walked down the hall.

He stood at the door frame of the dressing room, shouting, “I’m between ‘Settle Down’, ‘Don’t Worry’” he continued messing with her about dedicating a song. Knowing the reaction he would get with the mention of another song she liked, Matty smirked wide kept talking, “or ‘Antichrist’” As he expected, Y/n turned around with the mention of it.

“Would you do that?” Y/n questioned him, sceptic.

Matty crackled. “‘Course not.” Y/n’s face turn out to an annoyed one, she turned her back instantly making Matty laughed. “Maybe if you ask nicely,” he kept going. “I would do it just for you, love!”

But Y/n was done with his tricks and jokes, she continued walking far from him.

“Whatever!” she answered him without looking, soon enough she disappeared from Matty’s sight.

He walked back inside, smiling, calmer than before Y/n showed up. Once inside, the guys burst into a group laugh. Matty looked at them puzzled.

“Oh, man…” Ross went to patted him on the shoulder.

“What?” he asked at his mate.

“He's down badly, right?” George talked directly to Adam and Ross, ignoring Matty –who was trying to get what they were talking about–.

Adam nodded, “He’s all hearts and kisses when she’s around.” he presented his facts.

“What on earth are you dickheads talking about?” Matty tried to make eye contact with them, and get real answers, but the guys continued to not pay attention to the frontman.

Ross took pity on him. “You and Y/n.” he clarified.

Matty still didn’t get what they were implying exactly.

“What about it?”

“You’re down boy.” Adam said finally.

Matty half laughed, surprised by Adam’s sayings. “She’s my best friend.”

Inside, Matty was trying to keep his calm. He was so sure the rest of the world didn’t know about his feelings for her. He sometimes tried to ignore them. Lately it was harder and harder. Although, he wasn’t in no position to admitted out loud.

George interfered. “We’re almost your brothers, and you don’t offer to dedicate songs…”

“I’m messing with her!”

“You don’t cuddle us…” G continued.

“I- She’s my friend.” he repeated his statement, less convinced than before. Once his own voice reached his ears, he wanted to facepalm himself.

“Sure, Matty.”

Matty stared at the floor, saying, “It’s not like that with her. She’s not into me, and I-“ he stopped talking.

They waited, giving him time. “And you?” Ross encouraged him to continue after a few minutes.

Matty stared at his best friends, finding in their faces something he couldn’t quite place but dislike enormously.

“Forget it. We have a show to do!” he made his way to the door.

“Poor thing…” Adam said, Ross and George agreed, shaking their heads.

“Agh!” Matty screamed when he heard.

‘Did Y/n noticed he was down bad for her?’, he worried.

Part 3

#matty healy #matty healy fic #george daniel #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #the 1975 #matty healy imagine #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x you #adam hann #ross macdonald #matty 1975 #matty the 1975

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