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arjudy224 · 6 months ago

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The Billionaire Boys Club

Batfamily x PhD student reader

(This takes place around 6 years after the Intern. )

The Intern Collection

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern Field Trip

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Teachers Pet

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

After interning in her hometown, Y/N was recruited to do her master's degree fully funded by Lexcorp. She had developed an attraction over the 3 years working with Lex Luthor, yet his controlling behavior led to Superman warning Y/N about the CEO's affections. Her master's thesis was on the environmental impacts of Kryptonite use and storage.

Gotham City's explosive tonight. The annual environmental gala has somehow brought fresh life into the sallow streets.

The gala's decorator deserves a raise. Lush vines descend from the high ceiling wrapping around the pillars. I narrow my eyes. Are those real carrier pigeons? Every flower from any climate you could possibly imagine flood the walls in a sweet cascade of fragrance. The sweet aroma tethers me to the present. Dick and Tim give me sly smiles from across the ballroom. Stumbling past the walls of plants, Bruce gives me a thumbs up.

"You clean up nice."

I give him a small smile before glancing down at my Wayne sponsored garb. The long satin dress hugs my hips in an almost risque manner. A respectable slit begins at my mid thigh showing off my red and black pumps. I grimace at the unknown cost.

"You know you didn't have to go all Pretty Woman on me Mr. Wayne." I joke smoothing out my silk gloves, "I do have a paycheck."

Bruce smiles. It takes me off guard. A real smile with squinted eyes and smile lines. As goofy as the most attractive man in the room can be. Compared to his work persona, it's nice to see.

"Ms. L/N, I would never ask you to spend your money to play dress up for a gala I invited you to."

I nod not knowing what else to say. An entire styling team showed up at my door this morning with rack of dresses to choose from... and the shoes... well let's just say it would have made Cinderella run back home and demand to know why she couldn't have gotten Bruce Wayne as her Godmother.

His eyes gravitate to the pendant draped across my neck. A sting of pain registers on his face. I shift uncomfortably once he starts to stare. At my discomfort, Mr. Wayne apologizes.

"I'm sorry Ms. L/N. I haven't seen that necklace in a very long time."

I raise an eyebrow. Mr. Wayne never divulges this much personal information.

"Old flame?" I joke wiggling my eyebrows.

He shakes his head with a pained smile.

"That was my Mother's necklace."

My eyes widen. Martha Wayne's necklace. Instinctively, I reach to take it off. I already couldn't afford a ruby necklace, but a Wayne family heirloom? Hell no.

"I can take it off if you-" I start reaching for the clasp.

Mr. Wayne stops me in my tracks.

"Don't worry about it. That was a long time ago. "

I still hesitate. I glance awkwardly around the ballroom.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Mr. Wayne weighs carefully, "Besides, it might make for an interesting headline."

I scowl.

"I'm not going to like this am I?"

A devilish grin appears in response to my dismay.

"Welcome back to Gotham Ms. L/N."

Bruce's sons materialize a few seconds later. If I wasn't used to them suddenly appearing in my office, I would have shrieked.

"Tim. Dick." I greet with a nod, "Always a pleasure."

The younger boy looks at me like I am a puzzle piece he can't quite figure out where to put yet. Dick is as charming as ever.

"Y/N, I can't believe Bruce roped you into being his date. Have you ever considered unionizing?" He teases with a grin.

"At least, I'm getting paid to be here. What's your excuse?" I tease lightly hitting his shoulder. "Don't you have a hot date tonight Bludhaven?"

A painfully familiar shadow interrupts the conversation.

"Mr. Luthor."

Turning around, my legs begin to shake. What a wonderful... surprise. Lex nods to the three men before setting his sights on me.

"Mr. Luthor,"

Saying his formal title feels wrong, yet calling him Lex wouldn't be right either. Not after everything that has happened. Timothy's analytical gaze burns my peripheral.

"Ms. L/N, would you join me for a dance?"

I hesitate eyeing the audience that is forming. Extending his hand, Lex continues, "For old times sake?"

Three people stopped talking to gawk. I don't have much of a choice. With the amount of gossip mongrels here tonight, if I say no my face will be plastered on every gossip column in Gotham... If I say yes, well at least it will only be in Metropolis Gossip columns. I don't have much of a choice.

"Of course... Mr. Luthor." I agree through gritted teeth letting him drag me onto the dance floor.

If I thought agreeing to a waltz would quell speculation, I was poorly mistaken. Dozens of eyes follow our every movement including my boss's.

"You are only feeding into their curiosity." Lex whispers in my ear, "Those vultures know when you are weak."

"Is that what I am?" I question finally looking into his green eyes, "No need for flattery Alexander."

"There isn't any other way to explain your disappearance."

"-That's not fair."

The fire in his eyes leaves me speechless. This was not how I planned to spend my Saturday evening. For a moment, I fantasize on how this night could have gone. I could have had an early night enjoying take out... exchanged my favorite book with the cute guy next door. Slept in. Instead, I am bickering with a man who could be my Uncle over the fact I didn't take a job offer...and potentially start a relationship with him.

"Okay, so I cut you off." I start, "I'm sorry I hurt you, but things couldn't keep progressing like that. My project ended. It was time for me to go."

...and Superman told me that you started tracking my whereabouts... along with bugging my apartment... Go to therapy.

Lex shakes his head.

1, 2, 3

"You were offered a complete stipend. A guaranteed job offer. Why would you turn that down?"

My lips press together into a fine line.

1, 2, 3

The orchestra roars into a crescendo. The dance speeds up.

"You know why...." I hiss trying to keep up with his increasing tempo.

I've never been good at multitasking.

1, 2, 3.

1, 2, 3-

"-Say it," Lex demands gripping my fingers tighter, "Tell me."

The ring on his left hand gets caught on my gloves tearing the beautiful silk right down the center. The radiant green draws my attention. Kryptonite. After all this time, he still wears it. Rage causes my face to go hot. I stop dancing to grab his ring.

"This is why Lex," I snarl, "Because I am sick of watching you destroy yourself. You've read my research."

A smart ass grin stretches across his face. The onlookers exchange curious glances at our lack of dancing.

"I paid for it." He replies smugly.

"Then you should know how ludicrous this behavior is. You are going to die before you win."

His eyes get sharp. I must have hit a nerve. A vein in his forehead grows prominent. Another couple dances past us. Lex tears me out of the way before I get bulldozed. A few beats later, we are back in the dance. His hands grow tight around mine like he's afraid I might disappear again. My knuckles turn white from the pressure, but I won't give him what he wants. Pain laces up my palms.

"So, you would rather waste your career working for a halfwit like Bruce Wayne?"

I freeze for a second. This is what this is really about. Lex is jealous that I chose to work for Bruce. If it was anybody else, he could convince himself that I was downgrading, but I went to his direct competition. Thinking of the conversation I had with Bruce earlier, when nobody else is around Bruce has a strange intelligence in his mannerisms. In public, he had initially joked about not reading my research, yet once we were alone the intensity of his questions made me nervous. Considering his extracurricular activities, it's unsurprising that he would want to keep his persona lowkey. How did my job search end with watching the boys club battle it out?

"I will only say this once: My life is mine. What I choose to do is my decision. Say what you want about Mr. Wayne, but at least he respects my privacy." I growl ripping my hands out of his grasp. "Have a nice day Mr. Luthor."

Storming past the "Garden of Eden" display, I slam open the double doors. God.... Everyone there probably thinks I slept with him.

Tag List: @jjsmeowthie

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tinydeskwriter · 1 year ago

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Lando NorrisxWolff!reader

words: 2825

requested: no

A/n: This is going to be a multi-chapters, most of the chapters won't be social midia or something. It is going to 'follow' the 2023 F1 season. Reader is Toto's eldest child by a fictitious ex- first wife. I just watched Break Point, with is another sport Netflix docuseries from the same producing company that makes DST, and since then I have this idea of a prodigy tennis player reader.

next part»

GQ 10 things Y/n Wolff can’t live without

“Hi GQ, I am Y/n Wolff and here are my essentials.” The young woman opens her arms looking at the objects displayed on the table, before looking up and smiling to the camera.

# Sugar

“My trainer may not agree. My coaches may not agree. My performance coach may not agree. My parents definitely don’t agree.” She points out, “But I need sugar.” The young woman brings to the centre of the table a small pile of sweets, a tall cup of caffeinated drink and a can of Red Bull, “I live of sugar and… sugary things…”

“My day starts with this lovely peppermint iced mocha sweetened with vanilla sugar… a ton of vanilla sugar.” Y/n laughs taking a sip of her drink “I am weirdly obsessed with mint and chocolate combinations…” She comments looking at the camera, “I drink perhaps two or three of those per day,” The young woman then places her hand over the top of the Red Bull can, most people who follow her already know that she is an athlete sponsored by Red Bull, “sugar-free Red Bull, which ironically is sweeter than the regular one.” She puts her hand on the pile of chocolates, “Milk-chocolate, I am not going to lie and say that I eat the healthy stuff, I don’t, I have the taste buds of a child,” the tennis player smiles mischievously at the camera, “right now I am really into this Finnish chocolate, Geisha and the blue Fazer, daddy always keep those in his offices for me.” She wrinkles her nose a little, giving the camera a lovely—childish—smile.

“Aero Mint bar, Chocolate Orange, Maltesers, Bounty, Kinder, truffles…I'm honestly starting to wonder how we managed to get through customs.” She laughs looking at her entourage behind the cameras. “This is like… a fraction of what I usually travel with, this is more like what I have in my bag for the day.”

#Photos

Y/n played a little with a golden square object in her hand.

“I travel a lot, I am on the road from January to November playing at tournaments around the world, so I can’t always be surrounded or in touch with the people that I love,” she says in a slightly more serious tone, taking the golden case in her hands and pressing the button to open, showing pile of polaroid photos, “those are mini Polaroids, so I can bring them with me wherever I go, I keep them inside this vintage cigarette case that belonged to my maternal grandmother, she was a absolute rockstar and I miss her very much.” The camera takes a close-up on the golden case with rope motif and small colourful stones. “As I don’t smoke, I had to find another use for it.”

The first photo she shows is five adults together, smiling around a table, in what appears to be a ski resort.

“I have a very patchwork family, and somehow the adults in my life made it work…which I am very grateful for, not everyone is lucky to have so many amazing parents…so here I have my mum and my two other mothers, Stephanie and Susie, papa and my other father, Phillippe,” the second photo is her with a boy not much younger than her, two teenage girls and a small child in front of a Christmas tree, “my siblings, I have four, I am the eldest whatever way you go, huge flex,” the photo is followed by one of a pyjama party with several girls in matching pyjamas, and another of the tennis player with a blonde in front of the Eiffel Tower, “My gurls! This is my best friend, she is also my PA… so amazing to have someone I trust so much with me all the time…” a golden cocker spaniel with a crystal necklace, silk bows in its ears and a Gucci sweater appears on the screen, “this is Éclair Wolff, my emotional support dog aka my child, she actually goes with me mostly everywhere, but sometimes I leave her with my mum so she won’t be stressed by the long flights.”

She points to the next three photos, the first has the Mercedes drivers in Tommy Hilfinger, posing for the photo. “Lew and Georgie, the adopted older brothers I never asked for, but I love them.” The second photo has three other familiar faces making faces at the camera, “C2, my Ferrari boys, feat Pear, there is something wholesome about good looking men looking so silly, I love those guys and I love this picture, it is very on brand with them.” The tennis player smiles at the camera. “Sharls, Carlitos and Pear are three of the nicest guys I have ever met, it is truly a blessing be able to call them friends and having them in my life.”

McLaren driver Lando Norris, in his third or fourth season, apparently not even realizing he was having his photo taken, it's a spontaneous photo, the soft sunlight highlighting the driver's profile as he smiles.

“Because of karting, I’ve known Lando since I was a head taller than him, he was my first crush…he was so shy, so adorable, so babygirl coded.” Y/n blushed a little as she shows the photo.

“I think most of the current grid is in here…oh, look, it’s Lance! Friends from life, from tennis…” She quickly changes showing another photo. “I think I easily have about sixty photos here..."

#Camera

“I don’t have a specific camera I like more than the others, but as a rule, I prefer vintage cameras just for the beauty of the final result, I inherited a few, I bought a few, I usually develop the photos when I'm at home for longer periods of time, edit the videos, digitalize a few…” She points to the cameras in front of her, a Bolex, a Digital Bolex, a very iconic Rolleiflex and a Super 8, “It is a very nostalgic experience to just go through a year worth of memories…” She says resting her face in her hand, “I have a hundred boxes with pictures and film rolls.”

“I love going through old pictures with my mom and Cass, my younger sister, from when we were babies, my parents in the 90’s, my mom when she was young, the wonderful life my grandparents lived, and is such a lovely moment to share with my mom.” Y/n has a soft smile on her lips. “One day, when I have my own kids, I want to have those moments with them, and not just scrolling through a phone or an iPad.”

#Journals

“I keep journals since I was a child, I get a new one every year,” She holds up the leather hardcover notebook, a deep indigo blue, a little worn around the edges, “after I turned thirteen years old, I started to get it in this specific shade of blue, with my initials in gold,” The girl opens the journal, leafing through it briefly, “I am never going to write an auto-biography, it’s kind of a little bit too egocentric to my taste,” She knocks it closed, but keeps it up, looking at the camera as she speaks , “but if someone ever write about me, fifty years from now… the facts will be straight, at least from my point of view… but even if no one ever writes about me… when I am old and grey and memory starts to fail me, I will be able to come back to the thoughts of twenty years old me…”

There is a moment of silence.

“That was kind of dark.” Y/n laughs to break the tension.

#Art Supplies

“I love to draw and paint, it eases the anxieties of life,” The tennis player shows the large sketchbook, a small aluminium case with the watercolours, and the rolling leather case with pencils and brushes, “I always bring a watercolour travel kit with my sketchbook wherever I go.”

She displays for the internet some of the landscapes she painted during her travels around the world.

#Hoodies

“I like to be comfortable after a match,” she spreads her arms across the perfectly folded hoodies on the table, “and nothing is more comfortable than a hoodie, feels a little bit like home.”

“I have my collection of hoodies with Adidas, they always provide me with new cool colours to try out and see if I want to add to the next collection,” Y/n opens sage green hoodie, running her hand over her initials and the Adidas logo. “Enchanté by Dani Ric, I have a bunch of those, Daniel is always kind enough to drop them at my house in Monaco, VIP treatment baby.” She points to the white hoodie. “Quadrant hoodies, Lando’s merch, ridiculously comfy, I would really like them in pastel colours or dusty rose… just putting out to the universe…” Y/n smiles and winks at the camera. “Valtteri, MV1… those all came with me for the US Open.”

#Skincare

“This is part of my daily routine.” The girl opens the toiletry bag, taking out the products inside, “I am always in different countries and different hotel rooms, so is nice to have this little sense of routine.”

She lines the pearlescent bottles with opaque round lids on top of the table.

“I launched Muse when I was seventeen years old, it is my skincare brand, and it is very me. I wanted it to be un-complicated and complete,” The young woman explains passionately looking at the camera, “skin is the body’s largest organ, and it is not only your face.” It affects the hair on your face, tucking it behind your ear before going back to the product bottles. “The line goes from body wash to suncream to night-time routine.”

#Travel Pillow

“If I mess up my neck and shoulder, I am f***ed, my match is over and possibly the tournament.” She holds up a medium-sized pillow to the camera, the pillowcase light pink silk with red buttonholes around the edges and her initials in the corner. “So, this baby goes with me everywhere, it is a memory foam pillow with a silk pillowcase. Best sleep, best hair.”

#Sport Gear

“I generalized here, sport gear, I travel heavy, always,” she points to the array of equipment on the table, “this is my racket, I go to each tournament with around ten of those, just in case I wreak one on the ground,” Y/n passes her hand over the racket, “those are custom Yonex Ezone 98, they made it in Mountbatten pink with some cool pattern and my initials,” she smiles as she pulls the helmet close to her chest, “my helmet, also custom Mountbatten pink, with my initials in rose, I love to try new karting tracks, most people don’t know I used to race karts when I was younger, won a couple of trophies, went as far as F3 before I choose to go pro with tennis, car racing is a huge thing in my family…my dad used to race, my stepmom was a driver, my little brother probably going to be a F1 driver,” she recounts with a smile, “I joked once with my dad that we are at a window that if I have a kid in the next year or two, in twenty years we can have a Wolff’s drivers line-up for Mercedes.” The young woman smirks to the camera. “My dad almost passed out, and now I am not allowed to date until I am thirty.”

#Headphones

“Those are custom made for me, again, they are Mountbatten pink and rose with my logo, super comfortable on the ears, I usually have problems with headphones due to the piercings and earrings, but these didn't give me any problems, they fit well, and I can spend the whole day wearing them." She takes the gadget out of the case, showing the details. “It's not wireless, because I always forget to charge it, so it has a wire, they made this lovely, thick cord that is durable and super resistant,” Y/n wraps the rope around her fingers, “it is noise cancelling and it is always with me before every match as an essential part of my pre-match rituals.”

“The right music kind of puts you in the right mood, I usually go with Eminem in 80% of my matches, I feel like it unleashes my inner fighter, these are matches where I'm not really worried about my opponent, it is just raw and a little bit thoughtless, I just play,” she comments, “when I know that my opponent is going to be hard on the mind games, which is not an uncommon move in tennis, I tend to listen to calmer and more melancholic music, piano, it keeps me in a more peaceful zone, I don’t get pumped up and full of adrenaline, my game tends to be far more calculated…”

“That’s it. Those were my ten essentials,” the young woman smiles, “thank you, GQ, for allowing me to share my essentials, much appreciated, and thank you guys for taking the time to watch it! Much love and see you next time!” The athlete says, blowing a kiss and winking to the camera as the credits shows up.

__________________________________________

2,109,963 views Aug 29, 2022

978 Comments

userone

i was todays yrs old when i found out that tennis superstar Y/n Wolff is the eldest child of THE Toto Wolff

user1

From what little she talks about her dad here, u just get the vibes that Merce boss Toto is a softie girl dad, he keeps her favourite candy in his offices and forbids her to date until she’s thirty, this is so sweet

haterone

a billionaire’s nepo baby, talking about her millionaire friends and her unrelatable lifestyle and things

usertwo

Y/n’s hair is probably the healthiest hair i ever seen i need her hair routine

userthree

I am so obsessed with her career! I want to see her continue to succeed and be one of the biggest tennis players of all times. She deserves it. Such a talented, humble kid.

userfour

i loved hearing her talk about her family and friends!!! it is so crazy that she is close friends with a bunch of F1 drivers.

hatertwo

Not so crazy since she’s literally a f1 nepo baby, her daddy is part owner of Mercedes.

userfive

She's like that one super popular chick in school who's actually a total sweetheart.

usersix

I totally relate to her being a sweet tooth

@userseven

I love that she was not talking to the camera. She was actually talking to the people there behind the scenes

usereight

i love how a lot of these items are usually a stereotype of being pretentious—a vintage cartier cigarette case, a film camera, a leather bound custom hermes journal, art supplies--but she talks about all of them with such genuine interest and attachment that it doesnt seem pretentious at all

usereighteen

U r the one name dropping the brands she uses…

usernine

Her nicknames for Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz Jr and Pierre Gasly… I died dead…

user9

The fact that she’s gushing about lando and being so sweet about her childhood crush on him oml

user10

Omg it is so cuuute!!! Like, she had a crush on little Lando and not McLaren glow up Lando Norris

user11

I used to be so conflicted shipping her with the drivers, because she dates that tennis player, but her insta has a bunch of her and Charles and her and Pierre and her and Lance and it is so cute and kind of gives such soft vibes, those boys look half in love with her in most pictures, also ...the chemistry. but seeing the way she talks about Lando… they r my new diehard ship…

userten

Are we going to ignore that she confessed that Lando Norizz was her first crush???

user1

They would be so cute together… and they ate both single now… at the same time… we can dream…

user12

i went ten steps further and in my head, they are already getting married and having cute future Mercedes world drivers’ champions…

user13

Can we already dream of Lando at Mercedes???

usereleven

Ok… but didn’t Lando once commented like, very briefly, in a McLaren video, that he used to have a crush on a girl that used to go karting with him??? The girl who wore red ribbons in her hair… do you guys know who uses red ribbons in heir hair since she was an actual baby?? Y/n! There is a pic in her insta of her in a karting track with her dad, and she has red bows in her hair…

user11

Not gonna lie… It would be kinda of cute if they actually had a mutual childhood crush and then eventually end up together as adults…

next part»

#f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #f1 grid x reader #wolff!reader #lando norris #charles leclerc x reader #pierre gasly x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lance stroll x reader #toto wolff x reader

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shall-we-die · 5 months ago

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╔‌‌‌‌•°🍰��•°══════════•⊰•°༄༚

{HBD Dear Y/N!~}

A list of gifts they gonna give you 🎁

╞•⊰❖⊱•═══•༻🎂༺•═══•⊰❖⊱•╡

☰[Main list]•⊰ X Bungo stray dogs

#Part 1 || #Part 2 || #Part 3📍 || #Part 4

╚•°🍰༄•°══════════•⊰•°༄༚‌‌‌

[Dazai]

A rope for a romantic double— A rare first edition book A unique piece of art Handmade gifts with sentimental value A weekend getaway to a fancy hotel (And suddenly Kunikida finds out his wallet is no where to be seen...)

[Atsushi]

A piece of jewelry (not that expensive, he's broke), such as a necklace, bracelet, or earrings. A soft and comfortable piece of clothing, like a sweater or scarf. A collection of their favorite books or movies. A cute plushie or stuffed animal.

[Chuuya]

Expensive clothes or jewelry Expensive wine The entire set of a manga or series that they're into A big bouquet of flowers/money along with a cute plushie A reservation at an expensive restaurant A getaway vacation Couple rings A custom-made necklace with their name on it A mixtape or a photo album of his favorite memories with them (Someone stop this man pls! I'm jealous...)

[Akutagawa]

(He surely asked Gin to help him.) Books...? Gadgets, maybe not... Something handmade (he probably knows how to do the simple stuff) *Gin slapping her face in the background He finally gave you a little bracelet with a lil shiny diamond on it.

[Tetchou]

Food... your favorites of course.

[Jouno]

Cute accessories like hairpins or hair ties. Luxurious clothing, like a dress or a nice outfit.

[Fyodor]

New instruments if his s\o is into any of them. If his s\o is into writing, he would buy tons of new notebooks and other writing stuff for them. Would buy a lot of high quality stationary for his s\o Would buy them a brand new expensive outfit, if his s\o is into clothes at all New books in case if they are a reader Would buy them a bunch of chocolates and whatever their favorite snacks are

[Nikolai]

Probably very fancy food stuff. He'd get them (stole some things) like high-quality silk and velvet clothes, like fancy dresses or suits, and he might even get them a really expensive piece of jewellery like a gold necklace. Nikolai would want only the best for his s/o.

[Sigma]

A piece of artwork or home decor like a painting or sculpture. A high-end coffee machine or espresso setup.

#𝙱𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜–[🎂]#𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜–[🍬]#𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎–[🍓]#bsd x reader #bsd hcs #bsd headcanons #bsd fluff #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs headcanons #osamu dazai x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #atsushi nakajima x reader #ryunosuke akutagawa x reader #jouno saigiku x reader #tetchou suehiro x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #bsd sigma x reader

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lovelyjj · 1 year ago

Note

You know that one scene in walk to remember the play where he kisses her in the play even though it wasn’t part of it I think that would be so cute with jj and like the reactions that come with the scene honestly the whole movie expect the ending let’s skip the ending the play and the posters they make his character gives jj vibes

a walk to remember

jj maybank x reader

wc: 1.5k

The play was going pretty smoothly. You were singing your solo. You were wearing a beautiful light blue silk dress and JJ was practically drooling. You looked so pretty like an angel sent from heaven above. And your voice alone was simply breathtaking.

JJ was watching you sing in awe. He couldn’t believe his ears or eyes for that matter. Your voice was making him feel things. As you sat down and sang the last bit of the song JJ watched you intensely.

When the song has finished JJ leaned over and placed his lips on yours. The kiss was quick and soft but you still felt butterflies erupting in your stomach. It was also extremely tender. You were very surprised that he kissed you. JJ was nervous to kiss you but when it happed it felt right. Like your lips molded perfectly together.

JJ’s chest was warm and he felt tingly throughout his body. Your heart was palpitating. Your lips were locking together. JJ’s head lingered in front of you as he looked into your eyes after the kiss and then the curtains closed.

There were a group of girls in the audience that let out a huff and rolled their eyes. Your father who was also in the audience put a hand over his mouth in surprise and concern.

After the play JJ tried his best to get you to talk to him. You were still mad at him for embarrassing you in front of his friends.

JJ was at the lockers with his friend group when you asked him if you’ll see him after school to practice for the play. His response was “in your dreams.” His friends all laughed. You embarrassed nodded your head and walked away.

You weren’t ready to forgive him just yet. JJ made multiple attempts to try and talk to you but you shut him down each time. It wasn’t till he showed up at your house with a gift for you that you started to think maybe he really was sorry.

The evening air was nice so you decided to sit on the porch and read. What you didn’t expect was for JJ to be walking up your porch steps with a bag in his hand.

“You,” you stated.

“Me,” JJ responded.

JJ pushed the bag out in front of you and you asked, “What is it?”

“I got you something,” JJ spoke as he handed you the bag.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll see you at school,” JJ said goodbye.

As JJ walked away you opened your present. It was a necklace with a shark tooth hanging from it. It looked like he made it. It was a purple rope with a shark tooth charm. You assumed it was real.

JJ was halfway down the porch steps when your father came outside.

“Mr. Maybank,” your father called.

“See you later, Mr. Y/L/N,” JJ responded.

Your father walked over to your place on the bench and sat down. JJ had driven away.

“That boy is bad news,” he stated.

“Dad,” you whined.

“No y/n I’m serious. Boys like that have… they have expectations.”

“Ok and?” you replied.

“Listen. I just want you to be careful.” Your dad warned.

“Dad it’s just a necklace.”

Your dad nodded his head but looked like he was deep in thought. You told him you were going inside. You went in your room to put on the necklace, feeling happy.

——————-

At school a few days later you were walking down the hall when JJ’s ex girlfriend came up to you.

“Y/N, Hi,” she greeted.

“Hi,” you responded.

“Listen, I just want you to know, no hard feelings. JJ and I are way over.” She explained.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” you confessed.

She nodded then said, “Y/N. You’d be so beautiful if you knew how to do your makeup.”

“Come on, eat lunch with me,” she insisted.

You walked into the lunch room with her but you couldn’t help but notice everyone laughing.

“Wow. Is that you?” she asked holding a piece of paper.

It was a picture of your face on another woman’s body in a bikini. The picture had the words “virgin mary” on it.

“Nice bod,” JJ’s ex girlfriend teased.

You were horrified. Everyone was laughing at you! Your breathing started to become small and shallow as well as short. Everyone was looking at the poster or you and it made your skin crawl.

You turned around to run away but you were met with a hard chest.

“Whoa. Whoa, Whoa, whoa.”

“Look, this is about me, ok?” JJ reassured.

“This is not you.” He explained.

“Stay here,” JJ soothed.

JJ grabbed the poster out of his ex girlfriend’s hand and walked up to one of his friends.

“Hey, man. No wonder you been keepin’ her locked up, man. I had no idea that this was underneath all that.” His friend laughed.

JJ shoved him. Then JJ punched him.

“We’re through!” Dean shouted.

“That’s great,” JJ responded.

“We are through forever!”

JJ walked over to you and cupped your face with his hands on ether side of your face.

“Are you ok?” JJ asked.

You nodded.

“You made a mistake JJ,” Dean yelled.

“You sure? Let’s get the hell out of here.” JJ insisted.

Once you got out of the school and outside JJ was very attentive.

“Baby, Baby, I’m sorry.” JJ apologized.

“Ok? They’re animals all right?” JJ expressed.

“You want me to take you home?”

You nodded your head trying to wish away the tears in your eyes that were tempting to slip down your cheek.

“alright let’s get out of here,” JJ soothed.

When you finally arrived at your house you and JJ were parked right outside sitting in the car.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” JJ fussed over you.

“Mm-hmm. Im fine. Thank you for everything.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

“Hey… Um… I wanna a-ask you something.” JJ stuttered.

“Ok.”

“Will you go out with me? On Saturday night?”

“I’d love to,” you said enthusiastically.

—————-

JJ took you to a nice fancy outside restaurant. You were wearing a pretty blue dress with white flowers on it, with a white sweater. JJ noticed how you were also wearing the necklace he gave you. That made him proud and happy.

“Are you sure this is ok? This place is really nice,” you were worried that he was straining his wallet.

“Yes it’s fine get whatever you want,” JJ smiled.

After looking over the menu and ordering sweet teas you looked over and saw a few old couples dancing. This made you want to dance with your date. You waited till after your meal to ask JJ.

“Would you like to dance?” You asked after the waiter took your plates.

“Um sorry, I don’t dance.”

“Me neither. I mean… not usually in front of anybody,” you explained.

“Well no, I mean, I… I don’t at all. As in, I can’t.” JJ responded.

“Everybody can dance. Come on, you can’t be that bad.”

“Please?” you begged.

“For me?” you asked.

“Come on.”

JJ caved. He caved because he would do anything to make you happy. He would do anything for you and anything to see you smile. The two of you went on the stage and slow danced.

You laughed at JJ as he stepped in your toes. The closeness of the dance made your cheeks turn pink.

“So what are your dreams?” You asked.

“Hmm my dreams, maybe get out of OBX, go to Yucatán, surf all day.” JJ smiled.

“What are yours?” JJ questioned.

“Let’s see. Read a lot of books, travel the world, I want to be more confident, get a degree, ya know the same ambitions as everyone else.” You listed.

“Those are good ones,” JJ complimented.

“Yours at good too,” you added.

You and JJ fell into conversation about anything and everything as you danced. There were lights around the stage that added to the atmosphere.

After you were done dancing JJ drove you to the pier. He parked in a parking spot that overlooked the ocean. Then he got out temporarily tattoos.

“Okay butterfly, rosebud or star?” JJ asked.

“You choose,” you responded.

“Butterfly,” JJ chose.

“Ok.”

“So… where do you want it?” JJ questioned.

“Right here,” you said as you pulled your dress sleeve down and shoved your shoulder forward to give access to the back of it.

JJ used a wet rag to place the tattoo on the back of your shoulder. Then when it was done and revealed a beautiful dark butterfly he blew on it for it to dry. You loved it.

Then the two of you started to walk around the pier. It was dark, but you enjoyed the night air as you walked and talked.

“I might kiss you,” JJ announced.

“I might be bad at it,” you worried.

“That’s not possible,” JJ reassured.

JJ kissed you with passion. The kiss was soft and gentle but you felt sparks. Your lips locked together in a heated kiss. It didn’t last too long but it was long enough for your stomach to flip. The night ended with JJ confessing his love for you. And you thought maybe just maybe you could love him back.

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rafesgoldrings · 2 years ago

Text

Drew Starkey characters

Rafe Cameron

* indicates smut 18+ ONLY

Imagines

One Hell of a Night* (ft Poly!Kook Topper and Kelce)

It’s strictly platonic between you and the three kook boys to anyone else, but when you’re alone it’s a totally different answer. A daunting game of cat and mouse lands you in an interesting position one Friday night.

Sex Tape* (Cam boy!Rafe AU)

Rafe agrees to let you be in one of his shows on the agreement he gets to make a sex tape with it…turns out you like being the slutty star of the show

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy* (Cowboy!Rafe AU)

When you see that Rafe Cameron is looking for new ranch hands, you jump at the opportunity. You’ve heard the rumors about him being a cowboy casanova and plan on keeping it professional, but his blue eyes and thick southern drawl make it harder than you planned

Throat Training*

Rafe really likes training your throat hoping that one day he can use it to his full advantage

Let Me Help* (ft Topper and Kelce)

After hearing what JJ and Pope did to Topper, you decide to join in on the plan for revenge. Turns out you like seeing your boys get mean way more than you thought

Princess*

Rafe likes having your throat full. He also really likes making fun of you for it

Lines*

Rafe does lines off your tits

Blurbs

Rafe gets an idea when he sees your silk sleeping mask and it becomes a new thing for you two*

After care with Rafe

Rafe getting you all worked up and mocking your moans*

Car sex with Rafe*

Rafe gets a handjob after you get your nails done and loves how they look gripping his cock*

Rafe likes when you get off on his thigh*

Overstim! With Rafe*

Sub!Rafe*

Comfort!Rafe

“Shh shh baby, I know I know”*

Rafe makes sure you know how much he loves you

Angry Rafe using you to get his frustration out*

Rafe spanking you after you tease him all day*

Getting Rafe’s initials tattooed under your tits*

Mean sex with Rafe*

Rafe x Bimbo!Reader*

Rafe punishes you after you make a snotty comment about his…skills*

Giving Rafe road head*

Reassuring Rafe

JJ catching his kook gf giving Rafe road head*

Trophy wife!Reader

Original trophy wife request*

Rafe gets a blowjob while on the phone*

Rafe spoils you at the spa and finds himself roped into a couples massage*

Rafe fucks you on the new guys desk to show him who you belong since he doesn’t seem to understand*

Rafe buys you a diamond necklace with his name on it

Rafe takes care of the creepy guy that won’t leave you alone at work when things get physical*

Rafe finds your ‘toys’ and uses them against you…literally*

Showering with Rafe quickly turns sexual when he uses the showerhead to his advantage*

You’re jealous of Rafe’s newest business conquest*

The new guy at work treats you like shit not knowing who your husband is*

Rafe keeps his promise of making you beg after the events of the new guy disrespecting you*

Rafe with a breeding kink*

You get hurt at the office and Rafe panics (AKA hurt/comfort)

Teasing Rafe at a business dinner*

Rafe takes care of you while you’re on your period

Taking care of a coked out Rafe

Poly!Kook!Boys x Kook!Reader

How your relationship with the boys started

You tell Rafe he’s your favorite during sex, a little white lie doesn’t hurt anyone*

Growing tired of your bitching when they stop spoiling you for a few days, Rafe teaches you a lesson using his belt*

The boys find out you’ve been lying to them about who’s your favorite and plan their revenge*

The boys handle a pogue that made you uncomfortable. Nobody touches their girl and gets away with it

The boys have a game of who can make you come the most and the hardest, you find out and make your own game*

What the boys do when you take too much coke

The time Topper went too far against your boundaries and your other two boys took care of it (1/2)

The time Topper went too far with claiming you and Rafe got jealous* (2/2)

Pregnancy scare

The boys take care of you after you have a few too many drinks*

The boys doing lines off your body*

Cowboy!Rafe AU

Fluffy/flirty moments with Cowboy!Rafe

You pick flowers for Cowboy!Rafe after a long day at the ranch (blushy and shy Cowboy!Rafe)

#rafe cameron imagine

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vikwrites · 11 months ago

Text

" DAEMONUIUM " - Tony Stark

Chapter Summary ➣ The Fall of Stark Castle. Pairing ➣ Fallen Prince!Tony Stark x Reader Word Count ➣ 611 words Chapter Warnings ➣ Medieval! AU, Slow Burn, Violence, Major Character Death. Author's Notes ➣ An idea by @welldonekhushi, a bit different to what I usually write, next chapter will hopefully provide more context. Thank you to my lovely beta reader @nicoline1998enilocin <3

Prologue - Overture

The rope felt rough against the Prince’s neck.

Tapestries of silk, once proudly displaying the kingdom’s colours and emblems, have been shredded from their rods, some burnt into meagre piles of ash; the rest torn by the passage of time and faded by the harsh sun.

The throne, once a shining beacon in the grand hall, now stands in solitude. Its layers of gold leaf have been stripped away, revealing the cold iron underneath. The brilliant gemstones that adorned its surface have been pillaged and looted, leaving only empty settings behind. The rows of stained glass windows, each depicting a moment of the kingdom's triumphs, are now shattered, their intricate designs marred into shards.

The peasants stormed the palace. They came in hordes of near thousands, pitchforks and flames in hand. The grand doors splintered under their force, crashing open to reveal the opulent corridors within. The echoes of their cries reverberated off the stone walls as they surged forward, a seething mass of defiance against the monarchy. The nobles, once standing proud and untouchable, now cowered in their gilded chambers, the unfortunate ones having been slaughtered in cold blood.

The same could not be said for the Prince. For he ran, like a swift wind through every nook and cranny of the castle — up twisting stairwells, down spiralling towers — the peasant’s voices like cries of the damned — the walls quaking with emancipated rage, like the first leak in the wall of a dam, forewarning that nothing could hold for long. His patterned robe dragged upon the floor, stained red with blue blood.

His legs could only carry him so far; he found himself perched at the edge of the turret, overlooking the dark horizon and the sheer drop into the ocean below, the waves crashing against the splintered rocks. He could hear the peasants’ voices as they approached, drawing closer by the second. It dawned on him that death was not a matter of when, but how.

“ There he is, ” — fear became a tangible, living force, creeping over his figure like some ravenous beast, holding him in a standstill — “ Seize him! ”

The Prince was bound; not by silver shackles or golden chains, but by simple rope. He was marched like cattle out of the palace gates, being put on as a barbaric display of irreverence; a sovereign turned laughing stock in the span of a night. The peasants scrambled like rats, just for the chance to witness the spectacle.

Amidst the crackling of bonfires and the scorching heat. His body trembled with cold, but his mind burned with anger — with memories of the firelight still drifting like phantoms in his brain.

Tears fall from the Prince’s eyes. They meander down his cheeks.

That fateful second before the floorboards dropped, the Prince pondered if he had anything left to save in death. He stands in solitude on the gallows. While the Cardinal recited blessings in Latin, the words in the people’s mouths were nothing but curses, laced with vitriol and the name of the Devil, lashing out like a bitten and cornered dog, condemning him to the deepest rings of Hell.

The creak of the floorboards, the roar of the crowd — these were among the last things he would hear before he died. His eyes did not bear remorse; instead, they held shame, to be stripped from the high chambers of the castle and reduced to the same fate as a lowly outlaw.

What he’d give to be a young prince again, adorned with jewels and veneration — now he’s traded in his necklace for a noose —

The Prince took his last few straggling breaths, and the floor gave way beneath him.

⎊ back to masterlist

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark smut #rdj #mcu #robert downey jr #iron man #avengers #robert downey jr imagine #marvel #medieval #writing #robert downey jr icons #ironman #tony stark imagine

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notchainedtotrauma · 2 months ago

Text

The Revolution Will Be (Black) Life: How I Write The Complexity of Abolishing The World

I have never done that. Never. I have done posts aggregating Black poeisis and Black thought and Black art in order to put people's minds together. But I don't remember ever having done that kind of post...with my own work. So there it is. And yes, I wrote all the poems below.

Ode to the Black Girl Breathing The Party as She Goes

Which corner stores are required for the hand

to leap,

a globe of perspiration and swallow

a forever memory within the ineptitude

of fleshy concrete,

and what can she do with that ?

If she parts her hair, still,

the rock and sway of her scheme

and the merging of all the voices demanding she do her dance.

Illusions don't propel the airy girls on the ice

don't brace them with keys

and offbeat songs,

don't whirl them against the wrongness of a blade

and their head,

a bubble in mourning

a piece of gum on an ashy knee.

Say what you want about all that gossip,

the walls remember the undoing of her bones

and her pacing teeth.

She doesn't attach herself

to the begonias down the street

to repetitive devices,

sheathed with sallow;

she hums her cordoned sentimentality,

a breast remains

sugar for the horizon

a sprouting eye around her renamed waist.

It's never been about weaving leather

about butterflied dust

and rippling blood;

the party always collapses into

faux furs earmuffs

and hobbling backgrounds.

Nobody needs saving,

but all need a good sermon,

the pastor grand and golden,

the cars piling up around vigorous bodies

and secular kisses.

The wan girls on the burred couches

their hands a swarming breath

the rope blossoms from their stripped knees

and still

she severs them cotton candy full

remand their tangled mouths

acts as judge and jury,

holds the lawyer in her mouth,

his flushed indifference.

No bed suffices for the layers of bad sex

birthed from the courtroom.

Pear trees and verdant muck

a short history of early drives and

giggling proximity;

outside supplies psych wards

and paper boxes

while people twist themselves into a curl of boredom.

Her leaning towards every sorrowful crushed bird

rushes her kneeling to bare rooms

full of bright coral light

and her sweltering voice.

But Who Will We Feed Next ? (* The entire poem turns on Nope by Jordan Peele)

As one image dissolved and another appeared, her heart raced.

from Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments by Saidiya Hartman

The music tethers what I thought was a baptism to the ground

I wake up to the sourness of cracked mud around my throat

I remain enmenshed in the slowness of honey, waiting for victory

I am spectator and victim, parting the manufactured sky with a paring knife

There is so much blood I wait to be slewed inside uncessing rooms

The geometry of my heart is something I remember sharp and shallow

I quiet down when through the dripping egg yolk of a blinking breath

What do you want to know now that I lay with an eye in my mouth.

I guess unsettling ache wasn't enough to crash the car home

I sit there and boil the bark of a cinnamon tree, hoping for redress

I drive the camera into my throat, a relief

The light can be so pale and so still I curl up to the side of my bed

He sat there and tried to whisper sweet things as the whiskey grew bitter

I tore the last silk dress I could find in a crumbling cabinet and let myself smile

I seek the comfort of hurt in the dust of every sloppy merry-go-round

I don't hunger for the hatchet or the camcorder and my brother holds my hand

The Pearl We Buried Into Our Sanctified Flesh

In a black episteme, radical spiritual practices gave release to alternate forms of being and selfhood. Ecstatic enactments of communion, often practiced in all-women prayer bands, produced realms generated in what we could call ecstatic time.

from Black Utopias: Speculative Life and the Music of Other Worlds by Jayna Brown

We're very sorry our bodies

are burning

quashed against the wall.

We're minutious with it

a necklace of wails

glassy abundance

a boredom so sharp it never hurts.

What do you see amidst the white robes,

music like,

a story about your nerves,

your sliced breast.

Nobody knows about the cigarettes wrapped around our wrists,

our delicate day dreaming

the scars across our sweet

when we pleasure ourselves with the breach in wooden surfaces.

Maybe we were always unprepared for this,

this escalator widening our mouths

the metal cool and glinting against our jaws.

We want to hold everybody

with a knife in our hands.

We hurled our brown bodies across the length of the room

where there was no room

an eye, a building

erected through our smooth lower half.

We were prepared for this, though:

our hands rippling with the mud

we chewed on earlier

hoping for flight, for a slow erosion,

for a miracle bonding us to the walls and the walls and the walls.

We wake up with one mind,

clouded with pain,

we say everything but forget the soft of our hands

the ghost of our mouths.

Our teeth are white like nobody is around us

a pearl we can open

as it breaks us.

Surely you must remember the blood

we poured into your expectant throat,

the dull of your gaze

quartered and verdant

flowers huddled across

the small of you.

We sing and you cannot hear us,

buried into yourself.

Is that you, rolling off our prayers ?

We marry your silence

circled around you, sorrowful and glad.

When done, we sit at the forefront of burnt churches,

seek the cross to lay down through it,

embrace crumbling walls,

dusky and bitter.

We always carry between us a jar of liquid ash

forgive all our tremors

parry your slow walk

force into your throat the meaning of our grace.

We are nothing if sorrowful, which means sweet, which means

raw fish into your hands,

flailing as it tears.

What we eat doesn't sever our sweat from our spit:

when exhausted we strip away a car,

let the machinery soothe us

dip our hands into the motor as it if could save us

and it can.

We lay on puddles of leaves, dark green and itchy

we examine twisted valves,

we call out to the blurry road,

resting at last.

Skyrise for That Little Black Girl Nodding Along Her Own Hum

"I’m connected to legacy. This is more than just trying to build a watch. This is about building LEGACY."

from Aldis Hodge's Path to Purpose by Aldis Hodge

We well up against the mainspring

or we are the mainspring;

a smile smears blood across the border

between our empty

and that mouth, black,

thick,

a bowl of smoke.

We are the mainspring, I say;

a narrow bone

grown from nowhere,

our collective body in flight from

ourselves.

We require no explanation when the light blooms so bleary

a man knots it across his face,

carves a river of glass and metal,

drags his knuckles across the grease of

an acrid morning.

The morning is something only our children

remember;

cool with ease, playing games they made out of

dusk and orange peel,

they're buildings all over again.

The children, knitted through the amber sky,

liquid and gorged,

draw an arc beneath their ripe breaths,

jolting lines laced with sleek skin;

tomorrow they bring cities behind their teeth.

Nothing feels good besides so many wheels;

when her husband, she boils sugar and cherry bark,

holds a finger to the door,

sticky with endings.

Everyone said hello after the first few nights

of splattered eyes

and peculiar bracelets.

Now everyone's made it, which is to say, everyone's died.

Who saw Harlem in flight ?

Who handed a fleshy tongue to white paint

and scorched concrete ?

The little girl we lost in the fire,

whistling rainbows on abandoned tree trunks,

a braid cloudy and undone:

but look how glistening,

the kind of grace her skipping knees

sway.

Tomorrow

she brings eternity in her teeth.

When we wake up

our children;

our spines curled to sleep.

It doesn't matter;

anyone can be bird

or air.

Notes:

1. I cite Garrett Morgan, who invented not only the three-position traffic signal, but a breathing device that would serve as a blueprint for the creation of the gas mask.

2. I cite Marie Van Brittan Brown, who invented the first home security city system.

3. I also cite Black feminist educator, poet, children books author, playwright, essayist and self-taught urban designer June Jordan, whose unrealized urban planning project Skyrise for Harlem, created in collaboration with Buckminster Fuller, showcases her interdisciplinary radical and transformative vision. The title of the poem models itself upon the title of her architectural reimagining of Harlem.

The Spilled Skin of a Luminous Sunrise (This references the Lake Lanier)

All water isn't good water;

we kneel in a fistful of muddy rust, our voices ache.

We unearth jagged walls, charred glass;

our spines limp, undefined. As if a noose blooming

from our back; a small mouth,

sated and bitter.

When we woke up, a hand between our thighs,

we saw streaked dusk,

a wisp of chain-link fences

twisted around

our doors.

In the vast empty rooms, sunlight thick as sugar cane;

often, I ask for forgiveness, drink the heat on the ground.

Can I be slick flesh, lithe marrow ?

Hands and knees always burn in the frosted evening;

I remember a scar between my teeth.

The knife becomes an exercise in longing;

wrists scooped from crumbled soil,

a voice floats in a cocktail glass,

a tear across the hours.

Between the charred sky and a foamy church

sinking into a pool of salt

and tar

the glisten of a sheathed leg,

soaring.

We grin with smoke in our mouths;

no longer

are we scattered mist

a dismal shadow

through which

a hand reaches

for some relief.

Blood comes easy when wrung

from gravel;

rivulets of dreamy history

a soft body left to rot.

Maybe or maybe not; some houses unraveling,

a wall black with grease.

Somewhere, I sip white roses. Sandalwood.

Knead flesh into prayer.

I come for the flood, stay for blasphemy.

The wawering windows spit liquid static,

rupture the blurry light

a wound remains.

The Sweetness of Black Girls Driving Themselves Away

Something bigger than the two-plus-two way everybody else lived from day to day was going on and she was right there and part of it. Whatever it was that had fallen away was showing her another way to be in the world.

from The Salt Eaters by Toni Cade Bambara

Out of hunger, the road, slick black ice,

a tongue, flickers;

every window swallows a dust covered melancholy,

a sack of tears

slid down the throat

from which, fraying at the edges,

a clogged voice.

The afternoon descends like a rusted blade,

a fucked up smile

whose fat lip feeds on air.

Somehow, the trees blend in with the background of bleary

glimmer and brown matter;

a faceless empire of fallen cackles,

a crushed orange

whose grainy skin keeps rupturing

at the center;

and everyone's sticky and worn out and fed up

with the sluggish movement of

overheated metal

and rank leather.

Popsicle red stains the foam capped borders of damp dresses,

arms drifting across bare clavicles,

lenghtened necks,

as if to say "let's play";

the hand gliding down the suddenly empty trail,

the severed hip

signal more than casual boredom,

more than the ease

of the overfed

subject.

The breathing has grown

ragged

and rawboned.

There are men somewhere, in the constant ebb and flow

of a dreadful and swollen light;

an offering of hands around yielding flesh,

breath like vapor

besides a pair of legs bent in gleeful prayer.

The sea remains everything they haven't

touched,

an oily horizon of debris adorning their

fractured guts;

a bracelet of nails across their

ankles.

A kingdom of brown legs

spiked

with hazy bruises

stretched against a background of trees burning like men

rose water sprayed against

a lipsticked mouth;

bitter honey gets smudged through a mound

of droopy flesh,

a slight opening.

When the sobbing comes,

no sound.

The night comes out liquid and suffocating,

a lava crusted bulb of

pallid light

they can reach and pluck,

like a rotten fruit,

full and ready to explode.

Black ice turned to sludge, a muddy field

wrecked by the innocuous

scent of menthol cigarettes mixed with sweat,

the bare bones

of bodies

to go alight,

to stay unaccounted for.

#my brain is writing #Salt #PSA

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predalien · 2 years ago

Note

Not so much of an ask but it can be;

The human mate of a yautja turns out to be quite the pup magnet with the amount of mom/cool aunt vibes she gives off. The little shits, albeit adorable, are always messing with her hair, the babies (who are born blind, something she learned during her time at the village with the mothers) that some of the mothers in the clan allow her to hold like to pat her cheeks and mouth and click and chirp in confusion when they can’t find her mandibles (they probably think she’s deformed and ugly as sun lol), and the older like to play fight her and she always gives them one of her braided bracelets or beaded necklaces but that only encourages the others.

Back on earth, she was a gymnast and did aerial silk rope dancing, something that really hasn’t changed since meeting her mate and coming to Yautja Prime as she still practices. Some of the mothers of the clan have taken noticed and even asked her to teach their pups, which she wholeheartedly accepted.

#I love it when you guys send these #writings #not my writing #predator #predator x reader #yautja #yautja x reader #my posts

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mercurygray · 1 month ago

Note

22) a stolen pearl necklace & 11) yellow silk with Daphne? :)

Thanks for requesting Daphne, Andy! I hadn't written her in such a long time and this gave me a good reason to take a second look at what happened in between seasons with Mike.

It had been two months, and there had been no news.

Daphne had known, deep down, that this would always be the case; official telegrams were for wives and mothers, not girlfriends you could not admit to aloud because they were from the wrong social class. The SAS as a whole were not letter-writers, and she doubted that if they'd had news they would have thought to share it with her. Mike was lost to her, and to the desert, possibly, and that was just the way things had to be. The war went on, and she would have to go on with it. She'd had her cry - had several, even - and then returned to the stiff upper lip that everyone expected for the part she'd been playing for the last year, still the same as she had always been - lovely Miss Markham-Reed, daughter of the attache, bright spot at parties, always willing to dance, no one serious, trying to write a novel. Unattached, never been in love, never lost anyone she'd cared about.

"What's this? Daphne not dancing? I thought I'd never see it." The jovial voice was one she knew too well - a puckish dark-haired man about her age, one of only a few in evening dress as opposed to a uniform, grinning at his own joke. "Where are all your swains this evening?"

"They all knew I was waiting for you," Daphne shot back, all too familiar with the concept of returning fire. That was the trick with men like Peter Stirling - never let them see you down or on the ropes. He knew her better than most - being on the Embassy staff would do that - but never what she would call a friend. Sparring partner, perhaps - erstwhile ally, if she was stretching a little. Men who weren't in uniform needed those as much as unattached women did. "And your handsome friend," she added, casting a smile at the taller gentleman behind him, who seemed vaguely familiar in a way she couldn't quite place. (Handsome might have been a stretch - the word she wanted to use was sharpened. He seemed to be all angles and jawline and beautifully creased trousers.)

"Have you not met my brother yet? Forgive me," Peter clarified, seeing Daphne's eyebrow rise. She'd met David Stirling, and this was not he. "My other brother."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that."

"Well, I'm afraid it's true, Bill, you're very much the other brother when you're here in Cairo. Sad fact of showing up fourth, old boy. This is Daphne Markham-Reed - the daughter of our number two at the embassy. Quite the woman to know, aren't you, Daphne. Get you an invitation anywhere."

"I have that reputation," Daphne admitted. "Whether it's true is up for debate. So, what brings you to the desert, Lieutenant Colonel Stirling?"

"Bill's just taken over Dave's old outfit," Peter shared with obvious relish.

"You're taking on the SAS?" The question dropped out before she could help herself, her surprise too earnest, and she felt Bill's eyes focus intently on her.

"You're familiar?"

For a brief moment Daphne thought of Mike, brushing sand from the roots of his hair, tanned and lean and tender. I was more than familiar. But that was her secret to keep, not his to know, and she brushed it off quickly. "Everyone in Cairo knows the SAS - if they read the police reports," she said, smiling. "Or if they ever went to a party with David Stirling," she added, just to see Peter grin and Bill grimace a little, and felt herself relax. "Every woman in town's been told to watch out for white berets."

"Yes, they do have rather a reputation, don't they?" Peter was egging his elder brother on again. "Not helped by…certain elements in their leadership. I've been telling Bill he's got his work cut out but I'm not sure he believes me. Maybe you can …persuade him to see sense."

"I'm not sure anyone's ever successfully persuaded a Stirling to do anything."

Peter laughed and patted his brother's shoulder. "How well you see us, Daphne. She's writing a novel, you know - got to put all those keen observations somewhere."

"You're a writer?" Bill had a look of polite if also glacial interest, and Daphne put on her most polite and effacing smile. No one's ever successfully impressed a Stirling, either, if you're anything to go by. That had been the case with David, too - though in his case it had been more a case of never stopping to listen to his dance partner.

"I had a few short stories published last year - under a nom de plume, of course. Little things for women's magazines. Nothing serious." That was true, actually - if she was going to continue saying she was a writer, it would help if she actually wrote things. They'd been junk, really - torrid short stories for the women's weeklies back home for bored housewives to devour while they were waiting for the dinner to cook. The editor had praised her exotic details and pressed for more stories of wartime life abroad. Mike had laughed while he'd read her drafts and pressed her for more details about her women of the week - does she find the stolen pearls? Does the dog come home? How many children will they have when he gets back to blighty?

But these were not things that men like Bill Stirling cared about. He was already scanning the room for other faces, other opportunities - a dim debutante writer was outside his scope. And that's just how I want it. Men will say all sorts of things to women they underestimate - Peter does it all the time. "We should go," he said, noncommittally. "I see General Smith."

"Save me a rumba," Peter said with a grin by way of parting shots, and left happy to trail after his tall, spare stick of a brother.

Daphne watched them go, casually moving closer towards the shade of the bar. The woman next to General Smith was wearing a horrid shade of yellow silk that certainly made her stand out against the rest of the crowd but also gave the woman the appearance of being ill. And malaria's not exactly a fashion statement.

"I know what you're thinking," someone said extremely conversationally, settling into the chair next to hers with a glass in hand. "That's a horrid color on her."

"I said nothing of the kind," Daphne said reasonably.

"But you were thinking it, darling, because it's true. Very few women can really pull off yellow silk."

"Are you speaking from experience, Colonel Clarke?"

Clarke snorted. "That tongue of yours will get you into trouble one day, young miss. And anyway, I'm very aware of my limits." He glanced down at her blue crepe. "This is lovely, by the way - is this new?"

"You've seen me in it before," Daphne assured him. "But the brooch is new."

"Ill-gotten gains from your latest sale?" The head of military intelligence inspected the gold bauble with care. "Very pretty. I see you met the new Stirling in town."

She took note of his tone, the note of almost-careful censure. "Not the man you would have picked?" She knew parts of the story about the origins of the SAS, gleaned from Clarke and Mike and others. Perhaps one day she'd hear it in full - or not.

"David Stirling wasn't the man I would have picked, for starters, nor is Paddy Mayne, but picked they have been, and Bill Stirling has been, too, and much luck may we wish him with it. Though I don't really think he'll need it," Clarke added with a small smile.

"Are you joking?" Not need luck with the SAS? The men who disdain tradition and order, and him? A toff with immaculate creases in his trousers and a face that wouldn't know what a joke was? They'll eat him alive.

Clarke might have agreed with her, but he also looked like he had something amusing on the tip of his tongue. "What if I told you he used to play the game?"

Daphne stared - 'the game' meant only one thing. Bill Stirling, work for the Special Operations Executive? Ungentlemanly warfare where? "You're still joking."

"I never joke about work," Clarke said with an insulted expression. "One of the first men they asked - ran training for a long time, in Scotland. There are many missing pages from his file, but there's enough there to be interesting. Guerilla tactics - evasion, interrogation…counter-intelligence."

She thought about this for a moment, what he was really saying. "You think they're running him?"

The intelligence officer made a vague gesture. "I think that every so often, GHQ actually know what they're doing. No one's told me, of course, as is their right, I suppose. But you never really get out of that line, do you?" Clarke looked across the room like he was contemplating a painting, or the meaning of a poem. "They could have given it to a hundred other men they wanted to ruin or rob, and instead they pick the brother who can play the martinet to Mayne's mad dog."

She, too, followed his gaze, trying to taking it in with new eyes, Peter's pleasant bonhomie and Bill's cool reserve - everything as predictable as can be. Everyone who knew David would assume they knew him - the detached older brother, unemotional and aloof, far better at playing politics than he was at planning, a man at home behind a desk. And they'll all underestimate him - just like you did.

Would it work? The desert demands the truth in a man, Mike used to say, and it doesn't suffer fools or delusions. But they won't be fighting in the desert, Daphne thought to herself. Someone called her name across the room, and she set aside her drink to answer, ready to be the sparkling smile once more. Perhaps Italy will be easier on liars. Cairo certainly isn't.

#asked and answered #saturnwisteria #i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #tds cinematic universe #sas rogue heroes x oc #daphne markham-reed

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logandria · 9 months ago

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The Private Garden mini collection is here!

The subtly suggestive Private Garden print imagines the aftermath of a lovers' afternoon spent in seclusion in their secret garden. The lovers have left the scene, and what remains in the millefleur-style lush grass and flowers are subtle hints of their time together: tangled shibari rope, a leash and collar, a padlock and key, a pearl necklace, and a tube of lipstick, among other things...

The silk scarf: https://logandria.com/colleictions/silk-scarves/products/private-garden-silk-scarf

The silk/cotton pillowcases: https://logandria.com/collections/bedding/products/private-garden-silk-pillowcase

#fashion #art #glamour #silks scarves #shibari #bd/sm rope

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maninthemiroh · 2 months ago

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About my Spider-Verse DR

Birth name: Kesselly, Kelden Doloe

My nicknames: Kel, Dolo

My faceclaim: Xueli Abbing

Gender identity: Cis-male

Orientation: Demi-Homoflexible

More about me and changes I made below the cut <3

Things I changed:

Pav isn’t a middle schooler because that never really made sense to me and because I’m love him or whatever /hj

Miles, Pav, and I are dating

Pav is more of a help to Miles during the events of ATSV than in cannon because obviously

Miles, Pav, and I all go to Earth-42

Appearance & suit:

I'm albino

My suit, which I sewed myself, consists of tiny rhombuses and is matte

Accessories include a form-fitting leather full-body kinda zip-up hooded jacket which I usually keep half-way on and tied around my waist, a ushanka-type yak fur hate, yak fur leg warmers on top of my boots, moonboot-like yak fur boots, bronze and turquoise claw armor rings (I don’t know what they’re called :/), a yak leather tibetan beaded belt, a nose hoop ring on my right nostril, a utility sash, a quiver for my bow and arrow, and a tiger's eye 108 bead mala necklace with the Om symbol

I keep a herbalism kit, flint and stricker, water skin, rope, extra bowstring, twine, and extra yak leather in the utility stash

I have a professionally done scarification of a spiderweb with a spider descending from it on my right hip and a traditional-style tattoo of a Galsang flower in the middle of the area below my pecs

Also, the face of my mask changes expressions like the ones in the Sichuan Opera and my suit’s logo is that of a descending spider with the little lines that old age microphones used to have (the body of the spider is the microphone and the silk strand is the stand) :]

My hair is almost perpetually in Tibetan braids, a style I inherited from my mom, who always wore them while my dad had locs (MY DAD WAS BLACK GUYS, PLEASE). I prefer to keep my hair this way due to my lifestyle as a cabin-dwelling hunter, not seeing the point in changing it often.

I fear I may be obsessed with making my DRselves 9 feet tall 😣

My spider-suit and outfit's color palette (aside from his jewelry) is Persian Indigo (#240D70), Maximum Red (#DB2014), Titanium Yellow (#F5E202), White (#FFFFFF), Crayola's Forest Green (#64AB71) Fulvous, Bleu De France (#298ED7), American Green (#27A845) and Meat Brown (#EBA934)

Weapons and equipment:

Marlin 336 Classic Rifle – A lever-action rifle for long-range precision.

Mdung Spear – Wrapped in cloth with floral carvings on the head.

Composite Bows – Made from bamboo, wood, and yak sinew for strength and flexibility.

Buck 110 Folding Knives – An unknown number is hidden on my person.

Web-Shaped Arrows – Created with my natural silk, often frozen solid for enhanced lethality.

Spider-shaped Throwing Stars – Made with hand tools and out of bronze to fit my fit.

Abilities & powers:

Super Strength, Stamina, Jumping, Adhesion, Reflexes, Agility - I adapt well to mountain terrain and extreme weather conditions, can leap extreme distances, cling to any surface, and have a lifting capacity of 11.3 tons

Spider-Sense – An almost supernatural awareness of danger.

Venom Production – My fangs (when manifested) can inject paralyzing neurotoxic venom, but I only use it in extreme cases.

Feature Generation – I can sprout six additional eyes in two neat rows, heightening my perception. I usually keep them hidden.

Superhuman Perception – I see the world in a way normal humans can’t. My vision is more precise than a scope, allowing me to track minute movements.

Cryokinesis & Frigokinesis – I can create and manipulate extreme cold, ice, and snow.

Web Manipulation – My webs are more fibrous and dense, making them well-suited for shaping into arrows, traps, and weapons.

Zǔzhòu:

Named after the Chinese word for 'Curse,’ Zǔzhòu is my symbiote. When it takes over I grow and transform to look like a Chinese lion dancer centaur. Like, my head looks like a chinese lion dance head, my hair looks like a mane, I grow a long fluffy lion tail, another pair of legs (the back ones), and I appear furry but it's all, of course, just Zǔzhòu manifesting, so it's not really fur. I don’t know, I hope this makes sense, I’m too lazy to draw it right now. I actually saved Zǔzhòu's life (can symbiotes die? I think they can?) when we first met. See, when I was fighting The Shaman for the first time, one of The Shaman's third eye death rays shot out pointedly missing me as an attempted scare tactic, but I didn't react as he intended, so The Shaman shot one out into the distance and I, concerned it would hit someone, begrudgingly let The Shaman escape as I turned and ran to check. The death ray just happened to have hit Zǔzhòu and I (after demanding an explanation for what the hell Zǔzhòu was) agreed to let Zǔzhòu inhabit my body as long as it agreed to not become, well, parasitic. Nowadays, Zǔzhòu is like the very annoying younger sibling I never really wanted. I often have to bribe it with homemade dre-si for it to behave similarly to how eddie Brock’s symbiote, Venom, is obsessed with chocolate.

Backstory:

Born into an impoverished Tibetan family, I grew up in a household where survival meant knowing how to hunt, craft, and live off the land. Despite the hardship, my parents always set aside enough money every year to take me to see the Sichuan Opera on my birthday, a rare indulgence that sparked my deep love for music and singing.

One day, while performing my daily cleanse of my home—a strict routine to keep my space free of pests—I discovered a Pantropical Huntsman Spider, an unusual find in the cold region. Unlike most, I wasn’t afraid. Instead, I gently picked up the spider, quietly speaking to it as I carried it outside, knowing it would fare better away from my fastidiously kept space.

Unknown to me, the spider was the product of a failed scientific experiment, its DNA altered with radioactive properties beyond natural biology. In what seemed to be a gesture of thanks—or perhaps an instinctive defense—the spider bit me before scampering off.

I shrugged off the bite, knowing Huntsman Spiders weren’t dangerous, but the next morning, I woke with a feeling that something was off. The moment I sat up, a web shot from my wrist, startling me. Fascinated, I spent the day experimenting with my newfound abilities, quickly mastering them with the same precision and patience I applied to hunting.

By the following year, he was fully in control of his powers.

I do not trust technology. I see modern automation as a cold, detached force, valuing human skill and intuition over machines.

My hatred for it deepened after my parents were killed by a self-driving car in what went on to become a hit and run when I was 14. The driver fled the scene, but was eventually caught and arrested.

Since then, I have lived alone in a log cabin I built by hand in the mountains of Yangbajain, Tibet. I refuse to eat anything I didn’t hunt or gather myself and spends hours meditating, often clinging to the ceiling of my cabin.

Despite my isolated nature, I am fiercely protective of Tibet and actively fight for its independence. My reputation as a mystical, ghost-like figure keeps oppressors on edge, as I strike without warning and disappear back into the wild afterward.

(Also, due to my issues with technology, I ride my prize yak, Dekyi, as my only form of transportation besides walking.)

Nemesis:

Years after her death, my mother was brought back by a villain known as The Shaman.

But, a master of forbidden resurrection, The Shaman cannot truly bring the dead back to life, only reanimate them as eternal servants.

My mother is now bound to the villain’s will, incapable of dying, only being incapacitated.

This is my greatest pain—I cannot save her and cannot kill her to set her free.

For now, I search for a way to break the curse, though all past efforts have ended in failure.

PS: My voice claim is Corpse Husband, as per usual.

Taglist: @the-badass-penguin

Divider credits: @/i-mmaculatus and @/v6quE

#original post #shifting antis dni #desired reality intro #spiderverse shifting #spiderverse shifter #spiderverse dr related #spiderverse dr

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rellanas · 4 months ago

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17, 18, 20 for the nsfw ask meme for arthur and bull? @freedomcrows

thank you :)

17. What’s their go-to safe word?

Even after years together and I'm sure plenty of opportunities for Arthur to choose his own safe word, they stick with katoh. At that point, it's habit, it's comfortable, but isn't used often. They know each other's limits well enough, but it's a safety net.

18. Their favourite actions during sex—chin-grabbing, hair-pulling, wrists being pinned, etc.

Wrists being pinned or restrained in some way - if not by Bull's hand, then rope or other restraints. Arthur loves getting his hair pulled/gripped/generally played with, particularly when he's giving Bull head or they're going at it quite roughly. Bull digging his fingers into his hips when Arthur rides him, or digging those fingers into his asscheeks as he pulls Arthur onto him, Bull biting him and Arthur biting him back.

20. What do they like seeing their partner in when they “dress-up?”

I can't necessarily see Bull 'dressing up', but Arthur always enjoys it when Bull has the full-body vitaar going on. Judging by the fact he's wearing it in some of the sex scenes, it's safe for non-Qunari to touch once it's hardened, and Arthur likes how it feels to touch. He likes tracing the patterns; it feels almost...meditative? particularly during aftercare when Arthur's not being restrained. Arthur ends up with a penchant for silk robes. They feel nice to touch, easy to slip on and off for a quick cover up if need be, and easy access. He usually wears that with the dragon's tooth necklace and his hair arranged a certain way. Bull doesn't expect any of the stuff Arthur does to get in the mood, making himself look pretty included, but he appreciates the effort. There's been a couple of casualties. And while it's not a 'dress up' thing, Bull will always appreciate seeing Arthur in his riding trousers and boots if he's fresh from the stables before they have sex. The trousers are extremely form-fitting.

RANDOM OC NS/FW QUESTIONS

#anonymous #freedomcrows #mine: answered #oc: arthur trevelyan #otp: arthuribull #nsft.

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spnshortcake · 2 years ago

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Sugar daddy

Pairing: cyclone and reader

Smut: minors DNI

Requests are still open!

>Masterlist you’ll find pinned or here!<

A/N: this is not been proofread so sorry for any mistakes!

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After moving to California and starting college you and your girlfriends decided to go bar hop in Los Angeles. You have always loved the night life and party scene and never gonna say no to a good time. Y’all all start getting ready and you look at yourself in the mirror. You checked yourself out seeing your tight black skirt and top. Your friends wanted to pregame before getting the Uber to go to the bars so y’all all waited for your friend to pour everyone a shot. The first one always goes down the hardest to you try not to smell it as you lift it to your lips and pour all the liquid down your throat. You do a little dance shimming it down and clap your hands and you look at your girlfriends and everyone busts out laughing.

“Let’s get this party started we got 10 mins til Uber gets here!” Your tall friend Sam said.

“Man I can’t believe Shawn got us a table at the bar down town.” Brie your other girlfriend spoke out.

You may be wondering who Shawn is but that’s Sams sugar daddy. You have heard so much about him and how much he treats her so well and he is always trying to spoil everyone.

“Yeah he did so good he said him and his friends got the table in the back so they will watch us but they won’t get to close said we can get whatever we want.” Sam giggled putting on her lip gloss.

You never had a sugar daddy before but got you thinking. What if you had one? Maybe you needed an older man to hold you down?

“Maybe I need one” you finally speak up and everyone looks at you shocked

“What?” You questioned looking at your friends

“Y/N, I can get you one just gotta talk to him.” Sam finally said and everyone laughs.

“Uber is here let’s go!!” Sam looks at her phone and back at everyone. You all go get your bags and finish up getting ready and make y’all’s way to the Uber. It’s a big black SUV everyone can fit in it.

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The Uber pulls up to the curb outside the bar and there is already a line and the music is bumping and lights flashing it’s the oldest bar in LA but it’s the best no wonder Sams sugar daddy brought us here. Y’all start standing in line til a group of tall men come up to where y’all was standing.

“Shawn!! Hi babe!” Sam comes up to the one in the middle and kisses him. You look at his other friends and notice a man in a silky button up black shirt with gold necklace on and rings he has jet black sunglasses on so you can’t see his eyes but you know they are looking at you.

“Y’all don’t need to wait baby come up with us the table is ready for y’all. He unclips the red rope and y’all all make your way to the table and you over hear the man talking to Shawn you thought maybe you was hearing something else since the music was so loud but you swear you heard him say “that one will be mine at the end of the night” you immediately start blushing and trying to look like you didn’t just hear him say that so you went to the table and the men just circle yall.

“Well we will get out of y’all’s ladies hair so y’all just enjoy and whatever y’all need and want it’s on my tab so don’t worry.” Shawn kisses Sam and waves bye as he is walking away with his friends you watch as that older guy walk away and you can’t tell what you like better his front or back more.

“Who was that with him?” You whisper to Sam as she is handing you a shot glass fillled with tequila.

“Which one?” She asked

“The one in the silk shirt and shades” you look back and see that the man took his shades off so you see his eyes and they are staring right at you you try to play it off as you wasn’t looking at him but he smirks knowing damn well you was staring and he knew.

“Oh hun that’s Cyclone. He is hot isn’t he?” She smirks at you

“Cyclone?”

“That’s his nickname we all call him but his real name is well you actually will have to ask him cause I can’t tell you that.”

“What why?” You asked confused

“Cause babe I’m not his. I’m Shawn’s that’s how I know his name.” She wiggles her eye brows at you and y’all laugh.

“So I have to be his to get his name?” You looked back and you didn’t see him sitting with his friends you started looking for him but couldn’t see him. Then you feel someone tap your shoulder making you turn your head and you almost died when it was him. Cyclone. He has a whiskey neat in his hand and then a glass of red in his other.

“Shawn said you liked wine so I got you a drink.” He hands you the drink and you sip it and you almost melt its the best red you have ever put in your mouth.

“Oh goodness this is so tasty thank you-“ you started trailing off cause you didn’t know his name.

“The name is Beau but you can call me cyclone maam. Have a good night I’ll be seeing you.”

You turn back to your friends as he walks away

“Damn girl he is already all over you.”

“Well one drink isn’t gonna get me to be all over him but god he is so hot. Let’s go dance!!”

“Oh yeah put on a little show for man” Sam and Brie laughs as y’all make y’all’s way to the dance floor many people are already dancing and moving to the music.

Everyone is having a great time and dancing and drinking. You can’t keep your mind off one thing the whole time. Beau. You keep stealing peeks at him and when you don’t look at him he is watching you. Your hips moving to every beat of the music and he knows you’re doing it for him. The other guys there are all noticing you too. When you and your friends are dancing you feel someone come up and grab your hips you immediately stop and turn but then you don’t feel his hands on you but you see cyclone grabbing him away from you and you see Shawn and two body guards escorting him out.

“Are you okay?” Cyclone asks you

“Yes I am thank you. But you didn’t need to do that. I can take care of myself.” You smirk at him and he gets closer to you and you can smell his cologne on him.

“Well I know you can but no guys need to be touching you.”

“Oh yeah? Then who can touch me?” You put your hand on your hip

He chuckles looking away from you then looks down at you since he is much taller than you.

“You’re a little playful thing are you. Shawn was telling me how fun you are.” He smirks pulling you closer if that’s even possible at this point.

“Well maybe you can find out how playful I am.” You lift your glass to your lips and drink the rest of your wine.

“Guess you need more drink I’ll be right back.” He grabs your glass and disappears to the bar.

“Girl your totally into him get it.” You and Sam was in the restroom fixing your hair.

“I honestly didn’t know if I would like him but man he is so fine he can do whatever he wants to me and I’ll be in heaven.” You both laugh and walk out the restroom seeing Shawn and cyclone standing by the door waiting for y’all to come out.

“Now baby how about we let them get to know eachother.” Shawn grabs her by her waist and kisses her neck making her giggle and they walk away.

Beau comes up beside you and you instantly smell his cologne. He puts his hand on your hip helping you back at his booth him and his friends were at.

“Thank you for the glass of wine.” You shyly said.

“My pleasure miss y/n” he sips his whiskey and you just watch his fingers wrapped around the glass and seeing his shinny gold ring on his finger.

“Where did you get your rings? It’s nice” he smirks at you looking at his hand and puts his glass down on the table.

“Well let’s just say it’s a family heirloom” he gets closer to you and puts his hand on your thigh.

“You are one beautiful lady.” He looks at you. It’s like you both are the only ones in the bar but you know that’s not the case. You get caught up in his beautiful eyes.

“Y/n come dance this is your song!!” Brie and Sam comes running to you. Pulling you from Beau. He puts his hands up in surrender chuckling.

“I promise she will be back in one piece.” Sam winks at him and he nods.

————————————————————————

“Oh fuck beau, yes you do that so good.” You moan out as you look down at beau between your legs as you are on the bars bathroom sink. He looks up at your grinning and inserts the finger with the ring on into you as he plays with his tongue lapping it around your sensitive center as you lay your head back on the mirror.

“You like that? You are such a bad girl coming to the bar looking like that, dancing like how you was having all the guys eyes on you.”

“I was doing it to get your attention cyclone.” You moan out as he picked up his pace. You feel you’re getting closer and you push his back and he is shocked when you did that cause he knew you was about to cum on his face.

“What are you doing?” He looks down at you and you smirk pushing him on the sink and taking his belt off and getting his hard on into your hands it’s so big you have to have both your hands around him and you get on your knees but he stops you.

“Here baby put this on your knees no need to get them sore.” He puts his coat jacket on the floor in front of him and you get back down and look up at him through your lashes

“Oh this is perfect thank you.” You continue to play with him in your mouth and having him moan your name and grabbing your head pushing you down further.

“Is anyone in here?” A voice asks knocking on the door you stop and look at him and he locks the door.

“Yes there is now go away.” He grunts and the voice doesn’t say anything as he fucks your face so hard you are starting to drool.

“Oh baby girl you look so good making a mess with me in your mouth.” He moans and you instantly feel your heat dripping.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours keep going. You’re doing great job y/n” you feel him release in your mouth and you swallow it looking back up at him and he wipes your mouth.

“You’re coming home with me missy I hope you know that.” He helps you get your skirt back down over you and opens the door to see Brie Sam and Shawn all staring at y’all.

“Leaving so soon?” Shawn smirks at you too and you look down blushing.

“We are definitely leaving.” Beau looks down as he puts his coat on you.

“Use protection.” Sam yells out and you flip her off as y’all walk away and get into his 87 black impala.

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I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS I MAY OR MAY NOT DO A SECOND PART! I liked this request! So sorry it took so long to post!

#sugardaddy #beau #topgun #cyclone #fluff #smut #18+ minors dni #imagines #fanfic #random reblog #dean winchester #supernatural #angels and demons #jake seresin

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