#freddie mercury smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kamaluhkhan · 28 days ago

Text

ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 10.5k summary: after years away, vi returns home for the holidays and reunites with you, her ex-girlfriend. the universe (*cough cough* and your meddling families) push you together again, and neither of you can ignore the feelings that linger. (or: you, vi, and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future.) warnings: reader is ekko's older sister but not necessarily biological so appearance isn't specified; childhood friends to lovers + second chance romance; reader gets hit on by a creepy guy + gets into a fight (injury + blood mention), smut [strap mention (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), biting, spitting, tribbing, sub!vi makes an appearance...kinda rough + possessive sex but there's aftercare too <33] (18+) ! a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GIRLS AND GAYS <33 tbh i debated whether to post this now bc xmas was like....3 weeks ago but figured i might as well. so pls enjoy what is essentially an x-rated sapphic hallmark holiday movie.

♪: ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift (sun); winterbreak by MUNA (moon); last christmas by wham! (rising)

track 1: thank god it’s christmas by queen

(winter — age 17)

“okay, just relax your fingers — no, but keep some tension, apply a bit of pressure on the string….yep, that’s better. now, straighten your back….”

it’s dark and snowing outside, and the cold’s seeping in through the window of her attic bedroom, but vi still almost melts into the floor when you follow her advice and press against her chest. she worries that you can feel how fast her heart is beating — faster than it maybe should for someone she’d been calling friend ever since she could remember.

you shift in her lap, her arms still wrapped around yours from when she offered to guide you through an instrumental version of wham’s “last christmas.” you tilt your head towards her, nose almost brushing against hers.

“vi?”

“....yes?”

“maybe we should finish our lesson another time. we better hurry up, anyways. i bet ekko and powder are already arguing over whether we should watch home alone or home alone two.”

vi snorts. it’s practically a tradition at this point, along with the annual post-christmas-dinner pyjama movie night.

you try to hand her the bright pink guitar pick, but vi shakes her head.

“it’s yours. you’re gonna need it if you want more lessons.”

“hm, or maybe i could sell it for a billion dollars once you’re a big rockstar,” you tease. “i can picture thousands of fangirls painting your portrait and writing mrs. violet lanes in their notebooks.”

you get up, shoot her a wink, and leave vi on the bed, clutching her guitar and trying to get her pulse under control.

neither of you say anything as you both get changed. the stereo plays the mixtape you’d made for her — you got her for secret santa this year.

“my mom loved this song,” vi hums, a warm ache growing in her chest when the next song plays. this is the second christmas without her, but vi is still not used to using past tense. “she thought freddie mercury was the best rockstar of all time.”

“i remember. you…you must miss her.”

of course she does, and she could run through a million reasons why.

“vander says you’ll be spending new year’s at your dad’s,” is what she says instead.

you let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah.”

“your mom going, too?”

“just me and ekko. i swear, it’s like he’s trying to be this perfect dad to his new stepkids, meanwhile he’s the one who left us here to deal with his mess, the one who just ran away, and….whatever.” this time, you do scoff. “hey – do you have a shirt i could borrow?”

vi looks over to find that you’ve switched from the velvet dress you wore during dinner into a pair of flannel plaid pants; her cheeks flush when she sees that you’re only wearing a black lacy bralette on top.

she clears her throat and pulls a clean jersey from her dresser, tosses it over to you.

“that’s a shame. i was looking forward to spending new year’s eve together.”

you hum and slip the shirt over your shoulders. the only sources of light are the moon and the stars and the multicoloured christmas lights strung along vi’s walls, but she swore that your eyes flick down to her lips.

“why’s that?” you ask.

there’s something absolutely dizzying about being this close to you, the way your sparkly eyes wait patiently for her to respond. joni mitchell sings about skating away on a river, and vi wishes she could skate away from this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go.

vi blinks away from your gaze and fixates on one of the many things she’s pinned up on her bedroom walls throughout the years. it’s a page torn from an old notebook of yours, something from seventh grade math class, but vi always loved your little drawings in the margins.

vi?” you prompt, never one to let go easily.

“i want to kiss you at midnight,” she confesses.

“yeah?”

vi nods. she’s tempted to walk out of her room, down the stairs and out into the winter night, until you weave your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. she looks up — and you’re beaming, a smile that brightens vi’s entire being.

“i want that too.”

vi finally, finally crashes her mouth onto yours, lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.

you taste like vanilla and gingerbread and hot chocolate that is definitely not spiked with irish cream that vi slipped into your mugs while you distracted the adults.

you taste like home.

….

so, slight change of plans….i’m gonna stay here in london with the rest of the band. apparently the kirammans throw a super fancy holiday party with super fancy people every year, and cait convinced her parents to let us perform. fingers crossed someone important discovers us.

merry christmas, baby. and, if i don’t get the chance to say it: happy new year.

….

track 2: winter wonderland by darlene love

(winter — age 12)

you’re supposed to be looking after ekko while your parents are at work, but all that really means is making a big bowl of kraft dinner and stove-top s’mores for lunch and watching old christmas specials on the worn-out living room couch while you draw in your sketchbook and your brother, only 7 years old, programs the doorbell to play ‘jingle bells.’

when someone rings the doorbell, the tune floats through the house and wakes up your dog who starts barking like it’s the end of the world.

“easy, ziggy.” you click a marker closed and run a hand through the husky’s fur, attempting to calm him down. “let’s go see who it is.”

you open the door, and there’s vi: snowflakes sparkling on her eyelashes, pink hair hidden under a knitted hat, and a toothy grin that brings out the dimple in her flushed cheeks. she’s also got a split lip and crooked nose from her last hockey game.

“we’re building a fort,” she tells you. she shuffles to the side so that you can see powder, who’s making a snow angel. “well, we’re going to. wanna join?”

you nod, smiling. “ekko!”

your brother’s already behind you, slipping on his chunky boots and oversized coat that used to be yours before running outside and collapsing onto the fluffy snow next to powder. ziggy bolts outside, too, running circles around them.

you stumble to get your winter gear on as fast as possible, the cold air rushing inside your front hallway as vi waits for you, kicking her snowy boot against the concrete entryway step. not even a heartbeat after shutting the door behind you, vi takes your gloved hand in hers and pulls you forward, the two of you a flurry of laughter.

…..

hey, pretty girl. i was at this party and one of your songs came on! every time i hear it, i’m in awe of how amazing it is….how amazing you are. i’m basically walking home in a snowstorm, so i’m gonna go before my fingers freeze off, but i just wanted to say that i’m so proud of my rockstar girlfriend.

i was also wondering: are you coming home any time soon? the holidays are coming up, and i really miss you. we all do.

…..

track 3: last christmas by wham!

(winter — now)

vi should have learned from sonic youth and fleetwood mac:

no sex or romance between bandmates. it never ends well.

it was bad enough giving into the rumors and fooling around with cait, but it’s another layer of messiness now that cait and maddie dating. meanwhile, cait is very much still bitter towards vi, vi is very much pining after someone whom she’s pretty sure never wants to see her again, and steb and lorris are very much caught in the middle. it’s no wonder the band’s manager suggested everyone take some time apart to ease the tension. frankly, while others protested, vi was almost relieved at the suggestion.

so cait’s off to london, maddie’s off to glasgow, the boys are going god knows where, and vi —

vi’s heading back home, back to you.

she wakes up in the bed of her childhood for the first time in a long time. her dad put on fresh sheets, but they’re still the same ones from back then — worn flannel with cartoon penguins. it takes a lot of willpower to untangle herself from the warmth and cloud-like softness, but eventually she heads downstairs to the kitchen.

powder still has exams so she’s not home from college until tomorrow, and vander’s gone to work. it’s just vi in her too-small christmas pyjamas (she has yet to unpack), eating a box of stale cinnamon pop-tarts for breakfast even though it’s well past noon. curiosity gets the best of her, so she peers through the window to see if anyone is next door.

your mom’s car is in the driveway, completely snowed in. there had only been a dusting of snow while vi was devouring the first pastry, but four pop-tarts in and it’s about doubled. she waits until the snow stops falling; with nothing better to do and a sugar rush to burn off, vi pulls on her old winter coat and snow boots she hasn’t worn since she was 18, grabs a shovel from the garage, and gets to work.

it doesn’t take her long to clear the driveway, and she has some adrenaline to spare, so she decides to be a good neighbor.

vi’s heaving one last shovelful of snow over her shoulder when she hears:

“violet? is that you?”

she turns around. and, okay the first thing she registers is ziggy running towards her, the husky toppling her over into the snow.

“i missed you too, zig,” vi laughs.

she gets up as ziggy’s still bounding around in the snow, and sees your mom standing in the doorway, looking a little more tired and a little more gray. but the smile on her face when she sees that it is, in fact, vi — it’s so bright that the snow might not exactly melt away, but the years sure do.

vi remembers making snow angels with you while your moms gossiped over tea, how the two of you would stomp inside with a mess of slush and snow while laughter echoed from the living room. vi remembers your mom keeping a comforting arm around her shoulder through her mom’s funeral while you held her hand. she remembers your mom helping her pick out the perfect corsage to match your suit at prom, making a joke about how next time it might be an engagement ring, and telling vi how proud her mother would have been of her at your high school graduation party.

with the golden glow of nostalgia comes a crashing wave of guilt at what vi said to you last time you spoke.

“come inside, sweetheart. i’ll make you some hot cocoa as a thank you.”

vi is tempted to reject the offer, but your mom looks so hopeful and vi’s fingers are about to freeze off, anyways.

so your mom makes hot cocoa as vi defrosts, the two of them chatting in the familiar yellow kitchen that you and vi once almost burnt down while trying to bake a cake for powder’s birthday. even the magnets and paper memories decorating the fridge are the same, with the addition of an article about vi’s band that was featured in the rolling stone, pinned up by a ceramic cow.

“she’s an art teacher now,” your mom tells vi after giving an update on ekko. she glances at the oven clock. “speaking of which — i know you just finished shoveling our driveway, but do you mind helping me with another favor?”

“after the world’s best hot chocolate? anything.”

“i told my daughter that i’d pick her up from work, and i’m wondering if you would be able to take care of that.” your mom smiles. “i’m sensing a bad migraine coming on.”

the last sip of hot chocolate trickles down vi’s throat like cement. she knew she’d be seeing you, but didn’t quite plan for how that….reunion might go.

“of course,” vi says.

vi puts both of their mugs in the dishwasher, about to grab the car keys from the hook by the door when your mom calls out:

“oh, and violet?” vi turns around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

you’re talking to a student when vi enters the art room of your old high school. nothing else in the building had changed — same boring concrete, same scratched up lockers, same graffiti immortalizing whom hooked up with whom. this room is the exception, vibrant with how students’ art is displayed all around, paintings and drawings and collages, and you’ve strung up multicolored christmas lights that give the whole space a cozy ambiance. you look the part of a cool, young art teacher: wearing a simple dark purple turtleneck tucked into black jeans and the same combat boots you’ve had since tenth grade, paint stains on your skin that is exposed by rolled up sleeves, and a marker behind your ear. you’re standing in front of an easel, talking to the student who happens to notice vi before you do.

“holy shit. is that violet lanes?”

vi watches as your face scrunches up in confusion, and then falls into shock when you see her standing there.

“it seems that it is violet lanes,” you state coolly while the student squeals. “what are you doing here?”

“oh, i, uh,” vi clears her throat, her palms sweaty. why is her body reacting like she’s a teenager about to ask out her crush for the first time? “your mom wasn’t feeling great, asked if i could pick you up from work.”

“you guys are friends?” the student asks, eyes wide as they flick between you and vi.

“we used to date, actually,” vi clarifies. wrong move, she realizes, because you can’t help but glare at her.

“oh my god.” the student squeals again and reaches in their pocket to whip out their phone. “i need to tell alyssa that ms. l/n was in a relationship with the violet lanes. are you guys gonna get back together? oh my god, have you come to win her back —”

“layla,” you clip, and by the furrow of layla’s brow, it seems like you’re not usually so stern. you smile at layla, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’ve done some great work today, but you’ll have to finish this when we’re back from winter break. do you mind giving ms. lanes and i a minute?”

layla nods once, gathers her things. when she walks past vi, she can’t help but ask for an autograph. vi complies, of course, even lets her take a selfie. a fan is a fan, after all.

and, quite frankly this is the only part of being in the band that she still enjoys: hearing how excited young girls are at the music she writes, the music that vi wished she had growing up, about girls liking girls, about girls falling in and out of love with each other. everything else is just an occupational hazard that vi’s getting more and more fed up with.

when vi turns her attention back to you, you’re finished putting all the material away, wiping your hands with an already paint-stained towel.

“i meant what you’re doing back in town,” you explain, not quite meeting vi’s eyes. you pack away some books and your laptop into a supple leather briefcase, and slip on your coat. vi’s cheeks flush when you catch her watching you.

“it…it doesn’t matter. i’m here for a while, though.”

you sigh. “okay.” and you don’t say anything more. vi keeps up with you as you switch off the lights, lock the door, and stride to the parking lot in silence. when you get to the car, you extend your hand.

“i’m driving,” you say, gesturing at her to give you the keys. “we both know that you’re a terrible driver.”

“i’m not a terrible driver,” vi guffaws.

“says the lesbian who gives the rest of us a bad name,” you quip, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips, like the first bout of sun after a winter storm. “c’mon, pretty girl. i’m not giving up, so unless you wanna freeze to death….”

the nickname slips effortlessly from your tongue, so much so that you don’t even seem to realize it, but vi’s breath hitches and she’s more than happy to fold to your every whim if it means hearing you call her pretty one more time.

“so….” vi glances over at you from the passenger seat. a snowy landscape passes outside the window, and you tap on the steering wheel to a generic christmas song that plays through the stereo. “you’re teaching high school now?”

she wonders if you remember the last fight you had, almost two years ago to the day.

you keep your eyes on the road. “yeah. guess i graduated from finger-painting with kindergarteners.”

vi feels her cheeks heat up all over again.

so, you do remember.

she wonders if you’ve replayed it over and over again and hoped for a different ending like she did. she should have thought more about what to actually say to you —

“you know, i never understood why you liked this song so much,” you suddenly say when the radio starts playing dolly parton’s cover of ‘i’ll be home for christmas.’

vi can read between the lines, but she’s waiting for you to point out the irony in her preference for a song that’s about someone wanting to go home for christmas, something vi has deliberately avoided at all costs these past few years.

“it just seems kinda sad,” you continue.

“you love ‘last christmas,’ and that one’s pretty sad,” vi points out.

“sure, but it ends hopefully.”

“oh?” vi tilts her head towards you. “how’d you figure?

“sure, it’s someone singing about heartbreak and how much it sucks during christmastime, but then there’s this hope that they still find true love down the line. it’s a maybe that isn’t hopeless.” you shrug. “meanwhile, your song ends with the lyric ‘if only in my dreams,’ which just seems too accepting of the fact that going home for christmas, being with the person they love — it might just be a dream.”

“i don’t know. some dreams do come true,” vi muses.

by now, you’ve made it home. you put the car in park but keep the engine going, presumably to avoid becoming icicles. neither of you make a move to leave.

you glance over at vi. “your dreams sure came true, ms. violet lanes,” you joke, but there’s an air of sadness to it.

“not all of them.”

“yeah? which ones haven’t?”

vi swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that you understand the look in her eyes. “let’s just say i’m working on them.”

you blink away and cut the engine.

….

you’re still dealing with the shock of seeing vi back in town when your brother, freshly home from college, suggests going skating.

he can be fairly convincing, especially when he mentions that it’s a christmas season tradition, so, you prepare for what is essentially a double date with your brother, his girlfriend/your ex-girlfriend’s sister, and your ex-girlfriend, with isha as a fifth wheel.

should be fun.

it turns out, despite all her past hockey experience, vi really cannot skate. in fact, skating seems to be the complete opposite of riding a bike: she’s terrible at it after years off the ice, essentially reenacting that scene from bambi. it’s easier to ignore vi’s presence when she’s sitting next to the snack bar, by herself, but then powder skates up next to you and asks if you’d be kind enough to please help her sister have a good time. you roll your eyes at her shit-eating grin, but it is a bit sad, watching vi on the sidelines. she’s wearing a beanie and a pair of sunglasses to hide her identity, and now she kinda looks like a divorced dad watching his grown kids pass him by while he’s stuck in a midlife crisis.

you convince vi to give skating another shot — it’s tradition after all — and pull her out onto the rink. you start by holding her from behind, keeping her hips steady until she gets the hang of it. you try to let go, but vi stumbles and reaches out for your gloved hand, and you melt into the familiarity of her fingers curled around yours. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, first with you pulling vi along, then with her taking the lead, until vi almost knocks into a small child.

“see what i mean by you being a bad driver?” you jest, successfully maneuvering to avoid collision.

then, you follow where vi’s eyes have settled — on powder and isha laughing and chasing each other around the rink. vi had asked earlier when isha had dyed her hair blue; you still have some residue under your nails from last weekend, when powder came for a study break and the three of you ended up helping isha achieve a new look she’d apparently been itching to try.

“you know powder’s graduating this year?”

“she overloaded her credits so she could get out of there as soon as possible,” you explain, having had many conversations with powder leading up to the decision.

vi nods, her jaw clenched. you already know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you agree: that vi hasn’t been here, literally and figuratively. you also feel the warmth of vi’s skin radiating through her glove to yours, notice the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, how chapped her lips are from the cold, so much so that you’re tempted to share the vanilla chapstick you’ve got on your own lips, to kiss her deeply like you did last time you were here, together.

it’s only been three days since vi’s been back home. this is only the second time you’ve seen her, and you’re already falling back into old patterns, tempted to ask her to stay, to try again, even though you already know the answer.

except….not staying isn’t the deal breaker it used to be, so maybe trying again isn’t as hopeless as you think it is.

vi squeezes your hand, and you realize that you’ve stopped skating entirely.

“hey. you still with me?”

you nod, decide to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, and the two of you glide across the ice.

…..

when you suggest making stove-top s’mores, it’s another item on the list of things she’d missed.

a list that’s been growing a lot these past few days.

vi offers to make more once you’ve all run out, and ekko follows her into their kitchen while you, powder, and isha keep watching christmas specials in the living room. she turns on the gas stove, stabs a marshmallow through a wooden skewer and waits for it to roast — and, for ekko to say something.

“i don’t know what happened between you and my sister, but i need you to promise me that the tabloids aren’t true. that you and that kiramman chick didn’t hook up…at least until after y’all broke up.”

“or, what, you’re gonna challenge me to an arm wrestle? think you can finally beat me?”

“oh, i know it.”

a pause. the marshmallow catches on fire and vi blows on it to quell the damage.

“i didn’t cheat on her.” she throws out the burnt marshmallow and gives it another shot. “i would never. does….does she think i did?”

ekko shrugs. “not sure. some of those articles are pretty convincing. but, since you’re promising me that you didn’t…”

“i didn’t.”

“then that saves me from kicking your ass.” ekko nods once and uncrosses his arms, handing vi some graham crackers and chocolate. “actually, i could use your help with something.”

“sure.”

“she applied to this great art residency in new york, like, on whim. the only people she’s told are me, powder, and vander….i think she’s nervous to tell mom, at least until she knows for sure she’s gotten in, but this is the most excited i’ve seen her be about something in a while, and she worked really hard on her application…”

“i’m sure she did,” vi states. “what do you need my help with?”

“convincing her to go.”

“i’d love to help, but i’m not sure i’m someone she’d wanna hear from, especially about this. she was never a fan of me leaving to pursue my dreams.”

“she was never a fan of you leaving,” ekko corrects. “she’s still a fan of you pursuing your dreams.” he juts his chin out at the article stuck to the fridge.

vi had just assumed that your mom had pinned that up.

“okay.” vi says. “i’ll talk to her.”

a plateful of semi-burnt s’mores later, and vi and ekko return to the living room with the rest of you.

vi forgot how nice this felt, all of you cuddled on the couch, ziggy included, watching how the grinch stole christmas. she half expects her mom to walk in through the door without even knocking, shake the snow off her hair, and hold up a batch of pre-baked gingerbread people she’d gotten for the kids to decorate.

but that’s not happening. other than isha, none of you are kids anymore and things can never be the same.

and yet — you glance over at vi and give her a sticky marshmallow smile, and she feels her heart grow three sizes.

….

baby, i swear it’s not what it looks like. the record label thought it would be good promo to get a picture of me kissing under the mistletoe…’tis the season and all that…..cait and i were both really drunk and things got a bit out of hand….but it looks worse than it is. i swear on my mother’s grave that nothing happened.

please call me back, baby…..i’m so fucking sorry….please.

it’s not christmas without at least hearing your voice.

….

track 4: river by joni mitchell

(winter — age 23)

it’s hard to believe that hours ago, you were kissing vi backstage and showering her with praise after the concert. she was happy to indulge in your excitement, even though she was all sweaty and her ears were still ringing from the crowd.

more than happy, in fact. phone sex can only go so far, and it’d been too long since vi had seen you writhe and heard you whimper for her firsthand.

“i missed you so fucking much,” you groan, tightening your grip on vi’s hair. it’s now an inky black instead of fuschia — the band’s starting to lean more punk rock.

a particularly hard thrust is her way of telling you that she missed you too. so fucking much. she throws your legs over her shoulders, pushing the strap deeper inside you and digging her knees into the mattress as she coaxes you through another orgasm. you pull her down for one last searing kiss, your tongue searching each crevice of her mouth.

“i can’t believe you’re here,” vi continues a few moments later, after you’re both cleaned up and getting dressed. she wants to add something along the lines of i love you, but she bites back the sentiment. she’ll save that sappy shit for later tonight, when she finally gets down on one knee for you.

you glance back at her from where you’re pulling out a sparkly silver dress from your side of the closet (and isn’t that such a slip of the mind? your side, as if it’s a shared closet and a shared bedroom and a shared home; if she thought about it more, though, she would realize that, though she has no problem asking you to marry her, she’s still terrified at the thought of staying in one place for more than a few months).

“me neither,” you smile.

vi walks over to you, presses her half-dressed body against your lingerie-clad form (vi’s sure you wore this fuschia set just to drive her insane; it’s working). she lodges her hand behind your ear and pulls you in closer, kisses you deeply because you’re here and she missed you so fucking much and she’s so ready to make you her wife.

she could write a whole record just about the taste of your lips: the sweetness of vanilla chapstick, the saltiness of sweat and the headiness lingering from the wetness you lapped up from between her legs.

you pull away first. vi tries not to stare at how your chest heaves, your breasts straining against intricate lace.

“we, um.” you clear your throat. you slip your hand underneath vi’s blazer, and she groans when you make contact with the exposed, burning skin of her abdomen. vi thinks you’re about to suggest another round, or two, or ten, but instead you untangle yourself from her and say: “we should probably get ready.”

the after party is going well. the club’s busy, the music’s good, and the drinks are flowing.

you seem to be having a great time until someone (probably cait or maddie, on cait’s behalf) lets it slip that the band’s heading to london later in the month to start recording their new album before the end of the year….something vi decidedly did not want to tell you until later tonight, after the high of the proposal, after she’s promised you that she’s dedicated to this relationship, that she’s always been dedicated to you.

instead, vi’s trailing behind you as you angrily stomp towards the bathroom, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out of this argument.

there’s a line, but you cut in front and slip inside as soon as someone walks out.

“wait, what the fu —”

you slam the door and lock it behind you once you’re both inside, ignoring the subsequent banging and jiggling of the handle.

“please, baby, let me explain —”

“i can’t fucking believe you,” your voice is steady, measured, and for some reason that makes vi even more nervous. “you give empty promise after empty promise that you’ll be more present, but something always gets in the way, is always more important than —”

“don’t you dare say that you’re not important to me. i offer to fly you out anywhere to be with me, but you’ve only taken me up on the offer once. twice, now.”

“it’s been five years, vi. five years of us staying together because….god, at this point i don’t even know why — ”

“do you not understand how much i love you?” vi raises her voice over the sound of the club music outside. “i was gonna propose tonight.”

you stare at her, then start to laugh.

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i’m not.”

“if you think marriage will save us, then you’re delusional. what was your plan — call me your wife while we’re thousands of miles apart, but not even have the time to answer my calls? we’re barely in a relationship now, vi. all that’s left between us are missed calls and voicemails —”

“oh that’s really all that’s left between us?”

“i love you, violet. i have since we were kids. but, now, there’s also all this — the parties, the crowds, the fame….you’ve gone all over the world, and you can’t even be bothered to visit your family during the holidays.”

“well i’m sorry that my ambitions are bigger than that nothing town we grew up in,” vi snaps. “i can’t believe you’re throwing a tantrum because i’m not making it home for christmas. for what? so we can all reminisce by the fireplace, pretend that we can be kids again, even though things can —” vi chokes back a sob, soothes it with a healthy dose of anger. “things can never be the same. you need to grow the fuck up.”

“maybe you should be the one to grow up!” you finally yell. “convincing yourself that this relationship is working, meanwhile you’re running away from everything and everyone you grew up with because it reminds you of your —”

“at least i’m not afraid to actually go after my dreams,” vi cuts you off before you can finish that sentence, uses the broken shards of your words against you. “don’t you want more for your life than finger-painting with a bunch of kindergarteners? you’re gonna end up just like your deadbeat mom, going nowhere, drinking yourself to sleep, all alone, with nothing to show for the life you’ve lived.”

as soon as the words leave her mouth, vi wishes she could take them back. you don’t bother swallowing your tears, letting them rush down your cheeks. vi digs her nails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching out and wiping them. it wouldn’t make sense, anyways. she’s the reason you’re crying.

you take a deep, shaky breath.

“yeah, well, i’m glad that your mom isn’t alive to see what a selfish asshole you’ve become.” there’s a pause, and vi feels her stomach turn at your casual cruelty, your quiet anger. “i’m gonna pack up my stuff and catch the first flight out of here. merry fucking christmas and happy fucking new year. have a nice life.”

vi screams and throws the velvet box against the door you’ve slammed shut behind you. the hot tears that were building in her throat finally boil over. the engagement ring clatters onto the floor.

…..

vi? it’s me. not sure if you’ve blocked my number. i wouldn’t blame you. i know it’s been, like, a year, but it feels weird not hearing your voice for this long, especially around the holidays. well, i guess i could just turn on the radio….it’s not the same, though. anyways, merry christmas. happy new year, too. and….and i’m sorry.

please come home.

…..

track 5: i’ll be home for christmas by dolly parton

(winter — now)

karaoke at the last drop used to be one of vi’s favorite christmas traditions, so you decidedly avoided it at all cost since the breakup. vander always tried to convince you to join, but he understood and even made sure to not give you a shift during that time after you started working there at 21.

you kept the job because, evidently, high school art teachers don’t make a ton of money, and you would one day like to move out of your mother’s house.

which, as it turns out, might happen sooner rather than later. you applied for this artist residency in new york, and, yeah, you put time and effort and heart into your application, but you were sure that you’d be rejected. while you got your acceptance email this morning, and you were so fucking overjoyed at first, the thought of leaving still terrifies you, so you’ll postpone worrying about that until after the holidays. that’s what they’re for, anyways: a break from reality, a peek into a cozy snow-covered world where everyone is festive and joyous and worry-free.

right now though, you’re feeling neither festive nor joyous. gert called in sick, and no one else is able to cover for them, so you’re stuck at the last drop on christmas eve, listening to one of your old high school classmates drunkenly fumble the lyrics of darlene love’s ‘christmas (baby, please come home).’

about three verses in, vi walks into the bar with mylo and claggor, flakes of fluffy snow melting into her grayish pink hair. you’re already pouring their drinks before they reach the counter. mylo and claggor offer their sincere appreciation, chattering away as they leave to snag a booth in the corner. vi stares at her drink before grabbing the beer glass.

“you remember.”

“are you surprised?”

vi smiles. “no. it’s just nice. cait keeps insisting i order gin martinis instead. says it’s classier.”

something sour curdles in your stomach. “yeah, well. i’ve always liked you the way you are.”

that probably ended up sounding like you’re still pining after vi (which you’re….not) rather than the bitter comment you intended it to be.

vi’s soft blue eyes search yours.

“i better get back to the boys,” she finally says. “maybe sign up for a song or two.”

you’re busy clearing a table when you hear her voice again. actually — a silence fills the bar, and it’s replaced by the lush rumble of vi singing ‘last christmas.’

you watch her as she performs, eyes locked on yours, and it’s over before you know it. you feel like you should go say something to her, but then there are a bunch of excited fans that she has to attend to, signing autographs, taking photos.

as you swallow your disappointment, the normal chatter of the bar resumes. you’re walking back to the kitchen when you feel someone pinch the back of your thigh, right under your ass. you whip around to find that old classmate who butchered a christmas classic an hour or so before (james, you think his name is, from ninth grade science), with the most arrogant smirk.

“hey, gorgeous. my friends and i were just arguing over who should take you home tonight.” he gestures towards a table of guys who look like equally preppy assholes. “i won the chugging contest.”

“good for you,” you say, balancing a tray of empty glasses. “grope someone in here again, and you’ll be sorry you did.” you turn around to get back to work, but james grabs your wrist and stands up abruptly so you’re chest-to-chest.

“i don’t think you understand what i’m offering, baby.” you gag at the nickname and the stench of beer on his breath. you’re a bartender, you’re used to getting hit on, but creeps like this are the worst.

you rip away from his grasp.

“i’m not interested,” you snap. “and i’m not your baby.”

“listen.” james puts his hands on your shoulders, and if both of your hands were free, you would promptly push him away. everyone’s having a good time and you don’t wanna cause a scene, so you try to think of ways to get this asshole out of the bar and into the snow without much of a fight. “you know, santa might come down your chimney on christmas eve, but if you’ve been a good girl this year i’ll come down your —”

“there you are!” powder’s voice is loud over the sound of someone singing another generic christmas carol. she knocks into your side, breathless. “sorry we’re late. had some car trouble.”

“well, hello.” he removes his hands from your shoulders, shifts his predatory gaze from you to powder.

oh, fuck no.

“powder,” you keep your voice steady even if your heart is racing. “go back to the table. i’ll be there in a sec.”

james reaches out for powder, but you punch him square in the jaw before he can so much as touch her, the tray of glasses crashing on the floor.

james’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only egotistical, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a blow to their ego.

in fact, he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but powder manages to catch you before you tumble into the broken glass. she holds you as people start yelling. you think that vander rushes over, too, shouting at james to get the fuck out of his bar and never step foot in it again.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is all a bit fuzzy. powder tries her best, but you slump your body weight into hers and she almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” vi’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you.

somehow, you find yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the counter as vi stands between your legs. she carefully examines your injury, but you notice how she avoids making eye contact.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while.

“remember teaching me how to throw a punch?” the question slips past your lips before you can stop it.

vi looks slightly amused, and she finally meets your gaze. “‘course i do,” she hums. “you tried to convince me to help you start an all-female fight club at school.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the pain from your nose.

she remembers.

somewhere within her, vi holds on to fragments of you.

“thank god the principal vetoed it. would’ve been a disaster,” she continues.

vi wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of her silk red button-down now stained a darker crimson. “how’s your hand?” she asks.

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

vi smiles sadly. “i guess you’ve been the one protecting my sister while i’ve been away.”

while i’ve been away.

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart.

vi’s back home, sure, but only for a limited time.

her fingers graze your cheek, and the breath hitches in your throat.

“you know, i only wanted to start that fight club as an elaborate plan to spend more time together,” you confess, opting to preserve the delicate bubble of nostalgia you’d stumbled into together. “we were each so busy….i had studio, and you were always away at hockey games. it wasn’t realistic in the end, though.”

“i would’ve stayed if you asked,” she tells you, and you wonder exactly what she might be referring to.

you swallow the lump in your throat. “it’s what you loved, though.”

“but i - i loved you, more. you had to have known that.”

“yeah, well. i loved you, too,” you explain, and it’s clear that neither of you are talking about a lesbian fight club. “whether it was hockey, or music….as long your heart was in it, it was more worth it to let you go, to not stand in the way of your dreams.”

“you were my dream.”

you scoff, cheeks heating up, and look away. “you probably say that to all the girls.”

“no.” vi guides your chin towards her. “just the one.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on vi’s— messy, urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. she cradles your face in her hands, and you wrap your legs around her waist to bring her closer. you taste beer on her tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the adrenaline, but dizzy from her. vi’s gaze is heavy on yours as she traces your top lip with her thumb.

“vi,” you whimper, itching to kiss her again.

“you’re still bleeding.”

vi wipes away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. vander, wondering if you’re okay and if maybe you could hurry up and get back to work.

you can’t sleep that night. before, staying up on christmas eve was an elaborate operation to catch santa. now, it’s overthinking a very hot kiss and all the unresolved tension between you and your ex-girlfriend next door.

logically, you knew that you missed vi, everything about her and who she is, the way you would laugh and argue and make love. but the rush of feeling her tongue licking into your mouth, her body melding into yours after being apart for so long….

you’re scared that she won’t feel the same, but you’re even more terrified of letting the moment slip through both your fingers without at least trying.

so, you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to her, when by some christmas miracle you get a text from her.

she climbs through your window not long after, wearing plaid boxer shorts and a zaun university sweatshirt you’ve been looking for, for about five years. you didn’t bother to change, either, only wearing an oversized shirt. you sit cross-legged on your bed as she waits by the window. vi stares at your chest for a good few seconds, and you remember that you’re wearing one of her band’s concert tees, faded from years of wear.

“so, um,” vi starts, her voice as soft as the well-worn cotton of your shirt. “we have so much shit to talk about and figure out, but, i, uh, can’t stop thinking about early tonight —”

“vi.” the swarm of butterflies in your stomach is replaced by something more delicate, more urgent. “do you wanna come sit?”

vi swallows thickly, looking between you and the still open window. a winter breeze rushes through. you shiver, thinking she might just turn around and disappear into the cold night. instead, she shuts the window, removes her snow-covered boots, and settles onto the bed next to you.

you place a tentative hand on her cheek, still cold and slightly flushed. she shudders when you run your thumb over the tattoo under her eye.

“i know there’s a lot we have to work through.” you take a deep breath as she shifts closer, suddenly dizzy from the familiar scent of her winter pine old-spice body wash. “right now….right now, i just want you.”

“yeah?” vi smirks, her shyness melting away. she settles a warm hand on your bare thigh. “how do you want me?”

you exhale sharply when her hand travels higher, dull nails scraping at the fabric of your underwear.

“it’s cute that you’re flustered,” she quips, leaning in even closer. her breath is warm and heavy against your lips. “because i’ve spent so many night replaying all the dirty, nasty things we used to —”

you tug her sweatshirt and pull her back onto the bed, feeling her body solid against yours. the vibration of her groan shudders through your body when you crash your lips onto hers with such hunger, you’d think you had been starving without her.

“how’s about an encore, superstar?” you drawl.

you bite your lip hard at how vi nods at you desperately, eyes all dark and lustful.

“you read my mind,” she breathes. by now, her hand has reached the hem of your shirt, and she pushes up the cotton to reveal the supple skin of your stomach. you give her permission to remove it, leaving your top half exposed.

her lips nip and suck down your body until she reaches the waistband of your panties. she pulls it up with her teeth, the elastic snapping back when she lets go. you whine her name, and she looks up at you with dark eyes.

“can i?” her breath fans over your navel, her nails digging into your hips as she waits for your answer.

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel vi smirk against your inner thigh before sinking her teeth into it. you whimper, and vi salves her tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. she positions your legs over her shoulders for better access to where you need her most.

vi moves her tongue and fingers in all the ways she remembers makes you shake, curl your toes, and grind down on her face. in return, you grip her pink hair, tightly, and utter praise in all the ways you remember makes her shake.

“just like that, pretty girl,” you encourage, practically melting into the mattress. it feels so good — dangerously good, intoxicating, even — to be devoured by vi. “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

vi’s moan vibrates throughout your body and she becomes faster, reaches her tongue deeper, bringing you over the edge. she leaves a few more bites on your body on her way up to meet you and when she does, vi’s lips and chin are shining with your release.

you lean forward slightly to lick it up. you ghost your mouth over hers.

“your turn,” you taunt and run your thumb over her tattooed cheek.

you twist your calf around vi’s leg and flip your positions. she lets out a yelp when her back hits the mattress. once you’re hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you do what you’re sure you’d never get tired of doing: you kiss her, passionately, deeply. you bite her lip as you pull away.

there was always a bit of jealousy that gnawed at you, became your very-own shoulder devil that you just couldn’t shake when you were together, no matter how hard you tried. it was no secret that vi was admired by many, that girls around the world were crushing on her, hoping they’d catch her eye, get their chance with her. you never felt like she was yours, and yours alone.

but you do get a deep satisfaction knowing that right here, right now, you’re the only person who gets to see her like this — pink hair splayed across the pillows like her very own halo, but the rest of her telling a much less-angelic, much more sinister story: her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her cheeks a devilish shade of red, her eyes dark and lustful and waiting for you to make the next move.

"you want me to have my way with you?" you whisper, voice honeyed with desire.

vi whimpers, a sound that fuels the fire in your abdomen. "yes."

you practically rip off her sweatshirt, kiss down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and sternum down to her stomach. vi lifts her hips from the bed so that you can remove her boxers, and you’re delighted to find nothing else underneath.

you’re greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you run your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already feel her slick coating your lips. vi spread her legs even wider, and you take the opportunity to sink two fingers into her cunt. you know her body, as well as you know your own, as well as she knows yours. you flick your gaze up, view slightly blocked by the pink curls of her bush, but you can still picture it — how her eyes roll back, how her mouth opens to release a perfectly delicious gasp.

"god, i've barely touched you and you're already about to cum. did you miss me that much?" you tease, feeling her clench around your fingers. as if you aren’t subtly rutting your hips against the mattress, eager to ease the throbbing between your legs.

all you get in response is whine. it’s muffled, and you crane your neck upward to see her biting down on her knuckles, so hard you’re worried she might break skin.

unacceptable.

the rest of the world gets to hear her every day, any time they please. you want to be serenaded by the lyrics of her want, the notes of her desire. all for you and you alone.

with your other hand, you reach up to pinch one of her pierced nipples, always so sensitive. "answer me, violet."

vi props herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you remove your mouth from her.

"yes!" she sings, practically sobbing. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the throbbing between your thighs intensify, hearing the frantic lilt of her voice — like she needs you and only you. "i missed you so fucking much. please, just do something."

at her request, you move up the bed so that the two of you are face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other is two fingers deep in her cunt. you add another, just to reveal in the timber of her sultry moan. she tries to bring her hand back, to quiet herself, but you shake your head.

with your thumb, you trace over her lips, uneven and scarred and imperfectly beautiful. "open."

vi obeys you instantly. you spit in her mouth, heart racing as you watch her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continue fucking her with your fingers until she moans, louder and louder as she reaches her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you lock eyes with her as you bring your syrupy fingers to your mouth and suck off her juices. then, you kiss underneath her ear, lips sticking slightly to her skin, and you whisper: "now i know why they say you have the voice of an angel.”

“fuck,” she exhales, the breath turning into a chuckle as you kiss underneath her chin, where you know she’s ticklish.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whisper. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

vi nods, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts are touching. you start fucking her down into the mattress and she sits up slightly so that your nipples brush against each other, the cold metal of her piercings encouraging the roll of your hips, her nails digging into the curve of your ass to bring you impossibly closer.

“i missed you too. so fucking much,” you finally admit. you flick one of the silver rings before leaning down and wrapping your lips around her nipple.

“i missed these, too,” you add as you release her nipple with a pop, and vi moans. you’re grinning from ear to ear because, holy shit, vi is here and you’re together and you’re both happy, if only at the ecstasy of your silken cunts gliding against each other, at the taste of the other slicking your tongues, as thick as nectar and twice as sweet.

she laughs — love and magic and everlasting bliss — and you have to capture her lips now if you want to swallow the sound. you feel it bounce through your ribcage, awaken something deep within you that you feared was lost to time.

vi thrusts her hips upwards, presses harder against the seam of your cunt until you’re gushing against each other, not quite sure who’s making what mess.

strings of cum connect you as you remove your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. vi drapes an arm over her eyes, chest heaving.

you throw on some clothes and leave the room, hoping that vi’s still there when you get back.

….

vi worries that if she opens her eyes, she’ll wake up from this dream.

she’ll be in some uncomfortable bed in london or tokyo or los angeles. the dull ache between her legs would be thanks to some girl who’d be eager to text all her friends and spill all the details about what vi likes in bed, or caitlyn who would tell vi to shave next time, darling, or i won’t let you fuck me again anytime soon.

instead, vi hears the creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing along the floorboards. the mattress shifts with the weight of someone between her legs, though their body is not touching hers.

“vi, baby,” a gentle coaxing, a familiar voice, pulling towards something she forgot she needed. her heart soars when she finds you kneeling on the bed, holding a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in another.

“yeah?” her voice is hoarse, but her throat doesn’t sting in the same way it does after a concert. it feels tender, well-used, well-loved.

you hold out the cup of water, watch vi eagerly gulp down half of it before she realizes what she’s done.

“shit, i — did you want some?”

you smile and shake your head. “i had some downstairs after my shower.” it’s then that vi registers the water dripping from the ends of your hair, soaking the fabric of her (fine, your) sweatshirt. “i’m gonna clean you up. is that okay?”

vi nods.

okay? okay? vi thinks she might have whiplash.

it’s been a while since someone has fucked her so well she’d be satisfied for years and then touched her so tenderly afterwards. you run the damp cloth over vi’s sticky, sweaty skin, occasionally leaning down to press soft lips where you’d left teeth marks and bruises before.

“there.” you throw the cloth on the floor. “so, um. do you wanna stay….?”

you bite your lip as you wait for vi to answer. you start picking at your nail polish, too. vi sits up and grabs your hand.

“i do,” she soothes. “do you want me to?”

your smile brightens the entire room and you kiss vi before muttering:

“i do.”

vi slips on her boxers as you settle into the bed next to her, leaving her top half bare. she notices the sketchbook on your bedside table, and she lifts it up at you, a silent question if she can flip through. you take it from her as you shift to sit between her legs, her chest warm against your back. the room’s only illuminated by the string of multicolored christmas lights you’d left on, but vi can see the talent, the passion behind your work as you walk her through your sketchbook. you tell her about the techniques you’ve been working on and new mediums you want to explore, about how you want to make the kind of art that makes people appreciate the beauty in the everyday.

“i always loved your art,” she muses. vi cranes her neck slightly, places a kiss on your shoulder then one on your cheek. “the world would be more beautiful if you shared it.”

you hum and place the sketchbook on your bedside table. you each shift to your sides, facing each other; vi notches a leg around your hips, and you throw an arm around her waist, fingers trailing down her tattooed back.

“ekko talked to you, huh?”

“i would have said that even if he hadn’t,” vi promises. “so….have you heard anything yet?”

“well….yeah,” you sigh, smiling shyly. “i got in, actually.”

“really? that’s amazing, baby.” she beams at you, excitedly cupping your face in her hands, leaving small kisses across your cheeks until you’re giggling.

“okay, okay,” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go yet.”

vi hums knowingly. she presses her forehead against yours.

“i know you’re scared, baby,” she says softly. “but sometimes it’s just a leap of faith.”

“i know.” you pause, gnawing at your bottom lip while your eyes fixate on the scar on her upper lip. “can i ask you something?

“anything.”

“when you proposed to me….” her body tenses up, but you brush your hand over her bicep and the tension in her muscles dissipates. “was that a leap of faith? like, were you scared?”

“well, not at first.” she takes a shuddery breath, her voice suddenly small. “i always thought that we’d be together….i just didn’t think through how we’d make it work, i guess. i didn’t mean to mess things up, though.”

“hey.” vi leans into the hand you cup around her cheek. “we both messed up. we never actually talked, you know? but….i’m glad we are, now.” you swallow. “i still love you, vi.”

vi exhales. “you know, girls tell me that they love me pretty much every day.”

you can’t help it — you roll your eyes, and vi laughs. because, truthfully, her heart has felt more full at your admission of love just now than it ever has for an area of screaming fans.

“there’s a point to this, i promise,” she says, nudging her nose against yours. “i used to get such a thrill from it….but then i think about what you said earlier. my heart — it’s just not in it anymore. all the band is now is drama and gossip and compromises of fame over art, and…. i don’t know. it’s not really what i want anymore. i want to be with you. for real, this time.”

you blink at her; she can feel your chest pulsing against hers like a hummingbird.

“would you, um, if i were to take that leap of faith and do that artist residency, would you —”

“anywhere you wanna go,” vi promises. she thinks about it a bit more….how nice it’s been to be home for the holidays, how nice it would be to come home year round. “preferably close enough so we can have dinner at home on the weekends.”

“sounds like a plan,” you smile.

the two of you twist closer underneath the flannel sheets, sink into the mattress, and gaze up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling until you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you jolt awake a few hours later, several firm knocks on the door and ekko shouting:

“it’s christmas! get the fuck up before ziggy eats all the bacon!”

beside you, vi protects you from the frosty winter morning. her body radiates warmth, and her eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, as you gently shake her shoulder.

she groans, turning on her back, rubbing sleep from her eye.

“i better go.”

“....yeah.”

you flush when you glance over as vi’s slipping on her sweatshirt, rose-petal bruises delicate across her skin. she opens the window, hair still mussed up, and a gust of frigid air rushes into the room.

the image is so familiar: vi, one leg in your room and another out the window. you feel like a teenager again, scrambling to get dressed and avoid anyone hearing that you’d snuck your girlfriend into your room late at night. but there’s something else now, too — you imagine this becoming routine: waking up next to each other every day, swapping clothes, kissing over coffee and pancakes at breakfast. a place where the two of you might create some new memories, build a shared life together. and much more, so much more that feels like it could be your reality, sooner rather than later.

you’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice vi rushing back towards you. she kisses you and kisses you, until your lungs are burning.

"merry christmas, baby,” she mumbles against your lips.

you grin back at her. “merry christmas, vi.”

....

hi baby, i know you’re at studio right now, but i forgot to ask you this morning: how do you feel about sending out holiday cards this year? i know they’re kind of cheesy, but it seems like the type of thing married couples might do…..

anyways, we’ll talk about it when you get home. i’m test-driving this new recipe for brussel sprouts to bring to dinner at my dad’s.

i’ll see you later. love you!

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ginger-tea145 · 2 years ago

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the fact that it includes French is just icing on the cake fr

In my opinion this song screams Sanji 🕺

#One piece #one piece x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji smut #vinsmoke sanji x reader smut #Sanji x reader #sanji smut #one piece smut #anime #anime smut #smut #queen #freddy mercury

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her-power · 7 months ago

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beg (joseph quinn x fem! reader)18+

warnings: language, strong sexual content, lots and lots of making out, bathroom fool around. It’s not that explicit (edit: it’s horny, whoops lol, there’s an unexpected belt restraining 😵‍💫) it’s playful, funny, but minors, stay the eff away.

summary: you run into JQ at a karaoke bar (I know, there’s a theme with these 😂) and drunkenly tell him that you wrote smut about him. he begs you to show him and he’s very…interested.

word count: idk, lots of words 🫠

You were drunk.

You didn’t mean to get this drunk, but there was something about the energy of a karaoke bar that made you want to get loaded. You had just finished singing Bohemian Rhapsody, and had received a roar from the crowd of people who sang along with you, and lots of clapping. Your friends wanted you to sing more, but you needed a break. And some water. You saunter over to the bar, asking for a glass of water which you chug down. Probably not the best idea, but you were thirsty, and it felt like it was thousands of degrees in the building. You took three ice cubes out of the glass and pop them in your mouth, cooling yourself down.

“Your Freddie Mercury dance moves was quite impressive.” A soft, English accented voice reaches your ears and you glance up at the man standing next to you. You gasp, an ice cube sliding down your throat causing you to choke a little. His eyes are wide and he’s almost laughing. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to make you choke.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You manage to breathe out.

Joseph fucking Quinn was standing next to you.

“I’m sorry, that was rude, hi…you are…wow. I must be really drunk cause there is no way you’re standing next to me.” You suppress a giggle and he chuckles.

“Nope, I am a real.” He leans against the bar, twirling his beer bottle. “You good? No more choking?”

“Uh…” you laugh, blindly searching for the bar stool which he scoots behind you and you sit. “Need to sit down for this, why are you in the most rural part of town at a hole in the wall karaoke bar?”

He laughs. “Been filming a movie the next town over, got some nice beaches down this way. This seemed like a good place to be unrecognizable.”

He meets your eyes.

Gods, he was beautiful.

You blush and look away. “Came to the right spot, it’s dim, dreary, smells like piss and shame. I don’t think my friends know where I went.” You glance around the bar, spotting your friends sitting at the table in the corner, drunkenly crying. Yeah, sitting right here feels much better than that, you think.

“My favorite kind of place.” He giggles. “What are you drinking?”

“You…NOPE…wow. Intrusive thoughts won, I’m so sorry.” You put your palms over your face and he laughs loudly. “Ughhhh, this is not happening. I’m making a fool out of myself in front of such a beautiful man. I used to be so good at this.”

“I think you’re being pretty adorable.” He says close to your ear and you almost yelp. He giggles at your behavior and you tell him you’ve been drinking bourbon all night. He orders you a drink and your hand shakes as you bring the rim to your lips.

“Easy, love. You don’t need to be nervous around me.” He nudges you with his shoulder and you relax a little.

“How do I know you’re not like Ted Bundy? Hmm?” You smile at him, taking a sip of his drink.

“Do I look like a serial killer?”

“Ted Bundy didn’t.” You counter and he smiles.

“Touché, but no, I’m not here to kill you.”

“Oh yeah? What are you here to do to me?”

Foot. In. Mouth. You’re gonna make him leave, you’re gonna make him go away by just being a fucking creep.

“What do you want me to do to you?” His voice is low, and your heart beats rapidly as you stare at him with your mouth hanging open. He smirks at you, gently taking his finger and lifting your chin to close your mouth, and winks.

“Oooookay…we’re flirting. This is…okay. Why do I feel like I’m in a setting of one of my stories?”

“Stories?”

Fuck me.

You groan. You need to learn to stop talking to yourself in public, because shit like this happens and you spill secrets you’re not supposed to spill. “Huh? What? No…I mean…nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Friends don’t lie.”

“Oh we’re friends? You don’t even know my name.”

“So tell me.” He turns towards you, your elbows are touching and his eyes are staring deep into yours, they subtly glance down your form and then meet your eyes again. You bite your bottom lip, smiling and tell him your name. “Okay, now we’re friends.”

“I’m not telling you what I said.” You laugh, sipping your drink. He looks at you shocked and the way he moved his head back was comical, you choke on your drink again.

“That is very rude and not fair.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, I wrote a story about you awhile back.”

He points to himself and smiles. “What kind of story?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Oh but I do.” He slides your bar stool closer to him. “Whisper it.”

He’s so close to you, you can smell his cologne and the subtle aroma of beer on his breath. You just stare at him, not answering him. “It’s naughty isn’t it?”

You look away from him, and blush. He gasps excitedly. “Show me!”

Your eyes widen. “What?! No way! It’s embarrassing and it’s horny.”

“Even better.”

“No.” You lean into him and smile. He groans, draping his arm over the back of your chair.

“What do I have to do to get you to show me?” His mouth is so close to yours. You wondered what his lips felt like. You had imagined it, clearly.

“Beg for it.” You smile and he laughs.

“Is that what I do in your story? Beg?”

A tingle forms in your belly at the way he said that and you blush. “I’m just kidding.”

“What if I’m not?”

“Okay, you need to settle down.” You laugh, playfully pushing him away and he giggles. “Can’t believe I’m flirting with you right now, this is insane. I have to pee…watch my drink.”

He smirks, sliding your drink next to his and placing his jacket over the back of your seat. Your legs immediately start shaking as you make your way to the bathroom, your friend Stacey is coming out of the bathroom as you open the door.

“Hey! We’re going, do you need a ride?” She asks you.

You glance back at the bar. “No, I’m okay. I can take an Uber home.”

“By yourself? I don’t know if I feel right about that.”

You gently pat her face. “I’ll be fine. I don’t really wanna share a ride with you all crying about what happened on Love Island.”

She laughs. “Shut up, I know. I hate myself too. Okay, please text me when you get home. Don’t go home with any strangers.” She kisses your cheek.

“Yes, mom.”

Ha, if only she knew.

Although, was he a stranger?

Yes, dumbass.

But, a highly known stranger.

Not in the middle of nowhere USA.

You push open the stall door, quickly do your business and wash your hands. There was no one else in there with you, and you took a minute to look over yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed from the embarrassment of telling him you wrote a sex story about him, and also the fact that he was so…flirtatious and sexy. You adjust your high waisted jeans and pull your black cropped tank down. As of lately; you have grown to love your body and its shape, but you were suddenly feeling self conscious sitting next to a celebrity.

The door to the bathroom opens and you glance up in the mirror.

There he was. Smiling. Comedically tip toeing into the bathroom, locking the door while you stand there stunned.

“What are you-“ His hands are on your waist in a flash, and his soft lips press against yours, sweetly, gently. His hands go into your hair and a sigh escapes you, you almost fall backwards but he wraps his arms around your waist tighter, holding you to him. Your hands go to his chest, and you gently push him back, your lips falling away from each other with a smack. Your eyes dart back and forth from his eyes to his lips and he’s grinning at you.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t wait any longer.” He tells you and you still cannot find words.

He was a good kisser.

Maybe you could show him your story, but that could wait. You wanted to kiss him again, so you did. His tongue glides into your mouth and you groan, pushing your body against his, bumping into the wall, almost falling over the trash can. His hands find your thigh and squeeze gently, lifting you up delicately and your head slams against the automatic paper towel dispenser.

“Ow!” You laugh loudly as the paper towels come out behind you, vroooooom.

“Oh shit I’m sorry!” He pulls away from your lips quickly and holds your head. You laugh, holding his face and kissing him again. He smiles against your lips, his hand grips your waist and you sigh, moving your hands over his back, down past his ass and you pull his waist flush against you. He groans against your mouth, and lifts you on the bathroom counter. You didn’t care how gross this counter probably was, you just wanted to be close to him. He pushes himself between your legs and you could feel his hardness through his jeans. His lips find your throat and you gasp when he gently bites on your sensitive skin. His hand glides up your soft skin, over your bra and your nipple hardens as his palm grazes over your breast.

“Mmm…we should…stop…” You whisper against his neck.

“Do you want me to stop?” He whispers, his tongue flicks out over the vein at your throat and you moan, clawing at his back.

“No…but…not here…somewhere else.” You gasp.

He pulls away from you and smiles sweetly, kissing you again and helps you down from the counter. You unlock the door, surprised to see that no one was waiting to kick you guys out and as you exit the bathroom he takes your arm and pulls you to him, kissing you deeply. Your back hits the wall and you smile against his lips, his hands fisting through your hair.

“Yeah, get it girl!” A woman says as she makes her way to the bathroom and the two of you pull away laughing. You take his hand and take him to the outside patio, you patted yourself down to make sure your phone and wallet was still in your jeans. You find a vacant picnic table and sit on top of it, shaking the nerves out of your hands as you stare up at him. He smiles, his dimples showing and you blush.

His hand cups your face and you lean into it, he kisses your lips softly and sits down on the bench beneath you. You smile, opening your phone and go to your word document app. He lights up a cigarette and you cringe, holding the phone towards him.

His eyes light up. “Is this it?” And you nod. He giggles, his eyes scanning the first few paragraphs. “Wow, you’re a really good writer…oh…” he meets your eyes, his wide and playful. You blush looking away from him and he laughs, his hand gently squeezes your knee. “This is…horny.” His hand squeezes your thigh and you have to suppress a moan that is about to escape.

“He puts his mouth on your…whoa…whoaaaaa…” he meets your eyes again, his face is flushed. “It’s hot, is it hot? I’m sweating. If I read anymore I’m gonna take you on this table.” He hands the phone back to you and you giggle, covering your face with his hands. He stands over you, the cigarette dangling from his lips. You take it from him, inhale on it, and pull his face towards yours.

“Breathe in.” You tell him, as you exhale and the smoke comes out, your lips barely graze and he inhales, stepping back a little letting the smoke glide out of his lungs.

He blushes and smirks at you. “That was in there wasn’t it?”

You nod, biting your lip, handing him the cigarette. He smiles large, snuffing the cigarette out in the ashtray. He moves towards you, curling a piece of hair behind your ear. “You wanna get out of here?”

You stare into his eyes and nod. He grins, and as you’re about to open your Uber app he puts his hand over yours. “No need, I have a driver.” He nods to the back parking lot and you see a black livery car with a driver in the front seat. “Just tell me where to go.”

So, you tell him the direction to your house. You had snuggled up against his chest on the car ride, his hand softly rubs your shoulder and you pull up in front of your apartment building. He tells the driver to head back to the hotel and will call when he needs to get picked up. He follows you up the stairs to the second floor and you turn on your lights. You shut and lock the door, blushing again.

“Why do you keep blushing?” He teases, gently cupping your cheek.

“Because you’re in my apartment and have been kissing me all night.” You sigh. “And I’m confused on why out of all the beautiful women in the bar, you sought me out.”

“Well, none of those other beautiful women could sing Bohemian Rhapsody like you did.”

You roll your eyes. “If you were ten minutes earlier you would’ve seen my rendition of You Oughta Know.”

He laughs. “Now that would’ve made me beg for you.”

You’re not even all the way into your apartment before he’s kissing you. He practically drags you blindly into the living room and into the wall. He pushes his body against yours, kissing you deeply, his hands going over your belly and up your shirt. You gasp, gripping onto his forearms as he kisses down your chest, pulling your shirt over your head. His lips glide down your stomach until his on his knees, licking just above the button of your jeans and he pops the button. He gazes up at you, and your head falls back against the wall as he pulls your jeans down, and you step out of them. He grips your thighs, kissing them softly and his hands caress your backside. He pulls down your underwear and your entire body trembles, and you groan as his mouth goes on you like he was starving. You grip at his hair as he feasts on you, still pinching yourself because there was no way this was real and that he was doing this to you in your apartment.

His fingers glide inside you as he continues his feast, and you moan loudly, your body almost sliding down the wall but he holds you up with his free hand. He tells you to come in his mouth and your entire body reacts to his voice and how he curls his fingers deeper inside you. You tense up and you scream in pleasure loudly, holding onto the wall for support as you clench around his fingers and he moans against you. He pulls his fingers out of you and glides back up your body, kissing you passionately. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he lifts you, you direct him to your bedroom and pushes open the door with his foot and he falls backwards on the bed, taking you with him. His hands move up your back as he kisses you and unhooks your bra, it falls down your arms and you toss it to the ground, straddling him and he bites back a moan as you scoot yourself back, pulling off his jeans. He sits up quickly, pulling his shirt over his head and you run your hand over his slightly toned tummy, crashing your lips against his. You couldn’t wait any longer for this, you end up pulling him out of the hole from his boxer briefs and you immediately lower yourself down on him.

A broken moan escapes you as he fills you up and his head falls back against the pillows. You rock your hips against him, your body trembles as his lips catch your nipple in his mouth and he gently bites down, you gasp loudly.

“Do you want me to beg?” He groans and you whimper as you rock your hips faster. You moan, a soft laugh escaping you and you nod. You move off of him, moving up his body like a snake and you kiss him deeply. You take his hands, holding both of them above his head, reaching down to take the belt you had on your jeans. His eyes light up and he giggles.

“Oh, we’re doing this.” He says with a chuckle, biting his lower lip.

“You’re an actor.” You smirk, wrapping the belt around his wrists and attached it to the bars on your headboard. “Act.”

“What if I’m not acting?” He clasps his hands together in the restraint.

You smirk, gazing down at him. “Even better.” You meet his soft lips, straddling him, and you could already tell he was getting frustrated because he couldn’t touch you. Your hand glides down his abdomen, over his hips and over his length. His lips buck and his eyes flutter close, a soft sigh escaping him.

You kiss his chest gently, running your tongue over his nipple and he groans. You meet his lips again, grinding your hips against his and reach down to touch him, you grip him hard and then stop.

“Please.” He whispers, almost whining.

“Please what?” You ask, smiling against his cheek, taking his jaw in your hand, turning his head to look at you and a seductive laugh comes out of his mouth with your forcefulness.

“Keep touching me.” He says, moving his face to kiss your lips. “I’m begging you.”

You grin, wrapping your hand around his length and fist him slowly. You lean down to kiss his neck and he moans as your hand picks up speed and his body is arching. “Let me fuck you.” He groans, struggling again. You meet his eyes, gently kissing him as your other hand reaches up to untie the belt from the headboard. His hands come down so fast, the belt goes flying and he’s taking your face in his hands, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he forces himself on top of you. He hooks your leg around his waist and pushing himself inside you hard. You moan loudly as he rolls his hips, the sensation of his speed and his pelvis grinding against you was causing you to feel so many different things at once. His noises were loud and so were yours, beautiful harmonies of two feral beings just needing to feel something.

Your orgasm was approaching fast and he could feel it too, so he slows down. Rocking into you slowly, gently, his lips soft against yours. His hands gently go through your hair and you didn’t know what was hotter: him taking his time with you or how animalistic he was moments ago. A whimper escapes you as you feel your orgasm approach, his breath was hot against your lips as your head falls back, and you’re holding onto his back as you come, this orgasm so much more powerful than the last one and he comes soon after you. His sounds deep, raspy, beautiful.

He lays with his head on your chest, catching his breath and you run your fingers over his hair. He looks up at you, cheekily grinning. “Now, that was a smut story.” He laughs loudly as you giggle, pushing him off of you and he falls to the floor with a thud. His head pops up as he looks at you, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Now it’s your turn to beg.”

the end

#joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #Eddie Munson

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freddie-mercury-rising · 6 months ago

Note

Prompt: shower sex

People: Freddie and Roger

Rain on Me

Does he know how beautiful he is? Standing there, not a stitch of clothing on him, reaching up to get something from the shelf. The line of his back, the muscles rippling beneath his skin. I never noticed how strong he was until I caressed him, tracing his sinew and fibre like a topographical map. He’s taut, on tiptoe, reaching, reaching up to grab something, which I could help him with, but I want to watch instead.

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wittyandobsessed · 1 month ago

Text

𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐳𝐲

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Crowley x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | smut, explicit sex, fingering, semi-public sex.

𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘬𝘺, 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘺.

It was late, and night had fallen over the city. The streets were dimly lit, with only the occasional flicker of a neon sign or the distant hum of late-night traffic breaking the stillness. You were in Crowley's Bentley, and for the first time since you'd known him, there was no music. No Freddie Mercury blaring his lyrics at full volume in the cabin, no classic rock vibrating through the leather seats. The silence was thick, pressing in on you, making you uneasy.

Crowley was at the wheel, his expression hidden behind his signature dark sunglasses, even though it was the middle of the night. The streetlights cast eerie reflections on the lenses, making him look even more inscrutable. He was silent, his usual sardonic grin nowhere to be seen. The only sounds were the low purr of the Bentley's engine and the occasional creak of the car's suspension as it rolled over cobblestone streets.

You glanced at Crowley, trying to gauge his mood. His jaw was clenched, and you could see the tension in his posture. His fingers were wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel that his knuckles were white. Every so often, his grip would tighten even more, as if he was trying to strangle the wheel. His anger was palpable, radiating off him in waves.

You were nervous, your hands fidgeting in your lap, heart racing in the quiet confines of the Bentley. The atmosphere was heavy with tension, and the darkness outside seemed to mirror the turmoil within you. Ashamed because you knew you had acted without considering the consequences for Crowley. The familiar leather seats felt suddenly uncomfortable, the silence between you suffocating.

But alongside the nerves and shame, there was a simmering anger. It welled up within you as you reflected on the injustice of Crowley's reaction. You had intervened with the best intentions, trying to protect Aziraphale and him from the wrath of their fellow angels. You had hoped to negotiate a truce, to secure their safety, but instead, your efforts had backfired spectacularly.

Crowley's jaw was set, his knuckles white against the dark leather of the steering wheel.

As you glanced at him, a mix of emotions washed over you. The frustration at being misunderstood, the regret at causing him distress, and the underlying fear of what might come next. You shifted uncomfortably, wanting to break the silence, to explain yourself, but the weight of his disapproval held you back.

You had made the decision to meet the angels alone, without informing anyone, and it nearly cost you your life in their relentless attack. Fortunately, Crowley had sensed your intentions and stealthily followed you, intervening just in time to save you from peril. His initial relief at finding you alive quickly gave way to a torrent of anger and frustration as he berated you for your impulsive and dangerous actions.

In response to his tirade, you had fiercely defended yourself, raising your own voice to match his, attempting to explain the reasons behind your actions. "Planning on sulking forever?" you finally broke the silence, injecting a note of playful sarcasm into your voice, hoping to ease the palpable tension that had settled between you. Crowley's response was immediate and visceral. His fingers clenched around the leather-wrapped steering wheel, and he made a sudden, sharp turn. The Bentley's tires protested against the asphalt with a high-pitched screech, throwing you off balance as the car maneuvered abruptly. Your breath caught in your throat, startled by the sudden movement, and you instinctively braced yourself against the door as the momentum pressed you against it.

With a decisive halt, Crowley brought the car to a stop in a secluded alley, a dead end where the surrounding buildings loomed overhead, casting long shadows in the dimly lit space. The engine ticked as it cooled, filling the tense silence between you.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of fear at Crowley's unexpected reaction. His usual composed demeanor had shattered, replaced by an unsettling intensity that you had never witnessed before. It was disconcerting and unfamiliar, leaving you on edge and uncertain of what would come next.

Avoiding your gaze, Crowley sat rigidly in his seat, his jaw clenched and his sunglasses shielding his eyes from view. The air inside the car felt charged with unspoken emotions—anger, frustration, and perhaps even a trace of hurt. Your attempt at lightheartedness had clearly struck a nerve, and now you were left grappling with the consequences of your words.

As seconds ticked by like hours in the confined space, Crowley finally broke the heavy silence. His voice was low and edged with a mix of accusation and disbelief, refusing to meet your eyes. "Is this all just a game to you?"

The weight of his question hung in the air, each word laden with layers of meaning. It wasn't just a simple inquiry; it was a challenge, a demand for explanation and introspection. In that moment, you realized the depth of his turmoil and the impact of your actions on him. The alleyway seemed to constrict around you, amplifying the tension that enveloped both of you in its grip.

"Crowley..." you breathed softly, the name catching in your throat as you struggled to find words amidst the tension that hung heavy in the air. "I just wanted to help."

His response came with a deep sigh, a palpable weariness in his demeanor as he ran a hand through his fiery, tousled hair, strands catching the dim light filtering through the car windows.

"You can't just go up against celestial beings... Do you realize if I hadn't been there, you would have been dead?" His voice was edged with a mix of frustration and concern, his words a stark reminder of the peril you had unwittingly faced.

Despite understanding the gravity of his words, you couldn't suppress your own stubbornness. "And what was I supposed to do? Stand idly by? Those angels were closing in on you and Aziraphale. I couldn't just let them take you," you countered, your voice wavering with a blend of defiance and underlying fear.

"I told you I would figure something out!" Crowley protested, his tone tinged with exasperation.

"Yes, I know," you retorted, your gaze meeting his through the veil of tension. "But Crowley, you've saved my life countless times, prevented the apocalypse even. I wanted to do something for you." Your words hung in the air, laden with unspoken gratitude and a fierce determination to reciprocate the loyalty and protection he had consistently shown you.

At your heartfelt confession, a heavy silence settled inside the Bentley's cabin, thickening the air between you. Crowley's usually sharp wit and confident demeanor faltered momentarily as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. He opened his mouth several times, but each attempt to speak seemed to evaporate into the tense atmosphere.

"I- It's just that..." His voice trailed off, frustration evident in the furrow of his brow and the tightness around his mouth. Finally, he turned towards you, his expression a mixture of turmoil and vulnerability. "I don't want to lose you," he admitted, his voice low and laced with uncharacteristic uncertainty.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of his confession hitting you with unexpected force. You had harbored feelings for Crowley for so long, but you never dared to hope they might be reciprocated. His admission left you momentarily speechless, eyes locked with his as you struggled to comprehend the depth of his emotions.

Crowley sighed again, a sound heavy with unresolved emotions. He seemed on the verge of saying more, his features caught between resignation and determination, yet words continued to elude him.

"It was foolish of you to act that way. I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you. You've been a constant presence in my life for so long, and I..." His voice trailed off once more, his gaze intense and searching.

Unable to find the words he needed, Crowley chose a different approach—a gesture that spoke volumes where words fell short. Without warning, he reached out, his hand firm yet gentle as it cupped your face, his touch warm against your skin. In a sudden surge of raw emotion, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss.

The kiss was intense, almost desperate, conveying years of unspoken longing and the weight of shared experiences. His lips moved against yours with a fierce urgency, as if trying to convey everything he couldn't say aloud.

When Crowley reluctantly withdrew, you were left breathless, your senses reeling from the intensity of the kiss. His hands lingered on your cheeks, hesitant, unsure of your reaction. As he saw you staring at him, still in shock, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. He began to pull away, his fingers sliding from your skin as he turned back to the steering wheel, preparing to resume driving.

In that moment, something ignited within you—a surge of realization and longing that propelled you forward. Breaking free from your stunned silence, you acted on instinct. With a sudden burst of determination, you reached out and grabbed his collar, yanking him back towards you with a force that surprised him.

His initial surprise was evident in the sound he made, a mixture of astonishment and fleeting resistance, quickly overcome by the undeniable pull between you. As you drew him close, his lips met yours once more, and this time, there was no hesitation. Crowley yielded to the kiss, his own emotions spilling over in a mix of desire and relief.

The kiss intensified, each moment deepening the connection between you and Crowley. You continued to pull him closer, your fingers tightening instinctively on his collar, anchoring him to you. He shifted slightly, one hand finding purchase on the window to maintain balance in the awkward yet thrilling position, half-leaning over you.

As Crowley deepened the kiss, his tongue gently seeking entrance to your mouth, a soft sigh escaped your lips, a mixture of surprise and pleasure. The warmth of his touch, the taste of him mingling with the rush of emotions, sent a shiver down your spine. In response to his pull, you shifted, almost instinctively, causing the dynamics to shift subtly.

With a swift movement, Crowley reversed the position, pulling you towards him. Suddenly, you found yourself nearly straddling his lap, your breath mingling in the small space between you. His other hand moved to rest against the small of your back, drawing you even closer as the intensity of the moment enveloped you both.

Amidst the dizzying rush of emotions and sensations, the atmosphere inside the Bentley crackled with an unexpected energy. It was a dance of desire and longing, played out in the confined space of the car's interior.

Unexpectedly, the quiet ambiance was interrupted by the Bentley's radio springing to life. Instead of the usual Freddie Mercury anthem, the sultry tones of "Feel Like Makin' Love" by Bad Company filled the air. The lyrics seemed to echo the palpable heat between you, but neither of you noticed the change.

Lost in each other, oblivious to the world outside, you and Crowley were consumed by the passion and urgency of the moment.

Gasping for breath, you gently withdrew from Crowley's lips, needing a moment to collect yourself. A rush of exhilaration and joy surged through you, making your heart race and your cheeks flush with a mixture of excitement and disbelief. Resting your forehead against his, you let your fingers weave through the strands of his hair, marveling at the softness and warmth of his touch amidst the charged atmosphere of the Bentley's interior.

Under the intoxicating spell of adrenaline and happiness, a spontaneous giggle escaped your lips, surprising even yourself. Crowley, slightly taken aback but intrigued by your reaction, raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"You have no idea how long I've dreamed about this moment," you confessed softly, your voice barely a whisper against his mouth. The admission hung in the air, heavy with years of unspoken longing and desire.

Crowley's expression softened, a flicker of emotion crossing his features. Love. It was an overwhelming, fiery love that surged through him, stirring depths he had kept carefully guarded for so long.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of regret and curiosity. He couldn't help but wonder how different things might have been if he had known your feelings sooner.

Your laughter bubbled up again, a nervous yet genuine sound that filled the space between you. "Crowley... You're a demon, a supernatural being. You're extraordinary, and I'm just a human. I never imagined you could be interested in someone like me," you admitted, your words tinged with a hint of self-doubt.

His heart ached at your words, realizing the impact of his otherworldly nature on your perception of him. Leaning in, he pressed a tender, chaste kiss against your lips, his touch gentle yet firm as he cupped your cheeks in his hands, brushing aside stray strands of hair with a tender gesture.

"You are extraordinary, never doubt that," he whispered softly, his gaze locked with yours, a silent promise of understanding and acceptance.

Feeling deeply cherished by this remarkable being, you seized his lips once more, this time with an intensity fueled by raw passion. Crowley responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around you as you found yourself straddling him in the driver's seat of the Bentley.

Your hands explored Crowley's slender, toned torso, tracing the contours of his body with a mixture of fascination and desire. The warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the subtle flex of his muscles under your touch, sent shivers of anticipation down your spine. His hands settled firmly on your hips, drawing you closer to him with a possessive yet tender grip.

A soft, breathless moan escaped your lips as your hips moved against his, a rhythmic dance of desire that seemed to flow effortlessly between you. The proximity of your bodies ignited a magnetic pull, drawing you closer with every heartbeat. Unbeknownst to you, the intensity of your connection was mirrored in Crowley's responses—the gentle pressure of his hands on your hips, the fervent warmth of his kisses.

In the midst of this passionate exchange, a subtle shift in Crowley's demeanor hinted at his own escalating desire. His breath mingled with yours, each exhale a testament to the shared urgency and longing. The confined space of the car's interior seemed to amplify the intimacy between you, cocooning you in a bubble of shared emotion and unspoken promises.

As the heat between you intensified, you could feel the undeniable evidence of Crowley's arousal pressing against you, a tangible declaration of his desire.

You slid your hands under his t-shirt, relishing the sensation of his warm, smooth skin against your fingertips. Crowley responded with a slight shiver, a soft, involuntary moan escaping his lips as your touch sent a thrill through him.

As your hips continued to move against his, the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressed eagerly against you, a palpable reminder of the mutual desire fueling the moment. His hands gripped you firmly, his fingers digging into your waist with a possessive yet tender touch, guiding you effortlessly to the back seats of the car.

With a low, guttural sound of desire, Crowley swiftly repositioned you, laying you down on the plush rear seats. His movements were decisive yet filled with a primal urgency, a testament to the depth of his longing. Stretching out over you, he didn't break the intimate connection of your lips, the kiss deepening with each passing second.

The shift in position sent a surge of excitement through you, amplifying the already heightened sensations coursing through your body. The confined space of the car's interior seemed to cocoon you both in a world of shared intimacy and unspoken yearning.

"You're exquisite," Crowley murmured against your lips, his voice a low, husky whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands, now exploring under your t-shirt, traced delicate patterns across your skin, igniting sparks of pleasure with every caress. You couldn't help but moan softly in response, your body arching instinctively towards his touch, craving more of his intoxicating presence.

He massaged your breasts with a touch that sent shivers of pleasure through your body, your breath hitching as soft moans escaped your lips. Sensing your response, Crowley lifted you effortlessly, his strength and grace evident as he helped you remove your top and unhook your bra, revealing your skin to his hungry gaze.

In a tender yet urgent exchange, you reciprocated by swiftly removing Crowley's jacket and then pulling his t-shirt over his head. As his shirtless form emerged, illuminated by the subtle glow of the Bentley's interior lights, you couldn't help but admire the sculpted contours of his chest, the smooth lines of muscle hinting at both power and grace.

Eager to explore further, Crowley's hands moved to unzip your pants, but before he could proceed, you gently halted his movements. Crowley froze, a flicker of concern crossing his features, worried he had overstepped. However, when he met your gaze, he found not discomfort but a small, knowing smile playing on your lips.

With a tender touch, you reached up to caress his face, your fingertips tracing the contours of his cheekbones and jawline with a delicate reverence. Then, your attention turned to the arms of his sunglasses, which shielded his eyes from view. Slowly and deliberately, you removed them, revealing Crowley's eyes—eyes that he often hid from the world, knowing their unsettling yellow hue could unsettle even the bravest souls.

Crowley held his breath, his heart pounding with vulnerability as you gazed into his eyes with unabashed love and desire. In that moment, he felt exposed yet strangely liberated, as if the barriers he had erected to protect himself were crumbling under the warmth of your acceptance.

"I want to see you," you whispered softly, placing his sunglasses gently aside. "I want to see all of you because you're beautiful."

Those words washed over Crowley like a soothing balm, dispelling his lingering doubts and insecurities. His heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and overwhelming emotion, realizing he had never before been embraced so fully for who he was.

Filled with an overwhelming wave of love, Crowley leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that spoke volumes—of gratitude, of longing, of a newfound intimacy that transcended physicality.

He slipped his hand into your pants with a slow, deliberate movement, his fingers tracing a tantalizing path over the fabric of your panties before slipping beneath them. His touch was gentle yet firm, his fingertips sending ripples of sensation through your skin as he explored your most intimate areas. Each stroke was calculated to draw out your pleasure, his movements skillfully navigating the contours of your body with an expertise born of desire and familiarity.

You arched into his touch, your breath catching in your throat as he applied just the right amount of pressure to elicit a soft moan from you.

"Crowley," you murmured, your voice breathless.

His lips found your neck, alternating between feather-light kisses and teasing nibbles that sent shivers of delight down your spine. His warm breath against your skin heightened your senses, each sensation magnified by the intimacy of the moment. Meanwhile, his fingers continued their exploration, skillfully tracing circles around your clitoris, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"You're so beautiful like this," he whispered, his voice reverent.

Crowley's attentions were meticulous, his movements calculated to build your arousal gradually. He shifted his focus to your nipples, his lips and tongue working in tandem to provoke soft gasps and sighs of pleasure from you. The contrast between the tender caresses and the assertive nibbles left you trembling with desire, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. Crowley reveled in the power he held over you, his confidence evident in the way he navigated your responses.

"You drive me wild," he confessed in a husky whisper, his voice thick with desire.

Yet, underlying his commanding presence was a tenderness that spoke of his deep affection for you, a desire to please and satisfy you beyond measure.

As you moaned and squirmed beneath his touch, Crowley's admiration for you grew, his own arousal mirroring yours in intensity.

After thoroughly teasing you, Crowley withdrew his fingers slowly, savoring the way your body trembled with anticipation. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, capturing your moan with a passionate kiss that left you yearning for more.

As he rose, his eyes drank in the sight of you, bathed in the soft neon glow of the alleyway. The lights played over your skin, tracing the contours of your body and casting shadows that danced with each subtle movement. Beads of sweat shimmered on your skin, adding to the allure of your naked form standing before him—a provocative display of desire and temptation.

You met his gaze boldly, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you sensed his hunger and arousal. "What are you waiting for?" you teased, your voice laced with desire and mischief, knowing the effect you had on him.

He growled in response, a primal sound that reverberated through the air. With swift, purposeful movements, he shed his own clothing, revealing his sculpted physique bathed in the same ethereal glow.

Your gaze traveled over him, lingering on the impressive form of his arousal, and a nervous excitement fluttered in your chest. Crowley's expression softened momentarily, a flicker of admiration and adoration crossing his features before desire once again hardened his gaze.

He leaned over you, his tall frame casting a shadow that seemed to envelop you both in the dimly lit interior of the Bentley. His touch was deliberate and firm as he positioned himself above you, his gaze locked with yours in a silent promise of intimacy. With a slow, purposeful movement, he guided himself inside you, the sensation of his hardness stretching you sending a thrill through your body.

Your breath caught in your throat as he filled you completely in one smooth, deep thrust. A soft, involuntary moan escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment to savor the overwhelming sensation of him inside you.

He started with slow, deliberate strokes, allowing you to acclimate to the sensation of him moving within you. The friction between your bodies sparked a fire that burned hotter with each gentle thrust, drawing out gasps and sighs of pleasure from both of you. His hands found purchase on your hips, his touch both possessive and reverent as he guided your movements in sync with his own.

The warmth of his skin against yours, the musky scent of his cologne mingling with the leather upholstery of the car, added to the sensory overload of the moment. Each subtle shift of his weight, each press of his body against yours, deepened the intensity of your shared experience.

As he gradually increased the pace, his thrusts grew more urgent, each one pushing deeper into you. Your senses were heightened, attuned to the sensation of his skin against yours, the rhythm of your breaths syncing in a primal dance of desire. His groans of pleasure mixed with your own, the sound echoing softly in the confined space of the car, amplifying the intimacy of your connection.

In the midst of this intimate exchange, you felt a surge of emotion — desire, love, and a profound sense of belonging. His eyes, usually hidden behind dark glasses, now bore into yours with a vulnerability that mirrored your own. His fingers traced patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine and igniting sparks of pleasure that coursed through every nerve ending. Under the weight of desire, Crowley's movements grew more intense and purposeful. Each forceful thrust deepened the connection between you, his hips meeting yours with a determined strength that sent waves of pleasure through your body. The car swayed gently in response to your passionate union, the subtle creaks of the suspension adding a rhythmic cadence to the unfolding symphony of your shared desire.

Within the intimate confines of the Bentley, every sound seemed heightened—the soft moans escaping your lips, the hurried gasps mingling with the faint rustle of leather against skin. The air carried a heady mix of arousal, blending with the lingering scent of his cologne and the comforting aroma of the leather upholstery.

Driven by his longing to possess you, Crowley lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, altering the angle of his penetration. The shift intensified the sensations, his firm length sliding into you swiftly, finding that tender spot that made you cry out in a mixture of surprise and unbridled pleasure.

"Oh yes! Right there! More!" you exclaimed, your voice a blend of urgency and ecstasy. Your fingers dug into his back, your nails lightly grazing his skin as you surrendered to the intoxicating pleasure washing over you.

Using the window for support, Crowley steadied himself, his grip firm as he prepared to deepen his thrusts. Each movement was deliberate, commanding, aimed at drawing out the deepest moans and gasps from your lips.

"Oh fffffuck," Crowley sighed deeply, his body trembling with the intensity of pleasure that surged through him. Each movement seemed to amplify the sensations, sending electric pulses of ecstasy from his core to every nerve ending. He whispered your name repeatedly, each utterance laden with reverence and a desperate craving.

As he quickened his pace, the sound of your bodies colliding filled the car with a rhythmic cadence, punctuated by the sharp intake of breath and the soft moans that escaped your lips. The sensation was overwhelming, yet exhilarating—a symphony of desire that reverberated through the confined space.

Your eyes fluttered closed momentarily, the sensations overwhelming your senses. Every touch, every thrust from Crowley seemed to draw you deeper into a state of heightened arousal. His grip around you tightened, pulling you closer, his touch igniting a primal need within you.

"Oh princess, you make me lose my mind," he growled softly, his voice husky with desire. With a commanding yet gentle maneuver, he guided you onto your stomach, your hands finding purchase against the door for support. His dominant position behind you, one arm secure around your waist just below your breasts and the other possessively around your throat, added an intoxicating layer of eroticism to the moment.

"Fuck, Crowley, it's so good," you gasped, the words escaping in a breathless rush as pleasure surged through you.

"Ah, ah! Fuck," he groaned in response, his movements becoming more urgent, driving deeper with each thrust. The rhythm of your bodies synchronized perfectly, the friction building an irresistible tension that pushed you both closer to the edge of release.

You could feel yourself on the brink of orgasm, every nerve ending electrified with anticipation. The pleasure surged through you like a rising tide, threatening to overwhelm your senses. Your moans became a steady stream, each breath punctuated with desperate pleas. "Crowley, ah, Crowl- Oh fuck!"

As your vaginal muscles tightened around his penis, Crowley's vision blurred momentarily with the intensity of sensation. He lost his steady rhythm, his hips stuttering in response to your involuntary contractions. With a primal cry, he thrust deeply one last time, his body shaking as he reached the peak of ecstasy alongside you.

Outside, the neon lights seemed to pulse brighter, casting erratic shadows as if mimicking the erratic surge of power from Crowley's uncontrollable climax. They shimmered intensely before bursting into a dazzling cascade of sparks, reflecting the explosive intensity of your shared release.

In the sudden darkness that followed, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the echo of your ragged breaths and the sensation of your bodies pressed together in the confined space. Crowley remained deeply embedded within you, feeling the aftershocks of your trembling, pulsating walls. His own body tingled with the aftermath of pleasure, his senses heightened and attuned to every sensation coursing through him.

You both struggled to regain your breath, basking in the euphoria of the post-orgasmic haze. Crowley's hands gently cradled your hips, his touch tender and reassuring amidst the overwhelming intimacy of the moment. The air was thick with the heady scent of arousal and the lingering scent of leather, a testament to the passionate encounter that had unfolded within the sanctuary of the Bentley.

In the hushed aftermath of their intense union, Crowley and you lay entangled in each other's arms, hearts still racing, and breaths gradually slowing.

"Are you alright?" he murmured, his voice soft and filled with genuine concern, breaking the silence that enveloped you both.

You nodded, a serene smile playing on your lips as you gazed back at him. "More than alright," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "That was... incredible."

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Crowley's lips, his fingers lightly brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "You always surprise me," he confessed quietly, his gaze lingering on you with a mixture of admiration and affection.

The air between them felt charged with unspoken words and unexplored emotions, the intimacy of their connection deepening in the aftermath of their passionate encounter. In the dim light filtering through the car windows, Crowley leaned in to press a tender kiss against your forehead, his touch conveying a silent promise of protection and devotion.

Still wrapped in the warmth of your post-orgasmic glow, Crowley shifted his position and enveloped you in his arms. His embrace felt protective, as if he could shield you from all the world's troubles with just his presence. Nestling against him, you savored the comforting strength he exuded.

"We should probably head back to the bookstore. Aziraphale must be worried," he murmured, his voice soft against your ear, breaking the intimate silence that enveloped you both.

You chuckled softly, imagining Aziraphale's concern while you and Crowley had been indulging in what felt like the best moment of your lives. "Yes, you're probably right," you replied, a playful glint in your eyes.

As you dressed, the quiet of the car wrapped around you, punctuated only by the rustle of fabric and the faint hum of the engine. Crowley's demeanor shifted subtly; a nervous tension seemed to settle over him, evident in the way he adjusted himself behind the wheel. When he reached for his sunglasses and obscured his eyes once more, a pang of concern tugged at you. Was there something you had said or done that had made him uneasy, prompting him to retreat behind his protective barrier?

You placed a gentle, reassuring hand on his, your expression filled with concern. "Are you okay?" you asked softly, noting the slight hesitation in his demeanor.

He swallowed, his voice betraying vulnerability. "What we just shared, it was real, wasn't it?" There was a tremor in his words. "It wasn't just a one-time thing?"

Understanding his uncertainty, you smiled warmly, wanting to ease his worries. "Of course not," you reassured him earnestly, your touch gentle on his hand. "As long as you want me, I'm here for you completely. I'm not going anywhere, and I hope we can do this again, many times."

Crowley visibly relaxed at your words, the tension leaving his shoulders. He resumed his usual confident demeanor, a small, secretive smile playing on his lips. "Perfect," he replied, his voice returning to its usual smoothness.

You reached out, your fingers deftly removing his sunglasses, revealing his eyes that he often hid from the world. "So, you don't need these anymore," you said softly, your gaze unwavering as you looked into his eyes. "Don't hide from me. You're beautiful, and I want to see all of you."

Touched by your sincerity and understanding, Crowley started the Bentley, setting course for the bookstore where Aziraphale was likely waiting, his expression softer and more at ease than before.

#crowley #crowley x reader #crowley good omens #crowley smut #good omens #good omens smut #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #oneshot #neil gaiman

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petitemistletoe · 2 years ago

Text

The Concert

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Warnings: smut, angst, dom! James x Regulus, some hate fucking sort of? enjoy this!

Word Count: 5K+

A/N: This is a part 2 to Hate, hope you all enjoy it :)

“I have such a good idea!” You said with a large grin on your face as you dropped yourself down at the table in between Marlene and Remus.

“Where did you come from?” Sirius asked, turning fully around to look behind him.

“Stayed to help Binns after history,” you grinned, helping yourself to a large piece of the meaty pie that was on the table for dinner.

“What’s your idea?” Lily asked, sensing the excitement radiating off you.

“I heard from Yaz who heard from Dorcus who heard from Daniel who heard from Michael who heard from his cousin who lives in Soho that Queen is doing a pub concert in London on Friday and we have to go!” You beamed.

“I don’t care for Queen.” Remus shrugged.

“The Queen sings?” Marlene cocked an eyebrow.

“No! The band Queen! Freddy Mercury, Roger Taylor, Brian May, John Deacon. Come on! They’re the biggest band in the world right now! How can you guys not want to go?” You were severely displeased with your friends’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Hey! I know I would love to hear the Queen perform. I’ve never been to a muggle concert before.” James said, getting up from his place across the table and squeezing himself between you and Sirius so he could wrap an arm around your shoulders.

“It’s just Queen, Prongs, and your opinion doesn’t count you would do anything to keep your girlfriend happy.” Remus rolled his eyes as he looked at you and James comfortably seated together.

“Uh, Remus? She’s not the only one who would be happy to see Queen.” Lily said with a grin, pointing her fork at Sirius. Remus turned to look at Sirius who was red faced with excitement and had somehow transfigured his sweater into a Queen t-shirt.

“Oh no,” Remus sighed, “don’t tell me you’re a Queen fan? Padfoot! What happened to taste?”

“I don’t know why you don’t like them, Moony. They’re amazing and you’re a snob. Also I’m excited for us to listen to a great band, get pissed, and snog uncontrollably.” Sirius crossed his arms and glowered at Remus.

“I don’t want to go if all you’re gonna do is snog,” Lily sighed.

“Yeah! I don’t want to watch the Potters and the Lupins snog all night. I’m out,” Marlene said, tossing her napkin on the table and crossing her arms across her chest in a pout.

“I’ll come if I can bring Roman. We’re supposed to go on a date but I’ve been wanting a dastardly little rendez-vous in a pub bathroom.” Mary shrugged, standing from the table and making her way over to the Hufflepuff table.

“Hold on, what makes you think I would take James’s last name?” You asked.

“Yeah! What if Moony and I wanted to hyphenate?” Sirius protested. Before Remus could rebut, Yasmine made her way over to the table and grinned at Marlene.

“Marls are you going to the Queen concert in London? I’d love to see you there.” She smiled at Marlene again who could only offer a goofy wave and a nod in return, her eyes trained on Yaz’s ass as she walked out of the great hall.

“Okay so what is the official headcount for the concert then? Who’s coming?” James asked, surveilling the group.

“We’re going,” Sirius said quickly, sending Remus a look. Remus rolled his eyes and nodded.

“I’ll come!” Peter said, his mouth still full of mashed potatoes.

“Roman and I will be there,” Mary said with a nod as she walked past the table, arm in arm with Roman.

“Marlene, you coming?” You asked. Marlene still had a dumbstruck look on her face as her fingers ghosted over her shoulder where Yaz had rested her hand.

“What about you Evans?” James asked, looking at the final member of the group who had yet to respond

“No! I’ll be the,” Lily took a second to count the people in the group, “ninth wheel. I’d rather stay back and do almost anything else.”

“Peter will be alone. You can go with him,” Sirius offered but to everyone’s surprise Peter shook his head and squeaked,

“I’ll be going with Dorcas.”

Lily looked like she wanted to die. You cleared your throat and sent a look Lily’s way.

“Lily, why don’t you bring Severus?” You offered her a gentle smile and you slapped one hand against James’ mouth and the other against Sirius’. You could feel both of their mouths moving against your hands but you weren’t letting go any time soon. You forgot, however, that there was another person in the group who despised Snape just as much as James and Sirius and you were out of hands.

“Why the hell would we want Snape at a concert that I don’t even want to go to?” Remus said with a look of disgust.

“Yeah!” Sirius said after biting your hand. You snatched your hand back and wiped it on Sirius’s shirt with a scowl, “That little snake will probably bring my brother too just to piss me off.”

“You think Regulus will be there?” James asked. You and James hadn’t really spoken about your incident with Regulus a few months ago where Regulus had watched you and James fuck. You tried to bring it up a few times but James shut it down, though you could’ve sworn you heard James murmur ‘Regulus’ under his breath a few times during sex. Regulus had been avoiding you and the Marauders like the plague since.

“Regulus would never be caught somewhere with that many muggles.” Remus shook his head.

“Lily is our friend so we have to baseline tolerate her friends. Lily why don’t you ask Severus if he’d like to come.” You said. Lily shook her head and sighed,

“I should stay home.”

“Lily you love Queen. Either come with us on your own or ask Severus.” You placed your hand over Lily’s and she made a face,

“Your hand is wet.”

“Sirius.” You rolled your eyes. Your other hand was still over James’s mouth and you finally looked at him and he smiled at you with his lust blown eyes. You moved your hand down so it was on James’ tie and pulled him up.

“We’re going now,” you said, looking at the group, “I’ll get us twelve tickets. We’ll talk more at breakfast tomorrow.”

“Walk him like a dog!” Sirius called after you both. You led James to the prefects bathroom and started undressing. James fell back into the steamy, bubbling baths and you set yourself down on top of him. He was kissing up your neck as you seated yourself on James’s cock.

James moaned into your open mouth as he helped move you, guide you up and down on his cock.

“God, I love you so much baby,” James was babbling, the way he usually did when he was close. He was moving you faster and faster and he choked out a desperate “don’t stop!” His hand was fisted in your hair and he stumbled out a “Regulus,” before he came. He took several deep breaths, resting his forehead on yours and smiling.

“I think we need to talk about something, James.” You said, getting off him and sitting next to him.

“Alright? What’s up?”

“Have you realized that since the incident with Regulus-”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I know. But I think we need to. Every time we’ve had sex in the last two months you’ve moaned Regulus’s name. I think you want him James.” You said. You could practically see the gears turning in James’ brain.

“I…this is really confusing.” James shook his head.

“You don’t need to do anything, James. Just think about what you want.”

“I want you!”

“I know you do. But you can want more than one thing.” You said with a small smile. You and James did not discuss it further.

Finally, Friday was upon you all and you were more than excited to see Queen. You had been ready for hours and you were sitting up in the marauder’s dorm watching the boys get ready. Remus was pouting as he sat on his bed wearing a normal pair of jeans, sweater, and tennis shoes. Sirius, on the other hand, was going all out. He was wearing a tight pair of trousers and a leather jacket with no shirt underneath. He was currently lining his eyes with a dark eyeliner and snapping at Remus,

“Moony so help me god if you don’t change I’m going to hit you.”

“I don’t even want to go!” Remus protested. You sat down on the bed next to Remus and laid your head on his shoulder,

“Remus. Just change so you can shut Sirius up.”

“Fine!” Remus got up and started rifling through his trunk.

“Where’s my boyfriend?” You asked, looking around the dorm. Peter was looking between two graphic tees that his sister must have sent. One was for the Beatles and one was for Bowie.

“Which one do I wear?” Peter asked, obviously bewildered.

“Bowie.” You nodded.

“I’m here!” James said, walking out of the bathroom. He was wearing a pair of jeans, a smart looking sweater, and a leather jacket. He was also walking uncomfortably, presumably finally breaking in the pair of doc Martens that you had bought him for Christmas a year back.

“You look good,” you said with a smile.

“So do you,” James winked at you. You were dressed how you assumed most girls at the concert would be, a Queen shirt that Mary had cut up for you, a leather skirt, and your own doc Martens.

Remus had finally changed and was now in a stiff pair of jeans, a thin long sleeve t shirt and a leather jacket. You had never seen so many wizards in leather. There was a knock at the door and you knew it could only be the other girls, finally ready. You let them in and Mary ran immediately to Sirius, helping him finish his eyeliner. Mary was dressed like you, with a cut up t shirt and a pleated mini skirt.

“Mary, is that your skirt from third year?” You asked.

“Yes! I needed a skirt I could cut shorter and Marlene knew a spell to expand the waistline!” Mary beamed. Marlene and Lily were dressed a little more conservatively. Lily was wearing a v-neck sweater and a pair of jeans and was twisting her ring on her finger nervously. Marlene was wearing leather pants and a tight top that rode up at times to show off her toned stomach. Marlene reached up to grab a flask that was sitting on a high shelf and Peter gasped and said,

“Marlene! Is that belly button piercing?”

Marlene blushed bright red and immediately tried to pull her shirt down.

“Ah ah! Too late McKinnon!” James said and laughed.

“How did I not notice that before? Did you guys see that?” Lily said, turning and looking at you and Mary, who both shook your heads.

“Yaz did it over the break,” Marlene mumbled, her face staying that same unnatural shade of red.

“So Lily,” you could sense that Marlene was getting uncomfortable so you changed the subject, “is Severus coming?”

“Ah, sort of,” Lily shrugged, “he’s going with a few other Slytherins. Said he’ll see me there.”

“Who are the other Slytherins, Evans?” Sirius asked, his eyes even more piercing now against the thick black eyeliner.

“I think Barty and Regulus.” Lily sighed.

“Oh my god! My damn brother! Get over here Moony! You’re wearing eyeliner.” Sirius commanded.

“What? No!” Remus protested.

“If Regulus is going to be there I need to make him as angry as possible. Seeing my boyfriend at a concert with thick eyeliner will do it.” Sirius snapped.

“Just let him do it, Remus. He’ll poke out your eye before he backs down.” James said with a head shake. So twenty minutes later, Remus’s eyes were thickly lined and you all were on your way to Hogsmeade to apparate into London. You and James apparated first, since Yaz had left the tickets at will call for you and as a half-blood you were one of the few in the group who were familiar with the muggle world.

“Hiya,” you greeted the man at will call, “picking up tickets. They were left by Yasmine Patel.”

“What’s the name on them?” The man asked. You gave the man your first and last name and he shook his head, “Sorry. I don’t have them under that name.”

“What!” You looked at James a little panicked.

“Is it under Potter?” James tried.

“Yep. Enjoy the show.” The man handed you the tickets.

“Why would Yaz leave them under your name? She told me about the tickets.” You said, taking your ticket from James as you waited for the others to arrive.

“Look again at the name on them,” James chuckled. He handed you the sticky note that was stuck on the tickets. Written there was your first name but instead of your last name there was Potter.

“Oh she’s hilarious.” You said with an eyeroll, crumpling up the sticky note. The rest of the group made their way over and took their tickets.

“What’s that in your hand?” Sirius asked you as you made your way into the pub. It was pretty crowded but your large group was able to spread itself over a few tables comfortably. Marlene ran off almost immediately to see Yasmine, Mary and Roman had disappeared, and you could see Peter and Dorcas chatting with a few Hufflepuffs. Seated at the table was just you and James, Remus and Sirius, and Lily. Lily offered to grab a round of drinks first, but you knew was looking around for Severus. It didn’t seem like any of the Slytherins had made their way to the pub yet.

“Oh, nothing. Look what Yaz left the tickets under at will call.” You handed Sirius the crumpled paper against your better judgement. Sirius immediately started laughing and said,

“Mrs. Potter! Thank you so much for arranging this visit!”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Lupin.” You teased back. Lily returned with a tray of drinks for you all as you heard a man tap a few times on the microphone.

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming to our pub. All shots of well liquor are half off for the rest of the night. Without further ado, Queen.” The man stood back to let the band run on stage. Sirius started screaming at the top of his lungs and grabbed Remus by the hand, running to the stage.

It was only 11:30 when Queen left the stage and everyone had had a great time, even Remus who nodded his head a few times during Get Down, Make Love. You all agreed to stay and continue drinking as a smaller local band took the stage to play some background music for the pub.

Remus and Sirius disappeared at one point in the evening and they returned to the table with Sirius's eye makeup smudged, Sirius was wiping his mouth crudely with the back of his hand, and Remus had a dumb little grin. Sirius took his seat back at the table as Remus disappeared off.

“Did Severus not come, Lily?” You asked. You were secretly a little upset that you hadn’t run into Regulus again.

“No, I don’t think so.” Lily said, a little crestfallen.

“Don’t worry,” Remus said, holding a tray of shots that he got from the bar for you all, “Snape, Reg, and Barty all have a table near the bar. Don’t worry, Lily, they’re as enchanting as ever.”

“Oh!” Lily shot up and ran over to the table.

“If they come over here, I swear.” Sirius said, grabbing his and Lily’s shots off the table.

“You think Regulus will come over here?” James asked. You could detect the glimmer of hope in his voice.

“Why?” Sirius teased, “Got a crush? Better watch out Mrs. Potter.”

“So,” James said hastily, “are we going to take this shot or what?”

“Sooner is better than later,” Remus said, nodding his head over to the group of Slytherins that were following Lily back over to your table. You all clinked the glasses together and took the shot, chasing it with sips of your soda, or in Sirius’s case chasing it with Lily’s shot.

“Look who’s here!” Lily said with a nervous smile. Snape was glowering at the group as was Barty. Regulus was only glaring at you.

“Reg,” Sirius said coldly.

“Sirius. You look like Bellatrix.” Regulus said, He hadn’t meant it to be funny but you all burst out laughing.

“You do!” Remus said between gasps for air.

“I’m going to go buy,” Sirius took a minute to count, “eight shots for myself.”

“Don’t be like that, Black!” Barty called after Sirius as he took a seat next to Remus at the table. The energy was a little uncomfortable at first but you quickly learned that the Slytherins had no experience in holding muggle liquor and they were very, very drunk. But, you all were very drunk to the point were words were being slurred.

“I can get the next round,” you said, standing up and immediately stumbling. Regulus reached out to steady you.

“Thanks Mrs. Potter!” Remus called.

“I’ll help,” Regulus said, following you to the bar.

“Thanks Reg. You know, you’re not so bad.” You said with a giggle, reaching up to ruffle Regulus’s hair.

“I hate you,” Regulus said. He had been chuckling so you chuckled back but his face became stony as he looked at you again, “I hate you so much. So much. It eats away at me. It makes my stomach hurt. Every time I see you I think about how much I want you dead.”

“Regulus,” you breathed in sharply and wrapped your fingers around the wand that was stuck in the waistband of your pants. You didn’t want to think about the consequences of using magic in front of a giant group of muggles but if Regulus really did mean you harm, the consequences of not using magic would be much worse.

“Everything okay over here?” James asked, his hand on your lower back.

“Fine,” you said, your heart still hammering inside your chest, “I’m going to get some air.” You walked out the back area of the bar where a few people were out there smoking cigarettes and talking on the payphone. There was a couple that were furiously making out and looked like they were near the point of stripping layers. You looked a little closer and saw it was Mary and Roman, unsurprisingly. You leaned back against the wall and fished a cigarette from your pocket and started patting up and down your pants for your lighter.

“Fuck,” you cursed, looking around to see if anyone around looked kind enough to lend their lighter. The scarce few smokers didn’t seem very friendly and more and more people were leaving the creepy back area by the minute.

“Need a light?” you heard a voice ask. You looked up gratefully but immediately drew your wand when you saw that it was Regulus. He was holding out a lighter but you refused, pointing your wand directly in his face.

“Get away from me, Regulus.”

“You didn’t let me explain,” Regulus took a step towards you but you snapped,

“Don’t come closer.”

“Okay,” Regulus said, his hands up. “I hate you because I’m so jealous. I’m so jealous of you and James.”

“Me and James?” You said, lowering your wand slightly.

“I just,” Regulus pressed his fingers to his temples, “I haven’t been able to think since that night in the history classroom.”

“Oh,” your heart was thudding in your chest but for a different reason now. James made his way outside and said,

“What’s going on?” He looked between you and Regulus and saw your wand drawn and he stood in front of you, drawing his own wand, “What did you do, Regulus?”

“James.” You finally lowered your wand and put your hand on James’ arm. “He wants you.”

“What?” James looked at you like you were insane.

“He wants you.” You repeated. James looked back and saw Regulus’s expression. It was odd, Regulus had a look of yearning and desire and a it was a little pathetic but you thought it was also kind of attractive. And it was certainly having a similar effect on James. His brown eyes were lust blown and he was breathing heavier than usual. He lowered his wand and looked at Regulus,

“Is that true?”

“Yes,” Regulus nodded. Before you could discuss anything further, Sirius stumbled out, laughing drunkenly.

“Hey, so I,” he paused as he took stock of the situation, “everything okay?”

“Fine.” You said quickly.

“Anyway. Peter threw up everywhere so they’re kicking us out of the pub. You all ready to apparate back?”

You all apparated back to Hogsmeade. There was an odd energy between you, James, and Regulus but everyone else seemed to be too drunk to notice. Sirius was practically hanging on you with his arm heavy over your shoulders. You had your arm around Sirius’ waist and you were using all your strength to keep him upright as he spouted his drunken nonsense.

“Oh Mrs. Potter you’re so good to me.” Sirius giggled, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Oh Mr. Lupin I wish you would walk on your own.” You responded. You saw in your peripheral vision that Regulus made a face when Sirius called you ‘Mrs. Potter’.

“I think I can get him upstairs,” Remus said, pulling Sirius’ arm over his own shoulders and heading upstairs towards the Gryffindor dorms, Peter trailing behind them. Barty and Snape made their back downstairs towards the Slytherin dorms and you, James, and Regulus were left alone in the corridor.

“We should talk,” James said.

“Let’s get out of the corridor before we get a detention.” You said. James nodded and pulled out the marauders map.

“Looks like the charms classroom is open.” James grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the charms classroom. You stretched your own hand out to Regulus but he shook his head and followed a few paces behind.

“What did you look at?” Regulus asked, looking over at the map that James was pushing back into his pocket.

“Just a map,” James said quickly. You made it to the charms classroom and you sat on top of one of the tables and just watched James and Regulus.

Regulus was nervous, you could practically hear his heavy heartbeat. James, curiously, did not seem very nervous. He was looking at Regulus with a calm and even expression.

“What did you say to my girlfriend?” He asked.

“What?” Regulus was gasping for breath. He looked uncomfortable under the piercing gaze of James’ dark eyes.

“You must have said something to her to make her draw her wand at the bar,” James seemed completely calm but you could see that his knuckles were white as he tightly gripped the edge of a desk.

“I, I…” Regulus was just gaping and struggling to form thoughts.

“He told me he hated me.” You said.

“That’s unacceptable,” James shook his head. “Take your shirt off.” He said it so suddenly and which such force that you had your fingers on the hem of your own shirt before you realized that James was talking to Regulus, not to you. Regulus tore his shirt off and you took a moment to appreciate his delicate, blemishless skin. His skin was so fair you could almost see every single blue vein underneath. Regulus looked back up at you before looking back at James, waiting for the next command.

“Take your panties off,” James said to you this time. You obeyed, pulling the red panties off and holding them in your hand. James walked over to you and took them in his own hands. He held them up to his nose and sniffed before focusing his attention back to Regulus.

“She smells good, Regulus. So good.”

“Can I,” Regulus wet his lips and cleared his throat, “Can I taste?”

“On your knees.” James nodded and Regulus dropped to his knees. James walked over to you and stuck two of his fingers deep inside you. You gasped and grasped James’ wrist in surprise. He didn’t keep his fingers inside you for long and he took them out almost as quickly as they were in. He walked over and held his outstretched fingers in front of Regulus’ lips. Regulus wrapped his lips around James’ fingers and sucked like his life depended on it. James grabbed Regulus’ jaw roughly and pushed his fingers down deeper into Regulus’ mouth. Regulus took them well at first but James pushed his fingers farther and Regulus began to gag and his eyes were starting to water but he showed no other signs on resistance.

“Good,” James said, a little breathless, as he removed his fingers. Regulus had a little bit of spit rolling down his chin as he kept his eyes trained on James. You felt soaking wet at the whole display and you shut your legs and started rubbing them together, trying to find some friction. Regulus’ eyes shot over to you then back to James. James then looked over at you.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he said, walking over to you and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’ve been neglecting you.” He sunk down his knees and carefully parted your legs. He sent a look back at Regulus before diving into your pussy. His tongue entered and exited you quickly as his nose bumped up against your clit. Your fingers reached for his hair and you locked eyes with Regulus. Regulus was studying you like a painting as you moaned and bucked against James’ face. James added his fingers and pushed his mouth up to your clit and you were done for, panting and moaning until you came. James came back up and kissed you, his hand in your hair this time. He broke away and rested his forehead on yours, just staring at you. He stretched his arm out behind him and snapped his fingers at Regulus.

“Come here.” He said, without even looking over at him. Regulus scampered over and sat on his knees again, looking up at James.

“What do you want?” James asked Regulus, finally turning away from you.

“You,” Regulus responded, his eyes big and starry.

“Just me?”

“Just you.”

“Well you can’t have just me,” James said, gesturing to you, “we’re sort of a package deal.”

“I don’t want her,” Regulus pouted.

“Hey!” James slapped Regulus across the face, ”watch your mouth.”

“If it means I can have you, I’ll have her too,” Regulus said, swallowing against the lump in his throat. You felt awkward, uncomfortable, like you were intruding on a very private moment between James and Regulus.

“It’s not entirely dependent on your terms,” James exhaled through his nose.

“No, no! I can be good. So good I swear,” Regulus said, sticking two of his own fingers in his mouth to wet them before sticking them inside you. You gasped and looked rapidly between James and Regulus. “I’ll be so good!” Regulus repeated, using his free hand to pull James pants down and spitting in his free hand before stroking James.

Regulus was very talented with his hands, as evidenced by yours and James’ simultaneous moans. Regulus made you cum quickly and he pulled his fingers out of you to focus his attention on James. You got up off the table and joined Regulus, taking the tip of James’ cock into your mouth and kitten licking it. James was looking at you both, beneath him, with lust blown eyes. You outstretched your hand and gently pushed Regulus’ mouth towards James’ cock. Regulus took James into his mouth and you could hear him control his breathing as he took James as much as could. James was rougher with Regulus then he was with you and you could tell Regulus was trying to control his gag reflex but James was borderline fucking Regulus’ face.

“James,” you said softly, putting your hand on James’ stomach to slow him, “be gentle.” James slowed his movements and let Regulus pull off and take a gasping breath.

“I’m sorry,” James panted, “your mouth just felt so fucking good oh my god.” James ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t be.” Regulus said, “It was hot.”

You were overcome for a moment and you pulled Regulus in and kissed him. Regulus was shocked at first but he kissed you back. It was sweet and gentle, lots of lips and tongue and soft breathy moans. You broke away and you pulled James down to your level. You gently pushed Regulus and James closer together until James finally crossed the distance and kissed Regulus. This was rougher, harder. More teeth and light biting and desperate moans. Regulus and James pulled away and James said,

“I want to try something.”

“Anything for you,” Regulus responded. James positioned Regulus so he was above you and Regulus pushed into you. Regulus’ body was a contrast of yours. His sharp contours against your soft ones. James watched as Regulus fucked you. Then, James pushed himself into Regulus. Regulus released a strangled moan and practically collapsed on top of you, his face in your neck so you could hear his moans. You locked eyes with James and James leaned over Regulus’ body to kiss you.

Regulus came first, inside you, an action that you would think about later. You came shortly after still around Regulus’s cock and you were far overstimulated but Regulus couldn’t pull out of you as James was still chasing his own orgasm. James finally came, pulling out Regulus quickly and cumming all over Regulus’ back. Regulus pulled out of you and you all just laid in the charms classroom for a few minutes, breathing and savoring the silence.

“Sirius is going to be so mad when he finds out about this,” you said, chuckling at the shocked expression of the two men in front of you.

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