#lana del rey x fem reader

[promsong-gonewrong]

Never Let Me Go - Lana Del Rey x Fem!Reader

Lana had never wanted to know someone more. 

All around, hot bodies smothered in glitter and sweat swarmed close to her, but she paid no mind. Lana kept a cold cup of alcohol close to her lips, slowly sipping as to not lose her consciousness too fast tonight. Sure, normally she would have downed her first few drinks hours ago but tonight was different. The red liquid was bitter and she didn’t care much for it anyway, so why get drunk at some stupid party she didn’t even want to be at? 

The music, awful, but still somewhat socially acceptable circled Lana’s brain. She didn’t feel like dancing three hours ago and she sure as hell wouldn’t now. 

She shakes her head at yet another stranger's offer to dance. He rolls his eyes, shoving his way past her. “Fuck you,” she whispers, a small smile on her face. Another sip of her drink and Lana presses even further into the corner she’s confined herself into. The only reason she’s really still here is because of you, and the slight chance she may get to talk to you. 

God, she didn’t even know you! But she wanted to. She wanted to know everything. 

And yeah, Lana could tell you had a boyfriend but she really didn’t care right now. She was annoyed at everything, and your boyfriend's possessive arm around your waist was really starting to piss her off. And it wasn’t just the arm that would grab you tighter every time a new guy walked close to you. 

It was also the way he hadn’t even looked at you all night, the multiple tears that'd fallen from your eyes, the meaningless fights you’d had before you even walked through these doors with him…

You were also nursing your first drink, but looked completely numb from Lana’s point of view. Your melancholy features caught her eye immediately, and she hadn’t thought about anything else since she’d arrived. You in that blue dress with a small white cardigan. Your perfectly curled hair and watery eyes. 

Lana slowly bites her bottom lip, a small smile inching its way onto her face. You had finally noticed her back. She quickly glances to the floor, then immediately back to you, satisfied to see that your eyes never left her. 

To her confusion, you quickly wipe your face with your hand and shake your boyfriend’s grip off of you, disappearing into the large crowd. Lana loses sight of you quickly, and decides to find you before your now very angry boyfriend does. 

She sees a flash of a white cardigan heading for the bathroom and darts to the location as fast as her legs can take her, only moving faster when she hears the door slam loudly. The loud music and shouting of voices around her only gives her more of a reason to twist the doorknob open, startling you. 

“Sorry, I just-” Lana begins, out of breath. Her hazel eyes inspect you up and down. Tissues are gripped tightly in your hand, bunched up to your nose. Your eyes are slightly widened at her arrival, and you quickly try and clean yourself up. 

“It’s okay,” you say, voice slightly cracked. You clear your throat, throwing out the tissues in your hand into a small black garbage can near your feet. The bathroom is small and grubby, horribly reeking of smoke. “You’ve been watching me all night,” you break the silence, slightly raising your eyebrows at her. Lana backs up slightly, she didn’t expect such a bold statement from you.

Lana nervously bites her lip again, and she can feel her heartbeat in her warm face. “He’s a fucking idiot. You’re so-” Lana shakes her head, trying to find the words. “You just, fuck, I don’t know, I don’t,” Lana mumbles, more embarrassed than she’d like to admit. She should probably just leave now and save whatever dignity she had left. She had been watching you all night and now couldn’t say anything to your perfect face. “I don’t know you. But I know you deserve to be treated better…” Painfully, she dares to glance back at you, and is relieved to find you wearing a slight smile. 

“Thank you.”

-

Lana’s apartment is noticeably small but immediately brings you a sense of comfort you’ve been missing for several months. Two black cats come running up to her as she closes her door, and she excitedly whispers sweet nothings to them as you get a closer look around. Loose sheets of music and papers and messily stacked on her countertop and desks, but the rest of the apartment is fairly clean, illuminated by soft yellow lights. 

“Nothin’ special” Lana says, a grin on her face is evident in her voice. You take off your shoes and place them neatly by her door.

“I love it,” you whisper, truthfully. 

Lana watches carefully as you remove your white cardigan and place it on one of her kitchen chairs. Your pale blue dress moves with you as you step into her living room, admiring the furniture and music collection as Lana admires you from afar, once again. You were already noticeably brighter than you had been less than an hour ago. She’s grateful you left with her tonight, accepting her offer, instead of going back to him.

You were so cool, so graceful, so effortlessly elegant. Lana didn’t know what she was doing or what this meant for you both. 

“You’re so pretty…” 

You turn your gaze back to Lana, blushing from her compliment. 

“I’ve never…” Lana pauses reluctantly, starting to walk over to you. “I’ve never done this. I don’t know what I’m doing with you.” Lana hides her face in her hands from your gentle smile. 

“I don’t know either,” you whisper. Your hands lightly take hold of her wrists, slowly pulling them off of her face and intertwining your hands with hers. “Have you ever been with…” you trail off as Lana nods quickly. She closes her eyes at your simple touch of leisurely trailing your fingers down her wrists and arms. Lana gasps softly as your fingertips gently circle the insides of her arm. 

“What about him?” Lana’s eyes remain closed as she asks the question. You take in her pretty features while the thought of your sorry excuse of a boyfriend comes to mind. 

“What about him?” You repeat her question, teasingly. Lana laughs, eyes crinkling. Her smile fades as you get closer to her, her nerves evident in the way she squeezes your arm slightly.

“I don’t know what to say to you.” Lana’s big eyes bore into yours, looking for an answer that you give. Slowly leaning in, you press a soft kiss to Lana’s lips, hands sliding down her arms. She immediately kisses you back, parting her mouth onto yours. You whisper against her,

“You don’t have to say anything…”

[babeforjjmaybanks]

orange soda crush ༊*·˚

pairing: popular!rafe x shy!femreader ౨ৎ

summary: rafe's grades were slipping, to say the least. your school assigns you as his tutor, hoping maybe you could save him. one afternoon, rafe shows up to your house with in need of some help.

warning(s): dry humping, fingering, finger licking, mentions of biting (hickeys), thigh riding, marijuana use, swearing, size kink if you squint, mentions of scratching, slight overstim, rafe becomes whipped so possessiveness, innocence corruption(?), praise, slight perv!rafe, titobsessed!rafe, dni if you don't like!!!

mentions of: rafey, rafe is called a "sex symbol", y/n, sweetheart, good girl, baby, sweet girl, dumbass, needy girl, slut, doll, cute, pretty ౨ৎ

a/n: if not known already, this is basically a obx highschool au, pogues and looks still exist but it's more like jocks and nerds. both reader and rafe are seniors, not minors! I don't have much experience with writing fics but here's my current fixation, enjoy & leave notes! <3

word count: 4168

divider by: @issysh3ll

y/n had been sitting quietly in her history class, the bell signaling the end of the period ringing in the distance. she was gathering her books when the overhead speaker crackled to life, interrupting the usual noise of students packing up.

"pardon this interruption, y/n l/n, please report to principal phelp’s office immediately."

the announcement hung in the air, drawing the attention of a few nearby students. she froze, a slight chill running through her. she wasn’t the type to get into trouble—her grades were impeccable, she kept to herself, and she was always on time. so why was she being called to the principal’s office? her mind raced through all the possible reasons, none of which seemed likely. had she missed an assignment? was there a mistake with her records? or was it the skirt she decided to wear today that definitely didn’t meet the dress code?

her heart pounded as she made her way down the hall, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. as she approached the principal’s office, she noticed the usual hustle and bustle of students outside. some of them exchanged glances, their curious eyes following her every step, looking her up and down with whispers and sly looks. when she reached the door, she hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly.

"come in," came the deep voice of principal phelps.

she opened the door to find him sitting behind his desk, a manila folder in front of him. the room was neat, almost too perfect, the smell of old books and polished wood filling the air. but what really caught her off guard was the figure sitting across from him.

rafe cameron, the school's golden boy.

her stomach dropped. rafe was sitting with his arms crossed, his signature smirk plastered across his face as he looked over at her. His messy curtain and athletic jacket seemed almost out of place in the sterile office, like he didn’t belong in this space. she had always known of him, of course. he was the star quarterback, the guy everyone knew by name, the one who seemed to glide effortlessly through life. and now, here he was, looking at her as if he had all the time in the world, while she, on the other hand, was caught off guard and confused.

"there she is, come on in we were just talking about you." principal phelps said with a warm smile, though she could detect a hint of urgency in his tone. "take a seat."

she sat down hesitantly, trying to avoid looking directly at rafe. the tension in the air was palpable, and she was acutely aware of how out of place she felt in this situation.

"y/n," principal phelps began, folding his hands in front of him, his expression turning serious, "I’ve called you here because I need a favor. you know rafe, right?"

you glanced at rafe again, his eyes diverted to something else in the room as if he wasn’t staring at you. he seemed unfazed by the situation, though there was a subtle flicker of something in his eyes. "um, yeah," you said quietly, not sure where this conversation was going.

principal phelps nodded. "well, rafe here has been struggling in a few subjects. he’s having difficulty with math, english, and history.” principal phelps cleared his throat trying to ignore the fact that he named almost every class. “and unfortunately, his grades are slipping dangerously low. If he doesn’t get his grades up, he could lose his eligibility to play on the football team, which would jeopardize his scholarship opportunities." he paused, giving her a moment to process the gravity of the situation.

she blinked, her mind racing. rafe? struggling? the same rafe who could probably get away with doing the bare minimum and still pass every class? the same rafe with the fancy sport cars and the fancy mansion he threw ragers in? (allegedly, she’s never been to one.) the same rafe who had never so much as acknowledged her existence in all the years they’d been in school?

"I’m asking you," principal phelps continued, leaning forward slightly, "to tutor rafe for the next few weeks. he needs to pass these subjects to stay on track. and I know you’re one of our top students, y/n. you’re smart, diligent, and patient—exactly what rafe needs right now."

rafe shifted in his chair, his smirk faltering for just a moment. "yeah, sweetheart," he added with a lazy grin, "I could use your help. think you can handle it?" he glanced down at her thighs, and then back up at her. she felt her face flush at the sudden name.

her mind was spinning. she had never thought of rafe as anything more than the popular guy—someone she’d seen in the hallways but never really interacted with. actually, that was a lie, the thinking part. she actually would think about rafe alot when she was bored, specifically his toned body and the way he bit his lip when he was thinking. she had no idea how to deal with someone like him.

"I—I don’t know," she stammered, feeling her face flush. "I’m not sure I’m the right person for this."

principal phelps’s voice softened, but there was still a sense of urgency in his words. "I’m sure you are. rafe, here, is a good kid at heart, but he’s under a lot of pressure. If you help him out, it could mean a lot to him—and to his future."

rafe’s eyes met hers again, and for a split second, she thought she saw something other than cockiness—a hint of desperation, maybe even embarrassment. but it was gone before she could fully understand it.

she took a deep breath. she had never been one to shy away from responsibility, even if the situation seemed overwhelming. she didn’t want to be the one to deny him help, especially when it could affect his future.

"okay," she finally said, her voice steady but unsure. "I’ll help."

principal phelps smiled, relief flooding his face. "thank you, y/n. I know this is a lot to ask, but I think you’re exactly what rafe needs."

as she stood up to leave, she felt the weight of the task ahead of her settle in. she glanced one more time at rafe, who was still sitting there, his posture slightly more relaxed now. He didn’t say anything, but she could feel the tension between them already starting to form, a mix of uncertainty and something unspoken.

"see you tomorrow, then," she said, her words more for herself than for him, before leaving the office to prepare for what was about to be an unexpected and challenging journey.

over the past two weeks, y/n and rafe had settled into a rhythm, though it was far from smooth at first. their tutoring sessions started awkwardly—rafe's usual cocky demeanor clashed with y/n’s quiet, no-nonsense attitude. he would slouch in his chair, often cracking jokes or making sarcastic comments, testing her patience. but y/n, determined to get him through the material, refused to let him off the hook. slowly, she found ways to get through to him, breaking down complicated equations and historical events into relatable, bite-sized pieces. rafe, surprisingly, started to respond. he still struggled, but he began showing up earlier for their sessions, staying later, and even asking questions without the usual bravado.

as the days passed, the tutoring sessions shifted from strictly academic to more personal. one evening, as they were going over a particularly difficult history assignment, rafe let slip that his father had been pushing him to be the perfect athlete, to always be "the best." "It’s not just about football," rafe admitted, his tone more vulnerable than she had ever heard. "I just don’t want to disappoint him, you know?" y/n was taken aback. she had always seen rafe as the confident jock, but here was a side of him she hadn’t expected—a young man weighed down by more than just his grades. she listened quietly, offering a rare, understanding smile that made rafe pause for a moment. after that, their sessions felt different. the walls that had once separated them began to crumble.

In the weeks that followed, their conversations drifted beyond just homework. rafe started sharing bits of his life with you—how he used to love painting when he was younger, how he struggled with anxiety before big games, and how he was terrified of failing his senior year. you, in turn, opened up as well, telling rafe about your dream of becoming a lawyer and how you often felt like an outsider at school. the two of you discovered common ground in your shared feelings of pressure, and the lines between tutor and student began to blur. with each passing session, you became more comfortable with one another, a connection forming that neither had anticipated—one built on mutual respect, trust, and the quiet bond of shared struggle.

it was a quiet evening when y/n heard the unexpected knock on her door. she glanced at the clock—there was no study session scheduled for that night, so she wasn’t expecting anyone. her parents were out, and she had been planning on catching up on some reading. she opened the door, a little confused, only to find rafe standing on her porch, looking uncharacteristically disheveled. his usual confident posture was gone, replaced with an uneasy slouch. his eyes were almost bloodshot, and he wore an unfamiliar look on his face—vulnerable, even fragile.

"rafe?" y/n asked, surprised. "what are you doing here?"

he ran a hand through his messy hair and let out a small, strained laugh. "I—I know this is weird. but I, uh... I had a fight with my dad. a big one. he’s pissed about my grades and shit again, and he’s been on my case all week." rafe hesitated, biting his lip as if trying to hold back a wave of frustration. "I... I got high. like really fucking high I know I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t handle it. and I needed to get out of there." he looked down at his shoes, his words a little rushed. "I just—" he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I don’t know, I thought maybe you’d—just let me hang out for a bit. I didn’t know where else to go. I didn't wanna seem like a pussy to all of my dumbass friends."

y/n stood frozen for a moment, processing his words. she had never seen him like this. the rafe she knew was always in control, always surrounded by his friends, the football team, and the unshakable air of confidence. this version of him—lost, raw, and uncertain—was a stark contrast. her heart softened at the sight of him, and despite the oddness of the situation, she stepped aside and motioned for him to come in.

"come in," she said, her voice gentle. "let’s sit down."

rafe walked in slowly, his movements sluggish, still unsure of what to say. she led him to the living room and handed him a glass of water, sitting down next to him, a soft hand placed on his back. the room was filled with the low voice of lana del ray and soft hum of the evening, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. rafe finally looked up, meeting her gaze with a look of quiet gratitude mixed with embarrassment along with something untraceable. "I didn’t mean to show up like this, but I didn’t know who else I could trust with this."

y/n’s heart tightened. she had no idea how much weight rafe had been carrying, how much pressure he was under from his father and the constant expectations of being perfect. In that moment, she realized how little she had truly known about him, and yet here he was—vulnerable, raw, and seeking comfort from the one person he had never expected to rely on.

"you don’t have to explain," she said softly. "I’m glad you came." she gave him a weak smile, rafe felt his heart flutter. "so.. how'd you get high? is that stupid question? sorry, you know people are bringing cocaine back into school." he chuckles, she lets out a giggle. "no cocaine here sweetheart, just this." rafe reached into his pocket and pulled out a weed pen, but y/n had never seen anything like it. it was super colorful and weirdly shaped, not like the ones she would see in the bathroom. "can I hold it?" she glanced at rafe, her doe eyes dimly lit with the faint lighting coming from the lamp in the corner. "why? you smoke? no way." he raised his eyebrow at her, but handed her the pen anyway.

"no, I don't smoke but.." she pauses, biting her lip, "I'm tempted. maybe you're just a really bad influence." he scoffed at her, "give it a try, just hold the button and pull it." y/n stood at the device in her hand uncertain. "what do you mean pull?" rafe held back his laugh, she shoots him a glare. "I'm serious." she playfully shoved him.

"yeah yeah I can see that, by pull I mean, suck on it I guess." her face heats up, cursing herself for letting such innocent words cause a fluttery feeling in her stomach. "okay, I'll try." she focused her attention of the pen and did as rafe said, she put the pen up to her lips and "sucked." rafe watched intensely as her lips wrapped around the tip of the pen, he swallows hard. trying to keep his composure, aka stop staring at your boobs in your thin strapped top or imagine your lips wrapped around his dick like that.

you slightly inhale the smoke and it immediately gets caught in your throat. you're now in a coughing frenzy, embarrassed as rafe pats your back. "atta girl, that's how you do it don't try to hold it in, let it out." y/n found herself coughing even more at the sly remarks. she stands up and walks over to the kitchen hastily grabbing an orange fanta from the fridge. she struggles to open it due to her latest french tip set, rafe notices her struggling and walks over. he opens the can with one hand with a sizzle pop! noise, she brings the drink to her lips hoping to relieve her dry mouth.

after taking a couple minutes to calm down, y/n offers rafe to come up to her room. it comes off as a surprise, rafe had never been anywhere in y/n's house except the living room and kitchen, never upstairs. but with no complaint, he follows behind her, watching the way her ass moves as she climbs up the steps. they make it to her room and it's safe to say, it was tidy. everything seemed like it had a place, and the room was lit with purple led's. but the best part of it all, was her bed. the mattress was extremely comfortable and she had an abundance of pillows as well as plushies.

"yeah this fits you, like a doll in a dollhouse." he walks around her room a bit before sitting on her bed getting comfortable.

meanwhile, y/n on the other hand was in a whole other world.

her ears were burning almost, she could hear her heartbeat and her whole body was tingling. she felt nothing short of amazing, euphoric even.

the usual walls between them had melted away, and now, as the evening dragged on, the space between them felt more intimate than it ever had before. there was movie was playing on her TV, but neither of them seemed particularly interested in it. they were both laughing at the silly dialogue and weird moments on the screen, but most of the time their eyes kept drifting back to each other.

rafe broke the silence, his voice softer than usual. "you know," he said, arms wrapped around her waist as she sat on top of him, "this is the most chill I’ve felt in weeks." his eyes were a little glassy, but his smile was genuine, more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. "It’s nice being away from everything… away from the pressure."

she nodded, her head slightly spinning from the effects. the room felt warmer, the air thicker, and rafe’s presence seemed to fill the space between them in a way that felt new. he shifted, his chest brushing against her back, and neither of them pulled away. It felt like a small moment of intimacy, unspoken yet undeniable.

"yeah," she replied, her voice quieter now, "it’s nice not to think about all the things we’re supposed to be worrying about."

"I wonder, do you ever worry about me? think about me at night?" his tone was teasing, but there was something more behind it, something she could feel but couldn’t quite place. It was an invitation, but also something more—like a question she wasn’t sure how to answer. "so much goes on behind those pretty eyes."

y/n felt her heart beat a little faster as she considered it. part of her wanted to stay upright on his lap, maintain the little distance they had been keeping, but something about rafe’s tone, the way his eyes held hers, made her hesitate. she wanted to trust this moment, to let it unfold without overthinking it. she melted into his touch, resting her head in the crook of his neck, thighs pressed together. "I do."

rafe shifted to make room as he breathed in the scent of vanilla, the bed soft beneath him. the air between them was electric now, charged with a tension that neither of them seemed willing to break. the movie was still playing, but neither of them were paying attention to it anymore. they were closer now, the space between them reduced to nothing and for the first time in a long time she wasn't sure of something, she wasn’t sure if she was just feeling the effects of the weed or something more.

rafe leaned back against the pillows, his arms still wrapped around her body. "we don’t have to watch the movie," he said, his voice almost too smooth, like he was testing the waters. his eyes didn’t leave hers, his gaze intent and heavy, and in that moment, the world outside her room seemed to disappear.

y/n’s breath caught in her throat as the tension between them grew. every inch of her body was acutely aware of him, the way his presence felt so overwhelming, so magnetic. she had always seen rafe as someone distant, someone who belonged to a world she could never quite fit into. but now, with the smoke being blown in her face, taken in by slightly parted lips, she felt like they were on the same level.

she opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she just looked at him, her pulse racing as her mind swirled in the haze of the night.

"I wanna touch you."

rafe's breath fell heavy on her ear, sending a slight chill down her spine. her breath hitched, and there was that same flutter in her stomach. she didn't exactly have any experience in things like this but she wasn't entirely clueless, but never dealt with it hands on.

but rafe? he was a fucking sex symbol. several girls would literally leave notes in his locker with their address begging him to fuck them. but he would only rack up two bodies, or so it's said.

both of those girls transferred schools due to death threats.

but y/n doesn't understand why he would choose her.

"touch, me?" her voice was soft, but not afraid. infact, she was more relaxed than ever. "I wanna make you feel good, you're gonna be the fucking death of me. so innocent you don't even notice how you're straddling me, do you?" y/n took notice of how firmly planted on his thigh she was, no longer fully in his lap. "um, well.." rafe placed his hands on her hips, slowly guiding her back and forth. a jolt of pleasure shooting through her body, "rafey." a mewl creept from her lips, rafe was fucking aching in his sweats at this point. hair sticking to his forehead, lips parted slightly. "shit, you want me to stop? just give me the word i'll stop." he halts his movements, earning a disappointed whine.

"I don't want you to stop."

rafe curses under his breath, he slides her onto his lap and grinds his hips up into her, letting out a low groan. "you're a needy girl aren't you? so stressed and pent up. you can let go, I got you." rafe coo'd into her ear, placing soft kisses on her shoulders and moving to her neck, biting and sucking, hands rubbing all over her body, palming her boobs through her top, fingers brushing over her nipples.

rafe turns her head twords him, pressing their lips together. a mix of cherry lipgloss and orange fanta settling on his tongue. the kiss is sloppy and heated, the air in the room is thick as the movie in the background gets drowned out by moans and heavy breaths.

"such a sweet girl, you know that? all the shit you do for me? you deserve a fucking trophy." rafe showers her with praise has he goes back to kissing her neck, hands never leaving her body as she caught the rhythm on her own.

her brain was foggy with pleasure, lips parted but could't respond with anything but moans and "mhm's." rafe plays with the hem of her pajama pants, "can I?" she nods, "words, baby I need to hear you say it."

y/n, almost frustrated lets out a defeated sigh. "yes, but.." she hesitates. "can you take your shirt off?" she says quietly, as if she wasn't already in such a vulnerable state.

rafe chuckles at the sudden request, but does as she says. he pulls his black shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor. y/n does the same. rafe is practically drooling at the sight of the pink lacy bra. his hands cup her breasts through the fabric, she arches her back against his chest. he slides his hand into her pants, glancing down to see that her underwear matched her bra. "so fucking cute."

he rubs her through the fabric, dampness seeping through the material. he teases her with long strides and rubs circles around her clit. he slips his hand into her underwear, almost moaning at the slick. y/n bites her swollen lip in an attempt to save her embarrassment.

"I want you to watch me."

her eyes slowly moved down to rafes hand in her pants, her face heated with embarrassment as she watched rafe's forearm and wrist flexed as he worked her clit, finger teasing her entrance. "I need you to relax, open your legs for me." rafe slowly parted her thighs with his free hand. "good fucking girl, so obedient." he kisses her cheek as he slides a digit into her sopping cunt. she inhales sharply, her head is thrown over his shoulder and her nails dig slightly into his arms.

"shit, just sucking me in. if I didn't know any better i'd think you were a slut." rafe's teasing manner never seemed to stop, he was two fingers, knuckle deep, in his supposed to be tutor. the only thing they were studying were eachothers body movements.

he found a steady pace working his fingers in and out of her, her moans becoming more high pitched, rafe could tell she was close. her hips bucked up into his hand, an unfamiliar knot forming in her stomach.

"rafey— 'm gonna— fuck!"

rafe was in genuine disbelief, not only did he cum in his pants but this was the first time he had ever heard you swear, tonight was a lot of firsts. the girl that he had been crushing on for weeks was about to cum on his fingers, moaning his name. he was never letting her go after this.

almost like it was on cue, y/n's orgasm hit like a truck. her entire body was shaking and she swore she saw starts. on top of that, rafe was still working his fingers in and out of her riding out her orgasm. she swatted his hands away and he took his hand out of her pants, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and licking them clean. she falls off of his lap onto the cool comforter beside him, chest heaving. he lays beside her and wraps his arms around her waist.

"want me to go run a bath, sweetheart?" he kisses the nape of her neck and cages her in. "'n a minute, just stay here for a second."

"didn't plan on leaving." ౨ৎ

[diorchids]

your purity is precious ! charlie mayhew.

father charlie mayhew who just can’t keep his filthy hands off you during private bible study lessons.

you’re sat on his lap. you two are just that close, there’s nothing abnormal about this. “father, you—you know a lot about this stuff,” you say, his fingers trailing toward your poor cunt, all wet and puffy under your panties. practically begging to be touched. “y-you’re very smart, father.” just give in, what’s so hard about it?

but you can’t.

his other one squeezes and kneads your soft, shapely breasts, fitting ever so perfectly in his rough and calloused hand. “you know,” he sighs in your ear, bulge pushing up against your plush ass, “your father never mentioned how beautiful you were, did he?” you hesitantly shake your head as he hooks his finger onto your panties and pulls them to the side. 

your lips part with a soft gasp as he drags his finger up your warmth, slickness spreading across your delicate parts. 

he leaned in closer, lowering his voice even more. “have you given your innocence away yet?” his breath was hot on your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

the question catches you off guard, of course, you haven’t, that’d be disgusting. no man would ever look at—let alone marry a woman without her virginity, especially in your town.

“no, father, i—i’m waiting until marriage. i’m still pure,” you whisper.

he groans and softly pushes up against your ass. so pure, you are. you follow the word.

you’re clean.

“good girl, keep it that way. your purity is precious. remember that.” he says in your ear, breath still warm against your skin, making you softly grind down on his fingers. 

“i will,” you repeat in your head, that saying. my purity is precious, my purity is precious, my purity is precious.

his thick middle finger circles your tight hole before slipping in slowly, you wince and bite your full lip, stifling a loud cry. he grins sadistically. a small amount of blood coats his finger, he runs his tongue over his lip in response. 

“and you haven’t,” he pushes his finger in more, focusing on that spongy spot within, “touched yourself?” he felt a stirring in his pants, his thick cock straining against his slacks, begging to be let out.

you tell him you haven’t; it’s mostly true. though one time you got a bit carried away with your pillow.

his grin widened mischievously. "you mean to tell me that beautiful, untouched body of yours is... a virgin in every sense?" his hand on your breast slowly started to caress it again, his touch gentle yet so… perverse.

it’s like he was hungry.

“yes, f-father.” your legs trembled slightly as he dug deep inside of your warm, inviting hole, so soft and tight. the priests' voice grew husky as he spoke, "you know, my child... when i was your age, i couldn't keep my hands off myself. i'd touch myself every chance i got, in the shower, under the desk at school... sometimes even at church."

he speaks as if he doesn’t still touch himself every single night. 

his finger curls inside you, and an involuntary whine escapes your lips. your clit felt all fuzzy, and your tummy tightened as you slowly began to move your hips back and forth on his finger, blood prickling on your lip from the pressure of your teeth.

“that’s it. riiight there, take it all, my child. make yourself feel good,” his voice completely shifted, so smooth and still so low. 

he pulled out of you quickly, bringing his sticky fingers to his mouth and sucking them disgustingly. his eyes rolled back while he did, and you felt his fat cock throb through his pants as he tasted your sweet nectar, with a hint of a metallic taste. your virgin blood.

his focus slowly turned back to you, and he slipped his finger back in without a word, just groans and sighs filling the room. “my child, you—you are… the most precious thing,” your cunt tightens around his finger, telling him you were inching closer to release.

the feeling in your puffy, red clit was so overwhelming, heat reaching every part of your body in a matter of seconds. another hand comes and touches it, rubbing and pushing down on it as tears begin brimming your eyes while you cry loudly, legs shaking uncontrollably at this point. 

your vision began to blur as you felt your tummy release the knot it’d been tightening since he’d started touching you. “oh, father! i can’t—i…” you went numb completely, thrashing as your sticky juices flowed out of your, now, used hole. your moans were obnoxiously loud, you’d let go all over your poor priest.

he didn’t stop there though, rubbing and bucking his hips against your soft ass until he gets what he’s been wanting for ages. he pushes his hips up against you one more time before whimpering softly and groaning, breathing warmly against you. 

you both sat there for a minute, dazed and coming to your senses before he urged you to make yourself decent and ushered you out of his room, leaving you with familiar words. 

“your purity is so precious, my child.”

[greengoblinswifey]

Love Story for the New Age- Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— your love story with nicholas unfolds amidst the chaos of fame and paparazzi as you explore NYC together.

warnings— nothing explicit. fluff, kissing, ass squeezing, established relationship, protective and sweetheart nicholas.

a/n— read while listening to National Anthem by Lana Del Rey, preferably the demo version but the released works <3

You walked down the bustling streets of New York, hand in hand with Nicholas, heads down, sunglasses shielding your faces from the curious eyes of passersby. Security followed a few steps behind, giving space but always watchful. The city's constant hum surrounded you, honking taxis, the chatter of people, and the distant murmur of traffic. New York a couple years ago seemed like a distant dream but here you were, on a casual day.

As you passed a cozy-looking restaurant, the smell of food made you glance up. Just then, a woman working inside recognized Nicholas, her face lighting up in excitement. “I love your work! You’re amazing!” she exclaimed, “you’re even better looking in person.”

He smiled warmly, still holding on to your hand. “Thank you,” he said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You felt a wave of pride, seeing him appreciated for his talent and staying so down-to-earth despite his new found popularity.

The woman, clearly eager to please, offered, “Would you both like to skip the line? I can get you seated right away.” He politely declined, shaking his head. “No, thank you. We’ll wait our turn.”

You couldn’t help but feel proud of him in that moment. Despite his fame, he remained humble and grounded. As you stood in line together, your heart swelled with admiration, grateful for the man beside you who stayed true to himself, even with the world watching.

“I’m proud of you,” you smiled, looking up at him.

“I know you are baby, it’s nothing, I just did what I was supposed to.” Always so humble.

After waiting for a few minutes you were finally seated with the promise that someone would be with you to take your orders.

The cozy ambiance of the restaurant was a welcome break from the chaos outside. As you scanned the options, you smiled and decided on pasta, having heard rave reviews about the restaurant’s dishes.

“The last time I ordered pasta from a restaurant it was so bad, I swear to god if it’s bad again I’ll scream,” you groaned. Nicholas, still glancing over the menu, seemed to be carefully considering his choice.

Just as you were about to put the menu down, a sudden flash caught your eye. You blinked, confused, and glanced toward the window. Outside, a group of paparazzi had gathered, their cameras pointed directly at you both, flashing non-stop.

You gasped and turned to Nicholas. “Oh my God, did you call them? You didn’t call them, did you?” He shook his head, looking just as surprised as you. “No, of course not. Why would I do that? This is crazy.”

You let out a small giggle despite yourself, but the constant barrage of camera flashes started to get on your nerves. Annoyed, you shielded your face with your hand. Nicholas did the same, his jaw tightening as the flashing continued. Neither of you moved, trying to keep the moment from spiraling into full-blown chaos, but the attention was unsettling.

Finally, the waitress approached the table with a warm smile. She complimented your hair, making you smile despite the chaos around you, and then turned to your boyfriend.

“I have to say,” she began, “your acting in Monsters was incredible. I just love the show and sympathize with the Menendez brothers.”

Nicholas gave her a grateful smile, genuinely touched by the compliment. “Thank you so much, that’s really sweet of you,” he responded, his tone soft and appreciative.

“She’s sweet,” you added, after the waitress left with your orders written down.

You noticed, though, that the first woman who’d greeted you earlier had barely acknowledged your presence. It stung a little, but you brushed it off, focusing instead on the waitress’s kindness and his down-to-earth reaction.

Outside, the paparazzi continued to snap pictures occasionally, but the intensity had lessened. Now, they seemed content with waiting for the two of you to finish your meal, no doubt hoping for more shots or a word as you left.

“I used to think celebrities called paparazzi on themselves but you didn’t and here they are,” you chuckled, sinking into your seat.

“Me too baby,” he reached across and caressed your hand in his, “I know it’s annoying and feels stalkerish but I’ll deal with it.”

You were content with his response. Paparazzi was dangerous, growing up you believed they were responsible for Britney Spears’ despise, tormenting her and catching her at her most vulnerable moments. The media had a frenzy with the pictures they would capture and you didn’t want that for Nicholas. You didn’t want them to paint a false narrative of him like they did so many other famous people. They were inhumane.

After the food arrived, you dug into your pasta and instantly lit up. “Oh my God, this is so good, Nick!” you exclaimed, your eyes wide with delight.

Nicholas smiled at you, leaning in to take a bite from your plate. Just as he tasted it, there was another flash. The paparazzi had caught the moment right as he savored the pasta.

You giggled, shaking your head. “I hope they got our good side,” you teased, causing both of you to burst into laughter.

When the meal was over, you reached for your purse, ready to pay for both of you, but Nicholas was one step ahead. He had already slipped your card out earlier and left it in the car. “I wanted to pay!” you said, playfully annoyed, crossing your arms.

He grinned at you, shaking his head. “As long as you’re with me, you won’t even open your purse,” he said smoothly. “You don’t have to pay for anything. I’m your boyfriend, and I’m going to make sure you feel good, even with the little things.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help smiling at how sweet and protective he was. He left a generous tip for the sweet waitress, who looked genuinely surprised. “Oh my God, thank you! I really needed this,” she said, her voice full of gratitude. She admired the gesture, clearly moved by his kindness.

He smiled humbly, but you could tell he was proud of making someone’s day.

“You didn’t have to do that, but you really helped someone today,” you said, smiling up at him.

As you got up to leave, the paparazzi were still lurking outside, snapping more photos. You had an idea. “Let’s give them something to talk about,” you said, grinning at Nicholas. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

You both struck a sexy pose for the cameras. Nicholas stood behind you, his hand casually resting on your waist, but just as the flashes went off, he cheekily grabbed your ass. You both laughed, knowing that picture would be all over the tabloids in no time, regrettably but you posed none the less, your hands on his chest, looking lovingly at the fine specimen of a man before you then placing a kiss on his lips.

With the flashes still going, you headed to the car, your security team ensuring the way was clear. As you got in, the paparazzi tried to shove their cameras into the car for more photos, almost hitting you in the face with their cameras. Nicholas quickly turned, his protective side kicking in.

“Back off, get out of my girlfriend’s face!” he snapped, glaring at them. You couldn’t help but feel a rush from the way he defended you, a little turned on by his assertiveness.

You both laughed together, the adrenaline still buzzing. As the driver sped off, you watched as the paparazzi tried to follow, but soon enough, they fell behind. You and Nicholas shared a satisfied smile, knowing you’d outpaced them.

When you and Nicholas finally arrived back at the hotel, you sighed in relief, glad to be there safely. As the car pulled into the hotel’s private garage, the day’s chaos finally seemed behind you. Earlier, you had thought about how these wild paparazzi chases could be dangerous, remembering the tragedy of the woman you admired, Princess Diana. It was believed that the paparazzi played a role in that accident, a sobering reminder of how things could spiral out of control.

Now, though, the two of you were safe inside, away from the frenzy. You decided to stay in for the night, curling up together in the cozy comfort of your suite. After changing into something comfortable, Nicholas ordered room service, and you both settled down on the bed. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close as you watched a movie.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, before finding your lips. The kisses were soft and warm, a show of the love between you.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered, looking up at him. “For staying true to yourself today, even with everything going on. I love how grounded you are.”

He smiled at you, brushing stray curls behind your ear. “I wouldn’t want to do any of this with anyone else,” he replied softly. “I love you.”

As the night went on, you snuggled closer, feeling safe and loved in his arms. You reached for your phone, curious to what was brewing in the media. When you unlocked it, your eyes widened in shock.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, sitting up. Your boyfriend glanced over curiously as you scrolled through your feed. The pictures from the day had blown up all over social media. TMZ, The Shade Room, TikTok, everyone had caught onto the story. Headlines and comments were flooding in.

“This is the IT couple. This is a love story for the new age,” one article declared in bold letters.

People were raving about how happy they were to see Nicholas with a woman of color, and they couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful you were. You were overwhelmed, feeling both flattered and a bit surprised by all the attention.

He glanced at the screen, smiling softly before pulling you back against him. “You don’t need their compliments to know you’re beautiful,” he said, his voice low and affectionate. “I’m the lucky one. I get to be with you.”

You blushed, your heart swelling at his words. Leaning in, you kissed him gently on the lips before snuggling back into his chest. He planted another kiss on your forehead, and the two of you settled in for the night. Oh how you loved to be wrapped in the handsome man’s muscular arms.

[tommyshelbysgoodgirl]

The man spread is fucking INSANE🫦😩‼️

[dorkszn]

“Lo, do you think you’ll kill for me one day?” You had asked him.

Now you look down at a body. Guts splattered. Blood painting the alleyway a sinful but beautiful red. Life drained from their dull eyes. His silver claws that glistened in the moonlight the same crimson color.

Anybody else would be scared, disgusted, terrified even. But not you. Not when he turns back to you with the softest look in his eyes despite the blood all over him. Despite the carcass of the person who’d dared to lay a finger on you that laid just behind him.

You just look at him with pure adoration and love. Not hint of fear in your body. Not even a sliver of it. His claws retreating back into his body as he steps towards you. He simply puts a hand on the back of your head and pulls you into his broad chest, holding you close.

“Yeah, of course I will, Bub.” He had answered.

[stupidnpoetic]

you know that theory that everyone has their own heaven? Well, mine would be something like this

[everymangetshiswish420]

Whatever the pic said 😇

[velvetwilde]

Who has the face like smarty does?

Who has the voice like smarty does?

Who has the choice like smarty does?

nobody, nobody, nobody.

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

CASUAL

…your friends call you a loser.

chapter one

NSFW. MINORS DNI.

tim drake x reader

series inspired by Casual by Chappell Roan

readers can expect: fem reader x tim drake. not explicit consent but both parties are willing participants. mention of panty stealing. penetrative sex, prone bone/doggy style. reader on birth control, tim finishes inside. hair pulling. mean-spirited dirty talk. marking kink if you squint. use of 'sweetheart.' no mention of reader finishing. tim is kind of an asshole. don't say i didn't warn you.

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you laugh at his joke, probably louder than you should’ve. 

you feel lydia’s eyes on you as you raise the red cup you’re holding up to your lips. 

you curse yourself silently. what were you even doing at yet another one of these dumb parties??

sure, it wasn’t being thrown by the snobbiest frat on campus, but it is at one of their family homes. you didn’t even know neighborhoods like this existed in gotham. the houses were ridiculously huge.

 lydia was dating her guy now, making her a semi permanent fixture. she had him now, and didn’t really need you for emotional support. 

so again, what the hell are you doing here?

the fabric of your dress is tight against your chest, and you squirm. you think your left nipple is starting to chafe. lydia looks at you expectantly.

“what?” you blink at her over the rim of your red cup, blink out of your train of thought.

 “i asked if you’ve been seeing anyone lately.” your friend settles back into her boyfriend, leaning on him with his arm slung over her shoulders. her boyfriend, josh, is a calm drunk, bobbing his head to the beat of the music and staring off into the distance. 

“it feels like this is the only place i’ll see him.” you mumble under your breath, waving a hand at lydia’s confused expression. “no, i’m not really seeing anyone right now.”

 “well look around! you’re surrounded by future sugar daddies. take your pick.” she gestures, pointing at one guy across the room, raising her eyebrow. “him?” 

you shake your head, curling a lip. “definitely not.”

“bummer.” lydia sighs.

“besides, don’t sugar daddies look for younger women? the guys here are all my age, so it’s pointle-” a hand slides around your hip, and your voice trails off. lydia’s eyes widen when she realizes who’s attached to the hand, the one curving around your lower waist to the front of your body. 

an almost entirely inappropriate hand placement. 

your heart thumps hard in your chest. maybe you’d question who it was if you couldn’t smell the soap his dry cleaner uses. 

you can feel the warmth of his hip pressed into yours as he sidles up next to you. josh practically snaps to attention when he sees that his frat president has his hand around your waist.

 “tim!” josh reaches his hand out to greet him. “didn’t even know you were here!”

tim takes his hand, the one not radiating heat into your hipbone, and shakes josh’s. 

“that’s how i like it.” he punctuates his sentence with a squeeze of your waist, and it takes every ounce of composure you have to not react.

lydia’s gaze keeps dragging between tim’s hand placement, your face, and tim, just over, and over, and over again. you chew on the inside of your lip.

you know how it looks. 

“so you’re ‘not seeing anybody?’ well i can see the frat president with his hands on you!!”

tim and josh finish a conversation about some frat-related event coming up, one that you were not paying attention to. while they were talking it felt like every nerve in your body had rewired itself to where his hand was sitting on your hip.

josh steers lydia away, over to the kitchen, full of stainless steel appliances and an island covered in bottles. 

you can feel her keep glancing back at you, but you can’t meet her eyes. 

you can’t. 

you catch a snippet of the sentence she whispers into her boyfriend’s ear. “..such a loser.” 

your palms start sweating. she throws you another look before josh pulls her back around, kissing her forehead. 

tim nudges you towards him, and you look at him. except you’re about eye level with his chest. his shirt is a deep blue, almost black. it’s starting to become your favorite color. his dark jeans sit low, covering the top of his shoes.

he chuckles under his breath, and sticks a finger under your chin, pulling your face up so you can look at his. he looks down at you through half-lids, his blue eyes sharp and gleaming. your heart pounds in your ears, in between your legs. 

he doesn’t ask you anything, doesn’t need to, but you’re nodding anyways. he smiles that cheshire cat smile at you, and a chill runs up your spine. 

he grabs your hand and pulls you along with him, over to the grand staircase. 

eric, drunk as ever, nods approvingly at tim. he pats tim’s shoulder as the two of you walk past. the guy next to eric whoops, laughing. his eyes run up and down your body. you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. instead, you plaster a smile on and wink, hurrying after tim. 

the two of you make it up the wood paneled staircase, the walls of the hallway covered in pristine family photos. you shudder at the pictured family’s matching stares and smiles. tim squeezes your hand, coming up to a set of double doors. he flashes you a smile, and your heart melts a little. 

tim lets go of your hand to open the double doors, revealing a huge room, and a four poster bed, draped with fabric, centered in the middle.

his eyes are full of that hard glint, a look you’ve become all too familiar with. he shuts the doors behind you, locking them. 

walking over to the bed, he sits on the edge of it, looking you over with his head tilted to the side. 

“wait, drake, is this the master bedroom?” you ask, turning around to see the whole room. there’s even an en suite bathroom. 

rich, rich, rich. 

“yeah.” tim reclines farther back onto the bed, leaning on his elbows. 

you say nothing, awkwardly shuffling your feet. 

“..and?” tim prompts you. he raises a hand to bat at the fabric overhead, catlike as ever.

“isn’t that like, a little disrespectful?” you run a hand through your hair, nervous. 

tim raises an eyebrow at you, and flops back onto the bed. his arms are behind his head, making his biceps bulge. a strand of hair falls into his eyes. your heart ba-bumps in your chest. his angular eyebrows scrunch together. he looks actually, genuinely confused.  

“to who?” he scoffs. “they should be so lucky.”

at that, you bite your tongue. (with great difficulty.)

you choose to look him up and down instead, noting his smug smile. the hardness of his eyes. it feels like you're under a spotlight, the front row full of critics. heat creeps up your neck.

"is it hot in here?" you lift your hair into a makeshift ponytail, noting the way tim sits up. his eyes tracking your movements, the way your fist curls around your hair, lifting the sweaty strands off of your neck.

"so take your clothes off. might cool you down a bit." he smirks, the hardness back in his eyes.

"real original, drake." you shoot back.

he shrugs, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes.

"you'd heat right back up, though. so i can't say it's the best long term solution."

he unlaces a shoe, kicking it off, its twin following in quick succession. he looks at you pointedly, an eyebrow raised. you realize you’re as still as a statue, and staring, so you also begin to undress, toeing off your shoes and leaving them up against the end of the bed. it’s almost comical, your shoes, neat and upright, next to his, haphazardly thrown about, one on its side and the other just fully upside down. 

his shirt is next, tim easily pulling it up over his head and tossing it to one side of the room. his abs ripple as he leans back, the stretch revealing a sharp v-line poking out of his boxers. 

preening under your gaze, he leers right back, his lips curled up as he flexes his biceps. 

“like what you see?” he huffs out a laugh at your sheepish expression. 

you shake your head, silent as you turn away from him. his fingers quickly find the zipper of your dress, and soon that hits the floor too.

 

the expensive denim of his jeans scrapes your inner thigh as he ruts against you. a line of hickeys trace the curve of your neck. his mouth on you felt like heaven, warm and wet as he made his way from your jawline to your collarbone. 

proof of his open-mouthed kisses, dark red and glaringly obvious. 

a problem for future you. morning you. rational you, who will not enjoy the struggle of covering them up. 

tim snaps the band of your underwear. 

you’re brought back into the moment, lifting your hips off of the bed as he slides them down your legs. he tucks them into his jean pocket, giving you a look that almost dares you to protest. you don’t. they join the growing list of your things tim’s taken. a hair tie, a necklace, two other pairs of underwear. 

his lips are on you again, rough and passionate. you moan into his mouth from the feeling of his denim-clad bulge hitting your bare clit. tim wears a smug smile on his lips as he kisses you next, and you hook your legs around his hips in retaliation. your hands run up and down the smooth expanse of his back, the light scratch of your nails making him shiver. 

“control, right?” tim says, his eyes hungry as you unbutton his jeans.

“..what?” you shake your head, confused.

“you’re on birth control, right?” 

you internally roll your eyes. it makes sense that he’d be so thorough, being an heir, and famous, or whatever, but he asks you every single time. like your answer was gonna change any time soon.

“yes, timothy.” you draw out your words, feeling petulant.

he raises an eyebrow at this, tugging on a strand of your hair. 

“uh-huh.” 

his hips snap into the soft flesh of your ass again, sending a spark of pleasure up your spine. you’re facedown on the bed, tim holding himself up over you, your hips raised up just enough for him to thrust into you. one of his hands curls into your hair, yanking at it. 

“tim, i-” 

his pace picks up, unrelenting. 

“what was that, sweetheart? have something to say?” 

you moan in reply as he holds the rhythm he’s established, his fingers gripping at your hair, pulling. 

“you usually have so much to say, y/n.” you can hear the smirk in his voice.

his taunting dies down as he gets closer, one hand gripping your ass so hard it’ll probably leave bruises. the other uses your hair to pull you closer to him, giving you a messy kiss. he sucks in a breath just to let it back out through gritted teeth, groaning deep in his throat. he puts you against the bed again, the hand that was in your hair now pressing down on your lower back. his last few thrusts are sloppy, quick, and you’re clenching around his cock at the speed, your hands clutching at the sheets. 

“mm, fuck, that feels so good,” tim finishes with a low moan, warmth filling your insides in someone else’s four poster bed. 

the praise makes something in your chest start fluttering around, and you turn over to look at him once he’s pulled out. he's sat up, on his knees. his thigh muscles are on display, sending more flurries of desire through your body. the veins in his hands are in hard relief as he fists his cock, milking out every last drop. his cheeks are flushed, his hair a mess, a few raven locks sticking to his forehead.

he's dressed before you know it, tossing your dress up on the bed for you absentmindedly. tim looks over at you, and he's back over you in a flash. he gives you one last quick kiss, pinching your nipple.

"i'll text you."

with that, he's gone. it'd be like he was never here if there weren't hickeys covering your neck and his cum wasn't between your legs.

you dress quickly, tottering over to the bathroom. you look in the mirror, assessing. you use your hands to tame your hair back down. your eye makeup is smudged. and you don't have your underwear. you better get home quick if you don't want his cum dripping down your legs at this frat party.

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tim drake wayne's fan club:

(and THE most patient people on earth. i love you. thanks for waiting.)

(taglist:)

@dfgcbgdc @benditlikegumby93 @agent-nobody-knows @jaybunsblog @astermos-74 @ravenna-reid @borutoistrash1-blog @slut4animedilfs @nuggget-consumer-9000 @turtleturtleturtleturtleneck @hellishattempt @trashhighwaybird @sergeant-angels-trashcan @lilithskywalker @timdrakeisasugardaddy

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[ellieabbyy]

nothing but respect for my president

[promsong-gonewrong]

Somebody Else - Lana Del Rey x Fem!Reader

“What time is it?”

A voice above you whispers. You don’t say anything, you just curl up into more of a ball, feeling as small as ever as your mind reminds you of what’s happening later today. Maybe if you hold the girl in your arms tight enough, she’ll stay. 

“Honey,” Lana coos, her hand lazily stroking your back. 

“I don’t know,” you mutter, now rolling off her. Your body immediately runs cold, Lana having been your only source of heat. The white sheets of your bed leave an indent of where Lana’s body lay, and you can hear the comforter wrinkle as she tosses it off. You know her so well you can picture her walk to the bathroom in your mind without having to see it. You know the way she combs her hair, brushes her teeth, you know everything.

The soft noise of the faucet running begins, and you squeeze your eyes shut until they begin to burn. It’s still dark enough outside, and on any other day you’d be able to go back to sleep easily. Only adding to the dreary mood of your room, raindrops fall heavily outside pattering against the windows. 

Your feet hit the ground, hands rubbing the sleep from your heavy eyes. You figure you might as well act like you haven’t been dreading this moment as you walk over Lana’s packed suitcases in your room. 

This was partly your fault, anyway. You knew what you’d gotten yourself into the minute your eyes spotted the ring on her finger. But you were already too far gone then, and so was she. 

-��

“Breakfast?” Lana smiles gratefully as you hand her a bowl of fruit and warm oatmeal. She sighs contently as the spoon enters her mouth. “Did you sleep okay?” Lana asks, taking another spoonful. She makes note of the dark circles under your eyes.

“Not really.”

Lana nods. “Me neither.”

You shoot her a look, now cleaning up the mess in front of you. Your mouth opens to say something, but you bite your tongue. 

“What is it?” Lana presses knowingly, even though she guesses she might know the answer. She watches you clean, dividing her attention between her breakfast and your hurried self piling up dishes. She wants you to open up to her, to say anything, but like all the past times, you really never tell her exactly how you feel. “You know I have to go back.”

Your body tenses, but you ignore the phrase you’ve been hearing for months. 

“Do you want any more?” 

Lana shakes her head, and you wrap up the remaining oatmeal to store in your fridge. Two soft clicks of a lighter are heard. Again, you can see her putting the end of her cigarette into the flame without even having to look. You’ve done everything and anything with each other, you couldn’t help yourself but memorize every aspect about her. 

Turning around, your hands rest on the countertop behind you. 

Lana smiles sadly, a small cloud of smoke passing through her lips. She has so many things she’d like to say to you, but doesn’t have the words. Or the time. “I-”

“I think I'm gonna go back to bed.” 

Lana shakes her head.

“Honey, just…” Lana makes her way to you, enveloping you in an embrace. The soft fabric of her sweater covers parts of your face as you bury it in her arms. You've never felt more helpless than you did now, dissolving into Lana's touch.

You hug her back embarrassingly tight as she soothes the skin on your back with her nails. Your hands cling to her back, and you close your eyes, taking in the sweet scent of her. She's kissing your neck, your face, your cheeks, lingering on the places she loves most. 

Placing a smoky kiss on your lips, you know it's her last. 

-

The first time you see Lana again, it’s five months later, at your local grocery store. You immediately know she’s back to see you because this is what she does.

Lana never got into details about her other life, and you’d been somewhat grateful for it. Part of you didn’t really feel like hearing about her Italian husband who she decided to visit whenever it was “time.” Then again, you felt a bit embarrassed that you didn’t even know his name. Did he know who you were? The way she whispers your name, touches you softly, takes care of you…did she do the same to him? You dreaded the thought, but didn’t have the strength to ever inquire.

You can feel her eyes on you as you place an item into the basket around your arm. You quite like her now blonde hair, long and flowing past her shoulders. She seemed to reinvent herself each time she returned to Los Angeles. 

Despite having lived in your small town for years, you were always so isolated when Lana would leave. So much so, that you had no one else to rely on each time she left. You kept to yourself and your routines, trying to distract yourself from the loss that’d once been by your side. 

You consumed her, drank her in every time she was around. It was physically impossible not to, which is why you found yourself coming back to her after all these times. 

And she couldn’t keep from you, either. 

Lana watches you disappear into another aisle, turning her attention back to the cashier she’d been talking to originally. She doesn't hear a single word he says because she knows what her plans for the rest of the day are.

Hours after, you and Lana lay in silence on your bed. Your head rests on her chest, both of her arms draped around you, pressing small kisses to the side of your face whenever she felt like it. Your hands kept busy holding hers, tracing small circles and shapes over her velvet smooth skin. Lana’s eyes close from time to time, soaking up your sweet touches.

“What’s he like?” You break the precious silence, your fingertips slowly circling her arms. You weren’t upset, just genuinely curious. You’d had lots of time to think things over. 

“Quiet,” Lana says, after a moment. She hopes you don’t ask more questions, but she knows you want to. 

You slide off her slightly, so that the two of you are now facing each other. Your eyes examine your favorite face and you admire how beautiful she is for what feels like the millionth time. Your face heats up at the closeness of her, which Lana notices quickly. Smiling, she kisses you unexpectedly, supporting herself on her elbow to lean over you. “Nothing like you,” she whispers, against your neck now. 

You run your fingers through her hair, pushing her into your skin. 

“Lana.” You have no reason to whisper, being in the safety of your own home, but yet it happens because she’s so close. You had nothing of her yesterday, and now today, everything.

Her thumbs softly trace your cheeks, the warmth of them transfers to her fingers.  “I missed you,” she says, barely audible as she kisses you once more. “I thought about you every day.”

A warmth of satisfaction spreads over you, and you lean forward to press your lips to hers, but you pause.

“Then why did you leave…”

Lana parts from you suddenly, sitting up straight on her knees. You instantly miss her warmth, regretting your foolish words. You know you’ve struck a nerve when Lana looks to the ground instead of you. “I’m sorry that just- it just came out. I didn’t mean to.” You apologize, stumbling over your words. You seem to have one of these each time she returns. 

“Lana, please.”

She lays back down, her eyes on your ceiling instead of where you want them. You follow her motions, laying on your side to face her. Cautiously, you reach out. She allows you to take her hand, and you hold it to your heart. Lana’s gaze is steady, along with her breathing. 

Your eyes travel to the hand you’re holding, noticing a tan line of where her wedding ring should be. Your thumb brushes over the skin slowly. Your throat closes up, knowing you and Lana could never truly have what you really want. What you desperately need.

“I just want you to be mine.” You reconnect your gaze to Lana’s, whose eyes fill with tears. She holds on to your hand tightly, chin quivering slightly as she squeezes her grip.

“Me too.”

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Do You Know How to Bend? | Raymond Leon x fem!Reader

summary: You're working the streets in Dayton (the poorest timezone) when your old client and famous Timekeeper, Raymond Leon, comes calling just to spite you. He takes pleasure in reminding you of your differences and takes pleasure in seeing you struggle.

warnings: Mentions unsafe sex and paid sex. Derogatory/sexist words used for and against sex-workers. Slut-shamming. Smut.

Word count: 4331k+

I Don't Want to Be- Gavin McGraw 🎶

Lunch- Billie Eilish 🎵

*Inspired by the line Billie Eilish's song "Lunch": Don't want to break it, just want it to bend. / Do you know how to bend?*

“Well!” A low, arrogant voice pulls your attention away from your next client. You pause, recognizing the voice and set your mouth in a perturbed frown. “I thought you’d be retired by now, Miss Y/L/N. You must be pushing 50 at this point, right?” The man laughs softly at your expense, it’s short and sounds almost like a clap. The quick glance he gives to your potential client sends the man scrambling away. You sigh, watching your rent time leave with him. 

“Oh, sounds like he doesn’t like older women…” Raymond Leon observes casually over your shoulder, his palm resting on the wall behind your head, as if he knows you well enough to do so. You don’t bother turning around to address him when you respond, your arms still wrapped around her chest as they had been to display your cleavage to the clientele. 

“Or…he saw your face. What did I tell you, Ray? If you’re going to start whoring yourself out, you need to do something for your features, they’re too…”

“Intimidating?” Ray offers with a smirk, enjoying the derogatory banter. You turn and move your hands to your waist, pretending to examine the annoying Timekeeper. 

“Pretentious.” You correct cooly, copying his unemotional expression, a knack you’d picked up after his frequent visits decades before. Ray clenches his jaw and raises an eyebrow lazily. 

“I haven’t seen you around here lately,” you add, changing the subject. Ray nods and shrugs again. 

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” You ask, your eyes dropping lazily to his clothes, still a sucker for leather and zippers, you notice. 60 years old and he still loves his leather… you nearly smile. 

Ray smirks, chewing a piece of gum on the left-side of his mouth. His blue eyes fall to your breasts, half-hidden by your low V-neck dress. 

“I can multitask,” Ray talks around the gum in his mouth and draws a finger down your waist to prod gently at your wrist. 

“Look at you…” his tone hinders on distaste as he trails his eyes over your short dress. “This is something you would have worn in your teenage years, not in your 50s.” 

 “A woman has to work right? I’m not getting any younger,” you shrug playfully, and smile when Ray rolls his eyes at your joke, his hand sliding over your hand to grab your wrist. 

“You disgust me…” he mutters half-heartedly, stepping closer so he can look down your dress. You cock your head to the side, studying the prominent scar below his right eye. 

“So are you here to arrest me? Is what I’m doing illegal?” You ask with a skeptical tilt of your head. Ray scoffs and looks up, weighing his words before responding. 

“No, it’s not illegal.” 

“Mmm,” you raise your hand, Ray’s fingers still wrapped around your wrist like a bracelet. He looks at you, making no move to release his grip or even to loosen it. You slowly grasp the thin metal zipper on his shirt, tugging it teasingly. You can feel Ray’s heartbeat quicken through the pulse point on his wrist. You wait for him to speak first, your eyes giving him an invitation by fluttering your thick black lashes. Not yet taking the bait, Ray looks down at the time displayed in vibrant green light on your arm. He takes your forearm with his freehand and rests his shoulder against the wall instead. Taking your arm, he raises the clock to see it better and clucks his tongue in a pitiful gesture. 

You look away and roll your eyes, scoffing at the turn in his behavior. Ray will always be Ray. You try to snatch your arm from his grasp but Ray clucks his tongue again, this time in disapproval. 

“This is no good, no good at all, Miss Y/L/N,” Ray releases his fingers from your wrist and instead brushes them across the light colored hair on your arm, barely visible over the clock’s long face. You tilt your head away from him and focus your eyes on the building around the block where people walk by noisily. 

“Are you here just to shame me?” Your voice sounds tired and distant. Ray smirks, his eyes jumping to your face, taking pleasure in the way your head is cocked away from his to avoid looking at him.

“Only 1 year left… You’re not a very good whore anymore, are you?” Ray looks down at you, his nose angled into the air. You roll your head back to center and cock your eyebrow. 

“Is this the part where I tell you that I’m a ‘good whore’?” You clarify disingenuously and Ray barks out a laugh, your attitude turning him on. 

“Are you?” He asks after a moment, expectantly, “Are you a good whore?”

“I don’t know, you thought I was that one time. Or really, multiple times, if I remember correctly.”  You answer, your tone cold. You could never tell if you liked Ray or not, right now, you didn’t. You yank your hand away and rub your sore arm with your hand as if you were nursing a wound.

Ray nods, his mouth straight. Adam's apple bobs as he tries to restrain himself. His eyes return again and again to your chest, your breasts pushed together by the fabric of your dress. Exhaling suddenly, Ray grabs either side of your waist and holds you close. He licks his lips quickly, maintaining his nonchalant nature, and pressed them close to your ear. 

“How about for the sake of the old days I’ll give you an hour for fifteen minutes?”  

Ray’s voice is warm against your ear, sending tingles down the tendons in your neck. You bite your lip, hiding a smile. 

“Two hours and you have a deal,” You barter back, Ray’s mouth still against your ear. Ray draws back, his eyebrows drawn together in a skeptical expression. 

“Cost of services just went up,” you shrug and press your hands to his chest beneath the edges of his long leather coat. 

“Cost of services my ass.” Ray scoffs and moves his hands up to your breasts, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples, covered by your dress. 

“Careful, Ray. You break it, you buy it…” you push him back gently, merely a few inches. He doesn’t even seem to notice, his eyes are still tied to your face. 

“I won’t break you, I just want you to bend.” Ray moves one of his hands up to the side of your neck, turning your face with his thumb so you’re forced to look at him. He leans in once again, his turquoise-blue eyes getting closer. His chest is nearly pressed against yours when he tilts his head, looking you up and down. “Do you know how to bend?” 

Your breath catches in your throat as you look up at him, his face deadly serious. 

“Yes, sir.” You swallow tightly, your face flushing. Your other clients never turned you on this much. Ray nods and takes your wrist firmly, paying you two hours without breaking his gaze. When your clock reflects the hours he’s given you, you slide your hand down into his and pull him further into the alley. Ray follows you, glancing briefly over his shoulder. 

“No, we’re going to a motel.” Ray tells you firmly and takes the lead, pulling you behind him with a strong grip. You follow happily, craving a bed anyway. 

“There’s one around the corner.” Your voice is soft and feminine, grateful to be taken care of for once. Ray nods as he walks, his coat swishing about his legs with a leathery squeak. His styled hair resembles feathery waves down the back of his head and you resist the urge to run your fingers through it. When you turn the corner, the cheap motel’s lights wink like an old woman with dragging eyelids. Ray leaves you on the sidewalk outside the motel’s office and scans his wrist on the reader, paying the notoriously low-rate of one hour for a room. His jaw is still clenched when he comes back out, his eyes scanning the line of pale pink rooms above you as he takes your hand once again. 

Ray’s grip is strong as he takes the steps quickly and unlocks one of the doors, strips of paint peel from the walls on either side. His nose is turned up in disgust as he throws open the door. 

“It’ll do,” he shrugs and jerks his head towards the room, waiting for your approval. You look at the plastic bed with its greasy pink bedspread and shrug. 

“It’ll do,” you repeat his words and nod once, your mouth turning up into a closed smile. “Are you going to invite me inside?” You gesture through the doorway and Ray scoffs, rolling his eyes in jest. He looks down at you, standing beside him in the doorway and looks back into the empty parking lot. 

“Looking for the wife?” You follow his gaze out onto the street and Ray smiles, shaking his head. 

“No…” his voice is low and breathy, like it takes him effort to relax. He raises his left hand, showing a hand without a wedding ring. 

“Ah, so the famous Timekeeper Raymond Leon still hasn’t found a woman good enough to be his wife,” you nod in faux-appreciation and lean against the door jam.

“And you, did you ever marry?” Ray raised a skeptical eyebrow, his eyes looking you up and down almost judgmentally.

“You know I'd never do that.” 

“You like your work too much to quit?” Ray chuckles and leans over you, his arms wrapped around himself as his face inches closer to yours. You roll your eyes, silently cursing him for his cruelty. He knows you wouldn’t do this kind of work if you didn’t have to.

“And run the risk of never seeing you again, fat chance.” You tease him, your tongue resting on the roof of your mouth. Your hands slide up his chest once again and take hold of the lapels on his leather coat. Your thumbs run over the hem, dipping into the buttonholes. 

“Would you still fuck me,” he started, his tone even and cool, “even if I was married?” 

You look up into those cold blue eyes of his, a tint of meanness sparkling in your eyes. 

“I guess we’ll never know,” you shrug, your response icy and indifferent except for the tug of a smirk on your lips. 

“You’re a bitch,” Ray leans closer, his breath fanning across your lips. His nose nearly touches yours as he tilts his head slightly. He doesn’t kiss you, but he wants you to know that he could if he wanted to. You keep your hands on his coat and use your leverage to pull yourself up on the balls of your feet, even though you’re already in heels. Your lips are barely touching as you nod and whisper. 

“I’m whatever you want me to be.” 

As you say it, Ray’s instincts take over, pushing himself against you and kissing you hard. His hands have flown to your hips, supporting you as you hold yourself higher. He breaks the kiss briefly to spit out his gum on the concrete. With remarkable ease, Ray guides your hips inside the room and slams the door behind him, throwing the room into semi-darkness. The leather on his body is warm to the touch as your hands slide over his chest. Backing you up against the bed you fall back on the mattress, landing on your butt. Ray stands so closely that your chin grazes his stomach. His hand goes to your chin and he runs his hands across your mouth. 

“I’m going to need more than fifteen minutes,” Ray mutters and pulls down your bottom lip with his index finger. 

“It’ll cost you…” you respond cheekily, your hands running up the sides of his legs. 

“Oh, I know it will.” He nods and it startles you when he drops into a crouch at your feet, his body positioned between your legs and his head turned up to look at your face. You look at him curiously, your eyebrows nearly furrowed. 

“Don’t worry, Miss Y/L/N, I just want to get a good look at you,” Ray answers the questioning look you give him with a daring smile. Your muscles tense when you feel his hand slide up the inside of your thigh. In one motion, he spreads your legs, forcing your dress to roll up your thighs, exposing the fabric of your underwear. Ray smirks, his fingers etching circles into the cellulite on your upper thighs as he looks at your underwear.

“Pretty,” he teases you, his eyes flicking up to yours, but you’re too stunned to say anything smart back. He inhales deeply as his hands travel the rest of the way up your thighs and pull down your underwear to your knees. You move your thighs together again to allow him to do so and exhale softly as you feel the lacy fabric fall down your calves to the floor. Once gone, Ray turns his eyes to you and spreads your legs with his large hands draped over both of your knees. You watch him, your heart racing and your cunt beginning to throb. Ray’s hand slides up your bare thigh to your cunt. Without breaking eye contact, he slips his middle finger inside you, rising slowly to lean over you as you lie back slowly and support yourself on your elbows. Your breath comes out in pants as you feel a second digit join the first, thrusting in and out of your core. 

Ray rests one of his knees on the mattress beside your thigh, giving himself more leverage to finger-fuck you. 

“Eyes on me…” he snaps when your eyes start to close. Obediently, you open your eyes and bite your lip as his fingers start to move faster, his knuckles hitting your cunt each time. His gaze bores into your eyes as you raise your thigh to rest against his knee. Your dress rides all the way up to your waist but you leave it on. 

“You’re already so wet. Do you get like this for all of your clients or only for your best customers?” His tone is condescending and mean but you love it coming from him. You moan softly before answering. 

“Jealous?” You egg him on and grind your hips against his fingers. Ray smirks, leaning his face down to yours and shakes his head.

“I bet you haven’t had a good fuck since you saw me last.” He breathes heavily against your cheek as he fucks you even harder with his fingers, adding a third and you grit your teeth. “Poor guys don’t even know how to do it properly, do they?” His lips brush against your cheekbone and you arch your back, trying not to whimper from the mixture of pleasure and pain. 

“Such a pity, isn’t it?” Ray whispers and you can feel him pout against your ear. Your body jerks as you begin to build to a satisfying climax, his fingers never ceasing in their work. “Don’t worry, honey. If you’re a good whore for me, I’ll make you cum, ok?” His words are cruelly intoxicating and you curse yourself for allowing him to turn you on so easily again and again. Your eyes are screwed shut as you gasp against his cheek, your left hand grabs onto his shoulder as you feel yourself shaking. You nod and try to open your eyes again, containing your reaction. 

“I don’t want you to hold back… I want to hear every sound you make.” Ray can tell you’re trying not to seem weak and needy and smiles pleasurably. His fingers edge you closer, your breath quickening. 

“And no faking. We’ll keep going until we get it right, understand?” He pulls back to look into your eyes, he’s dead serious, so you nod emphatically, panting from the pleasure. You’re reaching the peak of your climax, a shaky whine spilling from your lips.

“Now do you remember what I asked you before? Do you know how to bend?” Ray asks, his voice breaking the climax suddenly as he removes his fingers, a pleased smile on his lips as he sees your disappointed expression. 

Taking a second to process his question, you nod and lick your lips quickly. “Yes,” your voice is a soft whisper as you wait for his instructions. Ray steps back and takes off his long leather coat, tossing it over the back of one of the chairs. When he looks back at you, your legs still spread before him, he looks up and down the length of your body. 

“Then take off your dress and bend over.” He jerks his head to the left, directing you to turn that way. You pull the dress over your hips and up your chest. Ray’s stares at your breasts, his lazy eyes studying them indifferently. He’s so good at that, looking totally disinterested, put out, and bored. Strangely, it turns you on. When your dress is over your head and discarded to the floor, you let your feet slide down the edge of the comforter. You turn over, your feet flexed in the pink carpet and your butt held out above the edge of the bed. Your hands rest on the bed, your elbows extended uncomfortably on the uneven surface. You flip your hair to the side and wait for Ray. 

With your back turned and your perfect ass pushed out before him, Ray grapples with the layers of clothes on his body. He strips off his shirts, his hands undoing the buttons and zipper with swift expertise. When his clothes are all off, he places his hand on the base of your spine. You almost flinch, not knowing where he was going to touch you. His hand drops around your waist, pulling your hips closer to him but still not touching. Ray’s other hand trails from the back of your left knee to your ass which he grabs harshly. You gasp softly when he grabs you, allowing yourself to make any noise you need to, as per his request. Ray makes a clicking noise with his tongue in approval and moves his hand to your breast, his thumb drawing circles around your nipple. 

As he leans over you to message your breast, his hips pressed against your butt, his erection physically noticeable against your skin. You let your mouth fall open in an expectant, half-strangled sigh. 

“Oh you desperately need a good fuck.” His voice ruffles your hair and you close your eyes in pleasure, wanting him even closer. 

“Ray…” your voice is barely a whisper as his name escapes your lips. He presses his face into your shoulder blade in response, his nose rubbing gently against your skin. His breath tickles the sensitive place on your back and you arch your hips back, bumping against him. 

“Umph,” Ray groans softly and moves his hand up even further to your throat. His grip is loose enough for you to breathe but you still wear his hand like a choker. “You’re so fucking desperate…” he reprimands you distastefully but you can hear his smirk pulling at his tone. He tugs at your throat, moving your head back to rest against his forehead. His teeth find your earlobe and nibble gently at the curve of your ear, you moan softly. You can feel your thighs getting wetter as desire drips from your cunt. 

“Ray…” you say again and tighten your grip on the comforter below you. Ray tightens his grip on your throat in response and moves his lips to your ear. 

“Are you desperate for me?” His question is a husky whisper in your ear. You almost don’t hear what he’s saying, it's so low. You nod and swallow beneath his grip. 

“Yes, yes…” you agree twice. Ray seems to like this response because the hand that was still on your hip takes his erection and plays with the head against your cunt. 

“You can’t ever get enough of me, can you?” He doesn’t wait for a response as he pushes inside you vigorously. You yell out, your voice fading into a moan as he fills you up. 

“What was that? I didn’t hear you?” Ray smirks and thrusts into you again. You moan louder, your body desperately adjusting to his shape and size. Your eyes are screwed shut as he begins a rhythmic motion, in and out. Your jaw falls open slightly and you catch yourself squealing as he pulls your hips against his and continues his harsh movements, knowing you can take it. You can hear him panting behind you, his eyes stuck on the base of your spin and your heart-shaped ass shivering with each of his thrusts. 

“I bet no one appreciates this, how excellent your body is.” Ray manages to say, his voice disrupted by pants. You shake your head no, agreeing with him. No of your other clients even talks to you and you honestly prefer it. But you know Ray, you know his body and the way he uses it. When he talks, it excites you, drives you to do better for him. Ray chuckles breathlessly and pulls out, breaking the tension of pleasure. 

“Flip over,” he tells you and waits patiently as you roll over onto your back, your knees bent and your heels pushed into the edge of the mattress. You take a moment to look at him, having not seen him naked in years, he still looked the exact same. You both do. You both look 25, no older, no younger. Ray’s chest is rising and falling quickly and you admire the way it shows off the muscles in his body. You tear your eyes away from his taut stomach and look into his eyes, now more of a chlorine blue. 

Quickly, Ray is on top of you, pushing you farther back on the bed where your head nearly hangs over the other side. He pulls one of your thighs around him and pushes himself back inside, watching your reaction with a determined gaze. You throw your head back against the bed and raise your other thigh, pressing both of your knees into his waist. Stopping his thrusts briefly but still inside you, he drops his mouth to your breasts and circles one of your nipples with his tongue, his eyes closed to savor the experience. You moan loudly, digging your nails into his shoulders, watching his tongue lap at your nipple. Words escape you as you try to formulate an appropriate reaction. You squeal in pleasure as he moves on to sucking gently on the bud, his teeth sometimes nipping the sensitive flesh. You can feel the sensation in your cunt, as if the two places were connected by a cable. Your moans and gasps are more frantic and you feel lightheaded. 

“Too…much,” you manage, your nails biting into his flesh. 

“Good,” Ray responds shortly after your breast leaves his mouth. He kisses the side of your neck and applies a hickey at the junction of your throat and shoulder muscle, his hips beginning to move again. His hand holds your thigh tightly, using it to steady himself as he speeds up. Your hands fumble around his neck, scratching your own forearms to spare his skin. 

“No, I want you to mark me. Show me how well I’m fucking you.” He unclamps your hold on your own skin and waits for you to settle your nails back into his shoulders. 

“I won’t ask you again,” he warns darky when you don’t scratch him immediately. You manage to smile back, your mouth falling into a pleasurable gasp as if to say: do something good and I will. Taking it as a dare, Ray rolls his eyes and grabs the edge of the mattress above your head and pulls himself harshly into you. This makes you nearly animalistic. You writhe beneath his body weight and scratch your nails down his back, your thighs shivering. The pain from your nails down his back only makes him thrust deeper, his cock colliding with the base of your uterus each time. 

Your whimpers become a routine of gasps. Ray lowers his nose to brush against yours, almost in a gesture of affection but you know better than to read into it. His brow is furrowed from the effort but you can feel him start to climax, heat building between your bodies. Sweat drips from his chest onto yours, pooling between your breasts. 

“You’re going to make me cum,” Ray growls as his grip tightens on the mattress, pulling himself up and into you faster. You cannot speak for the life of you so you nod emphatically and cry out as you feel the muscles in your pelvis begin to contract when you start to cum. You feel your nails cut into his skin, drawing pinpricks of blood but Ray doesn’t even notice as he groans, his muscles tensing. He feels you tighten around him in your climax and it squeezes him, releasing his cum and bringing about his orgasm. 

Ray pulls out with a loud gasp and drags a hand across your stomach as he lies beside you, his feet hanging off the edge. You both pant, trying to catch your breath. After a few minutes of euphoria, you both begin to breathe normally. 

“You should really be paying me,” Ray says and you nearly take him seriously. 

“You’d actually make a good whore,” you laugh breathlessly and rest your cheek against your bicep, looking over at him. Ray scoffs and crosses his arms beneath his head, sweat still sparking on his freckled chest. 

“Well I’ll keep that in mind if the whole Timekeeping career doesn’t work out.” He sounds gruff and rude but you know him better. That’s how he sounds, that’s how he is, and so you smile softly to yourself. 

"You never change," you tell him. Ray pauses for a moment and cocks his head to the side, nodding as he contemplates your observation. He's frowning as he nods, and he sighs slowly before responding.

"And neither have you."

[bambidollsblog]

Unfortunately I wasn't fucked by billy loomis this Halloween....we'll try again next year!

[tommyshelbysgoodgirl]

I want him to bend me over and fuck me from behind in those slutty three piece suits he’s always wearing😩😩

[urfavleo777]

Riccardo Calafiori x reader inspired by lana del rey's lyrics

The hotel room was huge. Basically big enough to be an apartment, which made sense because it was the price of rent for an average apartment in Rome. You were lying next to your boyfriend on a double bed, he was leaning on his elbow, and staring at you with a smile. At that moment, it was just you and the sound of the fire burning in the fireplace next to you. It was perfect.

Riccardo decided to turn on some random playlist on your phone. It was a song by an Italian band, Måneskin, which you idolized and couldn't keep silent while listening to it. If not because of your tears, then because of your squawking while singing.

That's why you started trying your best at following the lyrics of the song, but in the end you only made the Italian smile wider.

“C’mon, say something, Ricky” you snapped, cupping his cheek with your hand.

“You are the one woman who means the most to me in this world. You are my everything, my love, my universe. Everything I do, I do it for you. So let me just look at you.”

You loved him. You’d love him ‘til the end of time.

It was wonderful to just cut yourself off from the world, lie on the bed with him, cover yourself with the duvet and live with the knowledge that someone felt what you felt, that someone was lying a few centimeters away from you and planning a future with you.

If there were words to describe this feeling, they would be the most beautiful words ever spoken. Because it wasn't pleasant, happy or beautiful. It was above and beyond everything.

He was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knew it. When he walked in every woman's head turned, everyone stood up to talk to him. He was like this hybrid, this mix of a man who couldn't contain himself. Whether it was his charming smile, his captivating eyes, or his confident stance, people just couldn't help but be attracted to him. He carried himself with an alluring aura that made him a formidable presence in any room, causing both men and women to sit up and take notice.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you asked, unable to stop smiling.

“You know, I could be a better boyfriend. Spend more time with you, buy you gifts, take you on dates more often, treat you with even more respect.”

“I swear It's perfect the way it is. You don't have to-”

“Wait, let me finish,” he interrupted, raising his hand, and for a few seconds you saw something unusual on his face, uncertainty. “You really do mean everything to me, totally, absolutely everything. You blew my mind years ago, and nothing has changed since then, nothing to diminish my feelings for you. Well, I guess it's just time.”

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and you watched his every move, confused. You didn't know what he was talking about until he pulled out a box with an engagement ring from under the covers.

“Mi vuoi sposare?” His hand reached out to touch your face, his touch gentle and reverent as he whispered the question that would change both of your lives forever. “Will you marry me? Will you make my life even more beautiful by becoming my wife?”

You were surprised, touched, and more than a little bit overwhelmed. You were sitting there in your joggers, devoid of any makeup, and yet here he was, looking at you with hope, waiting for your answer.

“You should kneel, idiot.” You just said, to which he sighed dramatically and got off the bed, doing exactly what you said.

And still fixing his eyes in love on you. You froze for a moment, it— he was beautiful.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts, before finally speaking up. “Yes,” you said, a smile slowly spreading across your face. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Be my once in a lifetime”

Rolling his eyes, he returned to the bed, never taking his lips from yours. He positioned himself above you on the bed, his body pressing against yours as he continued to devour your lips with a fierce intensity. 

You couldn’t believe what just happened.

When you calmed down and your emotions subsided, you only realized what was on your finger and why Riccardo was so happy.

“You didn't expect that, did you?” A sly smile played at the corners of his lips as he looked down at you, his body still pressed against yours. He was clearly proud of himself, reveling in the fact that he had managed to surprise you once again.

“No, I didn't,” you admitted with a small laugh, still reeling from the intensity of his kiss.

“I was going to do it tomorrow over a big dinner with candles, but I don't know. I guess I felt that this moment was less hackneyed, more real, more ours.”

“You really are full of surprises.” you dragged out the last letters, while he pulled your phone out from under him and switched the song. Unlike you, he hated rock music, and you listened to a few rock songs regularly. He chose “Without You” by Lana and placed the phone on the night stand.

He chuckled softly, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Of course I am,” he teased. “And I have plenty more surprises up my sleeve just you wait and see, amore.” He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours, a tantalizing distance away. “But for now, I think I'd like to show you just how much I want you right now.”

His hands began to wander over your body, his touch gentle yet possessive, the heat between you growing with every moment. He kissed you again, his mouth moving over yours with a primal hunger, as if he couldn't get enough of you. “All my dreams and all the lights mean,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “Nothing without you.”