#someone gave me a microphone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hazelfoureyes · 9 months ago

Text

The Safeword is RadioApple (part 1)

I’m gonna go ahead and apologize right now

Lucifer x FemaleReader x Alastor

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

Alastor would give you anything, all you had to do was ask. When you asked for Lucifer, he delivered. But after seeing just how much you enjoyed Alastor’s rough handling, Lucifer takes a turn and gets a little lost in the pleasure.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, smut, RadioApple in a sense, fem reader, creampie, breath play, rough sex, Alastor is an eternal little shit, soft jazz, hard jazz, Luci calls himself Daddy, 🗣️ READER GETS SPITROASTED, threesome, cervix hulk smashed, half assed blowjob, help I got too horny on main

Minors dni

“Sir.”

Lucifer jumped, whipping around and shoving Alastor’s face away. “You are a living nightmare, fuck!” He hated being snuck up on, as most people do. Adjusting his hat, he looked around the hotel lobby to see if anyone else witnessed his personal jump scare. Charlie and Vaggie were seated nearby, but hadn’t paid them any attention.

“I aim to please! Now,” Alastor gestured to the stairs, “I, unfortunately, need to show you something upstairs.”

“Ha!” Lucifer forced out a laugh, “Ha. Haaa- Not a chance, scarecrow. Find someone else to search for your brain.” He smirked to himself. “Did you hear that Charlie? I made a joke.”

But Charlie was not laughing. She finally turned her focus to them. “Dad, you have to start trying to get along with Alastor.” She looked to Alastor who was nodding along as if he actually cared at all, “He’s trying to spend time with you. Come on, Dad. For me?”

With a pout, he dramatically crossed his arms, “Fine. I’ll play nice, for you. Not for him.” Lucifer glared daggers at Alastor. “Fuck him.”

“Daaad!” She groaned.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.”

Alastor let his microphone follow behind Lucifer’s back, an unseen and unfelt safety net so he couldn’t back out. When they approached Alastor’s door, Lucifer put up his hands as if to physically stop the situation from progressing, “There is no way in all of hell I am going in your bedroom.”

Alastor’s eyes rolled, frustrated already with the interaction. “Are you sure about that?” He pushed the door open, using his mic to make contact with the small of Lucifer’s back. He stopped resisting when he finally looked into the room.

He took a step in, willingly, and as he saw you sitting in the center of the bed in just your silk sleep robe, he let out a quiet, “What the fuck is this?”

Then a louder, “Heeey, kitten…”. The sound of the door locking made his head whip back to Alastor, teeth bared.

“Luci.”

Softened under the sound of his own name from your lips he brought his attention back to the bed.

It was no secret to anyone that you two were fond of each other. It was the little things you did that endeared the fallen angel to you, how you doted on him. Filling his glass at dinner when you noticed it getting close to empty, holding the door for him, keeping eye contact when he went off on some excited tangent.

Everyone was also aware you were Alastor’s person. And Alastor would give you anything you wanted in death; and today you happened to want Luci.

You’d seen the broadcasts of the King of Hell defending his daughter during the last extermination. The power he gave off, even from your screen, brought goosebumps down your arms. So when you found your way to the hotel, you were elated to see Lucifer himself readily available for interactions. Your luck continued, as your father’s love of jazz had been passed down to you and allowed the radio demon to notice your presence among the sea of new residents. Following the sounds of Nat ‘King’ Cole, he found you one evening in your room, and a mutual fondness for music bore a new friend. And then, more.

Soon enough you were a regular member of the Hazbin Hotel core crew, by way of Alastor.

That’d been some months ago now, and you finally had the courage to ask Alastor for a special favor.

No part of him understood your motivation, but the idea of making the king of hell pussy-whipped to his darling was understanding enough. And, of course, the pleasure of watching you enjoy yourself. While he was capable all his own, he was happy to allow someone else to fill in. Not to mention—- no, actually, definitely mention the fact it would give him a little more power in the tense dynamic between himself and Lucifer.

For Alastor, sharing you physically wasn’t an issue. Sex was something he did for your pleasure, though he did enjoy the control he held over you in those intimate moments.

Watching you mewl under someone else, knowing he gave the permission, that Lucifer would never have a chance in Hell if The Radio Demon didn't allow it, made his head dizzy with the loss of blood flow. Whatever pleasure Lucifer could give you was pleasure he has granted you both. The idea of someone pining for you but never having a chance unless he says so made him feel powerful.

“I have a request, of sorts.” You tried to keep your smile still, cheeks twitching with pure nerves. The room was lit by only two small lamps on either nightstand and the light coming from the half open bathroom.

Lucifer approached you, making a dramatic point of going past Alastor. The radio demon chuckled, the king of hell scowled. He placed one knee on the end of the bed, trying to forget this was the spot you shared most nights with Alastor. His smile encouraged you to continue.

“You can say no.” You added quickly.

“Why would I ever do that?” Lucifer continued to smile at you, too sweetly for what you were going to ask.

“Many reasons.” You added quicker.

“Come on, tell Luci.” He laughed softly at the idea of denying you anything.

You pressed the tips of your index fingers together nervously, “I want you to fuck me.”

He tried to blink but his eyelids only seemed to rise further and further up his face with every attempt.

“You what now?”

His eyes darted to Alastor, who was now crawling onto the bed and settling behind you.

“It was a fairly straightforward statement, sir.” Alastor’s tone was always teetering on mocking when he addressed Lucifer, “My dear would like you, for some god awful reason, to bed her.”

If this hadn’t been such a shock, Lucifer would have quipped, “Oh because you can’t, you overdressed maitre d’?”

But when he opened his mouth, there was nothing. He just stared at you. Alastor’s long legs and lanky arms came down beside you, behind you. You looked like the enticing light of an angler fish’s lure, sharp teeth shining just over your shoulder.

“I thought-,” he motioned between the two of you.

You nodded, “Alastor is happy when I’m happy. And right now, I’d be overjoyed to spend an evening taking care of you.”

Oh, why couldn’t you have said it so sweetly the first time? Take care of him? You always did. Every time he felt something lacking he’d find you close behind offering him just the thing.

Whether a smile, or supportive word, or just a sympathetic ear.

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawled toward Lucifer. His face was flush, his brows knitted together in some mix of worry and confusion.

“You don’t have to do that, kitten. I don’t need that.” He reached out a hand to touch your cheek but stopped himself; he’d never touched you before. He had gone out of his way to avoid it, because he couldn’t bear what it would do to him. He’d just be hurting himself, he had thought. His hand began to pull away but you reached out with both of yours and took hold of his wrist.

“I don’t have to do anything, ever, Luci,” Alastor’s grin widened as you said it. A hum of approval only he could hear. A silent, ‘That’s my girl.’

“This is about what I want.” You leaned up to rest your cheek in his open palm, “I’ll accept any answer from you.” Your eyes staring up at him promised safety, “So, what do you want?”

He buried his face in his free hand, opening his fingers to look over you once more. In the shade of the canopied bed, Alastor sat motionless. But Lucifer couldn’t see him, not because of the shadows but because his focus was so purely on you. He had absolute tunnel vision, which happened often when you two would speak. Lucifer made a low sound, coming from somewhere deep in his chest, hidden beneath all his shame and sense of inadequacy.

Your question was answered as he removed his hat, tossing it to the chaise lounge near the wall. You sat back on your legs and gave him space to remove his coat. Your heart seemed to double its pace, skin practically vibrating. A not-insignificant part of you expected a gentle but firm, “kindly fuck off.”

He seemed to be avoiding eye contact as he pulled his bow tie loose, only returning his knee to the bed when he’d kicked off his boots. Just the shifting of the weight of the bed made your thighs twitch, finally. Alastor leaned backed and watched, Lucifer’s gaze was full of uncertainty as he crawled to you.

Hilarious. Already worth the price of admission.

Both on your knees, you leaned up and placed a chaste kiss on Lucifer’s lips. Pulling back, you looked at him and he felt like we’re looking at the sun. Your face was so bright, and warm. What light were you reflecting back at him? Surely not his own. That was long dead. Long buried under bruised wings and lost promises.

You snaked your fingers into his hair and brought him in for a deeper kiss. When you bit gently on his bottom lip, he shakily opened his mouth. Your grin spread across both of your faces as you pushed your way past his lips.

Lucifer’s tongue was long, and tapered more than you’d expected. It moved, unsure, against yours. Your hands slunk out of his hair and down his chest, sliding until finding the buttons of his vest.

You felt him gasp into you, and when you began to open his shirt he pulled away, “It’s been… a very long time.”

A scream echoed in your skulll, your own scream, thankfully entirely in your mind. He was so cute. So soft. He looked so worried, you wanted to rip him to pieces with affection. Was that possible? You were going to try.

Your hands fumbled over his belt, the tremble in your fingers making the pants button feel like an aptitude test. Your mouth returned to him, kissing down his cheeks and into the space under his jaw. Finally you could slip your hand down into his pants, and you hissed without thinking.

He was painfully hard, throbbing head pressed into his skin.

Did you do this? Had you gotten the King like this with just a question and a kiss? Tip nearly purple with pressure, you rested your forehead on his collarbone and watched his stomach jump as you wrapped your fingers around it.

Alastor fought back a laugh, tongue nearly cut clean off with the attempt. This was better than he had expected. And he had just the idea to push it over the top.

When your head dipped to swipe your tongue over Lucifer’s cock, you both startled at the sudden sound of music. First you looked to the radio, then to Alastor.

One hand was loosening his bow tie, the other unbuckling his pants.

“Don’t stop on my accord,” he bit his bottom lip, watching your attention return to Lucifer’s lap.

Lucifer raised a finger in protest, “I wasn’t aware this was a group activity.”

“The more the merrier.” Alastor whipped his belt off and tossed it to the floor, other hand pulling his member free.

“Three’s a crowd.”

“Two heads are better than one.” When Alastor lifted your robe away and sunk himself into you, no preparation, you moaned into the blonde hair at the base of Lucifer’s cock.

Your breath over his shaft and now down his balls made his hips buck against you. Your hands gripped at Lucifer’s thighs, trying to get steady enough to return your mouth to his waiting heat. You could smell his arousal, your head dizzy with so many of your senses being assaulted by both men.

“You okay, kitten?” A concerned hand came to your cheek.

Your watery, lust clouded eyes met his, “It feels so good, Luci.” His dick jerked. When you finally managed to get him in your mouth his head fell back, legs under him twitching with the need to move along to the bobbing of your head. Lucifer was wider than Alastor, the corners of your mouth burning as you tried to take in as much of him as possible.

Alastor’s hand raked long nails down your back, a whine ran from your throat and down Lucifer’s shaft. He moaned in turn, trying to not connect the dots between himself and Alastor.

“I think you may need a little demonstration, from someone more–, “ Alastor leaned down, his face now inches from Lucifer’s. His hand wrapped around your neck, “experienced.” He pulled you up by your throat.

Lucifer watched, your knees no longer touching the bed as Alastor fucked up into you. One hand gripping your throat, one arm holding your body against his. Your face began to redden, and your thighs noticeably clenching as best they could, legs open and feet on either side of Alastor’s body. Lucifer winced, you looked pained, he wanted—

“Aa--Alastor,” Your voice was like honey, thick and sweet around Alastor’s name. Lucifer’s face fell flat, how could he have that? What did he need to do to have you say his name in such a debauched way? Why did that gangly sack of bones get all of the fun?

“See? She can handle more than you’d expect.” Alastor grinned, planting a kiss on your neck. You could see Lucifer watching through your wet eyelashes, his cock twitching repeatedly as his hand finally came down to touch himself.

With the hand not holding onto Alastor’s wrist at your throat, you reached out for Lucifer. “Luci.”

Alastor let you fall forward. Keeping your hips in the air and knees dangling just above the comforter, he continued his rough pace into your sopping cunt. Pulling your body on and off of his length with harsh drags he watched you lick from the base to the top of Lucifer’s member. Each thrust from him knocking your chin against it.

When you popped the head back into your mouth and moaned around it from Alastor’s continued fucking, Lucifer gripped your hair with both hands. Alastor’s own erection jumped in you, the king of hell himself buckling from his dearest’s mouth. He could break him entirely by just pulling you off of Lucifer’s cock and refusing to return you. He was positive Lucifer would cry into his ruined orgasm if he did such a thing.

Tempting.

But, he promised to play along, for you. And he would, at his own terms.

He pushed aside the thought entirely, instead returning to the task in front of him. Your tongue was pinned down when Lucifer was in your mouth, cock too fat to allow any room for movement. You abandoned trying to suck him off, and changed tactics to lick and kiss the sensitive flesh in your hands.

Lucifer’s mind was—- he wasn't sure where exactly. His consciousness splintered around you. The feeling of you; your tongue was swirling around him, the first contact he’s had other than himself in literal years. The sound of you; your soft moans and huffs were both audible and physical, the hot breath ghosting over him. The sight of you; head in his lap as he leaned back, your ass in the air and making a satisfying slapping noise every time–

Alastor. His eyes met Lucifer’s and a wicked grin took hold of his features. Lucifer could practically hear Alastor whisper across your body, ‘Watch this.’ Maybe Alastor had thought it, but he kept it to himself.

Your hands began pumping Lucifer’s length while your body was slightly dragged away as Alastor backed up and let your knees find some solid ground again.

Lucifer sat on his legs still, eyes flitting from between your face to the place you and Alastor connected. He could see Alastor disappearing inside you, and every intrusion had you gasping and mewling into the blankets. Your hand was still gently stroking him with outstretched arms, eyes clenched close.

Alastor smirked up at Lucifer, coming down over your back to reach around your body and find your clit with his middle finger. Immediately, you reacted. Legs squeezing together, hands stilling around your king’s cock. With a bite and lick to your shoulder blade, the radio demon set a bruising pace against you. That warmth in your core was spreading down as you felt him press against your cervix with every kiss of his hips.

You choked out his name, a chant Lucifer had never wanted to hear before now. How could you make Alastor’s name sound so delicious? He wrapped his fingers around yours on his dick and began moving with you. Your eyes rolled up to him, a weak smile forming before your orgasm made your jaw lock. Alastor knew your body so well, bringing you to orgasm was like playing a well practiced song on the piano. Both required strong and fast fingers and a sense of rhythm.

With a few more deeper, shorter moves Alastor stilled, too. Your knees slid down as your hips sank into the bed.

Lucifer let your hand go limp, swallowing hard. He wasn’t ignorant to the way Alastor smiled at him as he reclined into the headboard, tucking himself back into his pants.

“I have complete faith in you, for once.” Alastor teased Lucifer, hand motioning to your still limp body. His smile seemed to dare Lucifer, challenge him, to keep going even with Alastor’s release sitting pretty in you.

Luci took a deep breath, steadying himself mentally, before pushing the hair from your forehead, “Hey there, kitten. What do ya need?”

With an uncharacteristic hunger in your eyes, you forced your line of sight up to him, “You, Luci.” Visibly shuddering, you sat up and brought your legs towards him, your knees touching each other in an odd display of shyness. Your hand felt at your entrance, Alastor’s seed just beginning to find its way from your relaxed walls.

“Is it okay?” You asked, spreading the thick fluid between your fingers in front of Luci.

Something between a grimace and a pout came over him, it wasn’t his ideal situation but the idea of — just how much he’d slip and slide between your folds with the added lubrication made him feel feral. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Alastor hoped to ruin you and sour his experience. He decided to not allow it.

With a kiss to his nose, you wrapped your arms around his neck and lied back. You weren’t sure you were breathing anymore when you felt his scorching head slot up with your entrance. He rubbed the leaking fluid over himself and you with swipes up and down your lips. The difference between his heat and the cooled cum made him shiver in turn.

As he began to press into you, your body instinctively scooted away. It took both of your hands hooked under his arms to stay still enough for him to make any real headway.

Luci stopped, your face clearly pained. Your head shook in response, “Please, you just have to keep going. I’ll adjust.” While both of his heads swelled with pride – Alastor’s cock clearly smaller – Luci didn’t notice the wild eyes of the radio demon.

Alastor brought a hand to his face, red eyes peering between his spread fingers, smile threatening to break at the seams as he watched Lucifer Morningstar fucking his cum into his darling doe.

What a pitiful sight. How humiliating.

What would Charlie think of her big bad daddy? What would the other sins say? If they could see their king now, slick and shiny?

Your nails cut into his skin, and you were sure you were tearing slightly. Instead of attempting to thrust his way in, he chose to just continually press. The way your body seemed to be splitting made you second guess your decisions. But when his head finally popped in, your hole got some reprieve. He stopped, taking deep breaths.

Tears were collecting on your waterline, Luci noticed and leaned on an elbow to wipe them away. His blonde hair was falling forward now, tickling at your forehead.

You nodded, answering a question he didn’t ask, and he continued to force your walls open to accommodate him. The only sound in the room was the soft instrumental jazz number playing from atop the dresser. Your voice was stuck in your throat, Luci was focusing too hard to form words. Alastor could speak, but the music was just too enjoyable to interrupt.

Finally, after what could have been two minutes or twenty, you felt Luci bottom out. You had to just lie there for a second, never having felt something so solid in your otherwise soft body. No slight to Alastor, who was perfectly skilled in his abilities. Luci was just—- more than you had expected.

As he pulled out, you thanked the heavens and hell and the rings within that Alastor had left you so wet and already softened. The first few thrusts were genuinely uncomfortable, the pleasure you felt almost entirely mental, drawn from the reality of who was pulling your insides back and forth. You were so tight around him that he too was almost pained; so much pressure but no way to move enough to get any release.

Slowly, the ring of your entrance relented and Luci could finally move at a normal pace. He would take himself out to his head before slipping back in. Every thrust made your body spread around him, a semi-truck through a field of sunflowers. Your body didn’t stand a chance, and you were grateful he chose gentleness for his entrance.

He leaned back on both hands, using the position to fucked up into you at an angle. He knew very well where to hit to begin gathering your pleasure.

Alastor dropped his head, yours between his legs. His hair made a short curtain, hiding the look he was giving you from Luci. He adores the faces you make when you are happy. Excited. Pleasured. You tried to offer him a smile, but you couldn’t manage it for long. Your eyes would wretch shut, lips tighten as you focused on the feeling Luci was providing. Focused on the sensations, of being so full, so wet, so wanted. But Alastor was still watching, the sight of Luci blocked from his view as he enjoyed every little twitch of your mouth, every whimper.

It wasn’t jealousy, it was something more personal that stung Luci. While he couldn’t actually discern the looks you two gave each other, Luci felt very much the odd man out. But, he considered his position. Literally. He was leaning as far from your body as he could. He remembered the way you said Alastor’s name. Alastor had showed him exactly what to do, albeit in his usual obnoxious, showy fashion.

Sitting up, Luci adjusted your legs and slotted himself between them. Alastor leaned back, relinquishing your focus. Both of you looked at Luci though as one of his hands came to enclose your throat.

Alastor was almost impressed. Almost. You brought both hands to wrap around his wrist, glancing to Alastor behind you.

The words came out of Alastor as half warning, half instruction, “If she needs you to stop, she’ll tap two fingers twice on you, wherever she can reach.” Lucifer nodded, eyes not meeting Alastor’s. He kept them on your face, watching for any sign of distress as he tightened his grip. The way your pussy clenched around him earned you a hiss.

He began to move again, the new position causing him to rub against your clit as he buried himself in you. More clenching; He tightened his grip more.

“Are you sure she isn’t hurting?” Luci asked, your eyes closed and nails digging into his wrists.

“Nonsense. Can’t you feel her? Or does she just grip me like that?” The cocky expression made Luci unconsciously clench his fist on your neck. A gentle tap tap snapped him back to you. He loosened up again, his eyes large and apologetic.

You tightened your own grip on his dick, grinding up into him for more friction. Your body had finally relaxed, pleasure freely flowing from where you and Luci tangled together. You closed your eyes, the pressure constant on the veins to your head. Blood flow restricted just enough to lower your oxygen levels and raise the nitrogen oxide in your body. It resulted in a dizzying feeling, maybe there was a primal panic that caused your body to feel heightened pleasure. You didn’t feel scared, or in danger. You felt —— ah there it was. You felt weak. You felt docile. You felt like you existed purely to give pleasure and the idea turned you on. In every day life you’d never allow someone to use you, to push you around. You were anything but subservient. That’s why it was so enthralling now. It was so strange a sensation. And to give yourself so fully to the king of hell, the originator of all sin? You groaned, head rolling back.

Luci watched your head loll, drank in your groans and gasps and felt himself get dizzy too. More. Say his name like you did Alastor’s. Praise how well he fucked you. Reward him. Love him.

He pulled out suddenly, his head leaving you for the first time since it managed to fit in initially. Luci put both hands on your hips and directed you to roll onto your stomach. He pulled your ass up, knees bent. You crawled up enough to rest your forehead on the crook of Alastor’s leg, one lazily outstretched and the other bent under him slightly. Luci wasted no time pushing back in. He leaned over you and pressed his hand into your back, forcing your chest to be slightly crushed into the bed. He pulled out and slammed back into you, tearing a yelp from you as he hit deeper than he had before.

He stopped, unsure, until he felt your hand reach under yourself and rest at the junction of his knee and calf. His other hand came to your right hip, and he used it to keep you from sliding up the bed. Letting his eyes close again, he focused on the feeling of you around him. His crotch and thighs were soaking wet, his balls tight against him. Every drag out of you made his body jerk back into you with need. It felt so good, too good. He needed more. He pressed hard into you, oversized tip of his cock threatening to push past your cervix. He made shorter thrusts now, ensuring he bottomed out every time. It was too deep, too much of a stretch. Your moans slowly devolved into screams, the pleasure mixed with a soft burning.

You could feel him spreading open your womb. The feeling of your cunt pressing down on him from all sides including the front was driving him mad.

You were screaming. Actual, pleasured screams, threatening to alert the entire hotel to your activities. Screams that started shrill and dipped into a gutteral cry filled the room with every thrust of Lucifer’s frenzied hips.

A tiny part of your brain felt embarrassed, a dying animal shrieking into Alastor’s thigh.

An ever shrinking part of Lucifer existed too, the piece of him too preoccupied with your two fingers on his leg to enjoy you. It got smaller and smaller, no longer a blockade to his pleasure, but a safety net allowing him to walk the tightrope of sadism.

The radio’s volume dial rolled, smooth jazz now blaring and drowning out your painfully pleasured cries. Alastor was fine with allowing someone to take care of your needs at his permission but strangers had no business enjoying your sounds.

As Luci became lost in the sensation of your wet pussy trying to suck him in whole, his hand on your back began to press down. Your breaths got shorter, it got harder to expand your lungs fully.

Face turned and drooling onto the fabric of Alastor’s pants, you started gasping out his name, “Luci! Nngh Luciiii, Lucifer.”

Your lips dropped his name and it fell like lead into his thoughts. He fought the urge to close his eyes again as he felt his orgasm building. He watched your flushed skin jump beneath every punishing thrust, his name a spell you could now barely whisper, not enough breathe to scream. Your upper body was entirely buried into the mattress. It felt like your back might snap with Luci’s loss of control. You kept your hand on his leg, ever ready to tap out.

The yellow of his eyes turned red, just like the skin of your ass where his hip bones chaffed. “You take me so well, kitten.” He ground out, “Daddy’s gonna cum.”

Alastor’s eyes glowed a blood red from the end of the bed, a wickedly devious grin across his face at the opportunity before him, he looked up at Luci and said with a commanding tone, “Cum.”

Luci was already over that peak when his eyes flew up to catch Alastor’s, it was too late to stop his orgasm. He was helpless to disobey, despite his now desperate desire to never cum again. With a moan, and a hiss, he pressed your body fully into the mattress. Your body now flush, he waited until his cock stopped jerking his long overdue seed into your bruised womb.

Luci lied on top of you even after you were full to the brim with his cum. It was already forcing its way out around his softening cock when he managed to roll off of you and onto his back.

Staring at the canopy of the bed, he felt two emotions rise to the surface. First, concern. He turned to you, and you gave a weak thumbs up.

Second, rage.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Fuck you.” He looked to Alastor, who was grinning as he pet your head, whispering something to you.

“Little late for dirty talk, your highness.”

Lucifer growled, but Alastor’s palm pressed against his forehead and pushed him back down to the bed.

“I sleep on the left. I’d prefer you on the right.” he gently moved your head from his lap, “Beside me, my dear. A darling barrier.” Alastor didn’t look at Lucifer, just slid off the bed and walked into the en-suite bathroom. “No outside clothes under the comforter.” Alastor called from the bathroom before the sound of rushing water poured in.

You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath. Body sprawled out on the massive bed like a starfish.

Lucifer turned onto his side, hand caressing your arm. “Are you okay, kitten? I didn’t mean to lose myself like that.” He felt shame, like he had done something terrible. “And— I didn’t help you finish. That’s pretty shitty.”

But it fell away when you smiled back at him, “I feel great. Sore, but great all the same.” You let your fingers clumsily lace with his. “I really like you, Luci. And I don’t need to cum to enjoy myself. You can always try again, ya know?”

Lucifer felt his face grow warm, but couldn’t press you to clarify what exactly that meant before Alastor scooped you up and carried you to the bath.

There was a moment where he was alone, noticing the radio was back to a tolerable volume, the water splashing softly out of view. He felt out of place, like he had accidentally walked into a stranger’s home. He wasn’t sure what to do next, where to go from there when Alastor’s head popped back into the room, annoyed, “Are you coming or not? Those are clean sheets.”

༻Masterlist༺

3K notes · View notes

archiveofvirtue · 30 days ago

Note

PLEASE I BEG YOU <3 Drew x Journalist Reader. Got this idea based off just seeing Drew having a short interview by a girl at the Newport beach event who was a bit nervous and asked him a question twice. Maybe you can base it off that. Reader is not the most confident, a bit shy snd awkward sometimes. She messes up for her short interview with him and feels so embarressed but Drew found it adorable since it just shows that she's human and ''real'' in a sense. Maybe Drew tries to lock eyes with her throughout the event, from him being on stage, standing in the audience listening to others, but she is like ¨''Ain't no way. It's just a coincidence ''.......but you know....he tries further to make contact

ALL EYES ON YOU! ⸻ drew starkey

notes: BIG YES!! I saw that interview too and it was just too cute not to write about, so this request definitely came in handy. So thank you.

content: actor!drew x journalist!reader, reader is kinda awkward, drew being a sweetheart as usual, reader is in her mid 20’s, stangers to lovers kinda trope

The crowd buzzed with excitement as you stood near the edge of the red carpet, clutching your microphone and a notepad filled with carefully prepared questions. The premiere of Outer Banks Season 4 was a major event, and the energy was incredibly high.

The cast was expected to arrive any minute, and you felt your nerves getting the best of you at the thought of meeting Drew Starkey. Your Drew Starkey. Well, not exactly yours, but you'd been a fan for years, and he'd long since occupied a special place in your heart as your celebrity crush.

Taking a deep breath, you repeated your questions silently, hoping it would calm you. But just as you started to relax, you spotted him. Drew Starkey, looking effortlessly handsome and radiating that natural charm that seemed to captivate everyone around him. He was posing for photographers, his smile warm and his energy unmatched.

He felt good—excited, proud, and ready to talk about the new season. But he was also looking forward to something else tonight: connecting with people who genuinely loved the show. Sometimes, he missed that raw, unscripted connection during events like this.

'Come on, y/n. You can do this',

you reminded yourself. You usually felt so confident in these situations, but Drew seemed to have a unique effect on you, making you feel like a nervous wreck. Your cheeks were already heating up, and your heart beat faster as you raised a hand and gave him a small wave once he was finished with photos.

Drew spotted you and smiled, giving a nod before making his way over. There was something different about you. Drew grinned to himself, charmed by your genuine energy. Your mind raced, and you frantically tried to remember your opening question, but it seemed to have vanished as soon as he was close enough to hear you.

"Uh, hi! Drew... Starkey..." you stammered, mentally kicking yourself as your cheeks flushed even redder. Drew had to hold back a chuckle as you stammered. "Sorry, I—I mean, obviously you're Drew. So, uh, how—how does it feel to, um, be here?"

A small smile played on Drew's lips as he tilted his head, clearly amused and a little charmed. "It feels pretty amazing," he answered gently, giving you his full attention. "I think you might be the first person to be nervous to talk to me tonight, though."

You felt yourself relax, if only a bit. He didn't seem to mind your awkwardness, and his laid-back attitude made it easier for you to laugh at yourself. "I don't usually get this flustered," you admitted, "but, uh, meeting your favorite actor is a little... intimidating."

Drew's eyebrows lifted slightly. Favorite actor? He felt a warmth spread through him, more flattered than he'd expected, his blue eyes sparkling with adoration. "Well, now you're just making me feel special," he teased gently, leaning just a touch closer. "But don't worry, I'm not here to judge. Actually, it's refreshing to meet someone who isn't just asking the same scripted questions."

You couldn't help but smile at his words. He was down-to-earth and easygoing, making you feel at ease despite your earlier awkwardness. It almost felt like you were old friends catching up rather than journalist and actor.

"Okay," you said, determined to pull it together. "So, if you could sum up Season 4 in just three words, what would they be?"

Drew thought for a moment, letting his mind go back to the season they'd just wrapped. "Adventurous, intense... and wild," he said, grinning. "I think the fans are going to love it."

You nodded, managing to regain some of your confidence. "Thank you, Drew. And just so you know, Outer Banks fans will always be here for every wild ride you give us."

The way you said it, with that sincerity, had him smiling from ear to ear. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, meeting your eyes. "It's good to know there are people who care about the story as much as we do."

As he moved on, Drew felt lighter, the encounter lingering in his thoughts. There was something refreshing about you—authentic, unpolished, and kind. It was exactly the kind of conversation that reminded him why he loved doing what he did.

While he walked further away from you, you couldn't help but replay the interview with Drew in your mind as you drifted through the rest of the event. You had been a little starstruck, sure, but he'd been so warm and kind that it had made you feel strangely comfortable, almost like you'd got to know each other for more than just a few brief minutes.

And just like you had trouble forgetting about your encounter, Drew couldn't shake the memory of you either—the way your cheeks flushed, the slight tremble in your voice. Drew couldn't quite explain it, but there was something that pulled him back toward you, something he hadn't felt with anyone in a long time.

When he stepped up onto the stage with the rest of the Outer Banks cast, ready for the Q&A session, his gaze instinctively drifted back into the crowd, scanning the audience. Then he found you, standing off to the side with your notepad tucked under your arm, looking just as captivated as before. You were listening attentively to the panel, your attention fully on the cast—Drew was as charismatic as ever, grinning and laughing alongside his colleagues.

But several times, you could have sworn he was looking directly at you, but you brushed it off, refusing to entertain the thought that he might actually be looking at you. He's just scanning the crowd, you thought. There's no way he'd be singling me out.

Yet, each glance felt so intentional, his gaze warm and lingering. Each time you looked his way, Drew caught himself holding your gaze just a little longer than he should, his eyes following you with a subtle, warm curiosity, until you had to look away before you got lost in his eyes again. Still, you convinced yourself that you were being silly. There was no reason that Drew Starkey was staring at you.

But Drew was. He could see the way you tried to hide your reactions, the way you would quickly look away whenever your eyes met, almost as if you were embarrassed by the attention. He thought it was adorable. The more he saw you, the more he knew he wanted to get to know you better.

His gaze followed you even as he answered the crowd's questions, and the small, knowing smile he wore didn't go unnoticed by his co stars, who exchanged teasing glances with each other. They could sense something different about Drew's mood tonight.

After the Q&A ended, Drew made his way through the post-panel mingling, still keeping an eye out for you while you hung back. A couple of times, he seemed to be moving in your direction, and your heart thudded loudly. But then, just as quickly, someone would pull him away for a quick photo or handshake. You shook your head, convincing yourself it was nothing, just your own wishful thinking.

Eventually, you decided to call it a night, making your way out of the bustling venue with a small, satisfied smile. Meeting Drew had been more than you'd expected, a little moment you'd treasure, even if he'd likely never think of you again.

When Drew finally broke away, he glanced back to where you'd been standing, but you were gone, and his heart sank a little. He hadn't even gotten your last name or which media outlet you were with. All he knew was your first name and that undeniable connection he'd felt.

Drew had plenty of interactions with fans and journalists over the years, but there was something about you that was different, something he wasn't ready to let go of so easily. There had to be a way to reach out to you again, and he was determined to find it.

He could already picture himself talking to his publicist, describing you—the journalist with the kind smile, the one who didn't ask the usual questions. He would find you, he decided. He wasn't about to let this connection slip through his fingers.

The morning after the premiere, you arrived at work feeling the usual post-event exhaustion. Meeting Drew had been the highlight of your night, and although you'd convinced yourself he was just being friendly, your mind kept replaying the way his eyes had seemed to find yours in the crowd. But now, back in the real world, it was just a fun memory you'd carry with you as you returned to your daily routine.

You set down your coffee, flipped open your laptop, and began your morning tasks: drafting a few responses, diving into some research for your next article and sorting through emails. The office was buzzing as usual, your coworkers catching up on coffee breaks and deadlines. Just another ordinary day—until your eyes caught an email with an unknown addressee.

The message was short and to the point:

Hi y/n,

Drew's Team had a couple of follow-up questions about last night's interview. Would you mind getting in touch with us? The number is below if it's easier for you to reach us directly.

Your heart skipped as you read the last line over and over, your eyes glued to the phone number listed at the bottom of the email. Your hands trembled slightly, your mind racing with possibilities. You felt a small jolt of anxiety—had you messed up somehow? You told yourself to stay calm, to stay professional—but something told you this was more than just a follow-up. You quickly picked up your phone, dialing the number as you took a sip of coffee to calm your nerves.

The line rang a couple of times before a familiar voice answered on the other end, smooth and unmistakably warm. "Hello? Y/n? This is Drew."

You choked, your coffee going down the wrong way as you coughed in shock, barely managing to keep your composure. Drew? You hadn't expected this at all.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" he asked, a gentle laugh in his voice that only made your face heat up more.

"Y-yes! I'm fine," you stammered, quickly setting your coffee aside as you tried to regain your composure. "Sorry, I just—didn't realize it would be you answering."

Drew chuckled, sounding completely at ease. "Sorry about the surprise. I wasn't sure how to reach out to you and if you'd even pick up if you knew it was me," he teased lightly. "I just wanted to follow up about our conversation last night. And, well...I'm still around today, so I hoped we could grab a coffee later?"

Your heart raced, unable to believe this was happening. You managed to swallow back your surprise and keep your voice steady, even as a smile tugged at your lips. "I... I'd like that," you replied softly, realizing this conversation could lead to more than you'd ever imagined.

#writers on tumblr #drew starkey x reader #drew x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey one shot #drew fluff #outer banks #obx4 #obx #journalist!reader #actor!drew

568 notes · View notes

lizzyiii · 1 month ago

Note

Can I make a request? Homelander falling for a reader who is completely unaware of it. Not because he's good at hiding it but because, they genuinely can't fathom the thought of someone being that intense with their feelings about THEM of all people👀 but their the only person who's genuinely kind to him.

I'm sooooo sorry this took so long

Love and Devotion

pairing | homelander x supe!reader

word count | 5.8k words

summary | homelander becomes increasingly obsessed with the new kind and unsuspecting supe, and fixates on her as his perfect match, believing she belongs to him. his possessiveness reaches new heights after discovering intimate details about her powers, pushing him to claim her as his own, regardless of her obliviousness to his feelings.

tags | canon homelander??? obsession, possessiveness, season 4 timeline, major fluff, tell me if you think it ooc homelander, lactating kink

a/n | first homelander fic, this was sooooo fun to write and yes I did rewatch season 4 for this

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You were perfect from the moment he laid eyes on you.

"Her?"

Homelander’s voice dripped with disdain as he watched Firecracker spewing her rant about family values and patriotism, all while waving her hands around. She reminded him of a third-rate talk show host. He grimaced, turning to Sage.

"Yeah," Sage responded, standing at his side.

"Really?" he sneered, barely able to mask his disgust.

"Mhm," Sage hummed in affirmation.

"Seems like she fell off her Jet Ski one too many times," Homelander muttered, his lip curling.

Sage, unbothered by his sarcasm, simply shook her head. "No, now that Starlight’s back leading the Starlighters, we need someone like her."

Homelander raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Mm. And that’s gonna shut them up?" He knew exactly what "them" meant: the endless critics, social media commentators, all the noise that clawed at his mind.

"No," Sage replied, her voice low and cryptic. "She’s going to make them louder."

He shot her a look. "You gonna trust me or not?" she added before he could question it further.

Rolling his eyes, he turned his gaze elsewhere. He was growing tired of these briefings, the endless parade of new supes Vought was parading through. But then, his eyes landed on you.

You were surrounded by a group of eager reporters, microphones pushed into your face. Unlike Firecracker, who couldn't stop her loud, brash performance, you were different. You weren't reciting hollow slogans or pandering to anyone. You stood there with an almost serene composure, answering each question softly, with a gentle smile. There was something…sincere in the way you spoke, like you actually cared about the answers, not just the headlines they’d create.

"And what about her?" Homelander murmured, his gaze locked on you as if he were seeing something unexpected for the first time.

"The Pink Dahlia," Sage said, repeating your supe name as though it was obvious. "She’s going to be the new Starlight."

Homelander frowned, feeling a flicker of confusion. The new Starlight? That seemed impossible. No one could ever replace that bitch's popularity, her…adoring fanbase. But Sage seemed to sense his thoughts, elaborating with an almost bored tone.

"The only reason Starlight is liked is because of her sincerity. Her kindness," Sage explained, nodding towards you. "Pink Dahlia is going to be America’s next sweetheart supe."

Homelander hummed, though his mind was elsewhere, distracted by the sight of you. Sage was talking, but he was no longer listening. Instead, he watched as the cameras captured your every move. For a moment, you glanced in his direction. Not out of fear or awe, but with that same quiet softness you gave to everyone. It unnerved him how unaffected you seemed by his presence, by who he was.

He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.

Sage dragged him into yet another pointless debate, but his attention was only half there. He knew she’d eventually let it go once she realized his disinterest, and sure enough, she did. He was quick to pass her along to the vultures—photographers desperate to get the next "supe girl" in their lenses.

As Homelander turned, his gaze landed on Ryan, sulking in one of the chairs at the back of the room. Frustration boiled inside him. He couldn’t stand seeing his son like that, so withdrawn, when the whole world was theirs.

But then, his brow furrowed. You had walked over, leaving the cameras behind. Quietly, you sat beside Ryan, the two of you almost invisible in the flurry of the room. He watched as you offered your hand to Ryan, a gentle smile on your face. His son, who had been lost in his own thoughts, blinked in surprise before hesitantly shaking your hand.

For the first time in hours, Homelander saw the tension leave Ryan’s shoulders. His usual sulk was replaced with something lighter. He listened to whatever you were saying, nodding slowly. Homelanders listened carefully to your sweet words, and watched how they were clearly having an effect on Ryan.

Interesting.

Homelander had too many fucking things going on for his mind to keep circling back to you. It irritated him, gnawed at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

First, the rage that boiled up every time he saw those goddamn Starlighter protests. He could hardly walk outside without hearing people chant for Starlight’s bullshit message, waving their signs, spewing their anti-Homelander garbage. It infuriated him. Then there was the constant frustration in dealing with Neuman. She was slippery, always too clever, too calm, and it made every negotiation with her feel like wading through quicksand.

But every time his temper cooled, his thoughts went back to you. You. That sweet, unassuming smile that you flashed so casually, like it wasn’t the most perfect thing he’d ever seen. And then there was your body—tight and perfect in that small pink and green suit, looking like you belonged on a magazine cover instead of here, in this hellhole with people like him.

It made him furious.

How could he let himself be distracted by you, when everything else around him was crumbling? He was supposed to be in control, but instead, he was falling apart. First he let that fucking loser Hughie get away. Then, Ryan—his own son—had the nerve to run off to see Butcher after everything Homelander had given him. After all the time and care he’d put into Ryan, after showing him the world, how was he still not good enough?

It made him sick.

And then... and then there was the other thing. His reflection. The part of him that never shut up, that always knew where to strike. His other self had looked at him and sneered. Told him he was weak, that he was a joke. That no matter how much power he had, no matter how feared he was, he was still nothing.

And maybe it was right. Maybe he was losing it.

So he decided to visit home. The lab. Where they had made him. Where he had been molded into the strongest supe to ever walk the earth. He’d slaughtered every single one of the scientists who had "raised" him. He stood in the sterile halls, the faint hum of the machines still active around him. The silence made him feel grounded, like this was the only place in the world where he could truly be himself.

But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

Not when the image of you—your smile, your soft gaze, your kindness—kept seeping into his mind. You were a weakness he couldn’t afford. And that filled him with even more rage.

And yet the moment he saw your face, all that rage he had been holding onto evaporated like steam. The blood, the anger, the frustration—it all seemed distant as he took in the worried expression on your face.

He had strolled back into Vought Tower like nothing was wrong, though his suit was still soaked in the blood and viscera of the scientists he’d butchered in the lab. It didn’t matter—he was Homelander, after all. No one would dare question him. But fate must have been laughing at him because, of all people, he ran straight into you.

You froze when you saw him, your eyes widening in pure shock at the sight of him covered in carnage. Anyone else would have been horrified, would have run or screamed, but not you. Instead, your lips parted and, with that same quiet softness he had come to expect, you said, “Would you like some help?”

Homelander just stared, his mind slowing to a crawl as the words sank in. He was a god, covered in the blood of men, and here you were, offering help. Something inside him shifted in that moment. He nodded, feeling strangely empty and vulnerable, like a child waiting for instructions. In the back of his mind, he realized this was the first time you had actually spoken to him directly.

His chest tightened as you stepped closer, your eyes flicking up to his with cautious concern. You reached out and gently placed your pink-gloved hand into his red, blood-stained one. Homelander nearly closed his eyes, focusing intently on the warmth of your touch. That warmth—it spread through him, melting away the sharp edges of his anger. No one touched him like that, without fear or calculation.

You led him silently into the elevator, your hand still in his, guiding him like he was something fragile. He couldn't help but glance down at your hand in his, his mind spinning as he tried to commit the sensation to memory. The touch wasn’t just physical—it felt like a lifeline, something pulling him out of the darkness he had been sinking into.

As the elevator doors slid shut, the quiet hum of the building surrounded them, and Homelander found himself focusing solely on you. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t recoil. You just held his hand, gently, as if leading him somewhere safe. He didn’t feel like a monster in that moment, not in your presence.

The elevator dinged softly, and you led him down the hall to your floor. The sight was unlike anything in Vought Tower—lush greenery, vibrant pinks and soft petals blooming everywhere. It felt alive, warm. This was your power after all, to bend nature to your will. And it was a reflection of you, full of life, soft but powerful. He was surprised it was even still Vought Tower.

He hadn’t expected you to bring him here. You could’ve taken him to his own floor, left him in one of the pristine, sterile bathrooms of his suite. But no—you’d brought him to your space, a sanctuary. It was so unlike the cold, artificial world of Vought. And so much like you.

Slowly, you guided him to the bathroom. The plants trailed along the walls, the air fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers. You looked up at him, blinking those wide, soft eyes of yours. A single word entered his mind: Fawn. You looked like a fawn, delicate and innocent, standing before something dangerous without any idea of what it could do to you.

“Do you want me to leave?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, unable to find the words to speak. Still entranced by you, he wondered how you could be so kind, so gentle, to someone like him. Anyone else would have left him to clean himself up in cold silence, but you…you stayed.

You nodded quietly, as if you understood, then turned to the bath, filling it with warm water. He watched you bite your lip in thought, and all he could think about was biting your lip himself. His gaze lingered on your mouth, and for a split second, he imagined pulling you close, feeling that softness against his own. But instead, he remained silent, his breath heavy as you carefully and gently began to undress him.

He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him with such care. You didn’t fumble or stare, didn’t sneak a lustful glance as you removed his suit piece by piece. You were entirely respectful, your touch light, focused on the task. And when you led him to sink into the bath, your hands still guiding him, he realized that you weren’t treating him like Homelander. You weren’t treating him like a god. You were treating him like…a person.

The warm water surrounded him, washing away the blood and grime. But what made him feel truly clean was your touch. You knelt by the tub, peeling off your pink gloves, and began washing him with your bare hands. He could feel your skin against his, the warmth of your palms gliding over his body.

He had to fight to keep from shivering. The sensation of your skin on his—bare and vulnerable—sent a wave of euphoria through him. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt. This wasn’t lust. This was something deeper, something far more dangerous. He was intoxicated by you, not because of what you were doing, but because of who you were. The softness, the care, the genuine kindness…it was all so foreign to him.

And as you worked in silence, cleaning away the blood, he realized with a start that he never wanted this feeling to end.

Homelander couldn’t take his eyes off you as you washed him. Every gentle stroke of your hands sent a ripple of pleasure through him, and though his eyes begged to close, he refused. He needed to see you. To watch you, to take in every movement, every touch. Your fingers slid through his hair, and for a moment, he almost gave in—almost let his eyes flutter shut and just melt into the sensation. But his gaze stayed locked on you, intense and unyielding.

You could feel his stare, that much was clear, yet you didn’t say a word. You just kept working, silent and serene. And it started to bother him, gnawing at him. How could you be so quiet, so unaffected by his presence? He needed to hear your voice again. He craved it, like a drug, something to soothe the irritation building inside him.

“Talk to me,” he said, the words slipping out in a petulant tone he hadn’t meant to use. But he didn’t care. He wanted your attention, your words, your everything.

Your eyes met his, wide and curious, like you were studying him, trying to figure him out. You tilted your head, and once again, the thought struck him—fawn. That was what you reminded him of. A fawn, delicate and gentle, standing before a predator without realizing the danger.

You pursed your lips, thinking carefully about what to say, and for just a second, Homelander finally closed his eyes. He wanted to focus solely on your voice. Nothing else mattered. Just you.

“I named myself Pink Dahlia because my favorite color is pink,” you began, your sweet voice filling the room like music, “and dahlias symbolize love and devotion.”

His eyes snapped open.

Love and devotion. The words echoed in his mind like a gunshot, shattering every other thought. You kept talking, explaining something about flower meanings and other potential supe names you’d considered, but Homelander didn’t give a fuck about that. None of that mattered. All he could focus on was love and devotion.

It was a sign. It had to be. You were made for him. There was no other explanation. How could it be a coincidence that the one person who treated him with kindness, who looked at him without fear, had chosen a name that embodied exactly what he wanted from you? Exactly what he needed. Love and devotion.

His chest tightened with the realization, his mind spinning with the possibilities. You would love him. You would be devoted to him completely. It was inevitable. Fate had brought you into his life for a reason.

As you continued to speak, your voice soft and calming, he stared at you, consumed by the thought of it—how perfect it would be. You, by his side, loyal and loving, filling the void that no one else could. The world would bow before him, but you…you would worship him in the way he craved, in a way no one ever had.

You were starting to seriously piss him off. The way you acted, pretending like nothing had happened between you, like the connection between you wasn’t so strong it practically vibrated in the air. You carried on as if the two of you didn’t share something deeper, something unspoken but undeniable. It was infuriating.

Then again, if you had acknowledged it—if you’d brought it up and confronted him about it—he probably would’ve blown a fucking gasket. His control was fragile enough as it was.

But trying to talk to you? That was a whole other level of frustration. Every time you looked up at him with those soft, gentle eyes, and gave him that sweet, unassuming smile, all the words in his head vanished. Just gone. Like you had some kind of power over him that even he didn’t understand.

So, he did the only thing he could think of to get you closer—he forced The Deep to move, ordering him to sit somewhere else, so that you could sit right next to him. He wasn’t subtle about it, either. He didn’t care if anyone noticed. As long as you were close, that was all that mattered.

Then came the Vought V52 Expo, and Homelander could feel the agitation building inside him. He needed to talk to you, to make you see what was right in front of you, but the timing was never right. On the bright side, things were going well with Ryan. He was bonding with his son, teaching him to stand up for himself, to say no when he needed to. It felt…good, like he was finally getting through to him.

But by the time they got to the V52 Expo, the agitation had grown into something much sharper. His eyes tracked you across the stage, watching as you announced your new environmental awareness project—the Dahlia Project. Fans were cheering for you, screaming your name, and you looked so damn perfect up there.

You were smiling, waving to the crowd, talking passionately about your cause, and the noise of the crowd was deafening. But all Homelander could think about was how you hadn’t even looked at him once. Not a glance. Not a dedication. Nothing.

He watched you with cold, calculated eyes, trying to keep the growing frustration in check. You were good at this, at drawing people in, making them adore you. But how could you not see that you already had him? That no one else in the crowd mattered compared to him?

And as the fans continued to cheer, his grip tightened around the milkshake he’d bought for you. He needed to speak to you. To make you understand. And the longer you went on, the more he realized—this wasn’t just about getting closer to you anymore. It was about making sure you knew that you belonged to him.

Homelander was standing with Ryan, guiding him through yet another lesson in asserting control. Ryan had been eager to "help" people, to really understand what that meant. So, when Homelander saw an opportunity, he called over Adam—the Vought employee who had been making his assistant visibly uncomfortable with inappropriate advances.

Ryan’s eyes narrowed skeptically, his young face twisting in uncertainty as he looked at the assistant. “Um… is he making you uncomfortable? You can tell me. You won’t get in trouble.”

The assistant bit her lip nervously before nodding, her voice hesitant but honest. “Kind of… yeah.”

Homelander raised an eyebrow, turning his attention to Ryan. “Ryan, what do you think we should do about that?”

Ryan hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He still hadn’t fully grasped the power he held, and Homelander could sense his uncertainty, the hesitation that made his own patience wear thin. With a sigh, he glanced away—only for his eyes to land on you, walking past with that usual air of calm about you.

“Dahlia,” he called, his voice a little sharper than he intended. “Come over here.”

You looked up at him, eyebrows raised in that sweet, expectant way that only made him more agitated, and walked over without hesitation, your eyes scanning the scene as you assessed the situation.

“What’s up?” you asked simply.

Homelander smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and gestured to Adam. “Adam here has been making some inappropriate advances toward his assistant. What do you have to say about that?”

Even Ryan turned to you, waiting for your response. Homelander watched you closely, studying the way you furrowed your brows in genuine concern as you looked at Adam.

“I think,” you said carefully, “that there’s no excuse for making someone else uncomfortable. And it’s even worse when you know you’re doing it.”

Homelander’s smile widened at your answer. It was perfect—clear, direct, and moral, just like he expected from you. There was a subtle pride in the way you spoke, and it fed into his own sense of approval. You were playing right into his hands without even realizing it.

Your words seemed to be the push Ryan needed, as he turned to Adam, his voice gaining confidence. “Apologize,” Ryan commanded, the hint of authority in his tone surprising even himself. When Adam hesitated, Ryan’s jaw tightened. “Now.”

Adam stated an obviously insincere apology, and Ryan, growing bolder by the second, looked at the assistant. “I want you to slap him.”

Homelander’s gaze snapped to you, watching intently for your reaction. You didn’t flinch. Instead, you seemed to consider the situation with a quiet thoughtfulness, your expression showing no sign of discomfort. You didn’t object or look shocked—in fact, there was a hint of agreement in the way you nodded lightly. You understood the need to make a point, to assert control.

Homelander couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. Not just in Ryan, but in you. The way you navigated the situation with clarity, how you stood by his side and reinforced his lessons without even realizing it—it only confirmed what he already knew.

You belonged with him.

The moment his resolve truly snapped was at Tek Knight’s party. Everything had already spiraled out of control. A-Train and Firecracker were nowhere to be found, MIA at a critical time. And when it was time for the big speech to the GOP donors, Sage was acting as if she’d had a fucking lobotomy, leaving Homelander to take over.

The minute he started speaking, they questioned him. Him. They criticized him as if he wasn’t the most powerful man in the room, as if he wasn’t Homelander. His hand twitched, and he was one second away from lasering through every single one of those smug, entitled bastards. But then Neuman stepped in, pulling the conversation back on track and rallying the support he was seconds from obliterating.

He stalked away, seething. And that’s when he saw it—him—one of the donor’s sons talking to you. But it wasn’t just talking. He recognized the look in that guy’s eyes, the casual leaning in, the way his hand brushed against your arm like it was nothing.

Homelander’s chest tightened with a slow, burning jealousy, the kind that clawed at him from the inside. His grip on the glass tightened, but for the moment, he held himself in check. Barely. When that loser touched your arm, though, that’s when it snapped. His entire facade shattered.

In his mind, that small touch was a violation. You belonged to him. Whether you knew it yet or not, it was already decided. And this idiot was crossing a line no one should ever have the nerve to approach.

His reaction started subtly—at first. His smile stiffened, his eyes narrowed with an icy focus. He moved toward you with the kind of charm that made people believe he was still in control, but inside, he was already a storm waiting to break.

Homelander slid smoothly between you and the man, a calculated smile plastered on his friendly. “Everything alright here?” His voice was polite, but there was an edge, a tension simmering just beneath the surface.

You blinked up at him, surprised but unsuspecting, nodding lightly. “Yeah, of course. This is Jason Wilson, the District Attorney’s son. We’re just talking.”

Just talking. Homelander’s smile grew tighter. Logically, he knew that. But logic had no place here. The jealousy gnawed at him, irrational, violent, and all-consuming. Without hesitation, he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer in a way that left no room for doubt. “We wouldn’t want things to get inappropriate, now would we?”

Jason froze, his eyes widening slightly, clearly unnerved by the sudden shift. Homelander’s stare bore into him, a silent warning not to take another step, not to even breathe in your direction. Jason stammered an awkward excuse and quickly retreated, leaving you and Homelander alone.

You frowned up at him, clearly confused by the sudden shift in his mood. “What was that about?”

Homelander didn’t answer right away. Instead, his grip on your waist tightened, enough that you’d feel the strength behind it—enough that you couldn’t pull away easily. He quietly steered you toward a more secluded corner of the room, away from prying eyes. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone, his lips close to your ear. “You shouldn’t let people touch you like that,” he said, barely keeping his rage in check. “Not when you’re with me.”

You blinked, utterly confused, your brows knitting together in that way he both adored and despised. “I don’t understand. I’m not… with you.”

His jaw clenched. The words stung, hitting him harder than any physical blow could. You didn’t understand yet. You didn’t see what he saw, didn’t feel what he felt. But you would. You had to.

Homelander let out a hollow chuckle, raising his hands in mock surrender. “You don’t understand. It’s fine, I’ll forgive you for that.” His tone dripped with condescension as if he were talking to a child. He then pointed between the two of you, his expression hardening. “You and me—we belong together. Which makes you mine.”

You stared at him, completely lost, your mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. The confusion in your eyes only seemed to amuse him further. You were so oblivious, so innocent, and it both frustrated and thrilled him. Finally, you managed to speak, your voice soft and uncertain. “I thought you were interested in Firecracker.”

Homelander’s face scrunched up in pure disgust, his lip curling as if you had just said something vile. “What? No. Ew. No.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, looking around as if there were hidden cameras capturing this bizarre moment, half-expecting this to be some kind of elaborate joke. “Oh.”

Then you turned back to him, your wide eyes filled with genuine surprise, lips pouting slightly as you asked, “You… like me?”

The way you said it—so innocent, so utterly unaware—made his chest tighten. Like wasn’t even close to what he felt for you. He needed you. You were everything he’d been waiting for, the one pure thing in a world full of filth and betrayal. But the fact that you couldn’t even comprehend why someone like him would be interested in you… It only made his obsession stronger.

He smiled, soft and almost tender, his previous irritation and jealousy melting away in the face of your cluelessness. “Like doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he murmured, his voice lower now, dripping with an intensity that sent a shiver through the air. He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours with an unsettling focus. “You’re perfect. You’re everything.”

He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture intimate but laced with possessiveness. “You just don’t see it yet. But you will.”

You blinked up at him, still dazed, still confused, your mind struggling to process what was happening. But in his mind, it was already decided. You were his—had been from the moment he laid eyes on you. And soon enough, you’d understand that too.

Homelander cupped your face as though you were the most delicate thing in existence, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone capable of such monstrous strength. His heart raced as he leaned in, finally close enough to taste the softness of your lips—something he’d craved for what felt like an eternity. He could already imagine how perfect you’d feel, how right it would be.

But before his lips could meet yours, your hand quickly covered his mouth. "Wait," you said, eyes wide with sudden embarrassment.

His eyes snapped open, irritation flashing in them, his impatience barely concealed. "What?" he grunted, his voice muffled by your hand.

You hesitated, biting your lip nervously, avoiding his intense gaze as you finally explained, “My lips… they’re poisonous.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, and you removed your hand, looking even more embarrassed. “They contain a toxin,” you said softly, as if confessing a dark secret. “It gives anyone who kisses me a high, raises their heart rate until they get a heart attack… and die.”

A heavy silence followed as you waited for his reaction, expecting rejection or disgust. But Homelander’s eyes gleamed with something entirely different. Instead of pulling away, he just shrugged as if the danger you posed was trivial to him. "Fuck it," he muttered with a smirk, his hands tightening around your cheeks.

Before you could protest again, he pulled you into a kiss, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that bordered on madness.

The moment your lips met, Homelander let out a low, primal groan of pleasure. The sensation of your mouth against his was everything he’d imagined—and more. He could feel the toxin you had warned him about seeping into his bloodstream, but instead of fear, it only fueled the euphoria rushing through him. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, deepening the kiss, his desire consuming every rational thought.

The high from your poison made him feel invincible, like every dark, twisted part of him was being set free. The world outside—its chaos, its disappointments, its endless betrayals—faded into nothing. All that mattered was you. He felt light, weightless, as though he could fly to the edge of the universe with you in his arms.

And as the toxin worked its way through his system, the sensation of bliss became all-consuming. He didn’t just want to kiss you—he wanted to devour you, to possess you completely, body and soul. Every kiss, every taste of you, made the thought of losing you unbearable.

He deepened the kiss, his grip on your face tightening, every muscle in his body screaming with pleasure. He didn’t care about the risk, didn’t care that you could kill him. In that moment, he belonged to you, utterly and completely, and he’d die a thousand deaths for this feeling. The darkness inside him surged, but for once, it didn’t feel like a curse. With you, it felt like freedom.

Homelander had never been high in his entire existence, but if this was what it felt like—well, it was fucking spectacular. Every nerve in his body buzzed with euphoria, his muscles relaxed in a way that felt almost foreign to him, and everything around him suddenly seemed amusing, even absurd. He laughed—really laughed—as he flew the two of you back to Vought Tower, the wind whipping through his hair as if the world itself couldn’t touch him.

When he landed on your balcony, a wide grin stretched across his face, a rare glint of pure joy in his eyes. You looked up at him, bemused, as he stumbled slightly, his usually poised demeanor replaced with a boyish charm. He couldn’t stop smiling. “How long does this last?” he asked, his voice light with the toxin’s effects.

You chuckled softly as you led him inside, your touch warm and steady while his hands wandered over you, unable to keep still. “Max? Maybe two hours before the average human dies,” you murmured with a teasing smile.

He let out a breathless laugh, his hand still brushing against your waist, intoxicated not just by the toxin but by you. “How many people have you done this to?” he asked, voice low as he buried his nose in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. It was almost possessive, his need to absorb every part of you.

You leaned back slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “Two… high school boyfriends.”

Homelander’s hands slid over your body, but then something caught his eye—a small jar on the kitchen island. His gaze sharpened instantly, curiosity piqued. “What’s that?” he asked, tone suddenly playful but underlined with a dangerous edge as his fingers drifted toward the jar.

He could feel the tension in your body before he even turned to face you fully, sensing the shift in the air. His smile twisted into something more predatory as he turned to you, eyes glinting with amusement and a hint of menace. “Look here,” he started, his voice low and smooth, “since we’re now officially together—”

“Officially?” you murmured, your eyes slightly hazy from his intoxicating presence, a dreamy smile playing on your lips.

He scrunched his nose in a mock expression of annoyance. “Yeah, officially. And there’s one thing you should know about me—I hate secrets. Can’t fucking stand 'em.”

You flushed, your face heating with embarrassment as you shifted on your feet, clearly reluctant to answer. “It’s… nipple cream,” you mumbled.

Homelander raised an eyebrow, his expression uncharacteristically patient, though the intensity in his eyes never wavered. “I can see that,” he said, his voice slow, almost mocking. He leaned closer, a smirk tugging at his lips. “But why do you need it?”

You hesitated, then looked away shyly before finally answering, “I lactate.”

For the first time in a long time, pure shock crossed Homelander’s face. His smile faded, replaced by an unreadable expression as your words sank in. Lactate? He couldn’t process it at first, the information almost short-circuiting his mind. “What?” he asked, his voice lower now, the question almost a growl.

You swallowed, explaining softly, “Just like how some plants and fruits produce milk… ever since I got my first cycle, I’ve been producing milk too.”

Homelander’s throat went dry, his eyes dropping instinctively to your breasts as his thoughts spun wildly. “Only during your cycle?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

“No,” you admitted, your voice softer still. “Every single day since I got my cycle.”

A long pause hung in the air between you, the weight of your revelation settling in. Homelander’s heart pounded, and for a moment, the effects of the toxin couldn’t compare to the sheer awe and hunger he felt. His gaze drifted back up to meet yours, and something primal flickered in his eyes.

“Oh,” he murmured, a slow smile creeping back onto his face, but this time, it wasn’t just euphoria driving it. No, this—this was something deeper.

Somehow, impossibly, you had just become even more perfect in his eyes.

Reader's Aesthetic

(only her supe name is Pink Dahlia)

Hope you enjoyed!

#homelander x reader #homelander #the boys #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #antony starr #the boys x reader #homelander fanfiction

491 notes · View notes

heartz4shauna · 6 months ago

Text

everything good happens after midnight ᯓᡣ𐭩

pairing: art donaldson x popstar!reader

warnings: divorced art, mentions of a failed marriage, lily lowkey being cupid, alcohol use, small timeskips, set in 2019, minor swearing, small age gap (r is 24, art is 31), forced proximity?, tension, making out, slight height difference (not specified), written kinda weird i dunno how to explain it, unironic use of the word ‘girlboss’, not proofread

word count: 4.3k

a/n: be a freak in the club !!! ty chappell roan for the inspo xxx also please don’t flame me for this guys. i’ve never written a full fic for a man b4, had to google some words, had to pull out my pinterest board titled ‘writing stuff’ for this one, my longest fic ever!!! let’s clap xx

disclaimer: i am a minor, if what i write makes you uncomfortable knowing that i’m a minor dni!!! don’t complain to me because i can do what i want okay thank you bye x

The time on your phone read 8:27P.M. You sat backstage, fixing up your makeup and warming up your voice for the show you were about to start. All you could hear from the crowd behind the curtain was screams and chatter.

Your manager came up to you at your vanity, he cleared his throat before he spoke, “On in two minutes.” You looked back at him and gave him a nod as you stood up, flattening your short leather skirt and most beautifully designed corset.

Your manager came back to you, microphone in hand and gave it to you, “You got it, you’ll be great.” He gave you a wink and you nodded, walking onto the stage.

As you stepped out onto the stage you put on your persona, that bubbly, energetic singer that all of your fans knew and loved. You waved to the huge crowd of people and spoke into the microphone loudly, “How are we doing tonight?!”

All around you, you heard cheers and screams which made you smile. You waited a minute for the cheers to die down before you spoke again, “y’know, that’s real good to hear. It’s my first show here, did you know that?” you asked the crowd. You heard replies of “no!” and “really?!” You nodded, a cheeky grin on your face, “I know, I know. But, that’s a good thing. I’ve got a real special show prepared for y’all tonight,” you announced to the crowd, pacing around the stage slowly.

Cheers instantly filled your ears, fans excited to see what you had to show them. One fan in particular, a tall man with blonde hair caught your eye. He was smiling down at someone shorter, maybe his daughter, and pointed at the stage, telling her what was happening. You nodded to yourself, “alright! Well, I can tell you all we’re gonna start with a banger. Not that I’m biased or anything..” you mumbled into the microphone which caused the venue to erupt in laughter. As your band was already on stage, the instrumental to a popular song of yours began playing and you smiled, “I hope y’all know this one. I’d be embarrassed if you didn’t,” you winked just before you counted yourself into the song.

2 HOURS LATER

“You guys were such an amazing crowd, I’m so glad this was my first show here! Y’all really didn’t hold back on that last song,” you chuckled as you spoke to the crowd. You reached for your bottle of water and sipped from it, rubbing your neck, “hey! I may or may not be doing merch signing at the back exit..” you whispered into the microphone, wiggling your eyebrows, “be there!” Now, that wasn’t entirely true. Sure, you wanted to do a signing after your show but was it planned? No.. But, in your defence you wanted to see if that blonde guy would come to the back, exchange numbers maybe… Huh? Who are you kidding, he probably has a wife! Who’s also probably waiting for them at home, it is pretty late. You checked your watch; 10:38P.M. Probably way past their daughters bed time, too. Gosh.

You waved goodbye to the crowd, blowing kisses. As soon as you got backstage you tried to find your manager. Where was he? Right. Where he always is, the bar backstage. Better not talk to him while he was drunk, so you told your assistant manger instead. Sweet girl, unfortunate she’s a lower rank than that asshole of a man. “Hey, love. Um, I know we have to get going back to the hotel soon, but I told the crowd I was signing stuff at the back exit. Can you cover for me if Sam asks?”

Your assistant manager nodded, writing what you said down on her clipboard, “got it. Why can’t you talk to him yourself, though? Just wondering, it’s not an attack on you,” she asked with a chuckle. You sighed, looking down at your feet, “He’s in the bar. He’s probably drunk. I don’t wanna have to deal with him right now.” Your assistant manager nodded, clapping you on the back, “not a problem. I’ll go talk to him,” and with that, she left you. All you had to do now was say hi to a few people, sign some things and be on your way.

You made your way to the back exit of the venue, weaving in and out through wires and auxiliaries. Pushing the fire exit open, you were met with tens of smiling faces, pens at the ready. Oh, alright. Tonight’s gonna be a long night. Squeals could probably be heard from states away as you made eye contact with a few fans. “Oh, my God! Can you sign this for me please?!” Pens and paper were pushed into your face, barely getting any room to breathe. A security guard would be nice right about now, you thought.

You took a deep breath before you spoke, almost shouting, “sorry, if you would like me to sign something or take a photo, please be patient. There’s a lot of y’all, and one of me. Imma take my time with all of y’all, make it special. Is that alright?”

You were met with nods and replies of “yes!”, “sorry!” and “alright!” You sighed in relief, “Okay, good. If you want, you can form a line.” Fans struggled against each other, pushing and shoving to be first in line. Surprisingly, a small teenage girl made it first in line, despite the shoving. You smiled brightly at her, making casual conversation, “hi, what’s your name?” She replied in a whisper, “it’s Julianne.” You nodded, humming, “that’s a beautiful name. Do you want to take a photo or do you want me to sign something for you?” Julianne nodded, her hands quickly going to her pockets for her phone. “Can we take a picture?” she asked kindly and you replied, “of course we can, sweetie,” with a chuckle.

She opened up the camera app and readied herself for the photo, posing casually. You followed her lead, a peace sign on your fingers as you winked at the camera. As soon as the picture was taken she quickly turned back to you, hugging you. “Oh!” you almost yelped, obviously not expecting the sudden embrace, but hugged her back anyway. “It was great to meet you,” you whispered to her before she waved goodbye and left.

45 MINUTES LATER

After making your way through almost every fan, you were left standing with two people. A little girl and her father, the tall blonde man who had caught your eye. You smiled at the pair, “last two, huh?” you chuckled. “Anything to sign?” The man nodded, “she’s a little shy,” he gestured to his daughter, “she’s always talking about you at home,” he added with a chuckle. “Anyway, could you sign this?” he asked, grabbing what looked like a CD case out of a backpack slung over his daughters shoulder. He handed you the case, “don’t ask.”

You looked down at the case in your hands and your eyes brightened, “Spiderverse? I like that movie too,” you said to the little girl. You pulled out the Sharpie from your hair, conveniently hidden away, and pressed it to the case. Fuck. It’s wasted. Your face dropped in embarrassment, “I’m so sorry,” you chuckled lightheartedly, “my pen’s wasted. Have either of y’all got one?”

The man sighed heavily, “I’ve got one in the car. I’ll go get it, I’ll be right back, sweetie,” he told his daughter before he jogged away to his car. You looked down at the girl, “what’s your name?” you asked curiously, she looked up at you, her big brown eyes shining, “Lily.” You nodded, “that’s a beautiful name, Lily. What about your dad, do you know his name?” Lily nodded, “mhm. His name is Art.” You chuckled, not expecting such a name. “Wow, cool name, huh?”

Art returned, pen in his hand. “Here you go,” he smiled, handing the pen to you. You took it, popped off the cap and quickly signed the case. Lily took the case from your hands, a great big smile on her face, “thank you!” Art smiled down at her, and then at you, “thank you so much,” he said, taking the pen from you. “Hey, just out of curiosity, what hotel are you staying at tonight?” Art asked you, taking his daughter’s hand in his, “we could give you a ride. If we’re lucky enough, we might be staying in the same place.” You thought to yourself, do I let this hot man I don’t know bring me back to my hotel, leaving my team completely unaware as to where I am or do I decline and leave with my team? Tricky question.. You shrugged, “I’m staying at the Black Bird Plaza, do you know it?” Arts face lit up and he chuckled, “yeah, I do. We’re staying there as well.”

Your eyes widened slightly, “oh, wow. Y’all are lucky, huh?” Art nodded, a smirk on his face, “do you wanna get a drink at the bar?” Never one to say no to a drink, you nodded. “Great! Guess I’ll be your chauffeur for tonight,” he added.

“C’mon,” he said finally as he began walking to his car and you followed. “Are y’all from around here? I assume not.” Art shook his head, “no, we’re not from here. A few states over. Lily saw you weren’t coming to our city, so we traveled.” You chuckled, respecting the dedication, “big fan.” “You have no idea,” he replied.

Art unlocked his car and opened the door for you, “thank you,” you smiled, sitting in the passenger seat. Buckling yourself in, he helped Lily into the back, “do you need help putting on your seatbelt or are you good?” Lily declined, buckling her own seatbelt like the girlboss that she is. Art nodded, and got into the drivers seat.

10 MINUTES LATER

Art parked his car in the hotel parking lot and helped both you and Lily out of the car. You checked your watch, 11:25 P.M. You turned to Art as you all entered the lobby, “wouldn’t the bar be closed by now?” you asked. He shook his head, pressing the button for the elevator, “don’t worry about it. I’m liked around here.” You laughed at his certainty, “alright then.” The three of you entered the elevator as the doors opened, “Lily, we’re gonna sit at the bar for.. maybe an hour, okay? I’ll turn on the T.V. for you, just don’t leave the room and don’t open the door for anyone, got it?”

Lily nodded, “mhm. Can I have a snack from the mini fridge?” Art looked at you and you both chuckled, “of course you can, sweetie,” he told Lily. He pulled his room key out of his pocket when the elevator doors opened. Two young ladies were standing, waiting for the elevator and saw you. Their faces instantly lit up, “Oh. My. God!” one of the girls chuckled out, “can we get a picture?” You nodded, selling out of the elevator, “of course!” Art and Lily followed, he nudged you, “gonna go to the room. We’re in room 276.” You nodded, and just as he was going to leave one of the girls spoke tremulously, “wait! You, too. You’re my dad’s favourite tennis player, he’d be so stoked to know I met him.”

Your eyebrows creased together as you looked back at him, “tennis player?” He shrugged, an awkward smile on his face, “yeeeah?” He walked back over to you and the girls, leaving Lily to fend for herself and smiled for the pictures. The girls giddily spoke to each other after the pictures, “this has to go onto my Instagram. My actual popstar idol and a super hot tennis player? I’ll literally go viral.” You and Art shared a glance and knowingly smiled at each other.

The girls entered the elevator, still excitedly chatting. You noticed that Lily wasn’t next to Art anymore, “oh, no. Where did Lily go?” Art brushed you off, “she’s probably already waiting for us outside the room. She’s used to having a famous dad,” he gloated sarcastically. “Uh-huh,” you nodded with a scoff.

You followed him back to his room where Lily was standing safe and sound, she leaned her head against the door tiredly. Art rapped on the door, “wake up, Lily.” She lifted her head up from the door, “I’m awake, dad.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open. Lily ran in and sat in front of the mini fridge, rummaging through the snacks. Art allowed you inside before he followed. You glanced around the room, pretty big room for two people, you thought. Lily picked out her snack and walked over to Art, “I’m gonna have this one.” He looked down at her and nodded, “go ahead.” She gave him a hug and he kissed her gently on the cheek, “you going to bed?” he asked her and she nodded. “Good. It’s way past your bedtime,” he responded lightly. “We’re going to the bar, we’ll be back up soon, okay? Love you.” They waved goodbye and you both left the room.

Art began walking down the hall and you asked him, “you can trust her to set her sleep there alone?” He nodded, pressing the elevator button, “she’s a big girl. She’ll be safe, don’t worry.”

The doors opened slowly and you stepped inside. Art looked at you curiously as he followed you, “you are over 21, aren’t you?” You chuckled, “you didn’t do your research. I’m 24, so yeah. I’m legal.” Art scoffed, “alright, sue me. I just wanted to make sure, okay?” The doors closed and suddenly you felt claustrophobic. No, the elevator wasn’t small, there was enough room to breathe. So, why couldn’t you? Was it the fact that you were in a concealed space with a super hot dilf- I mean, super cool tennis player? Shit, probably. You looked at your watch to try and calm your nerves, you seemed to do that a lot. The time was 11:48 P.M.

You scratched your neck before speaking, “I didn’t bring my purse. You are planning on paying for these drinks right?” He frowned mockingly, “oh. Well, I guess you can just go back to your room.” You let out a sigh of relief, “yeah, okay. Just checking.” “It’s only gentlemanly,” he started, “how should I ask a pretty woman out to drinks and not pay? That’s just rude.”

You scoffed, ignoring just how flustered that statement made you, “oh, nice. Smooth, even.” The doors creaked open and he stepped out, shrugging, “I thought that was good,” his words echoed through the empty lobby. The sound of your heels on the marble floor mocked his words as they echoed after him.

The elevator was only a few steps away from the bar and yet it felt miles away. Once you crossed the threshold you sighed with relief, a heavy weight taken off your shoulders suddenly. Art guided you to a small table next to a window, the lights dim and seats soft. You gave him a smile, “what do you drink?” he asked. Oh. What do you drink? Did you know you’ve been sober for over a year? Now you know! “Just get me a whiskey coke,” you blurted out. He raised an eyebrow at you, “you sure that’s what you want?” You shook your head, a frown on your face, “I dunno, get me something sweet, I guess.”

He gave you a nod, “you got it.” He walked over to the bar and leaned on his elbows as he spoke to the barman. What you heard could only be described as ‘acquaintances who have a semi mutual friend who is never around so conversation is hard to get flowing and is usually awkward. so, communication is normally short nods, mumbles and thanks’. He came back over to the table, two drinks in hand; a beer and a… Shirley Temple? Your eyebrows creased as you looked up at him, “seriously?” He waved you off, “Dirty Shirley,” he claimed, setting the drinks onto the table. “Oh.” You grabbed your drink and sipped it cautiously, he took a seat opposite you.

You tasted the drink warily, and nodded to yourself. “It’s good,” you mumbled. He snickered, “it’s just a Shirley with vodka, it’s nothing special.” You shrugged, swallowing a sip, “so? It’s good. What’d you get?” You turned his beer bottle to face you, ‘Carlsberg’ is what the label read. “Any good?” you asked him. “It’s fine, used to drink it in college.” Ah. You nodded, “nostalgic, huh?” He shrugged, “I guess.”

Suddenly, a few questions popped into your head. “Should’ve asked this earlier, how old are you?” He sighed, setting down his beer, cleared his throat, “32.” You nodded, kind of expecting him to be older, “alright, not bad,” you half-shrugged. “Do you.. have a wife?” He froze up a little. Oh. “Uh, no.” Frown on your lips you asked, “really? You’re a good looking man and you’re an athlete, it’s kinda hard to believe,” you laughed softly. “Hm. Relationships don’t work out sometimes,” he replied, taking a swig of his beer. “Tell me about it,” you reciprocated, rolling your eyes.

He cleared his throat, trying to move from the subject, “anyway. You been singing long?” You sipped your drink before answering, “I guess, yeah. I was in choir in middle school, so. I’ve always had ‘the talent’, y’know? But, I’ve been a singer since.. what is it now? 2014? So, five years going strong, give or take a few months.” He grinned from ear to ear, clearly very impressed, “wow. Long time, huh? You don’t get bored?” You sipped your drink and squinted at him, shaking your head, “don’t you get bored of tennis?” He made an iffy face, as if he didn’t really know the answer to your question.

“Hmmmmm…” you hummed as you looked at him sideways, “we’re very different, I see.” Pretty much after gulping the rest of your drink down you asked him one more question, “how old is Lily?” “She’s 8,” Art answered with a stiff nod. “She’s a good kid. You’re a good dad, too.” Art made a somewhat uncomfortable noise but thanked you anyhow.

“Sorry, that was kinda sudden,” you chuckled. “That’s alright, I appreciate it. I’ll grab you another drink,” he responded, standing up from his seat. Another less than acquaintanced conversation between Art and the barman. Jeez. You could feel the anxiousness of the conversation from your seat.

He came back over, another Dirty Shirley in hand and gave it to you. “Thanks,” you began sipping your drink again. “Barman’s closing up in 5, you’ll have to drink that fast,” Art told you lingering at the table, rather than sitting down. He picked up his beer and started drinking it a little faster than what would be considered a ‘normal’ beer drinking pace. You gave a nod and started uncomfortably gulping down your drink. You placed the glass on the table once you finished, fishing for the maraschino cherry at the bottom.

You got up from the table, pushing your chair in before you left the bar. Walking back to the elevator you tried to make conversation with Art, “thanks for the drinks. Haven’t had one of those before, they’re good.” “Not a problem,” he replied, pressing the elevator button.

The doors opened instantly and you both stepped in, ladies first. The doors closed slowly as you stood face to face with him. The slight smell of alcohol filling the elevator was gross. Slightly intoxicating. The elevator stopped suddenly with a jolt. Art sighed, “we’re stuck.” You groaned, “seriously? Does this happen often?” He nodded, eyes widened slightly, “oh, yeah. Fantastic hotel, super old elevators. It’s sad.” “Is there an emergency bell for things like this?” You asked, examining the buttons which read: ‘0, 1, 2, 3, 4’. Four floors and no emergency button? Jesus Christ.

He shook his head, “nope. We just have to wait it out. Usually takes ten minutes for assistance.” You looked at your watch again, 12:07 P.M. What’s a better way to pass the time than make a move? Probably a lot. But that just didn’t register in the moment. You never really mastered the whole flirting thing, usually you weren’t the one to shoot your shot. Clearly, you liked this guy. Maybe he liked you, too? What’s an invite out to drinks with a stranger? Basically a date.

“You look nice,” you finally got out, looking at his shoes. His brows furrowed and he chuckled, “are you trying to make conversation or are you trying to flirt?” Fuck, he caught you out. Play it cool. “Uh, no. Obviously not, we’re just stuck here, in this elevator, and I noticed you look nice, is that okay?” You said quickly. Art chuckled, running a hand through his hair like the dream boat that he is- who said that? “Look, we both know why I invited you for a drink. I think you’re pretty fine, and I know you think the same about me,” he stated, giving you a look.

You squinted at him, “it’s rude that you think so highly of yourself..” your complaint was cut short as Art pressed his lips against your quickly which made your eyes widen to the heavens. He pushed himself away from you just as quickly as he pulled himself to you. “Sorry,” he mumbled with a chuckle, “I should’ve asked you.” You shook your head quickly before forcing your lips back onto his in a desperate attempt to feel what you felt when he first kissed you. Did that catch him off guard? No, not really. He knew you’d kiss him back anyway, he’s Art Donaldson, he does fine for himself and he knows it.

You pressed a kiss to his neck which caused a choked moan to escape his lips. Now, that caught you off guard. He plays tennis, he should have a lot of practice trying to keep grunts in when he plays, right? Maybe you’re just that good. Props to you. Well, now you knew; his neck is the Jackpot. So, you abused the fuck out of his neck. Not literally. But continuously kissing his neck, biting it even and hearing him whine did wonderful things for your ego.

His hands made their way to your waist and pulled you impossibly closer to him and you groaned as you took a breather, “your lips feel nice on mine,” you told him, a smirk playing on your lips. “Don’t be such a tease,” he warned breathlessly, to which you replied, “or what? You gonna whine again?” He rolled her eyes, his tongue prodding at his cheek in faux annoyance. You were about to kiss him again when the doors creaked open and outside stood a trio of firefighters who stared blankly at you both, “alright in here?” one of them asked to which Art replied with a nod. “We’re going up..” you mumbled, unsure of yourself. The firefighter who had spoken before nodded and said “should be safe. Have a good night.”

Art quickly pressed the button and the doors slammed shut. Giggles escaped you as the elevator began to move again to which Art nudged you. “What? That was pretty funny, don’t lie,” you responded to his antics. The elevator doors opened and alas, you finally made it to your floor. You held your hand out for him to take in which he obliges, following you out of the elevator like a dog on a leash.

He took the room key out of his pocket and unlocked the door slowly to not wake up Lily. You pushed the door to the master bedroom open and took off your heels, softly setting them down near a bedside table. Art walked in after you and sat on the bed, anxiously waiting for your next move. You left the room and entered the bathroom. You let the water run in the sink for about a minute before splashing your face with the cold water. Making an attempt to dry your face you ended up leaving a huge makeup stain on a towel. Oops.

While you were in the bathroom, you decided to take off your show outfit, leaving you in your bra and panties. Too little? Oh well. You left the bathroom, your clothes in a pile on the corner. Re-entering the bedroom, Art was still getting changed himself. You quickly left to give him some privacy and grabbed your phone from the bathroom sink, where you left it while getting changed. Knocking on the bedroom door softly, Art called back to you, “come in.”

He sat under the covers, his bare shoulders exposed which were covered in scars. Smiling at him, you climbed in next to him, placing your phone onto a bedside table. It lit up as it was placed, the clock read 12:36 P.M. He moved next to you, wrapping his arms around you as you shut your eyes.

9 HOURS LATER

You were awoke by the sound of your phone buzzing against the table, hundreds of notifications flooding your phone. Quickly, your eyes adjusted to the screen, images of you and Art with two fans in a hotel went viral, just like the lady said. Your manager spammed your phone, ‘are you serious? do you know what this could do for your image??? please tell me you didn’t sleep with him.’ You turned over and there Art was, completely sound asleep.

tags: @midwestprincesss @yourcoolguitargf

717 notes · View notes

queatherine · 1 year ago

Text

so like this is incredibly specific to me, but my favorite trio dynamic is the one with blonde hair, the one with dirty blonde hair, and the one with dark brown hair. it has to be those hair colors exactly, and its so hard to find a trio that fits that.

god bless td for giving me them <3

#yes dyed hair counts #total drama #total drama 2023 #td bowie #td raj #td wayne #td spoilers #<- ?? only bc the gif is from the new episode #also it took me fifty years to make this gif and it looks like shit lmaoo #someone gave me a microphone

184 notes · View notes

kryhxkat · 2 years ago

Text

"hes wearing a glove and only half the spellrings as usual he must think im weak" "he's only saying people will be sympathetic towards me if i say my family killed my brother because he wants me to do his plan" what is wrong with you both

#directly ripped from my conversation with my best friend about this book #someone gave the clown a microphone #the kry kryhxkat reading experience #all of our demise #no spoilers pls and thank #also if gavin and alistair have a better ship name than that pls let me know

7 notes · View notes

lucidfairies · 1 year ago

Text

drummer girl [a.a]

pairing: punk drummer!abby x reader

summary: dina dragged you to a bar for a concert, and you naturally thought it would be lame as hell... you were wrong!

warnings: sub!top!abby, dom!bottom!reader, poc friendly (if it's not lemme know ASAP), begging, praise kink, face riding, cunnilingus [r], mommy kink uh [r], squirting, tribbing AHHHH, orgasm denial, masturbation

wc: 3.6k

collaborators: @enbesbian / @enbesbians

"please, I will seriously pay you to come with me," dina begged, following you around the kitchen as you put away dishes. "you know how important this is to me, I can't just go alone!! I need you there. you're my wing woman."

you sighed, running your hands down your face. "dina, this is my one night off a week. why would I want to spend it at some bar seeing a band that I don't even like?" she frowned.

"how would you know that you don't like them if you've never listened to them before? just come with. you spend all your time at home and that's not how a young, beautiful college student should be spending her life." you rolled your eyes at her enthusiasm.

"look.. if I agree to come with you-" she squealed, "you're doing the dishes all month. deal?" dina clapped her hands and grinned.

"perfect. deal. now, let's go pick out your outfit." she grabbed your arm and pulled you in the direction of your bedroom, skipping all the way there while you walked.

you and your roommate dina had lived together for two years, ever since you met each other on campus. the first year was in a dorm... but that didn't really count. ever since then, you had become best friends, and essentially did everything together.

the first time dina mentioned this concert was two weeks ago, when she casually brought up that she was talking to a rockstar (her words). rockstar was a stretch, seeing as the band only had a few thousand followers on insta, but they were big on tiktok.

now, she was claiming that you had to come so that it wouldn't be awkward if her and this rockstar met up backstage and talked, and she wouldn't take no for an answer - no matter how much you said it.

that's how you got here, dolled up in cargos and a corset, going to see a band that you've never heard of with your asshole of a roomie. at least she blew your hair out for you and assisted with your makeup.

"jesus dina, it's packed. I thought you said this was gonna be a lowkey thing." you frowned. she didn't even bother answering, just locked her hand in yours and tugged you to the front of the crowd.

"you'll survive if you stop whining, y/n. just relax. you're way to wound up, I should get you a blunt." before you could ask her not to leave, she was gone. you didn't want a blunt, at least not right now - dealing with this many people high would probably give you a seizure.

the lights dimmed before dina got back, and when she did, she had two fruity drinks with her. "drink up, mama. tonight's gonna be so much fun."

the band was rock, and their lead singer and guitarist was the girl that dina was drooling over. her name was something like ellie, or eliza. you couldn't really remember, and the drink that she gave you was strong as shit.

maybe she was right, maybe you did just need to loosen up. by the time the drink was finished, you were grabbing her hands and dancing to the music with her, letting the alcohol take over your senses for a little while.

dina spun you, and while you were mid spin, you caught the eyes of someone on stage, and suddenly you felt incredibly sober, even if you were still buzzing. you let dina dance with herself for a minute as you tried to catch another glimpse of the drummer, but ellie was moving so much that you could barely see anything.

finally, ellie moved to a stationary microphone to play a slower song, and you could see the drummer in full view; hair pulled off her face revealing her blue eyes, high cheek bones, sharp jaw. she was in a loose muscle tee, and had a few layered necklaces from what you could tell, and she was looking at you.

you slapped dina's arm lightly and she turned to you, smiling like she had just downed four more cups of whatever you were drinking. "who's their drummer?" you yelled.

"that's abby," she yelled back, "you can meet her later." she went back to dancing, while you turned back to the drummer, abby, who was now focused on her music as she sang chords with ellie.

when her portion of the song was over, she looked back up for a moment and locked eyes with you again. you were truly the only one she was looking for, out of the few hundred people in the crowd. there was just something so perfect about the way the light hit you, making your face glow and your body look exquisite. you looked like an angel.

the concert went on for another hour or two, you weren't exactly tracking. all you knew were abby's eyes, and you didn't seek to be knowledgeable about anything else but her. you had to know her. had to have her.

when ellie sat her guitar down at quarter past eleven, you felt like you were being stabbed. the night was over. people were leaving. the band was walking off stage. "will you stay here while I go talk to ellie?"

"I thought I came to make it less awkward when you talked to ellie," your eyebrows knit in confusion.

"please don't hate me but I lied to get you out of the house," she was already backing up, "I'm gonna go do adult things with her so.. stay here. you're my ride." she turned on her heel and sped back stage while you scoffed. she was dead when she got back.

you slid into one of the booths and scrolled on your phone for a while, actually following the band's insta and tiktok. your phone was dying, and you needed the charge to get home, so you sighed and sat it down, staring at your hands while you picked your nails.

"did your friend leave you?" you looked up as you heard a voice, undoubtedly directed towards you. and. fuck. it was her - the drummer who you were making eyes with for three hours, who you were convinced you were never going to see again.

"she's in the back hooking up with ellie," abby snickered, cheeks a little rosey. you noticed some equipment she must've sat down, and you wondered how long she had been standing there before you acknowledged her.

"yeah, that checks. the door was locked when I tried to get my stuff." a silence fell between the two of you, and you tried to think of anything you could say.

"you had a really nice show," you broke the silence, smiling nervously, "I've never heard you guys play before tonight. it was crazy good." she stuffed one of her hands in her pocket and rubbed the back of her neck.

"thanks so much," she was practically giggling at the compliment. "uh, I gotta put some stuff away and head out.. d'ya think I could get your number?" you took her phone quickly, putting your number and name into it. you handed it back to her, smiling.

"abby, let's fucking go already," a man yelled into the bar from outside, looking at her with an annoyed expression.

she broke your eye contact to flip him off, then smiled. "I should probably go.. I'll text you." she picked up her bags and took them out to a van, then got it. dina came out seconds later, hair disheveled and makeup smudged.

"I don't wanna know." you said, sliding out of your booth and walking towards the car, your arm over her shoulders and her arm around your waist.

- - -

an hour later, your phone buzzed. ideally, you should've been asleep, but you couldn't get over the prior interaction. how could someone get over that? a hot drummer, with arms for days (something you couldn't see on stage) and the prettiest face, wanted your number.

hey it's abby :)

you responded with your name and asked her how her night was, and the following hours were spent talking about random things until the sun came up. she told you about this annoying guy in her band, talked about her tattoos, explained why she became a drummer. you were essentially head over heels.

it wasn't until late in the morning that she asked you to dinner, but that hardly mattered. she asked you to dinner. abby. the insanely hot drummer.

"dina, help," you ran into her room, throwing your phone onto her bed and running your hands through your hair, tugging at your roots. "abby asked me out. I haven't gone on a date in years, what do I wear? what do I say?"

"abby as in.. drummer abby? ellie's abby?" you nodded and she gaped. "girl, you have game!! everyone wants abby and she wants you. this is big news. where are you guys going?" dina got out of her bed, dragging you back to your room to assist in your tragedy.

you weren't going anywhere fancy, just some pizza place, but dina seemed to have all the answers to every question. she gave you baggy jeans and a cute crop to wear, helping you style your hair and giving you a kiss on the cheek before she left to let you do your makeup.

"I would hit," dina joked when you came out of your bedroom. "but for real, you look so hot. she's so lucky." you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help yourself from grinning. you and abby didn't halt your texting after she asked you out, and the more you learned about her, the more you liked her.

"does the jacket ruin the outfit?" you asked, pouting in the body mirror in the hallway.

"no babe, you're just overthinking. be safe, no sex without protection, talk about boundaries, if you need me call me. I love you, have fun!" dina pushed you out the door and shut it behind you, prohibiting you from second guessing yourself.

and dinner went... better than anything you could've thought. somehow, every bad thought, every intrusive thought, just relaxed around her. you weren't worried that she wasn't going to like your outfit, especially after the way she praised your body like a temple. you weren't worried about anything.

did it count as u-hauling if you absolutely undoubtedly knew she was the one?

she insisted on driving you home, claiming that Ubers were way too unsafe for such a pretty girl like you, and spent the drive back to your house singing along to music on the radio.

when she arrived at your apartment building, she walked you up to the door, blushing like a mad woman and smiling. "I.. um, we.. we have a gig next week, same place and time if you.. y'know.. wanna come."

"I'll be there. front row." you smiled, taking a small step forward. "is this when we say goodnight?" you giggled. she cupped your jaw and leaned in, lips hovering over yours.

"can I kiss you, y/n?" her mouth quirked into a smirk as you pressed your lips into hers. you felt that smirk under your lips disappear as your tongue breeched her lips, and your teeth took ahold of her bottom lip. after a while, she pulled away, cheeks still red. "sorry.. if we keep going I might start moaning."

"hm," you shrugged, "I'll see you next week, drummer girl."

- - -

dina was on the phone, hyping you up for tonight's concert and apologizing for being unable to come. she was away for this week, visiting family, which conveniently left your house empty. it wasn't the first date anymore, right? that meant it was okay to do things now, and you were certainly thinking about it.

"girl you should get some action tonight!" dina squealed, "it's the perfect night. she'll be all hot and sweaty, and the house will be empty."

"d, we've been dating for a week. we're not even official." you laughed, propping the phone up as you touched up your hair and makeup.

"you're lesbians, babe. you could've never talked before and be fucking right now." you grinned, getting up and giving dina a full fit check. tonight's fit was parachute pants, a tube bra, and a bomber jacket.

"okay, I gotta leave. see you soon, my love." you kissed the screen then hung up, calling your Uber and heading to the bar. just like last time, the joint was packed, and it was incredibly harder to get to the front of the crowd than last time.

abby waved from between her drums, smiling. you waved back, smiling the same. she looked so good; hair down, pasties hardly covering anything but her nipples, tits on display. you couldn't wait to see her up close, have her pressed against you as she kissed you.. or other things.

they played spectacularly, blowing the minds of everyone who didn't know how amazing they were. when ellie gave closing remarks, you instinctively moved towards the door to backstage, waiting for someone to let you in.

ellie came out, smiling at you as she held the door open. you slipped in, finding abby in one of the backrooms packing up her stuff. "hey baby," you shut the door behind her, coming towards her. she looked up, grinning at you and pulling you in for a kiss.

you pulled away, taking in her appearance. the pasties covered less up close, and her abs, which you hadn't known she had, were perfectly sculpted and the waistband of her boxers were showing off from under her cargos, and she looked absolutely delicious. but aside from that, her blonde happy trail was leading to places you had to see.

"did you enjoy the show?" she was blushing again, noticing your gaze on her body.

"yeah, but I enjoyed the view more." you pulled her in again, kissing her harsher than before, running your hands down her waist and over her stomach. she gasped into your mouth when you ran your fingers above and between the ridges of her abs. "wanna go back to mine?"

"hell yeah I do." and that's how you ended up in her car, with her hand on your thigh, as you directed her to your apartment. you guys stumbled in, trying to get in as fast as possible. you kicked off your shoes and pressed your mouth to hers again, pulling at her neck as you stumbled towards your bedroom.

she fell back, pulling you into her lap and kissing your neck. hickies traced her path as she grabbed everything, gently grinding your hips or tugging at your shirt. the moment you ran your hands over her tits, she started whining like a bitch in heat. "please touch me, please put your hands on my tits baby, please," she pressed her nose into your jaw, moaning when you peeled the pasties off and started flicking her nipples.

her back arched against your hand, nipples clearly sensitive. she got louder when you kissed her chest, then took her nipple in your mouth, grabbing at your hair and trying to hold your head there. "does that feel good, sweetheart?" you asked, almost condescending because everyone in the room knew the answer.

"s'good. so good," she kissed your neck softly as she ran her hands over your sides and pulled your tube top up and off, letting your tits spill out. her tongue was on them in no time, licking and sucking and nipping. "please top me," she mumbled once she kissed her way back up to your neck.

"what was that, abs?" you giggled when she whimpered.

"want you to top me, mommy." you stood, shimmying off your pants and underwear and pulling your hair up.

"on your knees in front of me, angel." she hurried up, kneeling in front of you as you positioned yourself on the bed. she placed her hands on the sides of your thighs and pulled you forward slightly, kissing the inside of your thighs. "wanna eat my pussy?"

"yes, please let me," you grabbed her by her hair and pushed her head into your cunt, hearing her muffled moans. she licked a fat stripe up to your clit, sucking it into her mouth and licking harshly.

"fuck.. you were made to get on your knees, huh?" your voice came out as a pant, and you groaned when she moaned into your pussy. her boxers were weeping, drenched in how you made her feel. it was like she was being punched in a good way, in a way that made her clit ache and beat.

she continued to suck your clit as her middle finger gathered your slick and pushed into you, whining again at the easy intrusion. it's like she was getting off on getting you off, and you were living for it. but you definitely weren't going to let her cum until you'd had your fill.

when she added a second finger, your stomach was already flipping. she curled them up, matching her finger speed with the speed she was sucking your clit, and you felt the familiar tingle in your legs, that shot up to your stomach. "gonna come," you moaned, letting your head fell back as you saw stars.

she milked every last drop, waiting until you were absolutely finished to pull her fingers out. you cocked your eyebrow and almost instantly she sucked your cum off her fingers, eyes blown and dark. "what do you want, abby?" you asked, gently wrapping your hand around her throat so that she looked up at you.

"want you to sit on my face," she swallowed hard, "please, I can make you feel so good, I promise I'll make you feel good," you were definitely nervous, but you complied, letting her adjust and lay back on your bed, beckoning for you to climb over.

you placed your thighs on either side of her head and hovered, watching as she admired your pussy. her eyes were wide but the blue had almost turned grey, absolutely entranced by you. "you look so pretty, don't you?" you cooed.

you ran your hands down your body, spreading your lips with your fingers so that she could see just how wet you were. her jaw dropped, and you could feel her warm breath against you. you messed with your clit for a moment above her before sinking two of your fingers right into your hole.

you fucked yourself slowly, moaning as you hit your g-spot over and over. abby was just watching, eagerly waiting until you let her have her turn. you fucked yourself right until you came, pulling your fingers out and letting it drip onto her face.

"I need you to let me fuck you," she huffed, eyes still focused on your center as she stuck out her tongue. she finally looked up at you, so you tangled your hands in her hair and sunk down, letting her do the rest.

you ground your hips against her tongue until she slowed your hips and maneuvered her hands to rub your clit with her thumb, tongue fucking you as deep as she could.

she was mumbling incoherent things into your cunt, whining about how she never wanted to stop eating you out. you briefly pulled up, letting her get air. "you taste so good," she moaned, panting, "never wanna stop," the last word got cut off as you sat back down.

abby was having the time of her life - head tightened between the thighs of an absolutely gorgeous girl as you rode her face. but she was so fucking wet, and you had yet to do anything but touch her tits, and she was desperate for you. she needed you to tell her what to do and where to be.

your stomach flipped, the overstimulation from your last orgasm hitting you hard as you got close. "want me to come on your face, abby? wanna make a mess?" abby whimpered, vibrations pushing you over the edge.

after a few moments, you rolled off of her and fell next to her, breathing heavily. you sat up, moving between her legs. her stomach fluttered at the thought of cumming on your fingers or tongue. "you're soaking the sheets, princess." her hips bucked as you gently ran your thumb over her clit and down her slit.

you spread her legs then lifted one and straddled her hip, hovering again. "what-what are you doing?" she stuttered, but you didn't bother to answer as you lowered yourself down, cunts clashing as you rolled your hips forward. "fuck.. feels so good mommy,"

abby was practically screaming. her moans were almost shrieks at how heavenly it felt. she had never done something like this before, most of the time it was lowkey with her other partners and all they wanted was the strap - but this. this was different.

your pussy was covered in her slick and it felt phenomenal, she was pulsing and throbbing and so wet. you grabbed one of her tits harshly and pulled at her nipple, twisting it right as your clit landed against hers.

"I can't-I can't, fuck, m'gonna cum, m'gonna cum," abby wasn't ready for whatever feeling came next, but it was different - abrupt. there was no buildup, and it was probably the strongest orgasm she'd ever had.

you lifted off of her slightly, watching white pour from her swollen cunt, and giggling as she squirted. her head was back, chest rising and falling rapidly as she came down from her high. "you squirted all over my pussy, baby." she propped herself up on her elbows and blushed.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled as you climbed off of her.

"you don't need to apologize, sweet girl," she smiled into your mouth as you kissed her, pulling her in by her neck. "we should go shower, what do you think?"

"sounds good to me." let's just say that the shower was not rated pg.

a/n: this ended lowkey super weird BUT that's okay. THANK YOU SO MUCH TO FERN FOR HELPING MEEEEE they literally wrote this guys. go check on the art this was based on and give it SO MUCH LOVE or I'll hurt u ty ty. next time she'll fuck u with her sticks 😚

#abby anderson #tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson smut #abby smut #abby anderson x reader #maya writes #abby the last of us #abby tlou #drummer abby

2K notes · View notes

eveninggstar · 11 months ago

Text

Princess Treatment

Summary: Whilst on stream, your viewers ask why you don’t have “smoking fingers” and you provide an answer.

Warnings: reader smokes, reader is intended to be female, one sexual innuendo, pre-established relationship, reader gets nails done, no use of y/n

A/N: i watched a clip thing on tiktok of someone pointing out Jake’s fingers and it’s because of smoking so i thought why not have a cutesy girlfriend not ruin her freshly done nails.

also expect some Johnnie to come up i have three requests and they are actually amazing so tysm for them!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You were sat on your pink gaming chair, swaying side to side whilst you were beginning your stream. The viewers rolled in quick, as well as the various donations and quick messages.

A message catches your attention, halting your swaying. “Did you get your nails done?” you mutter to yourself as you lean forwards. “Oh yeah! I did.” You lifted your hands up vertically showing off your fresh nails. “Jake took me for my birthday.” You had a cheesy smile on your face as you brought your hands down. You put them under your thighs as your shoulders hunched up at the mere feeling talking about Jake gave you.

“I was going to get them done anyway,” you paused and thought about your incredibly outgrown nails prior. “if you saw my nails before…Wait! did i show you guys?” you rushed to your phone and went through your gallery.

You found the photo Jake had sent you. It was a picture of you squishing his cheeks together with both hands, and you can see how outgrown your nails were. You flipped your phone to the camera, trying different angles so your viewers could see. “Stop focusing on me,” you muttered angrily to your camera. It focused and showed the chat a cute picture of you and your boyfriend, with your outgrown nails.

“Like we took this when we went target, with Johnnie.” You set your phone down and talked with your hands, even more than usual with your nails. “He literally called me over and went,” you took a breath and made your voice higher in irritation to mock Jake’s, “Babe, show me your nails!” you scrunched your face up, then resorted to your natural voice, “And so i did that, he took a picture.” you paused, showing confusion in your face, “I think he put it on instagram, on his story. I swear he did something like that and.. was there a poll on if he should pay for me to get my nails done?”

Looking at the chat you see the confirmation, or the people who were unaware on how bad your nails looked in shock. You rolled your eyes, “Anyways, i have such a cute boyfriend the came with me and payed.” You showed your nails off again.

This time another message caught your attention, “If you smoke why don’t you have ‘smoker fingers’?” You furrowed your brows at the question. “What the fuck is smoker fingers?” You looked down to your keyboard and began to type ‘what is smoker fingers?’.

“Okay Chat, smoker fingers are~” you dragged out the final word, “Yellowish discoloration on the ends of your fingers from holding a cigarette; wait!” you look at your fingers. “Oh i know why!” you were about to answer when you got a phone call from Jake.

“Hello, i’m streaming.” you held up your speaker to the microphone.

“You wanna know why your fingers aren’t yellow?” Jake yelled in irritation.

“Why?” you giggled with your hand over your mouth.

“Because you always make me hold your cigarettes! Look at my fingers!”

“I can’t, we’re not on facetime,” you were proved wrong as he came through your door behind you. You turned around to see him just stood there with a hand on the door handle and the other on his hip.

You look at the camera, then the stream to see what the viewers were seeing. Then you turned to see Jake still in the same position, causing you to lean into your hands that were propped up on your desk and failed to conceal your laughter. Jake then strutted up to the camera and held up his yellowing fingers with nails littered with chipped polish.

“Look! This is what she does, making me hold her cigarettes!” he then turned away from the camera to look at you cracking up and trying to hide in your hands. “What do you have to say about this?” he then held him fingers up to your face.

“Cigarettes are gross,” you spoke in a small voice with a smile on your face as you peered up at him.

“So you have it inside of your body?” Jake questioned and looked down at you.

“Well, i do that with you. Don’t I?”

He stood there in shock and strutted out towards the door, then he turned around with a cock of his hip.

“Never speak to me again!” he spoke in an accent, then went to another accent. (idk how to describe it it’s kinda like a pageant mum?) “Love you, sweetie.” he opened and closed his hand in a wave and left your room, leaving you laughing your ass to your audience.

781 words

#jake webber #jake webber x y/n #jake webber x you #jake webber x reader

3K notes · View notes

mydear-corinthian · 8 months ago

Text

Attention || Thomas Shelby x reader

Synopsis: You're a jazz singer and you were invited to Tommy's brother's wedding and you caught his attention Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader Warnings: SMUT +18, unprotected sex, p in v, breeding kink, dirty talk Notes: Rushed Click here to find the main masterlist. Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS masterlist.

SMUT AHEAD

The newlywed couple, John and Esme Shelby, and their guests gathered on the dance floor to dance while you sang in front of the audience. Swaying your hips to the song's melody, your hands clutched the metallic microphone and locked eyes with the audience.

You had previously attended countless weddings, so being asked to one was not a new experience for you. However, receiving an invitation from the prominent Shelby family? That was an altogether unusual situation, laced with both thrill and fear. You were thoroughly familiar with the Shelby family's reputation, understanding all aspects of their business transactions, the shady realm of their crimes, and the mysterious personas that disguised each member of the family in mystery.

While singing, you noticed that all the Shelby siblings were on the dance floor except for one: Thomas Shelby. He was alone on a big round table, a glass of whiskey in front of him while his lips were decorated by his cigarette. You didn't even noticed that he was looking at you, his ocean-like eyes locking to yours.

The jazz band had finally finished their performance, and while your bandmates mingled around the large round table, chatting and enjoying drinks, you found yourself lingering behind the stage, separated from them. Memories of the way the gangster had looked at you replayed in your mind, causing a flutter of nerves to dance in your stomach. Butterflies swirled within you, making it impossible to shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in.

Exhaling, you tried to forget his eyes in your mind as you took your metallic cigarette case, getting one of the cancerous stick before putting the case back on your black beaded purse. You flicked the lighter numerous times until you gave up. Groaning in annoyance, you threw the non-working lighter away.

"Here," a deep voice echoed in your ears. "You can use this." An arm extended towards you, a lighter in hand. You stared at whoever it was, and when your gaze met the man's, your eyes widened. "Oh, Mr. Shelby. I - Thank you," you said, accepting the furious man's offer and successfully lighting your cigarette before returning it to Tommy.

"You were quite impressive up there," he said nonchalantly, flicking his lighter to start his cigarette and joining you. The unexpected praise caused a rush of warmth to flood your cheeks, catching you off guard by his awareness. It was unexpected to receive compliments from someone like him, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and doubt during the discussion.

You continued to share the story of your journey to becoming a well-known jazz vocalist in South Birmingham as an expression of gratitude. Throughout the conversation, he stayed fairly mute, responding only with a nod. Surprising to you, his stillness concealed a strong involvement with your words. As you chatted enthusiastically unconscious of his shifting stance and the intensity of his gaze as it moved from head to toe, it became clear that he was more than just a passive listener; he was intensely intrigued by your story.

You looked at your pearl watch and read the time. It was already midnight, and there were no available cabs for you to book. "Oh, forgive me, Mr. Shelby, but it's getting late, and I really must make my way home," you exclaimed, a note of urgency in your tone as you rapidly searched through your handbag, double-checking to make sure you hadn't forgotten anything.

"Stay here for tonight; there are no cabs available anymore, and I have a spare room for you to stay in," he said almost instantly. The tone of his voice suggests that he still wants you to be with him.

"Are you sure, sir?" he nodded to your question. The two of you hopped into his car, Tommy drove going to his house with you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When you finally arrived at his house near the reception, he opened the door and invited you inside. The house wasn't particularly large or small; floral wallpaper was used everywhere, and circular picture frames adorned the large fireplace in the living room. As Tommy entered the house, you laid your white fur-like scarf on the chair.

Your heart raced at the sight of him, each beat echoing in the silence of the room. It was as if you were seeing him through new eyes, taking in the intriguing depth of his gaze, the chiseled lines of his attractive face, and the neatly combed hair that framed it all. He projected an effortless charm while wearing his usual suit, sparking a deeper admiration for his natural charisma.

Tommy did the same thing, starring at you -- your physique, your lovely golden dress, the way your white feather hat hung in your hair. His eyes communicated love and longing simply by looking at you. He knew you even before the reception. He knew who you were.

His hands cupped your cheeks as he approached you. You didn't know what was going on, or so you thought. Your cheeks flushed, and your heart fluttered at his moves.

"May I?" he asked quietly, his voice a smooth whisper that sent thrills down your spine. With a gentle nod, you gave him permission, excitement coursing through every fiber of your being. As his lips touched yours, a burst of energy flowed between you, igniting a passionate flame that appeared to swallow everything. Your breath mixed in the intimate space between you, resulting in a heady symphony of longing. Your hands reflexively moved to his neck, fingers threading through the delicate strands of his hair, while his firm grip on your hips drew you in, erasing any barrier between you. The kiss grew into a gloriously wild dance of lips and tongues, each movement a witness to the sheer intensity of your connection. In that moment, buried in the heat of the embrace, you tasted not only each other's lips, but also the burning need that held you together.

Fortunately, the house was empty, leaving just you and Tommy. He brought you to his bedroom, the air heavy with expectancy as the heated session went on. As you lay on the bed, the springs creaked beneath you, adding rhythm to the intensity of your touch. His lips trailed over your neck, leaving a path of kisses that sent thrills down your spine, each touch leaving its mark as you couldn't help but moan his name in pleasure.

"Mr. Shelby .." you moaned as he sucked the sweet spot of your neck, your legs locking his hips.

"Tommy." he corrected.

"I know your name, Mr. Shelby,"

"Then moan it."

He began to undress you, leaving the floor gripped with your gold-colored heels and lengthy dress. Continuing the kiss, your hands moved to his suit, unbuttoning each one quickly.

Your naked bodies were bound together. His thick fingers found your clit and softly stroked it until his speed quickened, causing your back to arch as you gasped his name aloud.

"Fuck, Tommy.." His hands crumpled the sheets, and his lips curled into a smile, content with what he was doing.

"Does that feel good, mhm? Want me to stop?" he teased as his fingers slowed. Your eyes begged with him.

"No--please, keep going!" you cried, shaking your head. He desires his fingers to strike your cunt.

He stopped, causing you to whine. He laughed, noticing the emotion on your face. He positioned himself in front of your wet cunt before entering you. Because of the unexpected movement, you moaned more loudly than usual.

His pace was first steady, allowing you to adjust his length, but it soon increased. The bed creaked with every thrust he made. Your nails drove into his back due to the pleasure he offered you.

"You like that, love? Who owns this cunt?" he demanded, maintaining his violent thrust. Your breast bounces.

"Yours! Oh god - it feels good, Tommy."

Everything you felt was pleasure and joy. Tommy's cock abuses the area, making you burst with ecstasy. Airy groans and moans echoed around the dim room. You could feel his hot breath on your neck as he rested his head on.

His arm lifted your legs and pushed them towards your chest, allowing his cock to penetrate deeper and deeper inside you. The sudden change of posture hurt, but it was swiftly replaced with pleasure. Your gut swirled, and your cunt clenched on his cock, implying that you were close.

"Fuck - look at you clenching around my cock. Good girl," Tommy praised, his massive arms gripping your legs.

"Tommy, I'm gonna - gonna cum!"

"Me too, love. Cum on my cock, c'mon," he said. "'m going to fill you up, yeah? You like it? Me cumming inside your precious wet pussy?"

"Yes - yes!" you moaned loudly as you approached your climax. Tommy needed a few more thrusts before he released his seed inside of you. He slowly pulled out, spilling his white creamy load into your battered cunt.

He lay down alongside you, passionately kissing your lips.

"Ah, you're good in bed too, Mr. Shelby."

"You did well with your voice training today, Ms. (Y/n)," he taunted before you both went to bed.

#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader

1K notes · View notes