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hatterstan-shameblog · 4 years ago

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Smut, you say 👀

You're this cute, kinda innocent woman that gets the help of this handsome gigolo to not be as... innocent.

💕 The Professional: Chapter 1 💕

Chapter Two

Rating: PG-13 (for this chapter only)

Pairing: Danma Takeru (Hatter)/Reader (she/her

Tags: flirting, suggestive conversation, alcohol consumption, smoking, kissing

“Well, darling,” he says, voice low and smooth and so much closer than before, “I think it’s high time we got to the heart of the issue. The root of the root and the bud of the bud, as it were.”

“Uh,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this but very much enjoying his simple touches, “what do you mean?”

“I’m just wondering,” he clarifies, pausing to let out a soft sigh, “when you’re going to give in and kiss me.”

Notes: This is a kind-of sort-of AU—in the show, Hatter references his involvement with the host club business, and mentions that he “would do anything” to be the best. Although host clubs do not usually involve sex work (as far as I know), I believe that he would definitely offer that “off the books” in order to win over his clientele.

You’re nervous. Nervous and jittery and—oh, dear, there’s a lot of feelings going on in here, and all of them seem to fall under the umbrella of ‘mild to moderate discomfort.’ Not that feeling uncomfortable is anything new; in fact, there are very few times where you happen to feel truly comfortable outside of, say, the warmth of your bed or the soothing calm of a late-night bath. Places where you feel safe. Places where you can let yourself breathe and be, unhindered by expectation.

The place where you currently find yourself—this strange little pocket of a room in the buzz and bustle of a Friday-night Kabukicho—is full-to-bursting with expectation. From the polished wood floors to the glittering gold chandelier that hangs from the center of the ceiling, there is an inescapable sense of opulent whimsy that is tinged pink with a blush of sensuality. There are even fresh flowers on the table in front of you—a vase of ranunculus, blooming bright and orange like a green-stalked bunch of tiny setting suns.

Something like an itch tickles your sweat-damp palms, making you ball your hands into tight fists around the fabric of your skirt. Oh, you should have worn something different! Something sexier, maybe, with a deeper neckline and a shorter hem, that hugged the shape of your body as opposed to ghosting over it in fluttering chiffon. Not that you actually, you know, owned anything like that, but—

The pop! of a champagne cork makes you jump. Hell, you feel like you’re about to pop, too, from the nervous energy boiling and swelling in your chest. It’s so very difficult not to fidget, to keep your toes from tapping out a frantic little rhythm on the rug.

Looking back, you realize that the paperwork had been the ‘easy’ part. Not that it had been particularly easy—who knew there would be an application process for this kind of thing?—but it was less stressful to fill out a (surprisingly comprehensive) questionnaire in the privacy of your own home as opposed to this agonizing waiting.

And what, exactly, are you waiting for?

Why, you’re waiting for him.

His name is Takeru—or, at least, that’s what he’s asked you to call him. Whether or not it’s a stage name is difficult to tell; but what you do know is that it sounded so very nice in the deep clear of his voice. The only thing that sounded better was your name, which he said in a gently-sultry half-whisper that made you feel…many thing, and not all of them innocent.

In a devastatingly well-tailored suit of lipstick red—a vibrant pop of a color you would so often consider buying at the makeup counter but always put back��it’s nearly impossible to look at anything but him. A small collection of rings glisten from his fingers, most of them delicate little things that wink a tiny gleam when the light hits them just right. The dizzying black-white-gold pattern of his shirt is unbuttoned just a smidge too low, offering you a tantalizing view of his chest.

And although his back is toward you, concocting some kind of magic at the bar cart along the far wall, you can all but feel the warm-dark of his eyes on you. Oh, he has beautiful eyes, dark and warm with the glitter of laughter—or perhaps mischief, if the situation calls for it. A slim nose leads down to a shapely mouth, handsomely framed by a neatly-trimmed beard and mustache.

Also, his hair—oh, that man has a great head of hair.

Aesthetics aside—he has been undeniably lovely. Slipping the coat from your shoulders when you walked into the room, fingertips skimming the slope of your shoulders with only the barest of touches. Offering you a glass of champagne (“Yes, thank you”) as he leads you to sit on the green velvet settee, hand hovering above but never touching the small of your back. A serene smile on his lips as he talks, as he tells you that your dress is lovely (“Blue is definitely your color, darling”) and letting out an airy chuckle when you mention that this was as good occasion as any to dig it out of the back of your closet.

It is impossible to ignore the way he is so very provocative—subtly so, in a way that makes you second-guess whether his flirtations had happened at all. Did his eyes really linger over the shape of your legs, or was he simply taking a moment to admire your (new, very cute) shoes? Did his fingertips slip over the curve of your shoulder as he removed your coat, or were you just imagining it?

His gaze tiptoes over your shape as he sits down beside you, two flutes of pink-tinged something in hands.

“I’ve taken the liberty of making something a little special,” he says, “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” you say as he hands you one of the glasses, “it…it looks nice.”

“Know what it is?”

“Uh,” you say after a moment of silent deliberation, “Maybe alcohol?”

He huffs a short laugh at your half-joke—a rather polite response, and it manages to soothe the bubble of regret that had risen up your throat the moment you’d said it.

“You’re not wrong. More specifically, though, it’s a Kir Royale—or, my take on one, at the very least,” he watches the bubbles fizzle to the top of the glass, “I find myself more or less incapable of keeping with convention, even when it comes to alcohol.”

“Well, uh,” you say, “it’s pretty. I like the color.”

You taste the drink, bubbles like tiny fireworks tickling over the surface of your tongue. There is a dry bitterness, no doubt from the champagne, but it’s softened by a fruity sweetness. Something familiar, something that reminds you of summer and shaved ice and walks along the river and—

“Cherry,” you say, half-lost in the hazy-warm memory of days gone by—until you remember where you are and snap back to reality, “it’s, uh, it tastes like cherries.”

“Very good. Usually, the drink calls for creme de cassis, but I used Kijafa instead. It’s a dessert wine from Denmark, made from cherries,” his brow raises just a smidge, “I thought it appropriate, given the situation.”

And it takes you a minute to understand what he’s talking about. Cherries. You. Ah. A rather crass comparison, but accurate all the same.

“Oh,” you say, picking a very uninteresting spot on the rug to look at in an attempt to avoid meeting his eyes, “I, uh…”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he adds, “In fact, virginity isn’t even a real thing. Completely made up. Means nothing, really.”

There is a kind of lag—he’s speaking, you know he’s speaking, but it takes your brain a few extra seconds to figure out what he’s actually saying. It’s strange, hearing someone talk to you so openly about sex. Not unwelcome, by any means, but you need a moment (or two, or ten) to adjust.

“That being said,” he continues, as if he’s discussing the weather, “just because it doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of life doesn’t mean it’s nothing to you.”

He’s fishing. He’s fishing, and you kind of want to take the bait, but…well, you’re finding it difficult to get your thoughts in order. He’s the very picture of calm, all while you’re floundering over a simple conversation.

“Apologies if I’ve overstepped,” he says, taking a slow sip of his drink, “I thought you might prefer to talk it over a bit. ”

“No, uh, you’re fine,” you answer quickly, “I’m just…I thought the paperwork kind of covered all that.”

“More or less,” he answers, “however, I’ve found that the person who fills out the forms and the person who ends up sitting across from me are not always of the same mind.”

He reaches a hand into the inside of his jacket and pulls out a silver-plated cigarette case. Although he is not gentleman enough to ask your permission to smoke, he is gentleman enough to offer you a cigarette before taking one of his own. You decline. He shrugs and quickly snaps the case shut before laying it on the table.

“In fact, it’s not uncommon for my clients to have a complete change of heart the second they walk through the door,” he continues, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, “Or, sometimes later on, for that matter. Depends on the person.”

Cigarette held between his teeth, he retrieves a lighter from his right trouser pocket. With a sharp little snick, he ignites it, pulling the little orange flame towards his face and hiding it behind his hand to let it catch.

“Really?”

You watch him intently, the way his eyelids flutter closed at the first inhale. The way his lips pucker around the filter and release, the red-pink sticking slightly as they pull away and let smoky white flow out and fade into the air.

“Really,” he confirms, “once, I had a client step inside, take one look at me, and promptly walk right back out. Never saw them again, which is fine. I’ll never fault someone for doing what’s right for themselves.”

“Are you, uh, trying to talk me out of it?”

“Not at all. Just making you aware of your options,” he says, “Doing anything for the first time is scary. Driving a car, swimming in the ocean, traveling abroad—sex is no different.”

“Yeah, well,” you respond, “you also get to do most of those things with your clothes on, so…”

“Depends on who you’re with.”

You can’t help but laugh a little.

“Well I still want to…you know,” you answer, “uh, do it. The…the sex part.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to say that.”

“It’s the truth,” he insists, “I can’t imagine anyone being upset at the thought of having a pretty thing like you in their bed.”

“I’m not—“

“Don’t,” he interrupts, taking on a tone that brokers no arguments, “I will suffer many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. You are an attractive woman and I refuse to be told otherwise.”

“Sorry, I,” you say sheepishly, “I guess I just…wasn’t expecting you to…like me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his cigarette and takes another long, slow drag, “You’re very sweet. A bit shy, maybe, but I happen to like the shy ones.”

And there is something about the way he says it, the way his voice wraps around the words—oh, there are implications to those words, and you find yourself growing warm at the thought of what exactly those implications could entail.

You sip your drink. He smokes. The quiet between you is almost comfortable. Maybe it’s the alcohol working it’s bubbly magic, but you’re starting to feel a bit more at ease in this strange little place.

Moreover, you’re starting to feel a bit more at ease with him. The thought of kissing him crosses your mind, then doubles-back and crosses it again. Oh, that sounds nice. He would be good at it, too; starting gently, mouth pressed soft and sure against your own, and then just the tiniest tease of his tongue—

“And there you go, biting your lip again,” he says, snapping you out of your impromptu fantasy, “You have no idea how sexy that is, do you?”

He is sporting a devilish grin—not only is he aware that you had been daydreaming about him, but he’s relishing the fact that he was able to catch you so off-guard.

“Didn’t even realize I was doing it,” you admit with a shrug. But you can’t help but feel a thrill at the thought of being considered ‘sexy’—you never really let yourself feel that way, but now that it’s happening…oh, it’s nice.

“It’s absolutely delicious, darling. Makes me wonder what else you do when you’re turned on…”

And he’s got you—like a knife held under your chin, his sharp gaze pins you in place. He is impossible to avoid. Not that you particularly want to avoid him—there’s something irresistible about this man, something that you can’t quite name but definitely want more of.

It’s scary.

It’s exciting.

“I’m,” you say with a nervous chuckle, “not really sure, myself. Guess we’ll have to, uh, figure it out together.”

His gaze darkens. He takes one last lungful of nicotine before stubbing out his cigarette.

“I suppose we shall.”

And he’s moving now, sliding himself down so that he’s closer to you. He stops when there is barely an inch of space between the outside of his thigh and your own. His right arm has draped itself over the back of the sofa, the fingertips of his hand now skimming the skin of your shoulder in loose, mindless sweeps.

“Uh,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this but very much enjoying his simple touches, “what do you mean?”

“I’m just wondering,” he clarifies, pausing to let out a soft sigh, “when you’re going to give in and kiss me.”

He plucks the champagne flute from your grasp and sets it on the table in front of you.

“I, uh—“

The fingertips on your shoulder continue to make their idle little circles, almost hypnotic in their swirling pattern. His left hand catches your right wrist, his thumb pressing above where your pulse thrums beneath sensitive skin.

“Bit fast,” he observes, pulling your arm closer as if inspecting it, “Could be nerves, but I think it’s more from excitement, don’t you?”

You have no choice but to lean into him as he brings your hand closer. Your shoulder presses against his arm, and you feel the solid shape of him through the smooth of his suit. He’s strong underneath all of those layers—warm, too, judging from the heat that radiates from his person.

“I’m—“

The thumb that had been testing your pulse inches higher, stopping when it’s pressing into the center of your palm. His eyes lock with yours, a heartbeat of a moment, and brings your wrist closer and closer until his lips are ghosting over your flesh. When he finally decides to make contact, you gasp—it’s a delicate sensation, but sends your heart skipping in a shaking staccato.

And, then.

Then he sucks.

The sound you make is halfway between an oh of surprise and a desperate little moan—oh, wow, that’s really weirdly unexpectedly hot—and you don’t even have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed by your own reaction. He’s not even doing much, not really; just a little bit of pressure, lips parted just enough to let his tongue slip out and have a taste of you.

But, oh, it feels…it feels filthy, it feels decadent, it feels like something you should not be doing but very much want to keep doing for the rest of your life. Takeru’s eyes have since fluttered shut, and he hums the tiniest sound of pleasure as he maintains his seductive tease.

“Please,” you manage to sigh, sounding as breathless as you feel, “please, I, I want you to kiss me.”

His lips release from your wrist with a pucker-pop noise—which was no doubt intentional on his part, and does nothing to quell the thrill of desire in your belly.

“Hm. I’ll make you a deal,” he says, shifting a bit to the left so that he can turn to face you better, “I’ll kiss you for the rest of the night, but right now…you kiss me.”

And what a deal that is—you don’t even have to think about it, head bobbing in an affirmative nod as you wet your lips in anticipation. The hand that had so lovingly held yours is now guiding you to rest your palm just above his knee. You reflexively reach your other hand out to steady yourself, and it lands against his chest before you can stop it.

He’s so close now. There’s barely any space between your faces, barely room to breathe—

“Go on, darling,” he whispers, “if you want me, have me.”

And you do.

You kiss him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The anxiety that has plagued you since the moment you entered the room hasn’t completely dissipated—it would be foolish to think it’d be that easy to banish those feelings completely—but all that is now secondary to the feeling of his mouth on yours.

Kissing Takeru is warm. It’s soft and it’s sure and it’s…comfortable, in a way. Safe, even. He does not press, doesn’t do much of anything except mirror the way your lips slide against his own. A gentle rhythm, a push and pull between the two of you that feels as natural as the moon guiding the tides to shore—yes, kissing him is good and right and something you want to do many times over.

Unfortunately, you have to pull away to breathe. He doesn’t let you go far, though, one hand cupped behind the nape of your neck and the other pressing into the small of your back.

“Oh, you are sweet,” he purrs, his gaze dropping to your freshly-kissed lips, “and, seeing that I’m a man of my word…”

As it turns out, being kissed by Takeru might be better than kissing him, yourself. He is still so very careful when he presses his lips to yours, but this time…this time, there’s fire. He tastes like the best part of a cigarette, like warmth and alcohol and cherries, and it only intensifies as he tests the seam of your lips with his tongue.

Little by little, you begin to test him, too. Hands cradle the curve of his jaw, feeling the way his face shifts as he moves against you. Fingertips run through the soft dark of his hair—oh, he likes that, if the half-sigh that slips from his throat is to be believed. And when you nip at his lower lip with your teeth (he had, after all, very much enjoyed the way you bit your lip earlier), he genuinely moans and pulls you even closer to himself.

It’s when he begins to wander lower, with his mouth skimming the sensitivity of your neck and his hand splayed across your lower back in a way that flirts with the idea of indecency, that you begin to want more. Fear—and maybe that’s not exactly the right word for what you’re feeling, but it’s the only one that comes to mind—begins to creep up the column of your spine.

The “what-if’s” start filling your brain; what if you mess something up? What if you do something he doesn’t like? What if you freeze up later and—

“Alright, darling?”

His voice is a low soothe against your ear; he’s retreated, just a bit, and his hand has wandered to a chaste and respectable area of your mid-back.

“I—“

You want him to take you to bed. You want him to take off your dress and kiss you in all the places you thought weren’t worth kissing, to let his hands trace sparks along the curves of your shape and let him be close to you in a way that no one else has. You want him, despite the uncertain ache that burns between your ribs and bids you to hide yourself away and leave behind the pleasure of his touch.

…But all you can manage is a nervous glance to the bed behind you (the one you had been avoiding thinking about up until this point) and a stammered “Can we, uh…?”

“Ask me,” he says, his index and middle fingers idly skimming the notch in your collarbone, “I’ll give you anything you want, as long as you ask me.”

It’s difficult to make eye contact with him—every time you try, you feel embarrassment swell up beneath your tongue.

But Takeru is, as you have come to learn over the last hour or so, decidedly patient. He shows no sign of relenting, appearing to be perfectly content with giving you an expectant grin and continuing his little touches as you try not to squirm in your seat.

“I,” you gulp, “I want…“

You bite your lip—oh, wait, he likes that too, and he’s staring at you with those sharp and sultry eyes, and it makes something behind your heart squeeze and unsqueeze itself and punches the air from your lungs and—

“Take me to bed,” you manage to spit out, and it all sounds like one word with how quickly you pushed the words into the air. The “uh, please” you tack on at the end is an afterthought, but perhaps it’s polite enough to pass muster.

“Was that so hard,” Takeru asks with a good-natured chuckle, “but since you asked so nicely…”

He takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips for a kiss—and even that, after everything, still has you feeling a flutter of something giddy in your stomach.

“Darling,” he says, “it would be my pleasure.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

…and now, you’ll have to wait until chapter two to get to the “good stuff!”

It’s been a challenge writing this—I’m trying to make the scenario believable while still keeping it vague enough to allow for people to make up their own little details. It’s also been unexpectedly difficult to write him, since he’s kind of being himself while also playing a character who’s trying to mold themself into their client’s fantasy…it’s a lot of layers, but it’s been fun trying to figure things out!

#alice in borderland #hatter #danma takeru #writings and such #spicy boy #alice in borderland netflix #takeru danma #we did it fellas. we finally wrote the first chapter.#I’ve been working on this for WEEKS #now to write the actual spicy stuff lol oh geez

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sp00kworm · 4 years ago

Text

SIREN (A Monster Metal Band)

Chapter 1 - Meeting the Band

Pairings: Various Monsters x Reader

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“And today we have some very, very special guests with us in the studio!” The radio-announcer cooed over the microphone, into the silence of your tense apartment. You turned up the volume, clutching the pillow in your lap and your phone in the other. “With us today we have the up and coming band SIREN!” He roared as the microphones turned on for the men and they laughed over the stereo. You clutched your pillow tighter as the interview started for real.

“Here in the studio with us today we have the entirety of the band line-up. Vocalist, Zadok. Lead guitarist, Duncan. Rhythm guitarist, Senoz. Bassist, Blagden. And our favourite drummer, Khadba!” They thanked the announcer with a chorus of gentle laughter, and you readied the dial up number, knowing exactly where the interview was going.

“So, we all know that you guys are performing in our city in a few days’ time. I’m sure every fan listening is excited for the show! You have some real reputation, guys, truly.” The announcer laughed with them before he started with the questions, “So, Zadok, rumour is that you’ve been recording some new vocals with famous artist Lady Conch?”

Zadok’s gentle laughter hummed through your speakers, “It’s an ongoing project, but she’s a lovely woman. We’ve worked together before and I’ve appeared in her solo work before. It’s hard to find male Mers for her music so we’re basically friends at this point.”

“Interesting!” The announcer hummed, “I never thought that would be an issue for merfolk in music, but you learn something new every day!” He continued, “Duncan! How about that new guitar deal you and Senoz have with Irontars?”

Duncan huffed over the microphone before Senoz laughed and started the explanation, “We have a new deal with specific models around our specific tastes. Duncan has a very uhh…” Senoz clicked and cackled, his voice echoing strangely, “Dark taste. It looks like a very big axe. I went for a slicker look but it’s a lot of flames.” He cackled.

“We’re a metal band, Senoz. I can go as dark as I like.” Duncan said gruffly before adding, “I like my guitars like I like my partners.” He purred, “Sharp and a bit insane.”

The announcer laughed it off before continuing on through the last question, “Here I have an interesting question from a fan for Blagden! They asked just how it is on tour while catering to such a very specific diet?”

Blagden hissed before answering, “Bicorn diets aren’t that hard to get. Mostly meat. But I can eat everything other people can. Zadok and I go fishing when we’re at the coastal cities. Fresh is better but no.” He leaned into the microphone, “I don’t have to eat people’s husbands.” He huffed and you heard the sound of hooves clacking against the floor as he settled back into his seat.

“A good revelation, thank you for answering.” The announcer added as he reached his final question, “Khadba, our favourite new addition. Before this, the band ran on hired drummers for each tour, so, how does it feel being a permanent member with this new album?”

Khadba coughed awkwardly, “It’s been a ride, but I’d say that the music is much, uh…” He stuttered for a moment, “The music is much more personal with me I’d say. I’ve had a long time to get to grips with the music in recording and even before this I was a fan of the guy’s work.”

Blagden growled, “He’s a fucking liar. He practically told us our tempo was garbage. Zadok hired him on the spot after one sound test!”

Duncan roared with great laughter, “It was a time. I’ve never had someone tear my work to pieces so well!”

The announcer laughed with them before he went back to the audience, “Now, let’s play a song from the new album! This one is called Deep Dark featuring some very special vocals from your deep-sea merman, Zadok.”

“You’re too kind.” Zadok hummed before the voices cut out and the song blended into being, beginning with that could only be described as merfolk speak. You relaxed gently against the cushions as the gentle bubbling voice rang out. You looked at your coffee table and snatched up the latest issue of Metal Talks, admiring the front. There was a glossy latest picture of the band on the magazine. Zadok’s white eyes were close to the camera lens, his white skin glowing with purple bioluminescence as he opened his mouth full of sharp long teeth for the camera. Duncan was perched in the back with his axe guitar gripped in one hand, his body covered in black fur. Duncan was the largest member, a giant black, curly haired Minotaur with curly tresses that hung between his two great ivory coloured horns, covering his great green eyes. Senoz was a grey skinned demon, his four, blue eyes glinting with mischief as he too posed with his guitar, decked in skin-tight leather and heavy metal cuffs, his three tails poised up behind him. Blagden, the Bicorn was truly petrifying with his black thoroughbred, sleek fur rippled and his great mouth open to expose his predator teeth. You traced a finger over his dual black, unicorn horns and the curling pair of ram horns behind his ears, admiring his great shaggy mane. Khadba was placed in the back, his arms crossed and drumsticks in one hand. His moss coloured skin and grey steel eyes were intimidating, his face and ears littered with piercings to match the gruff look on his face. You admired the tattoos over his arms depicting burning skulls and giant demons before the song drew to a close.

“After that zinger we’re back in the studio with SIREN!” The announcer called and you readied yourself as the bit you had been waiting for finally arrived, “And now, we get to the part you’ve all been waiting for, the giveaway.” He hummed, “Today, from the charitable guys here, we will be giving away an exclusive early entry ticket and backstage pass for the gig!” The guys hooted in the studio before going quiet as the man shuffled his papers, “The question is…” You felt your heartbeat in your chest as you listened with bated breath, “How long is Duncan’s guitar solo in the song ‘Burn’?” He quickly read out the number for the call lines.

“You know, I don’t even remember how long that solo is.” Duncan huffed before grumbling.

Senoz cackled, “I know!” He jeered before Duncan snorted hotly at him.

“The lines are open! Get those guesses in!”

You tapped the call button and prayed to all that was good in the world that you would get through with your guess. It was the longest solo in the band’s discography. You knew you had a chance.

The phone was quickly busy in the studio and you listened to the hold music with your bottom lip between your teeth, worrying at the skin as person after person guessed, and was met with the loud siren. Incorrect. Fifteen people in a row guessed it incorrectly. You were in with a chance.

“And now we have another guess on the line! Tell us your name sweetheart!” The announcer said. Suddenly, you realised that he was speaking in your ear as well.

“Uhm… Oh gosh…” You stuttered your name and listened to announcer.

“Now, let’s have your guess. How long is Duncan’s guitar solo in the song ‘Burn’?” He tapped the countdown effect.

“Good luck, darling.” Zadok’s lilting voice tickled your ear.

You took a deep breath before replying, “The solo is one minute and forty-seconds long.”

Silence. You felt your heartbeat in your stomach.

“CORRECT!”

“Fuck me. I didn’t even come close and it’s my solo. Well done.” Duncan hummed down the microphone as the rest of the band laughed and chuckled behind him.

“You’ve won the backstage pass and early entry ticket!” The announcer cheered before you were quickly snapped onto the line for your address and name for the premium postage and for the band’s team to know who you were. Your mouth hung open before you quickly coughed and started to try and rattle off your address to the woman, brain frazzled and still in disbelief.

“What?!” Tom shouted from behind the bar, “You won?!” He howled in disbelief, before he slammed his fists against the countertop, “I’ll give you the money for the other ticket!” He begged, “I wanna go and you have a spare ticket now!” The brown-haired werewolf grinned with pointed teeth before clutching his hands together, “Please!” He begged again, “I’ll get on my knees for it!”

“Tom, please just chill out!” You begged with a laugh as you tucked your bag away under the bar, “You give me the money and I’ll give you my standard ticket, stop freaking out!” You promised as you struggled to tie your apron behind your back.

“Here. Let me give you a hand.” Tom tugged the ties tightly and deftly tied a knot around your waist before he let you turn back around and stroked at his beard with a clawed hand. It was a sign he was close to the full-moon and his shift, “How about we meet for a drink then before?” He asked, deep brown eyes glinting.

“No can do! The backstage stuff starts super early and I don’t want to be drunk and meet them all. The last thing I want to do is embarrass myself.” You lamented, “Do you remember when we saw Clutch after their show?”

Tom barked a great, gruff laugh at the memory of the gig you had gone to when you were both younger, “Of course I do! How could I ever forget?” He teased, “You went flying over Rakesh’s tail!” He chuckled and wiped a glass down, “Your face met the concrete, after you cracked his ass on the way down.”

“Oh great, I’m glad you got a laugh out of it!” You bumped your hip against him with a scowl before tugging at the tail poking through the back of his jeans, “I wasn’t laughing! He nearly tore me apart!” You huffed, “Such a highly strung dude…” s

“You’re telling me!” Tom huffed, “I nearly had to shift and throw him off!” He tapped the top of his arm, “He got in that bite, which hurt like a motherfucker for three weeks, by the way.” He stuck his long tongue out at you and scratched at his brown curly hair, his hairy arms exposed out of the rolled sleeves of his shirt.

“Boo hoo.” You joked, “You’re big enough to punch a Naga, so I’m sure you can take the consequences of it.” With a smile you took out a new bottle of whiskey for the premium top shelf brands, “But again, thank you, I might have ended up in a mess without you there…well and security.” You hummed as you sorted the shelves, stood on top of the stool.

“Be careful.” Tom grumbled as he went past you, “We don’t want you spanking a customer on the way down.” He joked.

“Fuck off, Tom.” You snarked back at him.

The ticket arrived the next day, and you rushed from your sofa when the delivery man knocked on the door, keen to sign for them and stash them away for the show. The postman jumped as you slammed the door open and turned his pad towards you with the parcel in one hand. After signing he handed you the thick, padded envelope and then nodded, quick to leave you to your ticket and pass. You grinned and stashed them in your lockable drawer before gushing to Tom over the phone. The night of the show came slowly. You had to work up until the day, and every shift had felt like it had taken an eon. Everything was slow and long, but finally the day arrived. Your instructions were to arrive about two hours before the main opening time, where the venue staff would greet you and take you through to the backstage. You were allowed to see the backstage operations before meeting the band you were far too obsessed with. At least, you reasoned, you weren’t like the fans stealing hair. You’d seen a lot of horror stories online. You admired the band members and you wished you could explain it without sounding very small and sad.

The concert hall was giant. It was an arena which accepted shows of all kinds. You looked up as you walked inside the doors to the ticket booth. There was security everywhere. A pair of Orc security guards watched you curiously as you smiled at the venue staff and showed them the personalised pass. It was pictures with a picture of the band on hard plastic, like a credit card.

The woman behind the desk grinned, “Boys! You’ve got someone to show around!” She wiggled her finger at the two security guards and watched them huff before she collected her clipboard and handed you a printed tote, “That’s for your merchandise choice. Now, if you’d like to come this way these two handsome Orcs will show you to the backstage.” She cooed.

“Hey. I’m Frank. This is Droz.” The elder Orc shook your hand, his greying hair tied back in a long traditional braid. He was the typical soft green colour but Droz was a charcoal grey, his eyes red and his tusks large and more prominent. Droz was studded and pierced in most places, his hair cut short and styled into a wicked hawk down the middle of his head. He nodded at you but didn’t say anything.

“Ignore him. He’s quiet.” Frank cackled before shoving his elbow into Droz’s gut and opening the door for you towards the main stage area, “Comes with being part Gargoyle.” He snarked at Droz. The other male tailed behind the two of you but opened the rail for you to go behind the barrier.

“This is the way you’ll come out to watch the show later as well.” Frank added as he showed you through the curtains.

Your heart slammed against your ribs as you clutched at your pass over your chest, holding it tightly, like a life line, as Frank showed you past the curtain and into the mess of road crew and wiring.

A heavy hand laid itself on your shoulder, “They’re good guys.” Droz rumbled behind you, “Don’t be nervous.”

You huffed awkwardly, “That’s easy to say but hard to put into practice.”

Droz shrugged, “I know but it’s good to hear it.”

“That’s the longest sentence I’ve ever heard you say, Droz.” Frank joked as he navigated through the roadcrew and made it into the back area of the venue. There was a very long corridor in the back with the dining area, small kitchen and shower room with areas for both the crew and band to chill out. You looked at the dingy hallway and felt your anxiety skyrocket.

“No need for the fright. They’re all in the lounge area waiting for you, all dolled up and pretty.” Frank chuckled before opening the door halfway down the left side of the corridor. He opened the door, and you hid behind Droz before daring to peer inside.

The entire band went quiet as Frank slammed the door against the wall. Duncan’s forest green eye peered through the curls of his hair between his horns and he grinned with flat teeth as Zadok and Senoz span around quickly.

“Can you put your tails away you freak?” Zadok smacked at Senoz’s ass as the demon grinned, crazed, his four eyes blinking in pairs as he slinked closer to catch a glimpse of you. Droz rolled his eyes and shoved you into the room before offering a shrug and closing the door, leaving you with Frank and the band.

“This is our cute little winner I take it?” Senoz purred as he took your hand and bowed, pressing it to the hot skin of his forehead as Zadok battled against the tails twisting and smacking to greet you.

“Yep. This is the lucky one.” Frank confirmed, “Play nice, hm? You need to get the photoshoot and autographs out of the way and give away the merch.” He clicked a pen and snapped it against his itinerary before waving himself out of the door.

“We always play nice.” Zadok’s low timbre vibrated as his gills flipped and shut tight against his neck. The singer was dressed in sheer fabric, the netting showing his torso off, and tight leather trousers. He offered you his white scaled hand, “A pleasure to meet you. I’m going to assume we don’t have to introduce ourselves, but for the sake of politeness, I am Zadok.” He shook your hand and smiled, white eyes and teeth exposed as his skin rippled with a deep blue light, “As for the rest of these hooligans then. Senoz is the drooling idiot next to you.”

“Rude as fuck.” Senoz snapped at the smaller male, blue eyes burning before he went back to sit next to Duncan, squeezed in on the sofa next to the Minotaur. The rhythm guitarist was dressed in a leather waist coat and tight trousers, his tails punched through a great hole in the back.

“Duncan, the man behind the longest guitar solo in our history.” He joked as Duncan flipped his hair back between his horns and waved once, uncrossing his hooves off the table and placing them on the floor. He was dressed only in a pair of leather trousers with a thick, pair of suspenders over his shoulders, showing off the piercings in his nipples.

“A pleasure.” Duncan nodded and flicked his tail at Senoz and his wiggling.

“Over in the armchair is Khadba. He’s warming up his arms so forgive him if he doesn’t wave.”

Khadba nodded his head at you but didn’t say anything as he drummed his sticks on a warm up pad, heavy arm muscles straining against the simple band shirt and his cargo shorts hiding very little of his legs, decorated with chains and bones.

“And last but not least, Blagden.” The Bicorn snorted at you but waved one hand before he kicked at Khadba’s stand and hissed at the Orc’s anger. His mass of flowing silks swayed with him as he reached to prune at his hair.

“Fuck off, Blag. I’ll put you through the chair.” Khadba growled as he tossed his great black braid down his back, the rings in his hair clicking. The Bicorn tugged at his tusks and the Orc was quick to kick Blagden’s backwards knee, grinning at the pain he had caused.

“Its lovely to meet you all.” You croaked before uttering your name and trying your best to smile without freaking out.

“You have a cute name.” Senoz purred as Duncan’s eye peered through his curtain of hair.

Duncan huffed at him, “Can you please stop laying it on so thick. No one wants to sleep with you.”

“That wasn’t my intention.” Senoz grinned at you, “But if you’re down, sweet thing, I can show you what all my mouths can do.” He purred before Zadok clawed at his scalp and threw the Demon’s head back towards Duncan.

“Keep yourself in line.” Zadok warned, “This is a fan. The media is watching.” His bioluminescence burned into an angrier looking pink before he smiled at you with long, thin sharp pointed teeth.

“He’s right, as always.” Blagden’s black eyes fixed on you before he held up a purse mirror to groom his hair around his horns, “How about we have a drink and a chat, hm?” The Bicorn reached for a beer on the table and threw his long face back to drink the great bottle, pouring it past his sharp teeth.

“What do you drink?” Khadba asked quietly as he stood up, placing his sticks on top of his padded stool.

You took a deep breath as Duncan made space for you to sit, “Something strong, please.” You begged quietly.

Zadok gave a great, hissing laugh at you and he took hold of his own drink, “Just a bit nervous, huh?” He asked gently as he sat in one of the armchairs.

You let out a sigh, “I’m shitting myself.” You confessed, “You guys are my favourite band and I just… Everything I want to say sounds super lame and I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Duncan eyed you, “You’re not goin’ to fuck it up, sweetheart.” He snorted, the ring in his nose bouncing as he spread his furry arms over the back of the seat, “We’re not exactly prim or proper.” He rolled his green eyes and scratched at the base of one of his horns.

“Especially not Duncan. He comes from a farm.” Senoz cackled, the noise echoing mysteriously in his body.

“I’ll puncture your other arse cheek.” Duncan thumped at the demon, “Farm work is the reason I don’t look like a twiggy mother fucker.”

“Boys. We have a guest.” Zadok scolded them both with a hiss, the bony fins on his head flaring.

“Here.” Khadba placed a Vodka and mixer in front of you, “To take the edge off.” He smiled before returning to his seat with a large Orcish mead.

“Thank you.” You smiled and took a drink before realizing just how strong it was, “Maybe only the one for me.” You joked.

“So, on to the actual part of this contest win!” Senoz clapped and Zadok reached for the list itinerary with a curse.

“Merchandise?” He asked the room.

Duncan stood up, his curly hair rippling down his back as the sofa bounced back into shape, relieved of his weight, “They put it back here.” He rumbled as he opened a big box labelled ‘exclusive’ and peered inside. He pulled free a shirt before huffing, “How about you come choose, eh?” He left it open and moved aside for you to squeeze in and look.

“Holy shit. This is exclusive Fanclub stuff!” You cursed as you pulled free the shirt, lanyard, and various stickers. You looked at the pin badges before there was another item that caught your eye, “They made plushies?!” You cooed as you dragged free the soft plush of Duncan.

“When the fuck did they make that?” He looked at you and laughed, a great bark of one breath before he shrugged and pulled his hair from his eyes, “Fine just take it. Before I change my mind. You want one of each of the rest too?”

“Please. Oh gosh, thank you so much.” You let Duncan dump the rest of the items in your bag.

“Where’s the plushies of the rest of us?” Senoz whined as he peered into the box, “No way there’s only Duncan!?” He hissed, “Bull shit.”

“Too bad, Senoz. You’re not kid friendly enough.” Blagden hissed at him as he took great pleasure in peering at what else they had to do, “Picture as well.” His talon tapped the list and Zadok nodded before he shouted for Frank.

“Behaving?” Frank asked as he walked in, “Or are you calling me in to drag Blagden off someone?” He chuckled before Zadok leaned back and tapped the clipboard.

“We need the photographer.” The merman smiled.

Frank nodded, “Sure. I’ll go and grab him. Best get situated. He’ll not want to be in here long.” Frank closed the door behind him with a click and you took another calming breath before you tucked away your bag and chugged the rest of your drink in an effort to calm yourself down.

“Don’t make yourself sick!” Khadba chuckled as he tucked his braids back over his shoulder.

“That’s not a good look on a photo.” Senoz teased before walking around you and looking at your outfit.

“Mate. Stop it. It’s concerning.” Duncan pulled him into the sofa and smacked his hoof against the Demon’s leg.

“Now then,” Zadok smiled, “What sort of poses are you wanting. Obviously we can’t do anything sexual or which could injure us.”

Blagden chortled before purring, “I don’t think that’s what Lady Conch had to say last time you saw her.” The guys shook their heads, “I heard you two through the walls.”

“Enough, Blagden.” Khadba sneered, “Fan in the room.” He punched the Bicorn none too gently, “Remember your fucking manners.”

“Uhm.” You tried to ignore the fury on Zadok’s face, “I would just like a big group photo if that’s okay? Maybe with you guys all crowded around and me in the middle. Maybe we could do some funny back to back things?” You asked quietly to the three men around you.

“Sure thing.” Zadok smiled thinly, “Duncan will have to crouch big style.” He teased.

“Not my fault you’re all fucking tiny.” The Minotaur clicked his tongue.

“I suppose it isn’t.” Zadok looked down at the list in his lap before humming, “This has been kind of lame…” He clicked his fingers, “How about single portraits with each of us too? We’ll sign each.” He smiled.

“How about you actually talk to ‘em huh?” Senoz shook his head and smiled, touching a tip of a horn before he offered his hand, “What do you do for a living?”

You swallowed, “I just work in a bar.” Awkwardly, you continued, “Me and Tom, my friend, we always go and see shows like these and dream about having a rock bar. The place we work is this trucker place. The music is decent, but it gets rowdy.” You laughed, “But its purely luck I won this…” You hung your head, “I’m glad I did…You guys are my heroes. I listened to everything. Anything new from when you first supported Howl. It was just so pretty and hard! Amazing!” You gushed, “All your music has got me through some hard stuff and I just felt like I should tell you all that.”

“Here.” Khadba stood over you, offering a tissue, “You’re crying.” He hushed you.

“I’ve never heard anyone talk about our stuff like that.” Duncan wrapped a warm arm around you and gave you a squeeze as Zadok sat in silence.

“I’m glad it makes you happy.” Blagden offered from across the room.

Senoz nodded, “Music is the soul. If it helps you heal, then that’s good enough for all of us.” He patted your head and you wiped at your makeup before blubbering.

“Thank you for listening to us.” Zadok whispered, his fins flattening against his skin, “To know my work makes you feel such things. That is enough for me to continue to sing.” He touched your hand with his cool fingers before Frank opened the door with the photographer.

“You alright sweetheart?” He asked with a glare at the band.

“Yeah.” You sniffled, “I’m alright!” With a smile you stood up and binned the tissue, “I think I know exactly what kind of photo I want to have!”

The photographer pinched his nose and peered over the top of his sunglasses, “I haven’t got all day, you know.” He lisped a little and you noticed the red eyes. He was a vampire, “I have to set up with the media.”

“Come on.” Duncan barked a laugh again as he led you over to the backdrop set up in the corner.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Frank asked as he helped you hop over the barrier to stand right in the centre stage. You were ready, having left your bad with Frank and Droz in the back, your new shirt pulled on after peeing. You were set for an awesome night. Before Frank could ask you another question, Khadba appeared from behind the curtain with a plastic cup in hand.

He waved once as he strode over, his rings and chains clinking before he offered you the cup, “A drink. On me.” The Orc nodded and smiled, revealing the silver rings around the base of his tusks, “I was easier on the Vodka.” He promised as he left you with Frank, “Have a good time, alright?”

“Thank you, and I will, I promise.” You shouted with a smile as he headed back behind the curtain, “You can go as well, Frank. I’ll be fine! People will be heading inside soon, and I know you have some checks to do.” You smiled, “Thank you for looking after me. You’ve been wonderful.”

“You’re very welcome.” He grinned with a nod, “Now you be careful. They’re no doubt going to get very rowdy.” He wagged his finger before disappearing behind the curtain. You nursed your drink for a few moments more before the curtain twitched again and Blagden appeared.

His black eyes quickly caught sight of you, and he huffed before offering you a small, plastic case, “Don’t burst your eardrums, cutie.” He tossed you the purple case, “Its going to get loud.” He made a horns sign at you before sauntering away, his heavy hooves clicking as his slick black fur disappeared back behind the curtains. You opened the case and looked at the industrial earplugs before smiling and slipping them into your pocket for the gig. The doors slammed open behind you, and you braced yourself for the onslaught of people as you texted Tom to elbow his way to the front.

Tom shouted your name as he made his way close and you were quick to snag him by the shirt and pull him into the gap next to you. The werewolf was far less monstrous today. His eyes were still bright and orange, but he was not sporting his tail and snout.

“That crowd right there was a nightmare.” He sighed with relief as he laid his forearms on the banister and shuddered, “How was the meet?” Tom teased as he tugged his unruly hair backwards, “Did you suck face?”

“Absolutely not!” You smacked at his arm, “I had a bit of a cry, we had loads of pictures and I hung out with possibly the coolest band ever.”

“Oh, so just the normal then?” Tom snarked, “That sounds amazing. Sounds like you had fun.”

“Here look!” You showed him your phone and grinned clicking on the camera album, “They’re all very sweet.” The pictures were very safe. Zardok had his arm around you, his fingers up in the sign of the devil. Duncan was looming over the back of you with a monstrous glare. Senoz covered your eyes and opened up his mouth in a scarily wide grin. Khadba’s was a little awkward but he was smiling softly as you held his drumsticks with a smile. Blagden had you pose back to back with him, his snout tossed in the air like a regal pony.

Tom gave you a smile, “Honestly, I’m really happy for you…Though I am jealous Duncan isn’t cold in only suspenders and trousers.”

“Tom he is covered in curly fur!” You laughed as you slipped your phone away, “You’re the same when you shift!”

The werewolf hummed, “But would I wear leather suspenders? I think not.” He snapped his fingers at you before looking at the empty drink in your hand, “They’ve fed you alcohol? Lord save us all.” Tom mocked a prayer before you elbowed his side.

“Khadba gave me one!” Tom went cross-eyed to look at your one finger held up to his nose, “I’ve had two in total and that’s it. I promise.”

“Maybe I needed to word my warning a little more strongly.” He tutted before laughing at you, “You’re dangerous with one. Let’s see how you manage two making you do stupid things.”

“I’ll be fine, Tom. Stop being such a mother hen.” You joked before taking a sharp breath as the room was plunged into pitch black.

“I hope you brought your wig.” Tom teased next to your ear, “Because we’re about to get our hair fucking singed off.”

The darkness made the fans in the arena roar with joy and you grinned as the support act appeared on the stage, guitars held up for the audience to see.

“Well, maybe not just yet.” Tom lamented before readying himself at the front for the show.

The support band were excellent, and you cheered at the front after their performance, already sweating and far too hot. Tom grinned before going to fetch you both a drink. He returned with cold plastic cups.

“Water, I promise.” He clinked his plastic cup with your own and pulled his hair back away from his face as you looked at the stagehands drop a great sheet cover over the stage. It was dark and they worked by torchlight to set up for SIREN.

“I’m so excited.” You cooed, “I never thought I’d see this…”

“Come on, don’t get all gooey on me.” Tom chuckled and grinned with sharp canines as he shrugged his flannel off to expose his own band shirt, “I’m excited as well. This is going to be insane!” He laughed, “So much better than their support show.” He looked wistfully at the stage and downed the rest of his drink just as the lights snapped off. The crowd roared behind you and you threw your cup over the barrier as you bounded against it and peered up as something was placed in the centre of the stage behind the sheer purple curtain.

There was a rumble over the speakers before the purple sheet dripped down to the floor. There was a pitch-black tank in the centre of the stage. A great hissing noise blended into something close to a whale song before white light lit up the water. The crystal-clear water held Zadok. His white skin glowed with burning purple light as he twisted in the water, a microphone taped to his chest and throat as his eyes opened, pure white. His mouth opened to reveal clear needle-like teeth as he released another great bellowing noise into the dark room. It was silent otherwise, except for Zadok’s haunting song. You peered into the water as he twisted and released a series of clicks as water began to slosh and crash in the speakers. The merman’s claws and webbed hands reached out of the water before he pulled himself free of the water and slid into the darkness of the stage, his bioluminescence lighting his path as he let out a gentle noise and merged into a soft human sounding lilt. Your mouth hung open in awe as he stood at the front of the stage, humming before he opened his mouth wide.

“And now we stand. Silent. Darkness.” There was a pause before his eyes flashed and he hissed, “THE COLD DARK WATER.”

Suddenly, the spotlights flashed as Khadba’s cymbals crashed and the guitars roared three chords together. Blagden’s bass rumbled on in the background as the guitar rolled with a lilting scale and Zadok continued to sing centre stage, dripping water from his skin as he kneeled at the front of the stage, glowing brilliantly as the lights died and flashed once more with another thunderous crash and guitar strum. There was silence before the guitars wailed and the song truly began and you looked up as the crowd roared, listening to the beginnings of the chorus eagerly before the water crashing started again and Zadok’s haunting melody reverberated around the stadium. Tom jumped with a cheer next to you as the song grew into a thunderous noise like water crashing against the cliffs, and you watched Zadok fall to his knees as the storm calmed and the water settled. He settled down and hummed into the microphone as he finished the gentle ending. The guitars faded as the spotlights went off one by one and you grinned as the water trickled and dropped to a stop. The crowd cheered and you smiled as the lights came on properly to reveal the band.

“Are you motherfuckers ready for some mind-blowing music?!” Zadok screamed at the audience as Duncan’s guitar gently plodded onwards with an intermediate tune. Blagden sauntered over to him, his bass rumbling as he grinned and the two of them stood back to back as Zadok introduced the next song.

“Now this one is an oldie. A very old song named Blood.” He purred before Senoz grinned and started the introduction riffs.

“AND NOW ITS TIME TO BURN!” Zadok howled into the microphone sometime later. Duncan thudded to the front of the stage, slick with sweat, his curly hair tossing left and right as he slammed one hoof on top of the box and slapped at his bare chest. The crowd cheered as both Senoz and Duncan started the song. With a huff and a toss of his head, Duncan launched himself into the solo, his finger dancing over the frets as he felt the music in his legs, stomping on top of the box as Zadok headbanged towards the others, growling low into the microphone occasionally as Duncan’s fingers tore down the frets in another feat of speed. You screamed at the front as he ducked low, his hair flying over the top of his horns as he continued into a reverb before throwing the plectrum down to you with a wink and a great shake of his head, his fur rippling as he stomped his way over to Senoz to continue the song. You held the plectrum tightly to your chest. In the middle of the show you watched Senoz and Blagden butt heads in the middle of the stage, their horns rammed together as the song blurred into the next, stomping and kicking at each other’s legs as they battled each other in how fast they could strum their way up and down the necks of their guitars. Khadba interrupted their duel with a crashing solo, his tattooed arms bulging with overworked muscles as he spun his stick between beats, sweating in the heat of the spotlights. The crowd roared at the solos and screamed with Zadok until it was the end of the show, and the band stood to take the applause, sweating, panting and smiling as the crowd clapped and cheered.

Tom grinned at the end of the show, his eyes wild with happiness as you both stood still, waiting for the rest of the crowd to filter out of the hall. You smiled at the stage as the crew were quick to start cleaning up.

“That was insane.” He huffed, his shirt tucked into his jeans as he wiped at the sweat on his chest, “Where’s all your stuff?” Tom asked with curious, half-shifted yellow eyes, snorting softly with the excitement of the gig still burning his nerves.

You smiled and pointed to the curtain, “Backstage. I think Droz will have them. He’s security. We might have to wait a little bit to see him though.”

“Oh, getting in with the security as well I see!” Tom teased, “Who’s that waving at you? Through the curtain there.” He pointed again and you squinted at the grey hand.

“That’ll be Droz.” You whispered as the last few stragglers collected stray plectrums and setlists before it was just the two of you. Tom shrunk away as the intimidating frame of the Orc hybrid came into view. He held you bag in his hand and you smiled brightly, tired and sweaty from the gig.

“Thank you, Droz, you’re a lifesaver.” Gently, he handed you your bag, appraising Tom with a curious red eye.

“Your welcome. It was nice having you.” Droz grumbled, spinning the ring in his nose before he gave you a wave, “I’ll tell Frank you got off safe. Be careful on the way home.”

“Thank you!” You shouted as he disappeared into the back.

“So, are all of the band that ripped, or just him?” Tom joked as you shouldered your merchandise.

“Says you! Come on. Let’s get home. I think this was enough excitement for anyone, my heads ready to explode.”

“Never have I felt so exhausted.” You groaned in your seat as you sat down in the café near your apartment. The city was at least quiet by the time you woke up today. It was around ten, and most people were at work. You waited, half asleep, for the server to dump your coffee on your table with your meal and hummed quietly as your phone vibrated.

‘I hope you didn’t end up with one of the hotties from last night at home!’

You scowled at Tom’s message.

‘Fuck off. I’m tired and you’re not helping.’

He pinged your phone a few more times and you ignored it as your food and coffee was placed before you.

“Thank you.” You smiled and turned in your seat to look around. That was when you saw the one person you didn’t expect to see.

---

Chapter 2 - Duncan

Chapter 3- Zadok

Chapter 4- Senoz

Chapter 5 - Blagden

Chapter 6- Khadba

379 notes · View notes

kurinoot · 4 years ago

Text

[day 1] one box of chocolates | tendou satori

-> you’ve been wanting to surprise your boyfriend with your own batch of chocolates and better yet, grace him with your presence this coming valentines. to your shock, you got more than what you thought it would be.

pairing: tendou x reader

themes: fluff, post-timeskip

word count: 2125 words

author’s note: I can’t believe I’m writing again! hahaha, and tendou being my first haikyuu character to create a fic uwu anyways, he was kinda hard to write on as he only got shots from seasons 3 and 4, so this may somehow seem ooc but please, I do accept constructive criticisms :) enjoy!

btw, I added a music in specific parts of the story so you can play them if you want so as to add some touches while you’re reading :)

"Ah, I hope the chocolates haven't melted yet!", you sigh tiredly with worry as you scramble your hand inside your carry-on bag, carefully checking your box of handmade chocolates as you make your way through the bustling Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport. The almost 14-hour non-stop flight has definitely taken a toll on you and the jet lag is definitely not helping you either.

You finally feel the cold air kissing your skin as you drag your way out of the airport, gingerly carrying your baggage all the while ensuring that your handmade gift is in good hands. Apparently, you weren't informed that Paris in February would require you more layers of clothing than what the thin sweater you’re wearing could offer. With a rush, you immediately went to the nearest vacant taxi. You rattled your brain for some basic French, muttering a soft “Bonjour” as you pinpoint the driver to your phone, showing him your destination. After a while, you finally feel the weight of the jet lag in your body. You deeply sigh as you finally let yourself sink in the back seat of the taxi. The driver seemed to know something, if you fumbling with your words and the way you slumped on the back seat was a sign.

"Rough day, mademoiselle?", the driver asks you in English (to, at least, your surprise) with a rough French accent, smiling. You brighten up a bit despite the stress, "Uh yes, monsieur. Am I right? It's probably the jet lag, but yeah.".

"Don't worry, your basic French is good! So, what is a young mademoiselle doing here alone? And on Valentines’ Day?”

“Ah merci! I’m actually here to visit this chocolate shop.”, you reply with a bright smile as you pinpoint your phone to the said location once again. He grins, to your surprise.

“Ah yes! That shop is actually famous around these parts, especially this Valentines’ season. Although, the owner is quite weird and even creepy for most people from what I heard around here.”, he mentions, and despite getting accustomed to how most people see Satori, you felt your hand cusp into a fist as you gritted your teeth, seething in annoyance and preparing to fight back or even to get off the taxi.

“Yet despite the rumors, he’s a kind young man. Eccentric one, I admit, but he knows the chocolate fit for the customer. Hell, he even helped me pick for my wife!” The driver continues, chuckling at the memory.

You feel all the anger in you disappear, proud of your boyfriend, as it was somewhat kind of rare for you to hear good compliments about him, “That’s just probably how other people see him. I would say, he’s a tad too eccentric for most people. He’s kind and soft-hearted and cute if you get to know him beyond the surface.”, you reply languidly with proud eyes.

You saw his eyes glance at you, before looking back at the road.

Unknowingly, your smile didn’t falter at the memory of Satori. “In fact, the owner is my boyfriend! And I’m actually here to visit — or rather, surprise him today!”

The driver chuckled softly, “Figures. You were talking about the owner like he’s your lover, and,” He paused, his eyes gazed towards the photograph of a woman that you took notice of earlier. “I can say the same.” His voice became tender as he continued driving.

You have finally arrived at your boyfriend’s little happy place, much to your joy and excitement. You immediately paid the driver and thanked him for the ride (and for the conversation). As soon as you get out of the cab, the driver calls you out, rummages something from a compartment in his cab, and surprises you with a lush red rose, thankfully free of its prickly thorns.

"You somehow remind me of me and my wife when we were younger, and it's Valentines' Season and better yet, you're in the City of Love! So please, take this as a Valentines' souvenir, mademoiselle".

"Oh you didn't have to, monsieur!"

“Good luck with that boyfriend of yours, mademoiselle! Yer both lucky to have each other.”, he says, somehow inspired by how you defended Satori as he mutters an ‘ah, young love’ to himself afterwards as he waves before driving to his next destination. Despite the jet lag creeping in your system, you grasp the remaining energy you have to at least surprise your boyfriend with your presence in the spirit of Valentines' Day in the City of Love.

I can't believe I'm in Paris, and I'm seeing Satori's shop for the first time!, you thought as you giddily reached for the eccentric gold-gilded handle of the door, slowly opening the door to the shop. The instant scent of the cocoa hit right through your senses as your eyes ran across the various chocolates on display. Walking further, you were graced with the view of your beloved with his back on you, occupied with washing his tools to finish the day as he sways his hips to the rhythm of the song he’s humming so softly.

He stops humming as soon as he hears the chime of the door bell, "Je suis désolée, on est fermé. (I’m sorry, we’re closed)", you hear Satori with bits of his Japanese accent as he continued humming afterwards, clueless of who had entered his shop.

"Well, I was thinking of grabbing a Valentines' special with my boyfriend.", you replied teasingly, emphasizing the word boyfriend, which left the budding chocolatier a bit frozen in shock as he turned to your direction with wide eyes before shifting to a smirk as he leans on the countertop, narrowing his eyes towards you as an “Oh, what do we have here?” leaves his mouth.

“My Sugar!”, he nearly screamed, seeing you as he dropped everything he’s doing and rushed to hug you tightly, not caring about his wet hands.

You lovingly welcome his arms as you hug him back tightly, soaking in his presence after being separated for so long.

“I missed you so much, Satori!”, you pout as you felt him tightening his embrace, as you savored his warmth after a long flight, his breath tickling the nape of your neck. You gasp a little bit as he gently caresses your hair, maximizing his hug with you to finally see, touch, and feel you in person.

You felt Satori loosen his arms, as you immediately replaced with the warmth of the Parisian cold, much to your disappointment. Without you knowing, Satori sees even the slightest of your body trembling from the current weather and rushes back in the kitchen to grab his Shiratorizawa jacket, much to your surprise. He then returns to you, gracefully sliding the jacket over your shoulders.

You pout at him with a prominent blush on your plump cheeks, “Thank you, Satori”, to which he replies with another hug much tighter compared to the one a few minutes ago.

“I love, love, LOVE you so much, my chocolate ice cream!”, he exclaimes as you were suddenly smothered with a couple of pecks — light kisses on your head. You snuggled closer to his chest, eagerly smelling his sweet scent of chocolate that suddenly reminded you of your handmade chocolate that you’ve left unattended for hours. You quickly scramble away from the contact, much to your endearing boyfriend’s curiosity, to see if the chocolate has withstood not only the long flight, but also Satori’s warm, tight hugs. Luckily, the red cardboard box was sturdy enough and only had a couple dents — making you sigh in relief. As soon as you pull out the box, you see your boyfriend narrowing his eyes to the direction of the box with peaked curiosity.

“Ah, what do we have here?” Satori teases, pulling off a smirk, eyes still on the box as he receives it. He gave it a little shake, that made you giggle as he playfully tried to guess what was inside. Although you could feel your cheeks burning in embarrassment with each second passing. You look away in embarrassment as you watch him. He looks at you with piqued interest, wondering what has gotten you a bit tad embarrassed, if the pink in your cheeks were even a telltale sign.

You anxiously mumbled, “W-Well, I mean, my boyfriend probably makes the best chocolate in the world, so it k-kinda sucks that the only Valentines’ gift I can give you is a box of chocolates that I have made—”, you got cut off as you see and hear your boyfriend already popping one of the chocolates in his mouth, much to your chagrin. To your surprise, he kept popping more and more of the chocolates, savoring each delight.

“Waif, lemme geth sum hot milk.” he says, with his mouth full of your handmade chocolates as he scrambles back to the kitchen, heating up some milk. As you wait for him, you notice a gramophone on the countertop with a vinyl record already in place, with Edith Piaf written on on the center portion in black marker, which you found cute as you imagined Satori listening to Edith Piaf while doing his daily chocolate-making routine. You try to play the music and much to your delight, your head gently swayed to the song, and eventually your body. Immediately after the song has started, your body has already succumbed to the rhythm of the music that you didn’t notice Satori returning with two mugs of hot milk. He grins, enjoying the view of you dancing to French music as he places the mugs down on the counter. He slowly sways as he walks up to you, his hands snaking around your waist from your back as your bodies swing leisurely to the rhythm, much to your surprise yet you quickly relax as you lean back on him, holding his hands around your waist.

Never in your wildest dreams have you imagined that the Satori Tendou, your boyfriend, the oddball, would be dancing with you like this, alone in his chocolate shop under the moonlight on Valentines’ Day in the City of Love. It was too much for your heart to handle, and probably for his heart, too.

You dance for a couple more minutes until the song slowly fades. He then relishes the way he holds you, albeit the music has already finished. You both savor each other’s presence a few more, before Satori then gets the mugs of hot milk, not wanting to waste the good heat on a cold Parisian night. You gladly accept the milk with one hand, as you grasp his jacket with the other, not wanting to feel even the slightest cold breeze. Your boyfriend then leads you to a seat on the counter, sitting next to you as he prepares his mug and your box of chocolates, now with only a few pieces.

“I never thought you would actually go here in Paris”, he starts, as he pops another one of your chocolate in his mouth, followed by gulping down his warm milk.

“I never thought I would actually go here, but I’m grateful that I did, because this is the best Valentines’ Day I’ve ever had!”, you beam as you hold your mug with both hands, relishing the warmth as you drink down your milk.

Tendou then takes note of your chocolates, “You know, I was thinking of adding your chocolates to the menu, and credit you also. Probably name it Le Chocolat Y/N Au Lait Special or something!” You smiled and held a hand on your chest, feeling how warm it suddenly felt.

“Satori, I’d love to.”, you replied, to which his smile grew bright that could burst your heart to how cute he is.

Your beloved continues to chew and drink, looking around when he notices the fresh red rose from earlier sitting atop of your luggage. You follow his line of sight, immediately seeing the lone rose. You finish drinking your milk before you tell him enthusiastically, “Ah! That was given by the taxi driver that drove me earlier. Said that we somehow reminded him of him and his wife on Valentine's Day in the City of Love in this same shop, so he gave me one.”, imitating the way your driver said City of Love. Much to your shock, Satori sardonically laughs, saying it was a tad bit too French, at least for his taste.

While finishing the last remnants of your warm milk, he then goes to the nearby gramophone and plays another Edith Piaf classic. You glance at him with curiosity as he looks at you smugly, stretching out his hand as he invites you to another dance.

“So, where were we?”

back to valentines masterlist

#tina.writes #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #tendō satori #tendou x reader #valentines #haikyuu valentines #haikyuu fics #haikyuu imagines #14 days of valentine

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fvrxdrm · 4 years ago

Text

City of the Living Dead

Chapter 6

"September 28, 2:30 am... It's down to just me and 3 others. No weapons...no ammo...and too many skirmishes have drained us mentally and physically. We're not gonna make it... Officer Phillips once suggested we escape through the sewers. Apparently, there's a secret tunnel under this place left over from its museum days. I brushed her idea off before, but now, it's not sounding all that bad. Yeah, there's no proof there's even a tunnel or that the sewers aren't infested with zombies, but I don't wanna sit here and wait to die, either. It's a long shot, but I'm gonna try to find out what I can about that tunnel... Elliot Edward," you read, "Shit. Rest in peace, buddy." You placed the transcript back to where you found it and proceeded in scanning the room you and Leon were in.

It was an office of some sort with mahogany desks occupying the center, swivel chairs pointing towards every direction, some paperworks piled in a stack and some (or rather most) cluttered all over the tables and floor. It looked like a hurricane together with an earthquake and a tsunami clashed and crashed in the area.

"Leon, w-" your head twisted and turned as you looked for best friend and even called out to him when you found him just staring at something on the ceiling, his trembling lips pinned in between pearly-white teeth, eyebrows furrowed upwards, and eyes looking like a dam was about to breakdown because of too much pressure. You went towards where he was standing and followed his gaze. You gasped. He was looking at stringed triangle banners with letters printed out on each of them

WEL COME LEON

Your face began to mirror Leon's but a pained smile differentiated yours from his as a sudden rush of memory enlightened your brain. "Hey, look, the design's the same as the banner I surprised you with when we were 15," you said, raising an arm to point at the triangular flags.

Leon chuckled softly at what you said and nodded while a sneaky tear flowed down his cheek in a tiny stream. "Yeah."

"Come on, Leon! I worked hard for this." You hauled on your friend's wrist and led him towards his room with a strain as Leon's languor held him back.

"This better be good, Y/N. You fucking woke me up and I'm really close to fucking strangling you." His voice was a little hoarse from having just woken up right before you pulled him off of the couch and he was still lowkey tired because of the three-hour rest he had last night, but as much as he wanted to throw you out of his house and fall into a well-deserved slumber again, he was into surprises and was curious as to what you had in store. So, he went along with it even though he was pretty much a sloth still.

"I promise you'll love it." You chortled.

Leon sighed in defeat before loosening up and letting you pull him towards where you wanted to take him for this so-called surprise with a rub of his crusty eyes.

When a familiar door came into view in front of you, you covered Leon's eyes with one of your hands and twisted the door knob, revealing a bedroom with a banner hovering over Leon's messy bed, before lightly pushing him inside.

"All right, here we are," you spoke as you removed your hand from your face, moving right beside him to watch Leon's face as it shifted from being enraptured to crestfallen real quick. You guffawed in a boisterous way at his reaction and plummeted down to the ground whilst clutching your stomach in a joyful pain.

YOU SUCK LEON

"Really, Y/N? This-this is what you wanted to show me?"

"It's true though, you actually suck!"

"Come on, you know you only won in Street Fighter because I let you," he whined. You stood up from being laid on the floor before clutching onto Leon's shoulder for dear life.

"For 20 times? Really?" You laughed again, "nah, you just suck, bro."

Leon narrowed his eyes at you with lips pressing tightly in a thin line and turned towards you, his feet moving slowly in tandem as he approach you with a spurious anger, his hands closing into fists.

"What?" You asked with a nervous chuckle and feet backing up in rhythm with his laggard advances.

"You think I suck?" His voice imitated a dark tone. Had you not been slightly scared - which you hated to admit - you would've busted a gut at how ridiculous it sounded.

"I mean, yeah, it's already said in the banner, dimwitt."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Well, let's see who sucks now!"

Welp, that's my cue!

You dodged Leon's attack by the skin of your teeth, stumbling on a stupid pencil for a bit, before proceeding to run around the house to avoid Leon's "spider fingers" as you call it and making a tiny bit of a mess. However, your luck has gone away and he eventually caught you when you accidentally tripped over the leg of a chair, throwing you into his bed and tickling each spot that would make you squirm and and laugh.

"I still suck, huh?"

"N-no, fine...y-you don't...s-suck," you cried in between heavy breaths and hysterics. Satisfied with your remark, Leon stopped his fingers from moving and plopped down beside you, taking a moment to catch his breath before he pulled you closer to his body and spooned you. "You still couldn't win yesterday though."

"Yeah, well, I know a million ways to win your heart though."

"Fuck off, Le-le." Leon tsked at the nickname.

"Y/N, that sounds awful as fuck."

"Whatever." You felt his lashes kiss the nape of your neck as he closed his eyes to give them another four hours of rest, your own following afterwards when you heard Leon's muffled voice vibrate against your shirt.

"Hey, you wanna be my date for homecoming?"

"I thought you already asked Lexee to be your date."

"Dante already asked her out, so..."

"Okay, fine, I'll be your date." You squeezed his hand before intertwining your fingers with his and smiling when you felt him kiss your hair.

"Thanks, Y/N. Good night."

"It's 10 in the morning, dumba-"

"Shh... Rock-a-bye baby..."

"You do suck though." You light-heartedly nudged Leon's side and wrinkled your eyes in a grin, chuckling when he returned the gesture with a titter.

"I really don't," he retorted back.

"Sure." You took his hand in yours and gently squeezed it in a comforting way to ease the two of you before placing a feather's kiss on the back of it. "Come on, we still have a job to do."

*****

Leon S. Kennedy, we're putting you on a very special case for your first assignment. Your mission is...to unlock your desk! The key to your success is in the initials of our first names. Input the letters in order of our desks. There are 2 locks- 1 on each side of your desk. Make sure you get them both. Basically, your first task is to remember your fellow officers' names, but you figured that much out, right? Good luck, Leon. By the way, it might take a little work to get Scott to give you a straight answer.

Lieutenant Branagh

Scrawled in a corner between drops of blood on the paper was an additional note the lieutenant had written while he and his fellow officers were isolated and trapped, and it read:

Be glad you're not here, rookie.

"Remember your fellow officers' names..."

"I think that means the initials of my supposedly co-workers' names should be the password to open these locks on my desk." Leon stood up from where he was knelt down on the floor and casted around from desk to desk, unlocking the padlocks on his table and claiming the prize after accomplishing his "first assignment" - a magazine for his beloved Matilda.

You smiled when Leon pulled out the gun he's had since the beginning of his adult years, another retention reminding you of the peaceful days you once had before you started walking right into confusion.

Matilda was a gift Leon's father had given him on his 18th birthday, a few months before he died of cancer. He was happy about it, and knowing how his family had supported his decision on him becoming a cop, his heart fluttered inside and he couldn't be more grateful about it. Leon held onto it everyday, even becoming a bit hesitant about leaving it behind whenever he went to school. And when his father passed away because of said illness, he grasped onto the weapon the same way he did when his dad was still alive, if not more.

"Happy birthday, Leon. Happy birthday, Leon. Happy birthday, happy birthday... Happy birthday, Leon... HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEON!"

Leon's cheeks stretched in an almost painful way as everyone erupted into cheers and confetti fell from the ceiling. Each person was wearing cone-shaped hats and the living room was decorated with different ornaments colored in his favorite hues. His family was there and so were his friends, and oh, how could he almost forget...

It was his 18th birthday!

"So, what do you think?" You spoke from behind him. He turned around to see you smiling like an idiot and tugging on the string of a party you picked up from the floor.

"This," he began. "This is amazing! Wh-"

"Well, son, the candle's almost melting. Wanna make a wish?" Leon's dad emerged from behind the small crowd with a three-layered cake balanced on top of his palms. The icing of the pastry was blue, edible police-related finishing touches garnished it with such perfection he almost didn't want to eat it for the sake of admiring and staring at the cake, and a single candle formed into the number 18 as an emphasis to his recent age was placed on top with a tiny flame dancing around in the air. Leon closed his eyes and wished for the best before blowing the candle, watching as the fire disappeared into a swirling smoke. Everyone rejoiced once again.

When voices had began dying down one by one, Leon's father called his name and picked up a box from underneath the table after placing the cake down where it wouldn't fall down.

"Leon, you're going to be attending the police academy soon and in the next few years you'll be the cop you always wanted. So, as a gift, I give you this gun." He opened the rectangular cardboard box where a gun laid and presented it to his child, Leon's eyes sparkling in delight at his very own weapon. "I know you'll be taking good care of Matilda."

"Matilda?" Leon asked in confusion.

"You know, like, Mathilda from Leon: The Professional," his dad replied. Leon chuckled in response before he carefully took the gun out of its container, still a bit iffy about touching it.

"I'll be taking good care of this, dad."

"I know you will."

"You still have that gun?" You spoke as you gestured towards his firearm.

"Yep, she still looks good as new. I didn't want to break my promise," Leon responded. He turned his gun around to show you just how much he kept it safe like a mother would to a child. Your E/C orbs twinkled in admiration, a feeling in your heart you had kept for a very long time flittering in a joyous manner for the first time since you last saw him.

"Nothing's really changed, huh?"

"I don't want to change anything for now...especially now that you're back here with me."

*****

So, I found this image on google and an idea suddenly popped into my head lmao.

Anyway, WE'RE BACK! I was busy in school blah blah blah. I think yall know that already.

#leonkennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagines #leon s kennedy x reader #leonxreader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #residentevil2 #resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine: Part Two

Erik and Reader have an office fling.

Warnings: SMUT. Straight to the nasty shit.

Like and Reblog! xoxoxo!

You hold your hands in your lap while Erik’s large masculine hand brushed and fondled your upper thigh. He would take his fingers to wrap around your thick thigh before squeezing it. Your eyes trailed down to his smooth veiny hand watching him knead your flesh with a firm grasp before releasing it. This made you move your knees from side to side. Now, Erik’s fingers began to tickle your inner thigh.

“I love how you came out of the house with some pants on, Y/N,” He spoke with a dry tone.

“I’m sorry,” You were going to wear a denim skirt at first but since there were no other plans besides going back to his place you figured the velour tracksuit was better. So much for that. Erik wanted to feel your skin and have easier access to that juicy pussy. You couldn’t blame his persistence and determination to have you. Untamed and primal, Erik fits his large hand no matter how difficult into the front of your track pants. His entire hand cupped your pussy. You felt silky, smooth, delicate, and creamy down there. Satisfaction crowded his features as he maneuvered the car and rubbed his large hand over your heated and engorged lips.

“You tryna sit this swollen pussy on my dick?”

“Mhm, Daddy.” You allow your eyes to watch his hand move up and down between your legs. The fabric of the tracksuit was digging into your hips and frustrating you. Squirming, you pull your pants down and kicked it off along with your slides. Erik was now greeted with the sight of your waxed mound covered in drenched teal green panties. The entire crotch was juicy and sopping wet. Legs wide and limber, you provide better access for Erik’s large hand to rub, flick, and finger your pussy to his enjoyment.

“Dassit’ give that pussy up,” He yanks the crotch of your panties to the side watching your pussy involuntarily contract with need. The third leg in Erik’s track pants throbbed like a pulse. That’s exactly why he wore track pants. His dick needed breathing room so it could grow and expand comfortably.

“Your shit is so wet. Little pussy is begging me right now.”

“Umph, Yes-” you moan as he slaps your pussy.

“Grab my dick. Now.”

You reach across his lap to grab his pipe. Your pussy spasmed.

“Feelin’ that?” He spoke huskily.

“Mhm.”

“This what you playing wit’ tonight, girl. All this long dick.”

“Umph, Daddy-”

“Spread them pussy lips so I can see that sweet pink.”

You used your free hand to spread your pussy wide. Your labia looked like fleshy wings leading up to your erect and succulent clit. Then there was that tight plundering hole with your syrup oozing out and down the crack of your ass. Erik’s tongue poked out and flicked towards his upper lip while making deep grunting and growling sounds.

“You’re so sweet, Baby girl,” Erik takes his fingers to slide them inside your pussy. You choke on a moan because you hadn’t expected that so suddenly. He was finger-fucking your pussy greedily. His fingers worked up a frenzy while your hands weakly grabbed his arm to bury your face in.

“You’re so sweet, so beautiful, baby, oh my God, baby, Y/N, fuck, girl, you’re so fucking sexy, look at my fingers, fuck, look at the way I stuff this pussy with my fingers, shit.”

You couldn’t look no matter how hard you tried. He made you jolt to the rhythm of his fingers. The loud squelching noises coming from your pussy was beyond what you’ve ever heard and experienced. You would have never known your pussy could get this wet if it wasn’t for Erik. Or this stretched with fingers. You find yourself taking a peek and fuck, your pussy was wide open. Erik’s fingers were literally scooping the cream out your pussy. Fingers all fat and curled in that tight puss. Your eyes roll and then just like before, you bury your face into his arm and bite his jacket.

“You watching me?” he murmured.

“Umph, Daddy, I can’t.”

“Why not?” He curls his fingers further, “Mm, I’m getting that ain’t I?”

“Fuck,” Your mouth unhinged.

After increasing the motion of his fingers to make you moan, Erik takes his fingers out to admire. Slimy, creamy, dripping wet from his fingertips down to his wrist, Erik was starved the way he lapped and sucked on his fingers. You would think he was eating a chef special. This man is a savage. Licking and slurping on his fingers like a famished man. It was so primal and sexy you couldn’t hold back the whimpers from your mouth.

“Here,” He uses his wet hand to grab your hand firmly, “Touch Daddy dick.”

While you reached into his track pants to grab his heavy and plump dick, Erik uses his fingers yet again to stroke your pussy.

“Let me dig back in there,” He couldn’t be stopped even if there was a gun pointed to his temple.

“Uh-Uhhh-Uhhhh-Daddy!”

“Yeah? Yeah, baby girl?”

“Mmm!” Your legs went up to push your feet into the dashboard. You were sweating, panting, shuddering. His powerful hand slapped against your mound causing you to lift your hips from the seat to fuck his fingers. It’s intense and wild the way he finger-fucks you.

“GIMMIE that FUCKING cum,” he spoke with a gruff tone while twirling his thick fingers in your tight pussy.

“Oooooo, Babyeee,” You squeeze his dick in your hand as he raked the cum out of your pussy with his fingers alone. He didn’t even need to rub your clit. He was slipping and sliding all around your pussy. His fingers poked and stroked your walls deliciously.

“Keep stroking this Daddy dick, Y/N, come on,” He barked out with his powerful voice that would have brought you to your knees if it wasn’t for this car.

“I’m trying- Uhhh! Umph! Oooooo, Fffuckkkk! Baybeeee-”

His fingers were rapid, fervent, brutal, thick, merciless.

“YEAH.” He practically roared, “Make a big fucking mess in my seat.” His voice was so damn deep and harsh-sounding. You loved that shit a lot. The complete opposite of hearing him talk in the office during meetings and over the phone. Boy, were you lucky.

His fingers made their way into his mouth again. Erik sucked on each one like they were covered in honey. He started from his pinky all the way to his thumb. That’s how wet you are. You had his entire hand covered in your mess.

“Baby Girl,” Erik reaches across as he approached a red light to grab the back of your neck, “Suck this Daddy dick.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt before crouching down lower in your seat to lean over his lap. As soon as your face hovered over his lap, Erik smoothed your braids from your cheek and palmed the back of your head to bring your lips closer to his dick. You wrap your stretched lips around him and held on tight as the car rocked and swerved. Erik drove one-handed while his other hand bobbed your head up and down his dick.

“Suck it like that,” Erik’s hips would lift from the seat a little to pump into your mouth while his hand pets the back of your head, “Good girls like you get a dick in the mouth. You see this dick?” Erik pulled your mouth off of him by gripping your braids, “It’s your Daddy dick, right?”

“Y-yes,” You were horny, pussy soaked, reaching out to stroke him.

“Give it a nice squeeze,” His black eyes bore into yours before they closed slowly from your little hand wrapped around him tightly, “You know the type of squeeze I’m talking about too,” He smiles.

“Mmm, yes, Daddy-”

“That squeeze that makes my dick jump-”

“Daddy, I want more-”

“This your dick you better suck this motherfucker like it's yours. Prove it,” Erik spoke roughly.

You practically felt the way Erik’s body shivered when your lips wrapped around him again.

“Hmph,” He would make that noise over and over while breathing deeply through his wide nostrils, “Hmph, mhm,” His dick throbbed in your mouth with each suck. Putting on his turn signal, Erik drove into his penthouse garage. His head would slightly lull back and his mouth would open and close while your lips slurped him up. Now you had his eyelids fluttering as he tried to park his car. As soon as he got his car in his spot it was game over. Erik unfastened his seat belt and fully focused his attention on you now that both of you were safely off the road.

Erik dragged his tongue across his bottom lip, “Oh, my God, girl,” He hisses, “You know Daddy needs his dick sucked.”

“MMM, Daddy-” You speak with a mouth full of rock hard pipe.

“You ain’t going nowhere.” His voice was so gravely and dangerous. It made you shiver.

“Ima’ fuck this pussy up when we get in that house.”

“Daddy, yes-” You look up at him with soft eyes while your hand jerked his spit covered dick.

“You wanna suck on me like this, just you wait.”

“Umph, Daddy-” You talk and moan with a mouth full of dick again. Gotta work that dick until you get every last drop.

“You’re such a good fucking girl, dassit’, DASSIT’, uh-huh, UGHHH, That’s how you make Daddy nut, baby, I need a nasty bitch to please my dick s-so good-”

That dick came hard and strong in your mouth. All that nut shooting down your throat. You are that nasty bitch. He looked so sexy when he came. Even sexier than he already was. Erik grabs the base of his dick to slap your lips with it. Your hand slithered between your legs to rub your clit. Pussy still soaking wet and ready to be entered. With heavy panting and sighing you climb onto Erik's lap, get into a squat, and grab his dick. His eyes burned into your face when you took it upon yourself to wedge his expansive pipe into your pussy. He was staring daggers at you. That king-sized dick balls deep in your pussy while your graceful body arched and stretched to fuck him. You didn’t move your hips yet. Your brain was still trying to catch up. Erik didn’t move either. He was too busy glaring at you with his sweaty face. You knew that he wanted you in his penthouse but fuck it, that pussy was aching.

“Did you really just sit that pussy on my dick?”

“Umph,” You moan weakly.

“Y/N,” Erik closes his eyes before staring at you again with dilated pupils, “Did-you-just-sit-that-pussy-on-my-dick?!”

“Yes,” You cry and whimper.

“Baby,” Erik harshly slaps your ass with an angry mug on his handsome face, “Why,” He does it again, “Would you do that?” He whacked that ass extra hard like he was using a belt, “HUH?!”

“Daddy! Please fuck me! Please!”

“Why the FUCK did you do that?” Now he was striking your ass without stopping. You cave each time he strikes your ass. Swollen and sore, you can’t take it anymore.

“Answer me,” He growls roughly.

“Because I want some dick,” You reach behind you to push his hands away but Erik had something for that. He popped that ass again causing your head to fall against his shoulder.

“Dick hungry, bitch,” He spoke with spite, “Ride this Daddy dick.”

Y/N was so astounded by Erik’s cutthroat and abrupt tone. He was like a two-faced coin. On one side of the coin he was charming and sweet, a man who strives to improve the health of living organisms, and on the other side of the coin, he was dominant with a filthy mouth, some good dick, and strong sex appeal.

“I don’t feel that pussy gripping my dick you better start bouncing before I pop these big ol’ cheeks on you again...yeah...dassit’...I need this long motherfucker rode just like this, I bet that ass looks so good bouncing off this dick.”

“Daddy, I’m so happy,” You didn’t stop. You kept going. Getting all of Erik’s dick. He was giving you the attention that you needed.

“You needed some dick deep in your pussy, I believe it, baby.” Erik dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, “I’m in your shit now, fuck that.”

You wanted to show Erik that you are definitely a keeper. You could hear your pussy as you fucked him and you were so wet that his dick easily slid in and out of your tightness.

“Damn, baby. You’re a motherfucking beast.” Erik praised you.

“Uhhh! Mmmm, baby-”

“What do you want, girl? Making all that fucking noise,” Erik taps your ass, “Talk to me.”

“Daddy, I want it-”

“What the fuck is IT I don’t know what that is, ma.” His hips started pumping up into yours, “Answer me, Y/N. This good grip on my dick, you better use some words that make sense. you asked for it, ma.”

“I wanna cum,” You grab the back of his neck as your eyes roll into your head, “Oh, my God, Daddy-”

“Spread them legs and hold that position, that’s right, pussy look good as fuck taking all this dick. Pussy pumping my dick like you tryna milk me, girl...this how you give a nigga some pussy.”

“Umph! Ahhhh, Baybeee-”

“Cream on it,” Erik commands.

“Daddy-”

“Want me to fuck this pussy for you?” Erik grabs your hips and pushes his dick up into you, “Want Daddy to keep going until you cum? That shit is wet as fuck, ma.”

“Daddy make my pussy feel good,” You open your mouth but no words come out. Erik’s dick was digging deep in your pussy. He stroked with a rhythm of his hips that made you flutter around him. Your cream coated him and the feeling of you gripping him made Erik hold you up with both his hands, slouch in his seat and thrust his hips urgently until you were squirting all over him.

“Shit, Baby!!!” You speak through clenched teeth while Erik’s hands jiggle your cheeks as you cum on him, “Uhhh! Uhhhhh! uhhhhhh!!!” your strangled moans pierced his ears. You reach your hand out to brace the driver’s side window as your body trembles.

______

Erik’s penthouse has a stunning view of the sprawling city. He was on the 30th floor. That elevator ride was torture. Erik didn’t touch you once while both of you rode the elevator. Your legs quivered and you tried to calm your shaky breaths but his intoxicating smell and the way his sharp onyx eyes would stare across at you made you want to beg for attention. You knew he was doing this on purpose because you hopped up on his dick and practically hit a split. He was such a tease. As good as Erik looked he expected you to wait for the dick? Even when it was out and solid in your face? As soon as you both exit the elevator your arms reach out for him to grab you up and kiss you. Erik caved when he saw you pouting so he sucked on your bottom lip before taking full advantage of your entire mouth with his thick wiggling tongue. His hands squeezed and mashed your breasts together while his thumbs softly plucked your nipples through your tracksuit hoodie.

“Nipples so hard, daaammnn” He wrapped his lips around yours again.

They were painfully hard. Before Erik could even open his door he unzipped your tracksuit jacket, pulled the left cup of your bra down, and released your whole breast. His lips slurped on your nipple. You reach your hand around to cradle the back of his neck while you arch into his mouth. Running your fingers through Erik’s dreads caused him to groan softly and wrinkle the fabric of your tracksuit jacket with his clenched fists. You enjoyed watching his plump lips draw your nipple into his mouth. Erik has his eyes closed and one of his hands coming up to pull down the other cup to your bra so he could taste that nipple too.

“I just know this shit feels good as fuck the way you grabbing for my dick,” He flicked your nipple with his tongue, “Uh-huh, I’m still nice and heavy for you, Baby Girl, see these nuts,” Erik dragged your hand down to make you wrap your fingers around his balls, “Not only does my shit get rock hard, imma shoot like a fucking rocket launcher in that pussy with all this cum in my balls fucking around with you.”

“Umph, Daddy fill this pussy up-”

“Oh, I’m hitting that pussy without question, ain’t no pulling out either.”

“Fuck yeah, Daddy-”

“Hitting pussy deep does things to me,” Erik chuckles, “See, I needed you from the start. I needed a little baby that’s with all the smoke. I don’t fuck around, Y/N.”

“Please me, Daddy,” You whisper, “fill my pussy up.”

“I’m not stopping when I’m in these guts. Bust it wide open like you never felt before.”

You shudder. Erik finally takes his keys from his pants to open the doors. Once fully opened, luxury awaited you ahead. Breathtaking and definitely out of your price range. You imagined Erik fucking you against one of his ceiling to floor windows with the risk of being seen. As you looked around his living room, Erik came up behind you to take off your tracksuit jacket and bra.

“You want something to drink? He asked softly while sprinkling kisses along your shoulder.

“No,” You tell him with a shake of your head. You were too busy whimpering from his mouth sucking on your skin while his hands came up and around to squeeze your breasts and play with your nipples.

“Something to eat?” His tongue trailed up the side of your neck before sucking on your earlobe.

“Some dick?” You whisper.

“The only food you getting outta this dick is all this nut in your belly when I bust all up in you.”

You were convinced enough and determined to come out of the rest of your clothes. That one dick down in the car was just a little taste of what Erik could do. You needed Erik to consume you. Invade your pussy with a force so you can feel everything. Imprison your body so you can obey his every command. You’d be submissive for Erik with the K. Velour pants and panties down and around your ankles, Erik is on his knees behind you kissing and tonguing your ass. Loose-jointed, you bend forward and grab your ankles to give him better access to your wet pussy from the back. Erik was having a moment with your pussy when he stared at it from that position. Phat lips puckered and ready to be nibbled and sucked on. Clit erect and dripping with your juices. He began eating it like it’s the most important meal of the day. He enjoyed making your pussy drip in his mouth each time he ate it up. Erik stands up with a deep sigh and a face covered in your wetness with his finger in your pussy now, twirling it around and sinking it in. His other hand would slap your ass with little force just to watch it bounce. You twerk your cheeks to give him something else to focus on and that’s when you hear him grunt and mumble your name. He was loving your thick ass.

“Thick. Phat. Pussy,” Erik slips his finger out to suck on, “Tryna get fucked like this?”

“Yesss, mmm-”

“Shit, I’m fucking and sucking this pussy like this. The best position to suck pussy, ask for this dick like a good bitch.”

“Ummph, Daddy, Please-” The moaning and whimpering you were doing were driving him crazy.

“I’m tryna’ pound some pussy tonight so I’m gon’ need you to tell me what you want.” He spoke with a harsh tone.

“Fill me up, Daddy-”

“Forever telling Daddy to fill it up,” Erik whacked your ass making it sting, “Talk to Daddy. I’m tryna dig it out real proper. C’ mon, ma, I’m listening to that body and she tells me what she needs but I need you to open that mouth and beg me if you want it deep in that pussy.”

“Oh, Daddy. Fuck my tight pussy baby. Cum in me Daddy. I wanna feel your cum leak from my pussy.”

“Yeah, that’s how you beg for this Daddy dick. Get on the couch and point that ass in the air.”

You walk over to the couch and arched over it with your face smashed into the couch cushions. Erik came up behind you to position you better before undressing himself. Turning your head, you could see Erik’s reflection in the glass of one of his ceiling to floor windows. That dynamic body and whopping pipe all yours to play with. Erik’s large masculine hands smoothed over your ass and up your spine.

“Girl, this beautiful ass. You love being on your stomach don’t you?”

“Ahhh, yes-”

“That’s right,” Erik smacked your pussy with the weight of his dick, “lay on your stomach and give me that fucking pussy.”

“Right there Daddy,” You hold your pussy lips open while rubbing your engorged clit, “Fuck me, baby, Ahhh!”

Erik’s dick spread you open and almost made you explode right then and there. He was already ruining your ass and this was just the second fuck.

“Right there, Daddy! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-” Erik had you making all types of noises.

“That motherfucking ARCH,” Erik started grinding in your pussy and you could feel it in your soul. Erik held fast to the back of the couch above your head and plunged his stiff, throbbing, anxiously awaiting dick inside you. You were afraid to move; the sensation was so euphoric you were sure if he moved even an inch, it would be over long before it started. That didn’t even include the tolerance of pain you endured from the intense pounding. This nut-busting position had you spasming and gyrating rhythmically, grinding Erik deeper inside your pussy. Even laying there under Erik with your ass arched over the couch and his dick blowing your back out you couldn’t control the urge to feel his dick up to the hilt of your pussy. You look back at him through your braids, gazing into his dark and sexy eyes and increased the speed at which you circled his dick with your pussy.

“Keep that arch,” Erik pressed down in the middle of your back, “I don’t care how hard I’m hitting this pussy keep that fucking back arched.”

“Daddy, FUCK-” This position turned Erik into a monster.

“You got Daddy’s big dick all in you, girl. Got my balls slapping this juicy pussy.”

“Oh, Erik, baby, fuck me hard, baby,” You sobbed while Erik’s powerfully built hips smashed and banged into your ass causing it to rebound. “Fuck me, FUCK MEEEEE.” You beg through clenched teeth. Erik’s grimace revealed that he felt good to the core. He reached under you to rub your clit.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” You cried, backing your twat into his meat while looking back at him through the curtain of braids in your hair. Your elbows gave out and now you were going down further into the couch on your chest with an even deeper arch in your back. Erik was killing you. You knew you fucked up changing positions when you could feel that thing in your heart.

“I’m beating this phat pussy! Love me a phat puss...can’t have it no other way,” Two aggressive blows to your ass had you moaning like a bitch in heat being split in half.

“Make you cum on this dick since you had me waiting on this wet pussy for a year.” With spite, Erik beat that ass real good before grabbing hold of your hips to drag that cum out of you. The anger in his gravelly voice was your downfall. Your thighs shook and Erik’s hands went up squeeze your ass cheeks as you squirt all over his fancy couch. Your pussy twitched when his dick slipped out. You needed a moment. That body still arched.

“Umphhh, Daddy, oh my God,” Erik was eating your pussy from the back while stroking his dick. You look at him with a struggle even when his eyes were intent on yours. Staring at you while slurping you’re pussy up with his hand wrapped around that thick dick.

“Here, Daddy,” You rub your hand along your spread open pussy, “I wanna watch you eat my pussy, Baby.”

“I will suck and lick the fuck outta’ that pussy you ain’t even gotta ask, ma,” Erik flipped your body over and pulled your legs over his shoulders. His mouth kissed your clit making it good and wet. Your pussy was like a leaky faucet every time he put his lips, tongue, and fingers in your pussy. Erik could put you to sleep with the way his mouth clung to your pussy. He was teasing the hell out of your knob and making it jump against his tongue.

“Yes, Daddy! You’re a good Daddy, Eat me, eat me!”

“I gotchu, let me know if it’s too much,” His thick raspy voice teased you before his tongue pointed and hooked right under the hood of your clit to flick it. Rock-a-bye baby for sure because your eyes closed and your mouth dropped open and damn near dangled each time he licked with that violent tongue and slurped up your clit.

Coming up for air, Erik thumbed your clit, “I’m doing this on the regular, I need it in my face. Nothing like playing with a phat puss-”

“Oooooo, oh, yeah, baby-”

“Who do you belong to?” Erik struck your inner thigh, “Answer me...who do you belong to, Y/N?”

“Mmmm, you, Daddy-” You gasp when your fresh juices coat Erik’s tongue as he sucked your bulging clit. He was going to make you squirt immediately. You really wanted to apologize at first for ruining his couch like this but it was his own damn fault.

“Oh, This is what I’m talking about,” He growled. Erik picked you up from the couch and laid you flat on his Icelandia White Hand-Knotted Rug. The crisp white contrasted beautifully with your bronze skin.

“I wanna pin your legs down and make you take all this long dick, no pulling out.”

You nibble your bottom lip while watching Erik position his athletic and robust body between your shaky thighs. The muscles in his body flexed as he brought your nimble legs up and back so your knees touched the carpet. He locked your ankles in his hands before his dick pressed inside to fuck you long, with hard strokes. You could hear your pussy lips spread each time he went in and out. His lips claimed yours again so he could feel the vibration of your moans in his mouth. He was up on his fists while his hips swiveled and stroked inside of you. Erik caused you to look around the room like you were on a different planet because you weren’t sure at that point if it’s your pussy he fucking so good.

Erik grabs your jaw to make you look at him, “I want you to feel every inch of this curve filling up ya’ walls while I deep stroke ya’ guts.” Your eyes were closing on him each time he twisted his dick deeper in your hole.

“Imma have you cumming over and over and over again on my dick,” Erik looked down to watch your pussy throb around him, “Girl, you clenching it so hard, I’m pulling ya lips while I fuck it up.”

“Umph,” Your eyes roll back as tears stream down your face. He held his dick deep on purpose. He wanted you to feel every inch of him to remind you that this is what you’ll be getting any time.

Erik shook his head. He watched your sexy ass for a whole year and knew you were going to be a good fuck.

“You can’t even form words cus’ it feels so damn good,” Erik gently kissed your throat, “You can’t even look me in my eyes cus’ every time you try,” Erik pulled all the way out to his fat tip then slammed right back in, “I start hitting-that-spot-HARD,” Erik stuck his tongue in your mouth. Your tongues swirled but the second he hit your G-spot you let out a sharp moan and push at his chest. Erik’s forehead crashed against yours. You reach up weakly to grab his face with both of your hands. Sweat clung to every crevice of your bodies.

Onyx met Chestnut.

You felt his body overheat and spasm. His large arms cradle you as his hips weakly pumped onto yours. Erik’s dreads tickled your cheek and the air from his nose made the hair along your neck stand up. He still delivered strong strokes even at a slow pace. Daddy better nut in your pussy if he keeps fucking you like this. The shit was so good both of your mouths stayed open. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

“That’s that, Daddy, you hitting that spot, stroke it-”

“MMMM DAYUMMMMM,” Erik uttered in a low gruff tone. He sat up onto his hands to stare you in the eyes while his dick encircled your tight puss before pulsating and rippling inside of you, releasing his thick cum deep inside of you. So deep with the way his jacked hips flexed. You let out another sharp moan with a stupefied expression on your face. Erik looked you up and down with a crease of his brow before slipping his length out slowly. You moan weakly with a pout of your lips. You fucked up as soon as your eyes drop down to stare at Erik’s thick veiny erection dripping with his cum and yours.

He gave you that look that said he would give you all of the pleasure you desire and deserve when you’re with him.

____________________

7:15 AM

Your eyes try and focus around you but the wide ceiling to floor mirrors allowing the morning sun to enter blinded you. You pull the covers over your head, seeing nothing but white around you like you escaped to heaven under those warm sheets. Your naked body curled up and your eyes fight to stay open but the thread count in these sheets cuddled you perfectly. Just when you wanted sleep to overcome you again, Someone settled in the bed next to you, pulling the covers back from your eyes. You whimper, covering your face before peeking between your fingers to look up into a sexy face with a dazzling smile and tousled dreads.

“Morning, Big Head,” Erik laughed and you couldn’t help but smile even though you hated when he talked about your head shape.

Rubbing your heavy eyes, you blink up at him, “Shut up, Stevens.”

“You don’t wanna hear my voice now,” Erik sneaks his hand under the covers to tickle your foot, “HUH?!”

“No! No! I do! Stop itttt,” You jerk your foot away and sit up to hide them. He bit down on his bottom lip with a smile showing his deep dimples. Erik was shirtless, herculean body looking mouth-watering on that Tuesday morning. You nibble on your lip as your eyes drag over his frame. If only you didn’t have to go to work. Luckily, Erik lived closer to the company. If he keeps looking at you the way he currently was with those intense eyes you just might call out.

“Mm,” Erik reaches out to grab your chin before giving you a passionate good morning kiss with his tongue down your throat. Erik pulled your naked body up and into his lap. The feeling of his warm skin against yours in the morning was exactly what you wanted to look forward to with him.

“I don’t wanna go to work now,” You kiss his neck, “I wanna stay with you, in this bed, all morning.”

“That sounds,” He lets out a deep sigh as your tongue trailed down his Adam's apple, “So damn good, but I gotta meet with Bio-Med Tech this afternoon-FUCK, Y/N,” Erik grabs your braids to stop you, “Calm down, kitty kat.”

“Daddy,” You take your teeth to pull on his bottom lip, “Please…”

“Oh, my God,” He chuckles before grabbing your neck lightly, “Stop it, girl. I got you after work, okay? I promise,” He pecked your lips softly, “I got you....”

You roll your eyes but the kisses he gave to your forehead caused you to blush. How could you be mad at him?

“I got breakfast for you in the kitchen, and some hibiscus tea.”

“You remembered that’s my favorite tea!”

“I pay attention,” Erik kissed your hair, “Get cleaned up, baby. I’ll see you in the kitchen.”

It was torture watching him leave that room in just his briefs. Groaning, you get up from the comfy bed and head to the bathroom to shower. After your long steaming shower that helped with your tense muscles, you rub down with some of Erik’s shea butter whip before walking butt naked back to his room. You grab your faux fur tote from Erik’s closet to pull out today’s attire. Light grey turtleneck dress that was form-fitting with a pair of Fendi boots in black satin. You apply oil to your scalp and spray down with Chanel No.5. Diamond studs, Fendi clutch in hand, You walk out of Erik’s room and towards the kitchen. Holding a mug of coffee in his hand taking careful sips while staring at his phone gave you a chance to admire him. Light brown tailored suit with Salvatore Ferragamo eyeglasses in rose gold over his eyes, dreads combed to the side, onyx earrings in his ears that matched the color of his eyes. Your legs felt like jello.

“Is that bagel for me?” You spoke sweetly while pointing to a half bit bagel on a napkin.

“Nah,” Erik points to your plate filled with scrambled eggs, turkey sausage, and a large buttery croissant, “That’s you.”

You really just wanted to eat him.

“Last night was…” You place some of your braids behind your ear while gripping the edge of the kitchen island.

Erik looked you up and down, bringing that coffee mug closer to his lips, “Was?”

“You raise both of your brows, “Um, I think you know what I’m trying to say,” you tease.

“Nah, talk to me.” He picks up his bagel to take a large bite. Erik’s tongue swipes the corner of his mouth to catch the crumbs.

“You fucked me so well-”

“I told you, didn’t I?” He swallowed his food, “Didn’t I tell you that I was gonna take care of that thing and fix that stiff back?” He raises a brow while waiting for your response.

“See,” You walk over towards him, “You can’t talk to me like that and think I won’t drop to my knees right now and suck your dick.”

Erik smiles at you while darkness clouded his eyes. He chuckled before taking his finger to scrape some cream cheese from his bagel. Erik brings his finger to your mouth, dragging it along your lower lip, “Suck on Daddy Dick?”

“Yessss,” You moan, “Pleaseeee.”

“Ma,” Erik slips his finger in your mouth and watches you suck on it, “You can suck on this long dick later, aight?”

Your pussy was twitching. Clit jumping in your panties.

He was playing with you.

Working you up to a horny mess.

“You coppin’ an attitude?” Erik’s eyes squinted down at you.

“No,” You don’t quite meet his eyes.

“Keep it that way unless you want me to fix you.”

Your jaw went tight.

“Now go eat,” Erik finished off his bagel before palming your ass hard, walking away.

______________

“Good morning,” Regina gave you a tired smile. She went back to focusing on her phone. Everyone was rather sluggish today except for you of course. Erik gave you a lot of energy. A body fueled and ready for round two, three, four, and five.

“No rest?” You ask with a chipper tone.

“Not much, my show came on last night,” Regina glanced up at you, “What is in your morning tea? You’re acting really jolly.”

“Just hibiscus and honey,” You grin, “Tasty.”

“Um, Y/N? Is there something that you aren’t telling me? Something juicy and exciting to help me get through this morning?”

“You cross your leg over the other while typing in your login information to your desktop, “Just know that I slept good knowing that I’m taken care of.”

“Y/N,” Regina’s eyes grew wide before she gasped, “No you didn’t-”

“Sis, I did that,” You giggle softly at Regina’s reaction. This girl was ready to jump out of her seat and do her famous two-step with her tongue poked out. You clutch your forehead and quietly laugh to yourself.

“BITCH,” Regina spoke quietly, “Tell me everything.”

“Later,” You kiss your teeth when Regina pouted, “Too many virgin ears around.”

“Girl, please,” Regina rolls her eyes, “Calvin was just talking about how he got fucked in the butt over the weekend.”

You grimace.

Erik rode the elevator with you but didn’t get off on the fifth floor. Instead, he got off on the 3rd floor; Bio-Tech Department. That’s where Erik worked before he decided to move to the fifth floor to work as an Environmental Engineer. He said the people he worked with were envious of his achievements and it slowly became a competition every time he came to work. Erik was responsible for the design and equipment of devices such as artificial internal organs and machines for diagnosing medical problems. He even won a few NAACP awards for his medical research and technological skills. Work bae wouldn’t be in his office for another few hours at least. Now, you really had to suck it up and work even though Regina did make the experience fun.

Slowly but surely, 11:07 AM rolled around and you just got finished filing in the database. It took forever only because you allowed it to pile up. Cracking your knuckles, you grab your water bottle, taking a long sip because your throat was dry. Regina was too busy singing to herself and typing away in her email.

“How many times are you going to stare at his office?” Regina didn’t even have to look at you to know that that’s exactly what you’re currently doing.

Not too long it seems.

“Erik, Good morning, friend,” Regina’s eyes danced with humor, “Did BioTech piss you off?”

“They want me back on that floor, not gonna happen,” Erik’s eyes landed on you before scanning your body, “What’s up? Nice dress,” He licked his lips.

“T-thanks,” You take in a deep breath while giving him a small smile. The little stare down between you both felt like it lasted for hours but it was only five seconds.

“Time to work, lunch later, Y/N?”

“Definitely,” You blush.

“Cool,” Erik places his hand on your shoulder before squeezing it. You fight the urge to bring your hand up to caress his. His hand slowly leaves your shoulder before his fingertips discreetly tickle your neck. You shivered.

“I see you took my advice,” Regine smiled wickedly.

12:20 PM.

Absolutely bored and tired of getting up to grab water, you pull out a book to read, You Can’t Touch My Hair by Phoebe Robinson. You pick up a pineapple from your container of fruit that you purchased from the food court, bringing it to your mouth. In the middle of chewing, an IM comes through on your desktop computer.

Erik.

-Looking real yummy today.

-Thank you, Daddy.

-What do you want for lunch?

-Bend me up like a pretzel and fuck me good.

-Now you got me wanting to check in with that pussy to see if she straight.

-How is that phat wet puss doing?

You glance right and then left before placing your book face down and leaning your chair in closer to your desk. You open your legs, ankles wobbling with need, taking your hand to rub the crotch of your panties. Definitely drenched.

-Super wet, Daddy.

-Then I gotta get in them guts. Put that puss to good use. You feel me?

-Please me pleaseeee babyyyyy.

You shake with need in your seat. That underwear was wedged tightly around your ass while the crotch of your panties molded around your wet pussy practically wrinkling the thin fabric.

-Last night I was looking down like, damn...she don’t know where she at right now. Dick had you dazed.

That’s how good he was fucking you.

-Because you were in there so deep. I couldn't believe it.

-You woke me all the way up this morning.

You could feel your phone vibrate against the desk. Picking it up, you see a message from Erik. An image attachment. Swallowing spit, you open your phone, pulling up your text messages and gasped lightly to the sight of Erik’s dick curved in his light brown slacks.

Ping Ping

-Just wanna make my baby girl pussy feel good.

You look towards the ceiling. That wasn’t the best because if you looked at him you would risk it all. Your job. His job. All of it.

-I need that mouth again. You got some serious talent.

-Daddy, stop it!

You really wanted to get up, walk to that bathroom, pull your dress up, arch over the sink, pull the crotch of your soiled panties to the side, finger-fuck that wet pussy, and take a picture of your sloppy mess.

-Then you can let Daddy devour that sweet little pussy.

-Imma lick that shit up.

-Wow, girl.

You had enough. Ignoring Erik’s scorching messages you lift from your seat to go to the bathroom. Fuck that, you needed to play all in your pussy. Lock that bathroom stall and go to town on that juice box. Mistakenly, you lock eyes with Erik. He sat back in his chair, swiveling from side to side with a vacant expression on his face. But those eyes...those eyes said it all.

He was suffering as well.

Ping Ping.

Your phone wasn’t safe from him either.

Erik- Where are you going, girl?

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illfoandillfie · 5 years ago

Note

can we get A12 from prompt list 3 w/ himbo roger? pls its for my health - ☁️

Apologies that this is a bit late! I always find hypno stuff takes a bit longer, especially since I try and base it on files that already exist. Speaking of this was very much inspired by THIS hypno audio intended for a penis-having audience.

Anyway, did you know that erotic hypno is a whole ass subgenre of phone sex because that’s what I learned today! Also I felt like this scenario screamed hands free orgasm so oop that’s what ya getting

A12: Phone/video sex

After the first day of the conference where you were presenting about the steps your organisation was taking to reduce the rates of homelessness, all you wanted was to talk to Roger. He picked up quickly, sighed a tired hello into the phone, though his tone picked up when he realised it was you.

“I missed you,”

“Rog it’s been like 24 hours since I saw you,”

“Yeah I know. But today was…not great. Kinda just feel like being with you.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, nothing, not important. Tell me about your day, Ms Making-A-Difference,”

“Oh y’know, spent most of the day listening to various people speak. I got to meet some incredible people and learn about some really important work that they’re doing. But it’s honestly not the most thrilling thing in the world. The last session went on for like three hours. My presentation went well though, people seemed to respond favourably. Hopefully the panel tomorrow is just as good.”

“I am so proud of you,”

“Thanks. Now you go, what happened today that’s got you feeling down?” Roger sighed again, “Oh the usual band nonsense. Got into it with Bri about one of his contributions to the new album. It’s dumb and we’ll both be over it by tomorrow but right now I am sick of his shit.”

“Sorry I can’t be there to make you feel better,”

“It’s fine, hearing your voice is enough. Although, there might be something else you can do…Put me under?”

“Over the phone?”

“Why not?”

“I- Will that even work? Normally it’s face to face,”

“Yeah but it’s all about your voice and instructions. Distance shouldn’t matter,”

You considered what he said, ideas of what you could do already forming, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, let’s try. Just give me two minutes to lock the door so we aren’t interrupted,” you set the phone down and headed to the door, slipping your do not disturb hanger onto the outside handle, and then began stripping down to your underwear. Dropping your work clothes into a pile beside your suitcase, you knelt down and began digging through your neatly packed belongings until you located the small vibrator you’d begun travelling with.

“Okay, back,” you said as you settled against the mattress, “are you comfy?”

“Very. Was already in bed when you called,”

“What are you wearing?”

“Bit cliché,” he laughed, “but um, my PJ pants,”

“Is that all?”

“Well I have undies on too,”

“You wanna change, remove some layers?”

“Slip into something more comfortable?”

“Exactly,” you chuckled, your excitement rising as you heard Roger stand up and remove his clothes.

“Alright, I’m starkers now,”

“Good boy. I was thinking we might play hands free,”

“And what does that mean?”

“Very simply, you’re going to drop for me, down down down, drop into that place you enjoy so much. Nothing to think about. No worries. No thoughts. Just the desire to please…” You’d hypnotised Roger enough times to know what worked for him and what didn’t, though it felt odd to be putting him under without any of the usual visual cues. But his breath was steady and deep and his voice was soft, almost far away, when he responded to your questions. You talked to him for a little longer than you normally would feel necessary, just to make sure everything stuck the way you wanted it to.

“That’s right, nice deep breaths. Now put your free hand over your head so it touches the headboard, okay? And stretch your legs out to the corners of the bed.” Roger hummed acknowledgement and you hoped that meant he’d followed the instruction.

“When I wake you, you wont be able to move your hands or feet. The hand over your head will be tied to the headboard, restrained, keeping you in place on the bed. Your feet will be tied down too, making it impossible to move. Your other hand will be glued to the phone so you can’t move it or touch yourself. You’ll be stuck in place, stuck listening to me, stuck, stuck, stuck. Okay, I’m going to count down from ten now. And when I reach one, you’ll be in such a deep, dumb state, that my words will become your complete and absolute reality. And you’ll feel so good just letting it happen, letting me take control. You’ll be so deep, so deep and dumb, and everything will feel so real. Connecting your mind and your body to my words, bringing you all those pleasurable sensations you are capable of feeling. Ten. Deeper and deeper, dumber and dumber. Nine. Just listening to me, to my voice and my words. Eight. Feeling everything so strongly, believing everything I say. Seven. Down, down, down, deeper and deeper. Six. Letting yourself relax. Five. And letting me take control. Four. Such a nice sensation. Three. Going deeper and deeper down. And the deeper you go, the dumber you are and the better you feel. And the better you feel the deeper you want to go. Two. Letting the cycle take you deeper and dumber and deeper. One.” You snapped your fingers into the receiver, “wake up,”

Roger hummed again.

“Hi baby,”

“Where are you? I can’t see you,”

“Of course not silly. I’m on the phone. I couldn’t be there with you but that doesn’t mean you can’t be my silly little plaything, does it? How do you feel?”

“Oh! Stuck!”

You heard a grunt as Roger tried to break free of his restraints, “Aww, poor boy, all tied up. But you’re turned on my it, aren’t you,”

“Yes,” his voice was soft as if he didn’t want to admit it.

“That’s so good! I want you to be turned on!”

“You do?”

“Such a Dummy. Of course I want you to be turned on. Because I’m going to do something special for you right now. It’s why you’re tied up. I’m going to make you cum and I don’t want you touching yourself and rushing it. You’re going to let me give you a blow job.”

“But…cunt?”

“If you’re good and let me hear how much you like my blowjob, you’ll make me so wet. I love listening to you.”

“Okay,”

“Good boy, I promise it’s going to be so much fun,”

“Now, close your eyes and think about me. Imagine me there with you. Naked. Kneeling between your spread legs. Feel the rope around your wrist and your ankles, really feel it. What’s it like?”

“Umm, tight. Rough. I can’t move. But it doesn’t hurt!”

“I hope not, I want you to feel good. Now, feel my fingers trace a line up your thigh,” Roger let out a small huff of air, “it tickles,”

“Yeah?” you smiled to yourself, happy it seemed to be working, “Feel now as I drag my finger higher up your thigh. Feel every sensation from my touch, slowly creeping up your leg. Feel your skin tingle where I touch you. Warm and wonderful. It’s like my fingers are activating your nerve endings wherever I touch you, making you feel nothing but pleasure. Let yourself feel it, that electrifying tingle running from where I touch you all the way up to your brain. Arousing you.” Roger’s breath came out shakier than before.

“And as my fingers drift up to your stomach, feel the warm trail follow. Across your stomach and then down to your cock. I bet that felt good. My hand, wrapping around your cock. You’re getting hard aren’t you?”

A small whimper, “Yes,”

“Good. I like how you feel, getting stiff in my hand. It turns me on. Makes my cunt wet and my mouth drool.” It wasn’t a total lie either. You weren’t drooling exactly but as you shifted your thighs together you could feel how wet you were. Roger groaned and you heard him shift.

“Uh uh uh, stay nice and still and let me pleasure you. I’m not going to release the ropes that bind you until you’re finished.”

He stilled again with another huff.

“Good boy. Just relax and feel my touch. Feel how hungry I am for your cock as I lower myself between your legs, stroking my hand over you. You look so big and hard in my hand. And that makes me want to taste you even more. Feel my hand move up and down your shaft as I lean in and press a kiss to the tip of your cock. You can feel my breath too, can’t you. My warm breath as I lick my lips, so ready to taste you. I can’t wait any more. I press my tongue to the base of your shaft and lick up to your tip.”

Another noise from Roger, too quiet.

“Let me here you Dummy. Let me hear how good I make you feel as I drag my tongue back down again.”

“Fuck,”

“Good Dummy. I lick back up to your lip again, flick my tongue along the underside of it. And you can feel that, can’t you? I say it so your brain feels it and your cock feels it too. My tongue flicking against you again. And again. Up and down. And again. It’s such a sensitive spot. It feels so good that your cock twitches.”

Roger’s breathing had lost all of the calm rhythm you’d put him under with. It was ragged and heavy as he waited for what you were going to do next, unable to move or speed you up.

“I think your balls need some attention now. My hand moves over your shaft again but you can feel my mouth against your balls. Feel as I kiss you there. A hot, wet kiss. Feel as I run my tongue over them. Enough to drive you crazy with lust. Especially when I suck one of your balls into my mouth. Let me hear you beg for me to suck your cock.”

“Please, please suck my cock. I’m so hard and I want you so bad.”

“You’re so good for me so I’m going to reward you. Feel my lips on your shaft again, leaving more wet kisses all around your cock. And up, up, up. Until I finally put my mouth around the tip of your cock,”

“Oh fuck, thank you,”

“So polite. You feel so much pleasure, just from this. Just my mouth around your tip. But you can feel more. And you do feel more as you watch me slide just that bit further down your cock. Feel how warm and wet my mouth is as I take more of you. Such intense pleasure. But you’re at my mercy now. Tied down for me to use, for me to control. You’re lucky I love sucking your cock. And I do love it. I’m so wet just from having you in my mouth. And you can feel how much I love it by how eagerly I take you. Feel that sucking motion now. Stretching my mouth to take even more of you, even further down your cock. And feel my hands on your hips, grabbing hold of you tight as I take you deeper. Adding to the pleasure.”

Roger’s moans were uninhibited and enthusiastic, and it was more than you could handle without some relief. As quickly as you could without disrupting what he was experiencing, you shuffled down the bed and peeled your knickers off one handed, tracing your fingers along your slit and around your clit.

“You can feel how deep I’m taking you now. Deep enough to choke on you, just a little. Gag around you. Feel my lips drag back up and then all the way back down again. Taking you as far as I can. One hand sliding down to cup your balls, massage them in my palm as I fill my throat with your cock. It feels so good. You’re so close. On the brink of cumming. And then it stops. I pull back off you, let go of you.”

Roger whined down the phone line.

“My mercy, remember. I am so fucking horny right now, so fucking wet. All from sucking you off. But you’re going to lie there, desperate, and listen to me get off before I’ll let you. Feel it as I wrap my lips around your tip again, sucking. And as I suck I get closer to orgasm.” You reached for the vibrator, pressing it to your clit, trying to keep your moan quiet so the next room wouldn’t hear you.

“You can fe-el it when I moan, feel it in your c-cock. Fuck. I sink lower. Suck harder. I’m so close baby,” you couldn’t get any more words out as the vibrator buzzed against you. But Roger was so lost in the sensation it didn’t matter. He believed everything, felt everything just as you described. Your orgasm hit and your hand tightened around the phone, Roger’s whines and harsh breaths audible as you rode it out. You turned the vibrator off and dropped it.

“Christ. You feel me moan again and rise up to your tip once more. Sucking so hard, begging you to fill my mouth with your cum. Cum for me baby.” You knew it had worked by the hitch in his breath and the stuttered moan that followed. “Good boy. Didn’t that feel so good? And now, you can feel yourself relaxing again as the ropes around your wrist and ankles loosen…”

“Holy shit Y/N,” Roger said softly, half laughing, “You’re an evil genius.”

“Well I wouldn’t say genius. But I am pretty great.”

“I am covered in cum. I don’t think I’ve ever ejaculated quite so much.”

“I think you should document visual proof because I can think of at least two occasions that might have been more. Was it good enough to turn your day around though?”

“Absolutely. I can’t even remember why I felt so shitty.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,”

“Thank you. But it’s getting late, you should probably go to bed since you’ve got to speak again tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Plus, you’ll want to have some energy left when I call tomorrow night to return the favour.”

#my writing #my blurbs #smut blurb #roger taylor smut #roger taylor x reader #☁️#thank you for giving me an excuse to write more himbo rog #i think i leaned more heavily on the hypnosis part than the bimbo part in this #but either way he is very fun to play with lmao #Anonymous

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kind-wolf · 4 years ago

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Kiss on a stick

Fandom: Rainbow Six Siege

Character: Dominic Brunsmeier

Genre: general

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: ~1650

Note: This is just a little something for my lovely friend @angelaiswriting 💗

Merry Christmas!

Even before reaching the common room, she could hear the Christmas music.

Usually she wouldn't mind someone trying to spread the holiday cheer for all the operators who would be spending Christmas on duty. And even those who don't celebrate Christmas, didn't seem to mind the music and the decorations. But she did.

Or more accurately, she minded ever since one particular colleague of hers, made it his mission to torment her.

Although torment might be a bit of a harsh description.

Dominic Brunsmeier wanted to be a little shit and use the general holiday spirit and especially one decorative item to steal a kiss from her.

The first time he smugly pointed at the mistletoe they were standing under, her quick combat reflexes helped her duck away before he could get a hold of her.

"Hey! That's cheating, " he had called after her, while her laugh echoed through the hallway as she ran away.

She should've known that he wouldn't let it go that easily.

That man had spent years upon years alone undercover. He knew how to play the long game.

So for the past 3 weeks, she never walked through a door without checking for the treacherous little sprig and the german operator who never seemed too far away from it.

She had even taken to carrying around a baton, so she could nudge the mistletoe off, whenever she encountered one.

It didn't seem to deter Dominic though.

He kept at it. Only grinning at her when he caught her destroying yet another trap. "I'll get you eventually Engelchen."

"In your dreams Brunsmeier," she had scoffed, even though she was sure he noticed the upwards twitch of her lips she failed to suppress.

Another memorable moment in their game had been when she tried to throw him off with the help of Alexsandr. Everybody had already caught on to the special cat-and-mouse game, so when she asked the Russian operator for help, he immediately agreed with a big grin on his face.

They walked to the common room together and just as expected, there was a mistletoe sneakily attached to the corner of the doorway, meaning Dominic wasn't far.

Alex gestured for her to go first. So she did. And just when her eyes met Dom's who was leaning against a couch, she felt Alex grab her wrist to pull her back. "Not so fast Милашка. I think I get a kiss."

She didn't tear her eyes away from Dominic until she saw them widen in realization.

She had to suppress a giggle, since Alex was already leaning down to her height.

Just as he planted a firm kiss on her lips, she heard the German in the background complain "That's not fair! That's my kiss."

When Alex released her, she was ready to reply, but the Russian beat her to it with a laugh in his voice. "I didn't know you wanted a kiss from me so badly. But don't worry. I got plenty to give."

"Fuck you, " came instantly from Dominic, who was grinning nonetheless.

Their game went on until there weren't many days left until Christmas.

And she could tell he was getting desperate, for the mistletoe now also appeared in random places like the stairwell or the inside of the kitchen cabinets. One was even placed so high above her locker that she had to get a ladder to get it off.

Despite the music playing, the common room was empty. Suspicious.

She made sure it was really empty by immediately checking every corner and possible hiding place, just like she would in a combat situation.

But then the arm around her waist and the whispered "Got you" made her stiffen.

Damn that sneaky bastard!

She knew it was Dominic. It was hard to admit, but she had grown accustomed to the smell of him, to the sound of his voice, his barely noticeable accent, his presence in her daily life.

The hold on her waist was strong enough for her to know she couldn't just wiggle away. Of course she could fight him off if she really wanted to, but hurting him really wasn't on her agenda for today. Or any other day if she was being honest.

She slowly turned in his grasp and the first thing she spotted was his gleeful smile, before her eyes caught the greenery dangling right above their heads.

"How the fuck..." she trailed off upon taking in the fact that he had really put a mistletoe on a stick so he could hold it up wherever.

They both laughed before she bumped her head against his chest, relaxing into his embrace. "You're such a dork."

She looked back up into his face, expecting a smart retort, but was only met with his intense gaze that suddenly threatened to set her on fire.

She shouldn't be feeling like this for her colleague. She shouldn't...

When his face slowly lowered to her own, time seemed to freeze. Not even the clattering of the mistletoe stick as it hit the ground registered in her brain, as his nose bumped against hers, his now free hand coming up to hold her chin in place.

Her eyes fluttered shut as first his beard tickled against her skin, before he brushed his lips against hers.

A shuddering breath left her lips, before it was cut off by his firm mouth pressed against hers.

She responded tentatively, grasping the front of his uniform as she tilted back to meet his lips fully. He pushed closer, mouth parting slightly as he deepened the kiss. His hand slid down to her neck, still holding her in place.

It was as if he was trying to devour her, to never let her get away again.

The hand that was not at her waist wandered into her hair, gripping it gently. She couldn't stop herself from answering his passion with the same enthusiasm he was showing her.

She slid her arms around his neck and pulled herself impossibly closer to him, almost moaning when her body felt his muscles even through the layers of clothes.

The hand from her waist slid down to her backside and he cupped her ass eagerly.

Her heart was hammering against her rip cage as she tried getting enough air into her lungs between kisses while Dominic barely seemed to feel the need to breathe.

"I'm not sleeping with my colleagues, " she managed to gasp out, after pushing herself away from him a few measly centimeters, fully aware that the willpower to stay true to her word was dwindling with every second.

His mouth was back on hers with barely a "Mhmm," to signal he had indeed heard her words.

"I also don't date my colleagues, " she insisted with the next gasp for air.

Again Dominic only hummed, his hands squeezing her ass firmly to get her closer again.

"It only gets messy, " she continued, yet not doing anything more to stop his kisses.

She felt his grin against her lips when he mumbled a cheeky "I sure hope so."

Even she didn't know if the sound that left her in response was a groan or moan "I'm serious."

With visible effort Dom pulled himself away from her and sighed before gently bumping his forehead against hers. "Look, Engelchen... I really like you. Or I wouldn't have been that persistent about getting a kiss. And from your reaction just now, I would say you like me too."

Despite knowing he was right, she still tried to keep it together, get back to something that at least resembled professional behavior. "That doesn't chan-"

Both hands now on her hips, he swayed them both to the rhythm of the slow music that played in the background. "Let me take you on a date. We can take it slow. And if it doesn't work out, I promise not to make it awkward."

Fuck. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to be in his arms, run her fingers along his beard, hear his goofy jokes. She knew she shouldn't though. "But..."

The german cut her off with a quick peck on her lips. "Say yes," he whispered before pulling away again to look into her eyes.

Her hands finally slid away from behind his neck, down to his chest. And she sighed before she playfully patted his stomach. "Alright. But I'm expecting something spectacular. You gotta blow my socks off."

Dominic's grin put the shine of the Christmas lights around them to shame. "Trust me, it'll be so good, you'll be the one who wants to blow somethi- OWW."

Bonus:

"Eeekk! What..." before she could even get her question out, she burst out laughing, almost immediately gasping for air.

She tried her best to see through the tears that were already gathering in her eyes, wiping furiously to get another look at Domi.

He stood in front of her, in what was obviously supposed to be a sexy santa outfit. The red dress rimmed with white fluffy fabric way too short on his broad frame. She would almost be able to see his underwear. If he was wearing any, which she wasn't so sure about with him. To add some more flair to his outfit he had also put on a hat with blinking Christmas lights and red knee high socks.

"I take it, I exceeded all your expectations," he asked, turning his back to her and shaking his barely covered ass.

At first she could still only wheeze as a reaction, but she tried to get some words out anyway. "You… are… out...out… of… your mind!"

"And you love it," he simply stated while walking up to her.

While she was still calming down and wiping the rest of the tears off her face, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. "Does your sexy Santa get a kiss before we go and gift the others with the sight of my gorgeous legs?"

She risked a glance down at said legs, and barely contained another laugh before looking back into his face. "Kissing Santa? I'm sure that'll put me on his naughty list," she teased.

He was prevented from answering when she placed a hand on his bare thigh, sliding it upwards under his dress while the other gently grasped his beard to guide his lips to hers.

#dominic brunsmeier #bandit #dominic brunsmeier x reader #dominic bandit brunsmeier #bandit x reader #bandit imagine #r6s bandit #rainbow six #rainbow six siege #rainbow six siege imagine #r6s #r6siege #r6s imagine #wolf writes

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1988hc · 4 years ago

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"Shit babe, I just, I don't know if I can do the work tonight," TK says, face scrunching up as he withdraws from Nolan's mouth.

Nolan frowns. He just started getting into it, TK's dick pushing past his lips, hips working in tight little thrusts, just the way Nolan likes it. TK had even pulled on his hair a little.

TK thumbs at Nolan's mouth, wiping away a trace of spit. His dick is still hard and shiny with Nolan's spit, bobbing in the air. "Maybe some other day, eh babe?"

He sounds apologetic, like. Shit. Not like someone who got first star tonight. In fact, TK sounds downright exhausted.

"Sit down."

"What?" TK looks confused, even though Nolan knows he heard him perfectly well. The room is pretty quiet, not a whole lot of guys still left, the ones who are mostly quietly tending to their equipment, getting stretched out, G working on his foam roller over in the corner.

"I said, sit down," Nolan says, making sure to speak clearly. When TK just continues standing in front of him, staring at him dumbly, Nolan sighs, stands up, and pushes TK down by the shoulders onto the bench.

It's not something he usually does. In fact, it's nearly unheard of. Nolan is happy to play with whoever got first star honors that night, provided they put in the work. Nolan Patrick does not get on his knees for anybody.

He does now, dropping to the floor in front of Travis, shouldering between his legs none too gently when TK doesn't get with the program quickly enough.

"Patty, you don't have to..." TK starts weakly, but Nolan just glares at him.

"Shut up."

He's not interested in discussing this. Certainly doesn't want to examine the fluttery feeling in his stomach at the thought of TK turning down his celebratory blowjob.

"What the fuuuuuck?" Comes an incredulous voice from somewhere over Nolan's shoulder. "Why does Teeks get special treatment? He isn't even hurt! You didn't go down for me last month!"

Nolan turns around, staring at Farabee. The movement pulls a little on his hair, from where TK's fingers have strayed back into it, curled around a few strands. Nolan ignores the lurch in his stomach at that. "Maybe you didn't deserve it."

"I was first star!" Bee protests. "I couldn't fucking stand after that puck to the knee and all you did was shrug and told me to find someone else to do it then."

"You didn't get a Gordie Howe," Nolan shoots back, and just the thought of TK's goal in the first, his assist on Ghost's powerplay redirect and then the way he had planted one on DeBrusk in the third, wrestling him down to the ice, has Nolan's own pants growing a little tighter.

He turns back to TK, doesn't wait for anyone else to say anything, sliding TK's dick back into his mouth. TK's dick is like the most perfect dick on the team, the perfect girth to make Nolan work for it without giving him lock-jaw, uncut and curved just the tiniest bit to the left, and Nolan likes playing with his foreskin, likes pulling it up and sliding his tongue inside, lapping up the bursts of precome. TK's fingers tighten in his hair, TK letting out an appreciative moan, and Nolan sucks a little harder, works on taking him a little deeper.

"This is fucking favoritism," Bee whines, but it's quiet enough that Nolan feels justified in ignoring it, focusing instead on fitting TK's dick down his throat. It's easier, usually, when all he has to do is tip his head back and let TK push inside, when he can fist a hand in TK's sweats to pull him in, instead of having to bend down himself. He has to work, time his breathing, can feel a little spit dribble out and down TK's dick. It's messy, and uncomfortable, straining his neck, knees aching on the hard locker room floor, and Nolan remembers why he usually doesn't do this, why he never does this. He can't seem to find his rhythm, can't slide into that easy space where all he has to do is lie back and let the team take what they need from him, shutting off all his thoughts. Right now, his mind is whirring, trying to catalogue all the little sighs and shifts of TK's hips, trying to figure out how deep to go, how fast, how hard to suck.

"Nolan, Patty, babe," TK mutters, fingers carding through Nolan's hair, pushing it behind his ear. "Just focus on the head."

He's guiding Nolan up, high enough that his dick slips out of Nolan's mouth and Nolan's about to say something, to call this off, this was a bad idea after all when TK shushes him. It's something Nolan positively hates, getting told what to do, but TK sounds fond and soft when he does it, muttering "just let me" and then he's pushing the spongy head of his dick against Nolan's mouth, tracing it over Nolan's lips like the world's most sticky lipstick before nudging at the seam.

And Nolan parts his lips, just enough that TK can slip the tip of his dick inside, caught in the tight seal of Nolan's mouth. It's shallow enough that Nolan can swirl his tongue all around it, flick it against the little cluster of nerves on the underside of the head. TK draws in a sharp breath between his teeth at that, an appreciative hiss, pushing a bit deeper into Patty's mouth. He's got his hands placed firmly on either side of Nolan's head, holding him steady while his hips work in tiny little shifts, not thrusting so much as squirming inside Nolan's mouth and that--. Fuck. Nolan sucks a little harder, presses his tongue against the slit and earns a harsh "fuck, Pat, yeah, just like that. So good for me, babe, look at you, so fucking perfect for me."

Nolan can feel himself flushing, can feel the words drip like honey down his spine. He's sucking on TK's dick like a lollipop, running his tongue over and around, and TK keeps up a steady stream of curses and moans, giving Nolan the shallowest tender face-fuck of the universe, but Nolan doesn't care, not when he's boxed in by TK's legs and hands, his own hands flat on TK's thighs digging into the straining muscle, letting his thoughts scatter as another bright burst of precome blooms across his tongue.

It doesn't take TK long, neither of them has the patience tonight for anything but single-minded focus, and Nolan misses the way TK's dick usually feels pushing into his throat, cutting off his air supply. He doesn't know whether it's his whine, embarrassingly not as muffled as usual, or TK's just thinking about the same thing, but TK moves one hand down to Nolan's throat, stroking over his neck before settling low at the base of it, the dip between Nolan's collar bones framed perfectly between TK's thumb and his fingers, and then TK squeezes just a little and Nolan feels anchored enough that he could fly away.

He makes another sound, this one possibly even more pathetic then the last, but it mingles with TK's harsh breaths, and when TK starts chanting "fuck, fuck, almost there, god" Nolan sucks for all he's worth, flicking his tongue against TK's dick, rubbing it over the ridge of the head and then TK goes quiet, holding his breath and Nolan's mouth floods with the bitter taste of TK's release. He can taste him, can feel TK's dick twitch and squirt inside his mouth and Nolan swallows reflexively, his whole mouth coated with TK's come, an entirely different sensation from when they usually come down his throat, buried so deep that Nolan hardly tastes anything.

He's almost a little remorseful when TK finally hisses and pushes Nolan off from where he'd been suckling on TK's dick, lapping up the last spurts of come.

"Shit, babe, I think you sucked my brains out," TK laughs weakly, looking at Nolan with glazed-over eyes that grow even darker when Nolan smirks a little and licks his lips, smacking them together for extra effect.

There's a space where Nolan knows he should say something, chirp TK for the dumb look on his face, but he can't really think of anything, doesn't let himself think at all when he pushes up from his perch between TK's legs to capture TK's mouth in a kiss.

He doesn't do this either. The team can stick their dicks in Nolan all they want, but nobody gets to kiss Nolan on the mouth, and Nolan certainly never sticks his tongue where it doesn't belong. He doesn't have an explanation for why he does it now, TK's mouth soft and pliant beneath Nolan’s in surprise before he visibly rallies, one hand moving to the back of Nolan's neck.

The first swipe of tongue is a little tentative, just a wet meeting of mouths, but then TK lets out a little sigh and opens up and Nolan dives right in. It's everything the blowjob wasn't, a little rough, a little loud, both of them moaning, pushing too deep too fast, Nolan letting TK taste himself on Nolan's tongue, lick his taste right out of Nolan's mouth. It's slick and dirty in a way that TK's dick in his mouth never came close to, making the blowjob seem almost sweet in comparison. Nolan uses his hands on TK's thighs to push himself up, really get up in TK's face, pushing him deeper into his locker, getting pulled there by TK's hands, roaming over Nolan's back and arms in broad, possessive swipes. And Nolan, he, like. Maybe melts. A little. The kiss between them gentles, a bit, until it's TK nipping at Nolan's lips, teasing him, the soft scratch of his goatee tickling against Nolan's skin, both their mouths stretched in matching little grins.

Nolan will happily sit back and let anyone fuck his throat who gets first star of the night, but he always makes sure it’s them putting in the work. Nolan never, ever, goes on his knees for anybody, doesn’t kiss on the mouth, and he sure as fuck would never in a million years fall in love with a teammate.

Cause that would be just dumb.

…

Shit.

#pattyteeks

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jackiejacks923 · 5 years ago

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A Story to Tell the Kids

Prompt: “It’s the wrong color.” - @challengingwords

Pairing: Shownu x reader feat. Minhyuk, Hyungwon & IM

A/N: So I somehow accidentally made a series without even realizing that I did...lol. My brain surprises me sometimes. In this story, we revisit the world of the Chang siblings that were introduced in an earlier fic. Check the masterlist for the corresponding stories. I’ll be updating that soon. I hope you enjoy <3

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“Uncle Min!” you heard ChangMi exclaim from the patio facing the beach, “It’s the wrong color! The sky is not purple!”

You and Hyunwoo laughed from the kitchen as you prepared the meat and side dishes to cook on the grill of the vacation home you rented. ChangMi was painting a landscape side by side with her Uncle Minhyuk and ChangGun was on the beach burying a sleeping Uncle Hyungwon with the assistance from his Uncle Changkyun. You were glad that at least a few of your husband’s brothers could join you and the kids on this short summer getaway.

“ChangMi, it’s called ‘creativity’,” you heard Minhyuk explain to your daughter as you and Hyunwoo brought out the food and he started up the grill. “It doesn’t have to be exactly like what you see with your eyes. It could be what you see in your head and heart.”

ChangMi tilted her head in thought as she continued to paint her light blue sky. “So you have purple skies in your head?”

“Yup,” Minhyuk answered, “And yellow whales, and pink water, and a blue sun.” He painted such a picture as he described it and he was rewarded with a giggling ChangMi.

“Uncle Min,” she said as she put down her paintbrush and stood to wrap her arms around her uncle’s neck as he painted, “you have a pretty happy place.” Minhyuk smiled as he placed a kiss on the little girl’s cheek.

You walked to look over the balcony and check on ChangGun with his uncles since it was unusually quiet. Years of experience has taught you that quiet is not always a good thing. You discovered the small mound of sand on top of Hyungwon had taken a different shape. You quickly took out your phone and snapped a picture of the turtle shell in the sand that Changkyun helped design with ChangGun. How Hyungwon stayed asleep through it all astounded you, but for as long as you had known him, you knew this wasn’t unusual.

Knowing that your kids were thoroughly preoccupied with different activities and bonding with their uncles, you went back to Hyunwoo’s side at the grill to help him cook.

“It’s nice to know this place hasn’t changed much, right?” Hyunwoo commented as you were making skewers to place on the grill.

You nodded in agreement. “We have a lot of memories with this place, don’t we?”

You felt Hyunwoo’s arm wrap around your waist and pulled you in to place a kiss on your temple. “We do.” You smiled up at your husband before he turned his attention back to the grill.

The smell of the meat grilling soon spread and moments later a laughing ChangGun in the arms of an equally laughing Changkyun came up the steps to the patio followed by a sandy Hyungwon which made everybody laugh.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” he said as he dragged his feet across the patio and into the house.

“Uncle Hyungwon dirty,” ChangGun laughed.

“I think he’ll think twice about sleeping around us, right Gunnie?” Changkyun said as he tickled the little boy’s tummy, who laughed and happily agreed with his uncle.

The pair then began to take their seats at the table you began to set with ChangMi and Minhyuk joining shortly after. Hyunwoo brought the cooked meat over right on time for Hyungwon to return from cleaning up and joining the rest of the family.

“We should plan for a whole reunion here next time,” Minhyuk suggested as you all ate.

“It has been a while since the whole group was here together,” you added.

“Have you been here before Uncle Min?” ChangMi asked as she took a bite from her plate.

Minhyuk nodded. “Your dad and your other uncles and your aunties and mommy would come out here every summer in college.”

“Oooohhh,” the little girl replied.

“This is a special place for mommy and daddy, too,” Changkyun revealed.

“Why is it special?” ChangMi asked curiously.

You and Hyunwoo then looked at each other as the events of that fateful summer came back to you as vividly as it was yesterday.

You found yourself around the beach bonfire. Your sorority sisters had given you a makeover after finding out some info that one of the guys you invited from the fraternity, MuChi, actually harbored a crush on you. They were determined to find out who. Unfortunately, the outfit Dasom and Bora had picked out wasn’t very warm.

“You look cold,” Hoseok commented as he offered you his hoodie. You started thinking that maybe the outfit was strategically planned after all.

“Thank you,” you said as you pulled it over your head. As you were putting your arms through, you pondered over the thought you didn’t even notice he had a hoodie with him to begin with. He took the seat next to you and you felt a nudge from Soyou from your other side. You began some small talk with him since you didn’t want to be stuck in awkward silence for the rest of the night.

“Shall we start some games?” Hyolyn then loudly suggested. The group was in agreement and started to form a small circle next to the bonfire that was keeping you all warm from the ocean breeze. Hyolyn started with the word association rhythm game and each person that messed up would have to do a penalty. You all laughed as each loser executed each penalty, whether it be a shot of soju or some other ridiculous penalty request the group agreed upon.

Then came the moment where you messed up the rhythm and had to execute your penalty.

“Aegyo!!!” Hyolyn yelled out before bursting into a fit of laughter and the rest of your sisters betrayed you by agreeing this would be your penalty. So much for solidarity.

You looked around as you reluctantly stood up to see all eyes eagerly set upon you. You closed your own and took the deepest breath you could while quickly executing the best aegyo you could muster in 5 seconds and promptly pulled the hood of your borrowed sweatshirt over your head and tied it closed. All you could hear were the group’s giggles and exclamations of “how cute” from all angles around you. You took a deep breath from inside the hoodie and took in the woodsy scent it held. You had never pegged Hoseok to be a woodsy type guy with his cologne scent, though. You became attached to this scent the more you breathed it in. It had such a calming effect on you.

You then felt a pat on your head and a voice close to your ear as you continued to hide. “That was really cute,” the soothing voice had told you. You eventually came out of your makeshift hoodie tent to see who it belonged to, but someone started the music and so dancing and drinking around the bonfire began and the owner of the voice was no longer at your side.

The ratio of guys to girls was off so you were all just aimlessly dancing. Until a song came on the speaker that you knew the choreography to and so you busted out in the dance moves. The group then began cheering for you. When you turned your head, you discovered you had a dance partner in this impromptu performance after all. You and Hyunwoo kept in sync through the whole thing which made you smile. The song ended and your friends applauded the two of you. You smiled at each other, but before either of you could say anything, you were pulled away in different directions by your friends dancing to the next song on the playlist.

After another hour or so of more bonfire celebrations, you excused yourself back to the beach house to call it a night. You were starting to feel the effects of the soju and were aware you were close to your limit and would eventually fall fast asleep.

“Y/N!” a voice called out to you. You turned around and saw Hyunwoo catching up to you. “I’ll walk you back.”

“Daddy then told me that the hoodie belonged to him and not Uncle Hoseok,” you told your daughter.

“And I built up the courage to finally ask mommy out on a date,” Hyunwoo added.

“A few years later we came back here for another summer celebration with everybody,” you continued.

“And that was the trip your uncles and aunties helped me plan my proposal to mommy,” Hyunwoo concluded.

“Wow,” your daughter eventually said as she leaned against her Uncle Minhyuk’s arm attentively listening to her parents' story.

Hyunwoo took your hand and brought it to his lips and placed a kiss on your knuckles. You smiled lovingly at him.

“Does that mean I might find the man I marry here, too?” ChangMi innocently asked. Her dad and her uncles focused their attention on her with shocked looks.

“Maybe one day, my darling,” you answered her.

“Not for many, many years though,” Hyunwoo added.

“When you’re 30,” Hyungwon suggested.

“Why 30?” Changkyun asked, “I say 40.”

“ChangMi,” Minhyuk said, “You don’t need any other guys. Just daddy and your uncles.” You and ChangMi laughed at the ridiculous responses her overprotective bodyguards had to her question.

You smiled at your daughter and prayed that maybe one day, this beach will hold a special meaning for her as it did for you...when the time was right.

#CWC17 #challenging words #cwchallenges

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mypassionfortrash · 5 years ago

Text

Perfect

You and Roger had made big plans for your date in the park. But a morning of rain ruins those straight away. Instead, you and Roger decide to stay at home and get around to something else you’ve been planning for a while... losing your virginity.

Warnings: Roger Taylor x f!Reader; strictly 18+; fluff and a little bit of shame towards the end! Notes: The second last fic from my old Queen blog that I’ve rewritten. Just imagine this is 90′s Roger.

Toes at the threshold, basket in hand, the heavens opened, dumping an almighty deluge on to the street. It came on so suddenly that Roger's clothes were drenched before he realised. When he did, his bright, eye-crinkling smile sank. Stood in his driveway, he flung out his arms in resignation.

"I told you it was supposed to rain today," you called from the hallway.

"Yeah, well, Mr Fish isn't known for his accuracy, is he?" Roger huffed, slipping past you.

Your gaze darted between Roger, who was shrugging off his shirt in the hall, and the downpour outside. Nerves clawed at your insides, but you maintained your wide eyes and perky tone. "It's not all bad. We could just stay inside."

Maybe it was too soon. The pair of you were used to going on dates where one could leave the other at will. Dinner. The theatre. That one swanky bar in town he liked.

But you were in his house. And the silence between you grew increasingly awkward.

"I made sandwiches and everything," he pouted, clutching his sopping cotton shirt.

Your voice wavered. "We could eat them here." Your legs threatened to give out as you made your way to him. You noticed his jawline was back to being soft under your touch - your last meeting ended with giddy protests about how much his five o'clock shadow tickled when he nuzzled at your neck. Your brain lingered on that thought too long. Maybe you preferred his stubble after all? Before you became too distracted, you snapped back to reality. A sulky Roger pressed against you, staring down at you with a glimmer of naughtiness beneath his features.

"What's so special about the park, anyway?" you prodded.

Roger opened his lips to speak.

You knew it would be something along the lines of soaking up the sun or drinking nice wine. But you didn't give him a chance. You sent him blundering backwards into the wall. Your mouth on his. It quelled your raging nerves, replacing them with a welcome swell of courage. Until, once again, the realisation hit.

Roger's cheeks couldn't have flushed brighter if they tried. His mouth dangled open long after you pulled away, as his mind scrambled to assess the situation.

"Can't do that at the park," you remarked, taking a step back.

Roger thwarted your retreat, luring you back into him by the fabric of your dress. "When did you get so brave?" He murmured, hovering out of reach.

If you couldn't kiss him again, you were going to at least conceal your face as another giddy rush struck you. His neck was the ideal spot.

"Not that brave?" Roger grinned, holding you tighter.

You smirked against his warm, sodden skin. "It's just you, you big distraction."

"Sight of me shirtless got you all hot and bothered?" Roger quizzed, swaying with you in his arms.

"Maybe."

"Dread to think what you're gonna be like when we… when you're ready. Of course. I'm sure it'll be-"

"Fine, Roger," you began, interrupting him. Fully removed from his neck, you peered up at him, reassuringly. "It'll be fine."

Roger swept a stray strand of hair off your forehead. His eyes misted over just thinking about what lay ahead of you both. "I don't want it to be fine, though." He inched dangerously close to you again. So close you could hear his breathing become jagged against your lips. "I want it to be perfect."

The sound of his voice. Those words. Having him so close and all to yourself with no one else around. That feeling fired lightning bolts in your gut and forced a soft groan from you. You kept your eyes on his, watching as the fine lines around them grew.

He loved having that effect on you; relished it from the second he met you. But this was different. "I think you'd like that too."

"Now?" You couldn't hide it. The crack in your voice. Or the way you begged him, looking up through your lashes.

Scrambling up the stairs like a couple of excited teenagers, you and Roger tumbled into the pile of luxurious sheets on his bed. In one sudden action, you turned to straddle him. All he could do was hopelessly drum his fingertips on your thighs and flash you a coy smile.

Like a sheepish kitten, you bowed your head, letting your hair shield your face as you grinned. You drew your nails over Roger's belly, edging closer to his jeans. And then, you looked up.

Roger's breathing stalled, waiting for you to make your next move.

"I'm so nervous," you giggled, breaking the silence between you. The expression you wore made your eyes screw closed and your cheeks puff out. Delirious happiness. A glorious sight, if you asked Roger.

He couldn't resist. Moving on top of you, he planted a hand above your shoulder to steady himself. "Let me do all the work, ok? You just relax and try to enjoy it," he reassured, placing a gentle kiss to your nose.

"Ok," you responded, running your fingers through his hair.

Roger shot you a knowing look, shimmying down the bed. He settled between your thighs and grasped at their undersides; pressing a series of tiny kisses against the sensitive skin close to your knee. He kept his eyes trained on you, for any reaction he could find as he worked his way towards your core.

But instinct kicked in, burning away all your inhibitions. Parting your thighs even further, your hips rolled, urging him closer to where you wanted him.

Roger's hand trailed around your thigh, stopping just short of the seam of your underwear. With one finger, he pulled them aside, spying what was underneath. He dragged his thumb over your folds, spreading your glistening sweetness over your slit.

You found it tricky to stay quiet as Roger's efforts quickened; you resorted to burying the side of your face against the pillow. A low groan escaped you when he continued stroking you with his thumb. Finally, he tugged off your underwear. The air in the room fell cold against your skin, reminding you of the nerves burbling away inside your gut.

But Roger's mouth soon seized your attention again. The flat of his tongue lapped a heavy, lazy stroke along your core. The warmth of him felt delicious with the glow spreading across your lower half, building in intensity. Roger's tongue weaved through your folds with deft swiftness, all the while he gazed up at you, admiring you.

He sensed the way his actions took hold of you. Everything from the way your eyes squeezed shut, to your sweaty palms clawing at the sheets. Especially how your hips rose and fell, grinding against his face in time to the movements of his tongue. He chuckled at how fast he managed to put you at ease and make you come undone. But it was time to up the ante. He brushed the tip of his finger against your tight, slick entrance, gauging the way it pulsed and quivered.

Your hips writhed at the sensation, as you whined with need.

Roger's tongue slowed as he gingerly eased his finger inside you. He smirked against your skin, watching as your mouth dropped open then formed a contented smile. He added another and set about a tentative rhythm.

"Oh god," you gasped, feeling his fingers gather momentum inside you.

His mouth. Where was his mouth?

You let go of the damp sheets and tugged at Roger's hair to guide him back.

The shock of your life came.

Roger's tongue flicked across your clit. Quick, deliberate flicks.

Your moans escalated. Your senses heightened. Everything he did, you felt tenfold. Everything. The sound of his fingers fucking you. The focused look in his eye. The chilly air in the room pricking against your sweat-soaked chest. Writhing and squirming took so much energy. Even breathing was difficult.

The tension became too much.

When your eyes opened again, your chest still heaved. Roger loomed over you. His cheeks flushed, and his chin glistened.

"Are you ok, darling?" Roger asked, concern cutting through his tone.

"I think so," you sighed. Reaching down between your bodies, you began pulling up your dress. But Roger quickly stopped you.

"I've got you," he reassured, slipping his hands underneath it to pull it up. He flung it into a pile on the floor.

Desperate to get out of all your clothes, you quickly undid your bra, throwing it beside your dress.

Roger, still in his jeans, watched, open-mouthed as you lay naked underneath him. "Are you sure you want this?"

Still breathless, all you could do was nod with as much enthusiasm as you could muster.

Roger beamed, fumbling with his belt, and then his jeans, leaving just his underwear behind. Then he settled beside you.

As Roger stroked your hair and peppered kisses over your temple, you couldn't ignore how prominent the outline of his cock was, gazing down at it. Curiosity got the better of you. You reached down and ran your hand over his length. Nerves seeped their way through you again as you marvelled at it. Just able to get your hand around it, your mind wandered to how exactly you were going to stretch yourself around it. How would it feel? Would it hurt? You turned your head to Roger, locking your lips with his in search of some reassurance in the form of lazy little kisses. Unconsciously, you continued to stroke his cock through his boxers.

Roger sighed against your lips. Then he pulled away. "You're gonna get me off before I've even…"

You giggled, pressing your nose against his. "Sorry."

"That's alright, darling," Roger reassured, moving on top of you. He buried his face against your neck, lavishing the delicate skin with wet, drawn-out kisses while pushing his hips ever so slightly against your own.

His cock pressed against your stomach so deliciously that you couldn't help but match his movements. Instinctive need charged through you again. Legs snaking around his waist. Fingernails clawing at his neck.

"You're keen," Roger chuckled, easing back.

You crossed your arms over your chest, lying there fully exposed to him.

"I know you're nervous, darling," Roger smirked, curling his fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers. "Try to relax." Then he pulled them down around his hips.

Now uncovered, his cock seemed even more intimidating. Girthy, swollen and resting against your stomach, you swore it stretched up to your belly button. You kept your eyes glued to it as Roger moved back, drawing the tip over your pussy, glazing it in your juices.

"If it hurts or gets too much, tell me," he continued, teasing you with his cock. Finally, he lined himself up with your entrance. "You ready?"

You nodded, trying to bolster yourself by grasping at your breasts. Then you closed your eyes. Waiting.

In one frustrating and painstaking movement, Roger filled you. While you felt like you were about to burst, Roger gave a satisfied purr. "Does that feel ok?"

You opened your eyes, chuckling through your nervous haze. "It's huge," you squeaked.

Roger leaned over you again, his breath caressing your lips. "Want me to keep going?"

"Yeah," you sighed, squeezing your nails into his biceps.

Roger popped a kiss to the tip of your nose and began a cautious rhythm. The slow drag away, leaving you empty and needy. The quick snap into you, making you gasp and mewl. It felt divine with his weight shifting over you, cocooning you. You kept your eyes closed tight, face nestled against his collarbone. All you could focus on was the feeling of him opening you up to take every inch of his cock, more and more with every careful thrust. Every single time, Roger's cock brushed against just the right spot inside you. And every single time, the tension in your belly swelled.

"God, you feel so good, darling," Roger groaned against your neck.

"You can go faster if you want," you sighed, the desperation simmering to the surface.

"Yeah?" Roger asked. "I'm not hurting you?"

"You could never hurt me," you encouraged. "Go for it."

It was all the reassurance Roger needed. He moved back and grabbed your hips. Then he let loose.

Your eyes shot open as Roger pounded into you. Having your hips elevated to meet his harsh thrusts made the feeling so much more intense. You couldn't contain all the frantic, incoherent moans and curses, meeting the obscene sound of his flesh slapping against your own; not to mention the bed frame thudding away against the wall. Your head tilted back, spying the metal slats above your head. One hand reached to grab on to it, stretching yourself out for him.

"That's my gorgeous girl," Roger hummed, marvelling at you.

His words - his assessment - of you spurred you on. It made you brave. You needed more than just his cock. Your free hand reached down between your legs, fingers delving between your folds to circle your clit.

"That's it," Roger coaxed, "play with yourself for me."

It was precisely what you needed. Each feverish circle aligned with Roger's increasingly jagged pace, and the curses just kept tumbling from your mouth.

"Make yourself feel good for me," Roger sighed.

You could feel yourself start to come undone underneath him. The familiar feeling of your thighs trembling and the burning in your core told you everything.

"Fuck. Keep going, darling, I want to feel you come on my cock. Come on, let it go, baby…"

You took one final look at Roger. The dull sheen on his skin. His head tipped back, totally lost in how amazing you felt. Succumbing to his own high.

Dragging you with him.

The soft sound of sheets rustling and a faint groan halted you in your tracks. You hadn't even reached the hallway on your hunt to find his bathroom. The shock caused your arm to find its way across your chest. It was stupid. He had already seen you naked. But you couldn't fight instinct. You welcomed what little protection it afforded you.

"Where are you going?" A drowsy voice whined.

You turned to face him.

Propped up on his elbows and peering at you over the narrow rims of his glasses, Roger silently begged you to come back to bed.

Discomfort returned as soon as Roger finished and his eyes closed. Leaving you to fester in your own filth and wrestle with your doubts for an hour. Until you couldn't take any more. You needed to be alone. "I'm just going to clean myself up, I'll be back in a minute."

Roger's expression lifted. His cheeks puffed out as the corners of his mouth curved up. He closed his eyes and nodded. "Ok, darling. Toilet's at the end of the hall. There's a linen cupboard just behind the door with lots of fresh towels. Use whatever you like. I'll grab a shirt for you."

"Thanks."

In a flash, you scrambled down the hall, following streaks of daylight that caught tiny specks of dust in the air all the way to the bathroom. You closed the door with such urgency that it threatened to drop off its hinges. But, now, alone, you could get your bearings. You glanced to your right at the linen cupboard as you slid on to the cold tiled floor. Your eyes worked overtime, processing your surroundings. Everything in its right place. Shimmering, sparkling white everywhere. And the scent of Roger's aftershave. The neat, pristine room overwhelmed you. The worst part about it was that you knew it was stupid. Sitting on the floor, shaking your head. It was only a room. Your back was turned on the difficult stuff for now. The hardest part was finally over.

The shower cried out to you. Examining your reflection in the cubicle door, your skin crawled. Roger was all over you.

A series of pointed strikes to the door almost knocked your heart from your chest.

"Darling?" Roger sang. "I've got a t-shirt for you."

You edged around to crack the door open, peering up at Roger. Reaching out for the shirt in his hand. But he took it back, out of your grasp.

His lower lip jutted out as he realised the state you had managed to work yourself into. He still asked the question, leaning down, getting on your level. "Is everything alright?"

His touch was such a comfort, you cursed yourself for allowing shame and panic cut you to shreds. As he ran his fingers through your hair, you couldn't help but keen against his hand. "I don't know," you sighed, closing your eyes. "I was going to shower."

"You look pale," Roger continued. He drew his thumb over your cold, clammy cheek, assessing everything and noting it in his head. It kicked his mind into overdrive, and the words came pouring out. "How about I run you a bath?"

Opening your mouth to reply, he didn't give you a second to respond.

"Was earlier too much?"

"Rog-"

"Do you need a bit of time on your own?"

You managed his name, this time. But he still wittered on.

"You seem really shaken. I'm going to run you a bath. You don't look like you could stand up in the shower; it might help you relax."

"Roger!"

That grabbed his attention.

"A bath would be lovely."

Before you knew it, you found yourself perched on the edge of the sumptuous, marble bathtub. No sooner had you agreed to this, but Roger had swaddled you in a soft, fluffy bathrobe and got to work, decanting all sorts of potions into the stream of steaming hot water. You watched, tugging the collar around your nose to catch his scent, as Roger swished his hand through the luxurious lather, making it lap at the sides of the tub. Neither of you exchanged words until he turned the tap off and made for the door.

"Can you stay?" you asked in a small voice.

His shoulders slumped. "That was a big deal for you earlier," he began, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Are you sure?"

The blanket of bubbles moved in soothing waves over your skin. The stiffness in your shoulders disappeared, and your legs felt a little less like jelly. Easing yourself backwards as Roger stroked your hair, one question popped into the front of your mind, and out of your mouth. "Did you actually enjoy that?"

Roger's fingers stilled on your scalp.

You cast your eye over to him. The top of his head, just visible above the rim of the tub, but that gave zero indication as to what he was thinking. You could never quite tell with Roger.

He sighed. "Did you enjoy it?"

"I'm asking you."

"Your first time with someone new is never going to be perfect."

His tone seared through you. So cold and matter of fact. Your heart sank. "You said you wanted it to be, though."

"I wanted it to be perfect for you."

Your teeth dug into your lip. You squeezed your eyes closed. You tried to focus on the circles that Roger drew on your scalp.

"Can I tell you something?" Roger asked.

"Suppose so."

"I was just as nervous as you. I've never taken someone's virginity. I didn't want to hurt you... I'm really sorry I couldn't do more for you."

"That's ok."

"But are you feeling ok?"

"I think so."

"We'll get better at this," Roger mused. Then, he broke into view, hanging his head over the edge of the tub wearing a comical pout. "D'you reckon we could practice that again? Definitely, think I could do better next time," he asked.

Moments like that reminded you why you fell for him in the first place; the way he barely had to try, and yet, he still managed to make you grin from ear to ear. He could also draw out a livelier version of you. The best you, in your opinion. "I hope, for your sake, you get better at this," you giggled. "At least I've got an excuse, being the inexperienced young thing that I am. Don't know what your problem is."

Roger skimmed his fingers over the surface of the water. "That bath looks really good," he said with a wink.

You looked away from him as you hauled yourself up, feeling another pang of nervous excitement in your gut.

"Can I join you?" Roger asked.

The smile on your face grew larger the closer you got to him until your noses touched. "Only if you ask me nicely."

Stealing a chaste kiss, he caught you off guard.

"Can…"

Another kiss.

"I…"

And another.

"Join you..."

A longer one.

"Please?"

Roger leaned back, looking utterly pleased with himself while your brain played catch up.

"Well?"

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #queen #queen fic

153 notes · View notes

mysweetestcreature · 6 years ago

Text

Something New

A/N: this is something of a passion write I had been working on during finals week back in May. Special thanks to my betas, @cherryyharryy and @meetmeinthehallwayhs for helping me through this :D

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: some smut

Summary: Harry may have just found his new muse.

***

The walls in Harry’s apartment are paper thin.

He’s roused awake by the rattling of his keys on the table beside him. His heavy lids force apart, and he half expects to be blinded by the morning sun. Instead, he’s met with a skyline painted a dark navy with hints of orangey-yellow peeking from the bottom. Wiping the crustiness away from his thick lashes, he’s able to decipher the time and place. The clock on his right reads 4:21 AM in large, red figures that sting his eyes with their intense vibrancy. He can’t help but wonder who in their right mind would be awake this early and let alone have the energy to cause such a commotion at such a dreadful hour.

A subsequent snort sounds from the back of his nose. The sleepiness he had felt when he’d gone to bed is quickly stripped away, but ever present with the unwillingness of his limbs to make themselves useful. He turns to lay down on his back and stares at the ceiling. It’s far earlier than he’s used to, but now his mind is running wild with thoughts that will surely bother him throughout the day. Like how he may or may have not forgotten to give his mum a ring like he said he would after he had gotten home from the club, or that he can’t recall whether he had given Niall his cousin’s number (Niall has a bit of a crush on her, although she doesn’t seem to be all that interested) while he was drunk and dancing to Cher’s Believe. Come to think of it, he isn’t even sure how he’s managing not to drift off considering he had only gotten in a little less than three hours ago.

It takes longer than he would ever care to admit, but Harry is finally able to convince the rest of his body to leave the warmth of his sheets. The hairs on the back of his neck rise as his feet come in contact with the creaky wooden floorboards. He lifts off the mattress with a little jump, and it’s then the frigid air from the open window collides with his bare chest.

He moves into the bathroom with dallying steps –– after all, time seems to be on his side today –– that cease once he reaches the outside of the tub. He feels behind the other side of the curtain for the faucet, and it elicits the faintest whine as he turns the water on.

Once inside, he lets out a relieved sigh as the hot pellets land on his back and massage every inch of his skin. He stands with his arm outstretched and braced against the cool tiles with his head hung low, wet hair falling heavy in front of his eyes with water streaming from the ends.

His other hand slowly slides down his body, starting from the butterfly tattoo on his abdomen leading south. He swallows hard as the tips of his fingers are tickled by the coarse hairs of his pubic bone. They move further down and wrap around his semi-hard cock one at a time. He hisses when he gives it a generous squeeze, bucking his hips forward on reflex. He begins to tug on himself, each proceeding breath becoming more staggered than the last.

The tip of his member screams with a rose-flushed red. Each drop of water feels like electricity jolting each nerve in his body from dormancy. He shuts his eyes tight, leaning back against the wall as he jerks himself off in a quick but steady rhythm.

There’s the slightest twinge of guilt that consumes just a part of his brain, but the larger part craves for the ultimate bliss of a much needed release. His other hand moves down to his aching balls. They feel tight as he rolls them with his palms, each stretch of the skin making his toes curl and creating a squeaking noise that echoes in the acoustics of the room.

He fantasizes being able to fuck his cock between a pair of supple breasts. How the mixture of sweat and his excitement allow for him to thrust through the tight valley with ease, far enough so that the head is just able to be sucked into her greedy mouth. Her expert tongue licks over him like a lollipop. Its underside brushes along his slit, and he’s unable to constrain himself from bucking forward and feeling the back of her throat. She gags on him, bolstering his ego. The vibrations of her lips cause a ripple of shocks to spread across the surface of his skin and startle his very core.

“Fuck me,” he moans shakily as his knees begin to grow unsteady. His movements become more desperate, and he finds his mind drifting to filthier, more sinful thoughts that will surely reserve him a special place in hell. He imagines pushing into a mouthwatering pussy, drenched in the sweetest juices that takes every single inch of him until the slap of his skin against hers drowns out their husky and panting voices. The way her walls clasp around him, keeping him as deep within her nearly draws the cum from his taut balls and drives him closer and closer to seeing the blinding stars behind his lids. She screams out his name like a sacred hymn, looking up at him with lustrous eyes with each fluid roll of his hips against hers.

He fists his cock aggressively for a while longer before his body begins to spasm as creamy ribbons progress out of him like an active stream. His lungs burn as they fill with the humidity around him. He twists the pointed end of the faucet, finally being allowed to breathe again under the frigid rush.

***

Harry emerges from the bedroom half an hour later in a pair of well-fitting grey slacks with a crisp, gentle lavender button-up on top. He mindlessly goes through the task of making himself a cup of dark roast coffee and putting together a bowl of Corn Flakes with sliced bananas and half a cup of almond milk splashed on top. Sometimes, he likes to simply listen to his teeth as they crunch down on the grains until it slithers down his throat.

There’s the screech of a chair against the floor that sounds from the apartment next door. He hadn’t even realized that it was being occupied until this moment. The people that used to live there, a train conductor called Emmitt Pearlstein and his eighty-year-old mother, had moved out only a few months ago.

(To be honest, he’s still feeling a bit guilty for having never accepted any of their dinner invitations. But it’s not entirely his fault! He heard from Susan and Kelly from downstairs that all the food was blended since Mrs. Pearlstein refuses to get herself a new pair of dentures.)

Maybe he’ll introduce himself when he gets a day off...whenever that will be. It is wedding season after all! And he’s booked for client meetings and events until the end of May. Harry is a photographer, and as circumstance have proven, one that is very in demand. The pay is more than decent to substantiate his current lifestyle –– i.e. pay his rent, put gas in his car, and set aside a few extra pounds for leisurely spending on a rainy day because Gucci isn’t cheap, after all!

He slurps up the leftover milk in his bowl before rinsing it out in the sink. He checks his watch, 7:54, which gives him more than enough time to check-in at the office before touching base with the bride and groom (separately, as old school superstition dictates) staying at the hotel across town for some pre-ceremony pictorials with the entourage.

As he locks up behind him, his ears perk at the sound of the elevator’s ding just around the corner. Taking giant leaps, his tripod and camera case swinging over his shoulders, he’s able to thrust his hand through the slimming crack of the doors. There’s a girl inside, large chocolate brown sunglasses covering nearly half her face.

“Morning,” he greets, nodding at her politely as he steps in. He pushes the already lit up lobby level button out of habit and waits patiently as the doors attempt at yet another close.

On the reflection of the walls, he notices how she averts her gaze from looking anywhere but her suede ankle boots, and it’s as though she’s designated her position to be cramped up in the corner as far away from him as possible. Harry dips his nose close to his collar and takes a subtle whiff. Between his cologne and his botanical rain fabric softener, he thinks he smells pretty damn fantastic.

The stiffness in the enclosed quarters makes the ride down from the fifteenth floor feel slower than real time. All that’s able to keep him engaged is the toe-tapping tune playing softly through the speakers. He gives the situation the benefit of the doubt, assuming that she’s not yet had her morning coffee or really is just very shy around strange men she encounters on the lift.

A sniffle suddenly erupts between them, and Harry glances back up at her reflection just in time to see the tips of her fingers disappear underneath her glasses. He digs into his back pocket and pulls out a handkerchief. “Here,” he gives her a small sympathetic smile that nearly wavers when she looks up at him. “I’m sorry if I’m...if I’m intruding or anything.” He trips nervously on his words as they spill out. “I just thought you could-”

“Thank you,” her voice is grateful but weak, as though she’s thoroughly tired out each cord, but the way it vibrates through his ears leaves him at a loss for words. She takes the handkerchief from him and pushes it under the frames of her shades and dabs gently. It’s then he sees her puffy red-rimmed eyes. They make contact with his, in a flicker that he isn’t sure ever occurred.

His curiosity gets the better of him as he tries again for a better look when the bell rings signaling that they’ve arrived at the lobby. She nods at him, grinning faintly as she makes her way towards the glass door exit. It leaves Harry standing in the shaft to gape at the ghost of her trail.

As soon as he steps out to follow, the doorman, Martin, stops him.

“Harry, my man!” he exclaims, patting him on the shoulder a little too harshly. “Off to work, already? It’s what...” He glances down at his watch but soon his brows furrow, and he taps on the glass to get it start again. Typical Martin is all Harry can think as he rolls his eyes.

“I could’ve sworn I just changed the battery on this! Last time I’ll ever get a fix behind a T.K. Maxx...” he grumbles, shaking his head as he continues to scold himself.

“I told you, there’s a decent place around the corner. Cheap replacement. You’re in and out in ten minutes tops, mate,” Harry says.

Only momentarily does he allow his eyes to wander back to the door and scan across the windows of the entrance.

***

“Alright, I want big smiles from the lot of you,” Harry instructs the newlyweds and their families as they stand in front of the altar. “C’mon, Dad, I know you can do better than that.” The father of the bride sneers at him before begrudgingly offering the camera a minimal show of his teeth. “And...” Harry snaps a few shots, two with flash and three without. “Beautiful! Greatly appreciate it.”

The rest of the guests pack into their cars as they move the celebration to the reception venue, leaving only Harry and the wedding party to take pictures in the church. As he’s packing up his camera and tripod, he feels someone tap him on the shoulder. He zips up his tripod before turning around.

“Hi!” He’s met immediately with a flowy maroon skirt that nearly touches the marble floor before he trails his eyes up to find a face. It’s one of the bridesmaids, the one who had lit the candle, he thinks. He’d noticed her earlier while she proceeded down the aisle, and he definitely didn’t miss the way she looked at him while he took candid pictures of the ceremony.

He smirks as he stands up. “Hey.”

She leans in close to him, her breath tickling the shell of his ear as she whispers something naughty which he’s sure the guy upstairs won’t appreciate in his sanctuary. But fucking hell does this girl have a mouth on her. She backs away slowly, a mischievous grin spread across her plump lips.

“I’ll see you later then, yeah?” she confirms as she pivots on her heel, glancing over her shoulder.

This is a normal thing for him, as ill-sounding as it is. He’s twenty-five, single, and has a job that just so happens to put him in a position where he’s surrounded by boatloads of women on high-level emotional limbo because the effects of weddings make them more vulnerable and wanting some intimacy until an inevitable hangover dawns upon them the next morning. And hey, he’s only human and admittedly only has the competence to hold a relationship for a few hours.

He tilts his head back, watching amusedly as she sways her hips for him. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

***

It’s a little after 2am when Harry arrives back home. He’s exhausted, in more ways than one, and all he really wants at the moment is to collapse onto his bed and sleep in to an acceptable time. If only he were that lucky. The bride had pulled him aside as he was about to leave with an urgent color to her voice that required the pictures to be ready as soon as possible.

Which, to put it into more exact terms, means that she wants it no later than forty-eight hours from the present time. And that doesn’t even take into account that he has another client wedding tomorrow afternoon which by the way, happens to be two and a half hours outside of London, which furthermore means he’s going to have to be out the door at least five hours beforehand because traffic is always unpredictable. He quickly pulls out his phone and looks for the email with the event details.

Danvers-Belton Wedding

(All he knows is that the bride-to-be’s family is fully loaded, and her engagement to her fiancé had been published in every entertainment paper in the city. Her dad is some CEO of a steel company or something like that. Harry had met him at their first meeting, and honestly, he had nearly spooked the shit out of him.)

Getting back to work, he inserts the memory card into his computer and stares numbly at the pinwheel-like loading icon. His job is great and has its perks (that bridesmaid from earlier truly made it worth his while), but this process is no doubt the part he least looks forward to. There are probably about 3500 photos he’ll have to go through by the end of the night, and out of those, around 400 to 500 he’ll pre-select and send to the couple before he begins editing.

He unbuttons his shirt down a little more than halfway, just enough for his chest to not feel so constricted in the stuffy atmosphere of his flat. “For fucks sake,” he groans, standing up from his chair and stalking across the living room to open the balcony door.

The breath of the wind sends tingles down his spine as it dries the beads of sweat from his body. He steps out, hoping to rejuvenate himself before burying himself in his work. He stares into the deserted streets and thinks about how peaceful everything it is at this hour. Just the sound of the city asleep feels like living in an entirely different world, as though someone had pressed the pause button on time. Only the simplistic soundtracks of the night dances through his ears and make his eyes drift close as he enjoys it all.

But something interrupts the natural melodies, an unexpected interrupted cadence written in with crayon in the score. His brows crease when it occurs again, but this time accompanied by a heavy weep. He looks to his left, Alfred Dimalanta’s place is pitch black inside (he might be working the nightshift tonight), and then to his right. A faint fluorescence wavers behind the curtains of the newly occupied flat.

Inside, someone sobs uncontrollably. Harry steps closer to the rightmost rail of his balcony and crosses his arms over the cool metal. His head drops as he listens.

He knows the feeling well.

***

“So, then I told her, ‘listen, I’ve been understanding of your situation, but you haven’t paid your rent in like four months...Joaquin is gonna chop up my balls then feed it to his tiger if I don’t collect it by the end of the week.’” Martin explains, using hand gestures to portray the possible castration in his future. Harry hums, only half paying attention has he sorts through his mail one by one.

Junk.

Ju-oh! Coupon for a free half-chicken from Nando’s!

More junk.

“You’re gonna share that, right?”

Harry barely looks up. “Like you shared that pizza that I paid for on Tuesday?”

“Hey!” Martin counters in defense. “You left!”

“I left to use the toilet, and that was barely three minutes.”

The doorman slumps down in his chair as he begs to disagree. Harry throws the rest of the unimportant letters in the waste bin beside them, only keeping the coupon and his monthly bank statement. As he’s about to respond to something Martin had just complained about, the lift dings.

When he turns his head in its direction, the girl from yesterday emerges from it and similarly rushes out just as she had done before, even wearing the same sunglasses. She walks out of the lift in a dress that’s soft blue, pleated skirt flows like a wave as she gracefully moves through the lobby. He watches her this time and observes as she pushes out the door and crosses the street, soon disappearing out of the frame.

“Is she new?” Harry asks, trying not to sound overly interested when he turns back.

Martin gawks at him in disbelief. “She’s only been here for the last 3 months and living next to you, nonetheless! I’m surprised you lot haven’t met yet.”

***

The Danvers-Belton wedding is nauseatingly perfect. Everyone is equipped with their oh-so happy smiles and photo-ready poses as Harry swims through the room snapping pictures that are meant to be candid. It’s as though they’re all in great joy over this seemingly destined union. The bride and groom are completely enthralled by one another, so much that they’ve barely mingled with the guests in favor of staring adoringly into each other’s eyes by the dessert bar.

Harry pans around the reception hall –– which is more like some ballroom out of a princess movie, but that’s just his opinion –– with his camera as he looks for his next subject to capture since he’s taken enough lovey dovey pictures of the newlyweds for the time being. He takes one of the bride’s parents as the father engages in an animated conversation with some balding old men that he assumes are business associates of his. The mother smiles sweetly and nods next to the gentlemen even though her presence is completely ignored by all.

The rest of the guests are all distributed in groups: there are the dancers moving their feet to a swing song played by the live band; the bargoers all giggling drunkenly over their fifth round of tequila shots; and those, like the father, chatting about how gorgeous the ceremony had been and discussing about how much this damn party must have cost (rumor has it, over £5,000,000). He takes shots of each niche.

“You there, photographer!”

He pulls the camera from his face and turns in the direction of the voice. It’s the grandmother –– he thinks? He couldn’t tell you with all the Botox and fillers. “Take a picture of me by the ice sculpture, would you? Make sure I look thin!” The elderly woman strikes a side pose, the knee closest to the camera popping out and revealing her still flawless skin through the cuts of her dress. He signals when he’s finished, and the woman walks away without even a thank you. It’s something he’s used to by now.

As he looks through the lens again, he’s able to preserve a particularly adorable moment. The flower girl and the ring-bearer high on the tips of their toes as they dig into the remainder of the once towering cake. He gets it, he’d been served a slice and it was the most delicate and divine thing to ever touch his palate in his entire life. And maybe he’ll bribe one of them with a crisp fifty-pound note to set aside a piece for him.

Next to them, however, is someone who he’s only just taken notice of. He drops the camera so he can see with his own unobstructed vision. For a time, he switches between the two perspectives because he’s in such disbelief. The girl from his building, his neighbor as he’s recently discovered, is here, sitting by herself at the table with her own share of cake. She stares down at it with such intensity in contrast to the weak grip she has on her fork that seesaws in her grasp and above the edge of the plate.

He debates whether he should approach her. Would that be weird? Would she think he’s stalking her? But why would he? Up until this morning, he thought she was just visiting someone for the week. What would he say? “Hey, I live next door! Sorry I haven’t introduced myself yet, but no time like a wedding, right?” or maybe “Hi, I’m Harry. I don't know if you remember, but we met briefly on the lift back at the Grove?” Oh god, since when has he become an imbecile at making conversation?

Well, he supposes there are worse ways to make a first impression. He maneuvers through the other guests and pulled-out chairs, barely dodging a server with a heavy tray piled with used glassware and utensils. When he’s about a few steps from her, he halts, smoothing out his pants and making sure his collar is tucked away neatly in his suit jacket. He brushes his nose against the fabric, making sure his cologne hasn’t worn off in the six hours he’s been here.

“Hi.”

Like slow-motion, she takes her eyes off her cake to lay them on him. She squints them almost suspiciously. I should’ve taken more pictures of Grandma; Harry thinks to himself. He bites down nervously on the inside of his cheek, going back and forth between walking away or evaporating on the spot.

“I know you from somewhere,” she suddenly says, pondering. She props her hand under her chin and it’s only a few seconds later that her eyes widen in realization. “You live in my building!” She nods to the empty seat beside her.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, graciously accepting her invitation. “I think you actually live next to me. I’m in 15D.”

She laughs. “Really? Then why haven’t I seen you around before?” As a waiter passes by, she points to her empty glass of wine and sends him a quick ‘thank you.’ “A bit odd that I’m meeting my neighbor for the first time at a party nearly three hours away.”

“That’s my fault,” he sheepishly admits. “I’m on a pretty strict schedule.” He holds up his camera. “Been snapping photos since one.”

“A photographer, huh?” Her face brightens with amusements. “Have any of me on there?” Her smile is playful as she smiles shyly. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she stares into her lap.

It’s surprising how taken he is by such a seemingly innocent action. It’s the first time he’s really seen her without those large shades, and he’d be messing with himself if he said she isn’t beyond attractive. She’s wearing the same dress he’d seen her in this morning, and now he’s able to fully appreciate how perfectly she fills it out. But instead, all finds himself doing is admiring the glow of her skin in the light of the setting sun, and how a dust of rose pulls across her features terrifically.

He lifts up his camera, wanting nothing more than to commit this image to memory. She looks up at him. At first, she has a smile so virtuous that he’s unable to get a focus on her, but soon enough it falters when her attention flips to something behind him. It draws a frown in its place that causes Harry to lower his arms. He dares try to trace the line of her gaze back to whatever’s caused such an antagonistic shift in an otherwise splendid expression.

The groom holds his bride close as they sway to a slow and sweet melody from the string quartet. They still look as happy as they gaze at each other, cherishing the final moments of this amorous evening.

“We used to date. Philip and I... Four years, actually.” The words are strangled, leaving her throat as though pushed out forcefully.

“Oh, I-” but he’s left without anything to say. She lets out another laugh, but this one is coated in melancholy.

“We broke up because he said he didn’t want to get married,” she pauses, taking a shaky breath that feels almost painful. “What he really meant was that he didn’t want to marry me.” Her voice begins to tighten even more, and his head drops when he hears the faintest sound of that first whimper. He stares at the ends of the tablecloth in reflection. “He got engaged to Bethany less than five months later. Funny how that works, yeah? How you can spend four years of your life thinking you’re on the same page, but it turns out you’ve been four chapters ahead the entire time.”

Harry can’t bring himself to look her directly in the eyes. The music playing abruptly turns into something more heart-wrenching despite its major key. Without thinking, he reaches across the table and covers her hand with his and gives it a comforting squeeze. There’s nothing his words can do to alleviate even just a fraction of how this must affect her.

“I’m sorry,” is all he can whisper. “That probably doesn’t mean much, but I am.” Through his lashes he sees how she acknowledges it with genial character as she bows her head slightly.

A silence falls between them, but neither make an effort to move their hands. There’s a clamor of dishes coming from the kitchen that manages to distract him for a bit. Harry watches with mild delight as Bethany’s father barges through the swinging doors, and he can see how the red slowly creeps up his neck. What person, he wonders, is having the displeasure of being at the end of the fire of fury.

Another hand layers on top of his, grabbing his attention away from the unfolding scene. He studies their hands for a moment before finally facing her.

“Y/n,” she speaks up, gently. “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

The crevices of his dimples slowly sink in. “Harry.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles drabble #one direction #one direction fanfiction #writing

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vannminner · 5 years ago

Text

Where Magic Flows

A03

FanFiction

Part Two: In the Air (VIII)

Elsa couldn’t look at her. She couldn’t think. Blood rushed to her ears and swarmed her brain. Her palms began to sweat. Elsa’s fingers clenched, and a surprising shiver drew up her spine.

She couldn’t look at her, but she wanted to. Elsa wanted to see the spark of humour in Honeymaren’s eyes, telling her this was all for a laugh. Honeymaren wasn’t serious. She couldn’t be.

There is nothing worth admiring me for… Elsa decided.

“I, I’m flattered, Honeymaren, really, but-”

“You have feelings for someone else; for Ryder... It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I knew what I saw was true.”

With wide eyes and raised hands, Elsa continued. “No, no, you misunderstand. This has nothing to do with Ryder. He is a friend to me and nothing more, but I am feeling caught off guard here.”

Honeymaren sighed. Her arms wrapped protectively around themselves. “This wasn’t supposed to happen this way, or at all, honest. I’m sorry it did… I’m sorry I let my emotions mess things up.”

“I think, given some time, you will find that there is really nothing all that special about me...”

“What?” Honeymaren’s eyes finally lifted. She tried to catch Elsa’s, but she kept them strategically held away from hers.

“You and your brother- you think too highly of me, and I am flattered! I am, but soon you will see, I am not worthy of the infatuation you think I am…”

Her confusion thickened. “I don’t understand.” Honeymaren took a long step backwards.

Elsa came to sit with her back held into the trunk of a tree. Her hands caught against her knees, and she hugged herself tight.

“I am the fifth spirit now... I imagine that may sound impressive to you, and to your people even; or perhaps in your culture that makes me something to be admired. But I’m not the Queen of Arendelle anymore, and I don't know why I was chose to be the fifth spirit. Deep down, I’m still just Elsa. Soon you will find I’m really quite ordinary, and your interest in me should fade away. Soon, you won’t have to worry about this anymore.”

Sitting there, Elsa appeared sad. Honeymaren could see Elsa believed what she had said. However, there was little truth in it, and that notion spiked a burst of anger though Honeymaren’s chest. She was insulted. Elsa’s words were harsh, and they drove Honeymaren to stand, arms crossed, in front of her.

“You believe Ryder and I developed feelings for you because you are the fifth spirit?”

Elsa quickly looked up. Honeymaren’s brows were pinched, and her lips pursed tight together. The temperature around them seemed to rapidly decline. Elsa had to wonder if it was her, or if Gale had sensed her distress.

“Yes…” She started slowly. “But I can understand why-”

“-no, Elsa. I don’t think you do.” Honeymaren cut her off. “I don’t believe you understand anything at all! Do you not see how vain, how close-minded that makes me sound?”

Blinking, Elsa reeled back into the tree. “You’re angry with me?”

Honeymaren bitterly laughed. “Yes. Yes I am angry! I am embarrassed and I am uncomfortable, but to top it all off, I am angry because you have degraded me so thoroughly. You’ve made me out to be some shallow, soft-minded Northuldra woman, and that is the furthest thing from the truth! You should know better!”

“What?” Elsa gaped and returned to her feet. “I never said that!”

“Not in those words, you didn’t.” Honeymaren’s teeth grit behind her lips. The wind pulled at her braid. She shivered and pulled in a deep breath. “You believe the only reason my brother or I could care for you, or even like you beyond friendship, is because our people, our families, believe you are a goddess?”

Elsa stepped toward Honeymaren with her hands pleading between them. “No, Honeymaren, no! Of course not. I never meant for it to come across that way!”

"But it did, Elsa. It did come out that way! Me, Honeymaren, I couldn't possibly have any depth to my personality... to my interests. No, I live out here, away from Arendelle and what others would call a civilized life, and when a woman with ice powers comes through- I throw myself at her because my people don't know any better! Because we're blinded by our own beliefs. We don't have any rational thoughts!"

"Stop!" Elsa pleaded with her. "You're taking this too far! I never meant-"

“You didn’t even ask me, you know?” Honeymaren began backing away from her. “You didn’t ask me why, or when I started feeling this way... You never stopped to think about how it has been dealing with this all on my own! So, please. Don’t assume to understand what’s going on inside my head!”

She turned her back on Elsa, continuing further away from the village.

“Honeymaren, no, you’ve got this all wrong! This issue is with me, not with you!” Elsa stumbled as she hurried after her.

“You know, it would have been easier on me if you’d just said you don’t feel the same way!” Honeymaren called back, her voice sharp against the growing winds.

As her words hit Elsa’s ears, they forced her into a swift halt. Thick in her shock, she watched Honeymaren go on without her.

How I feel? She wondered with an ounce of fear. Her jaw dropped wide as she pondered.

The reality was, Elsa didn’t know. She’d never stopped to consider others in that capacity before. She had never believed herself capable of being the focus of someone’s attention; not like this anyway. Perhaps it was the years of isolation, or even the decades of suppressing every emotion that came to surface, but Elsa never planned for what might happen in this instance.

Yet, this wasn’t about a plan, and it wasn’t about being someone's interest. This was about Honeymaren and Elsa’s feelings towards her.

Prior to coming to Northuldra, Elsa assumed she was meant to live out her years as the sole ruler of Arendelle. There, she would always have Anna and Kristoff at her side. She never questioned this future before the siren’s call, and she certainly hadn’t hated the idea.

Belonging to herself was comfortable. Elsa had always wanted somewhere to belong, and she found that place within herself. She found happiness in Northuldra, and at Ahtohallan.

However, had that meant she should close herself off to other opportunities where happiness might arrive?

How do I feel about Honeymaren?

Elsa turned to view her hands as if they might hold the answer. Instead, they appeared the same as they always did. They looked the same, but inside- Elsa felt quite different.

As the breeze trickled back in, Elsa released a long sigh.

“What do I do, Gale?”

The wind continued on through out trees.

“I don’t know much about feelings, but I do know I don’t want to lose my friend. She’s too… special to me…”

Gale held little interest in Elsa’s words as she moved about the forest. Elsa hadn’t noticed, though. She sunk down onto her calves and wrapped her arms around her legs.

“Honeymaren likes me…” she whispered.

As the thought settled, her heart finally slowed into a steady rhythm.

From the window to the bed and back again, Anna paced the floors. Adrenaline coursed through her blood. Her eyes held wide, and her head turned erratically.

“Get it together, Anna.” she coached herself. “This shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. You are excited. Get excited!”

Her hands clenched into fists as she halted. Anna feigned a small grin.

It quickly fell away, and her shoulders slumped. “Why am I not excited?”

A sudden knock pulled Anna back to reality. She winced at the voice that called to her through the door for the tenth time that afternoon.

“Uh, Is everything still okay in there?” Kristoff worried. “Anna, come on, please. I just want to know what’s going on!”

“I’m fine!” Anna called back without delay, and with an unconvincing amount of truth. “I mean, everything’s fine! I just… need a few more minutes…”

On fast feet, she marched back toward the balcony. She threw open the doors and wrapped her hands around the railing.

“Come on Gale!” She huffed. “What is taking you so long?”

Anna stretched her hand high, a small letter pinched between her fingers. Yet, despite her pleas, Gale did not appear. The air around Anna remained stagnant. She waited, watching in the distance for the trees to bend or sway.

They never did.

Defeated, Anna sunk with her back to the iron bars. Her head pressed against the cool metal, and her knees drew tight into her chest.

“Please, Gale…” Anna softly began to cry. “I need my sister...”

There was no telling how long she sat there. Elsa had been shocked still amongst the forest floor, for more time than she felt passing. It was her brain, Elsa told herself. It failed to offer any clarity. The idea that Honeymaren liked her, it surprisingly both excited and frightened her. And that response made no sense. How could she both enjoy and hate the idea of having Honeymaren's attention?

Suddenly very warm, Elsa stood from the ground. Gale tickled against her skin as she began to pace.

“Honeymaren has feelings for me?” She said it again. “She likes me, and not as a friend...”

Her expression flashed between confusion and curious.

“Wow…” she released a breath. “Honeymaren likes me... She likes me, likes me, and- Woah!” Elsa was pushed forward by an abrupt gust of wind.

Gale had not stopped to listen to her words, but she was intent on making it back up the hill at speed. She whipped through the trees, cutting a dramatic path in and out of the forest.

Elsa looked to the leaves in her grasp. They created a colorful trail for her to follow, and Elsa decidedly did.

She brushed her hands along the top of her dress, leaving a smudge of dirt against the white fabric. Elsa straightened her spine. She grit her teeth, and continued quickly after Gale.

Gale was her spirit guide of sorts in that moment. She was leading Elsa through a sporadic maze of her own creation.

Before Elsa knew it, she was being directed back toward the harvest fields at speed. When she reached the clearing, the women working were now standing off to the side. They huddled together, their hair whipping wildly behind them, as they watched the wind carry in.

In the passing moments, as Gale’s speed continued to pick up her pace, Elsa’s face pulled low. Her skin prickled in concern. The cold she’d felt before was not from her. It had been from Gale!

She’d been trying to send Elsa a message, to get her to pay attention.

Filled with alarm, Elsa began to run. She ran with Gale, her hair chaotically strewn above her shoulders. She tore between the rows of corn stalks and beans. The worker's eyes were on the sky now, but Elsa refused to stop and see. Gale was carrying her back toward the center village. Elsa wasn’t listening before, but she was all ears now.

Gale’s maze had directed Elsa to a collection of huts, and waiting outside of their exit, was Yelena.

She was looking to the sky, as were the people around her. They spoke anxiously amongst themselves. Their hands wrung in concern. Yelena and the elders, their eyes brightened when Elsa appeared at their sides.

“What do you know about this?” she asked with a snap.

Elsa pulled in a deep breath, winded from her run. “Nothing,” she shook her head. “I know nothing. The wind spirit came through the forest and moved right passed me!”

Yelena frowned. “The wind spirit, too, has stirred. See now, she moves through the village in many directions. She brings chaos with her strength.”

Elsa’s gaze followed Yelena’s finger toward the ground. She watched as the leaves sucked up from the dirt and turned in ungraceful circles. Another pattern of wind ripped in from the west. It shred the leaves into pieces, as if in conflict with itself.

It was erratic, yet amazing to see. “The wind grows angry; confused. As did the fire, the wind now seeks its own revenge.”

Increasing in intensity, Gale spiralled up their feet. “Revenge against whom?” Elsa winced.

“The balance in Northuldra has dissipated. This is why you have lost your control! The spirits are searching for you, Elsa, but your presence remains hidden to them.”

Yelena waved her arms, directing her people from the clearing.

“But, I am right here, and I am trying to fix this!” Elsa called after her.

“We know this.” Yelena promised. She took Elsa’s hand in her own, and dragged her with them. “The people know this, however, the spirits do not. Something is keeping them from finding you, stirring their instincts, and driving them from their home.”

Elsa watched in fear as a group of children cowered behind their parents' legs. They clung to their pants, faces pressed into the fabric. All the while, Gale moved through the village with force. Tarps pulled from the Goahtis. Laundry snagged itself from the lines, and Elsa huddled herself further into the masses of frightened people around her.

“This is only the beginning.” Yelena directed Elsa’s attention back to her. “As with Bruni, I have seen these winds before. I have seen the full might of the spirits. Gale will take down our homes, and tear through our crops...” Her eyes found Elsa’s. “We must get our people down into the ravine.”

Elsa’s brows suddenly struck high. “Honeymaren!” she panicked. “The last time I saw her she was headed away from the village!”

Gaze flickering between Elsa and her people, Yelena’s fists clenched at her side. “Honeymaren is a smart girl. I helped raise my granddaughter well. She will know how to protect herself from a storm of this size.”

Elsa shook her head as Yelena turned her back on her. “I can’t leave her out there on her own!” she shouted. “If she comes back here, and we are gone…”

Elsa’s voice trailed off into the growing winds.

Yelena was busy prepping the elders. Everyone was looking to her for what to do. In that, Elsa wasn’t needed here, and she knew it. She had failed the earth giants. She failed with Bruni, and she would fail with Gale, as well, but she could not fail Honeymaren. Nor could she let down the village that she now called home.

“I will go and get her.”

Yelena’s eyes circled back quickly to Elsa. “Don’t be foolish, Elsa! You musn't.”

However, Elsa was shaking her head again. “No. You have your responsibility to your people. You must take them to the ravine, and I will meet you there.”

Elsa took a cautious step back from her, and Yelena sighed. Her eyes briefly closed in frustration.

“Do not be reckless, child.” When her eyes reopened, Yelena’s face was stern. “Take care, and know your limits!”

“I promise you.” Elsa assured her.

She gave the villagers a final glance before departing against the heavy winds.

Cheers,

-M.

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