#road glide limited | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eksvaized · 2 months

Text

Part Seven [ Previous 〡 Next ]

You try to sleep, you really do. Every fibre of your being yearns for a moment of respite. For a brief escape from the reality, pressing so heavily upon you. But the harsh, glaring sunlight that stubbornly seeps through the cracks of the window, rudely swamping the room with an overbearing, sickly yellow hue, is unrelenting in its refusal to let you rest. You squint against the intrusive brightness. It’s a stark contrast to the darkness you’ve grown accustomed to.

With a gritty determination akin to a soldier preparing for battle, you manage to peel yourself off the bed. Your body protests with each movement as you fight off the gravity. You navigate the room with the intention to draw the curtains shut, hoping to shroud the room in the solace of shadows once more. But as you approach the curtains, you realise that sleep will remain a distant dream.

Your gaze shifts towards the window, where your fingertips begin to glide over the smooth, icy surface of the glass. It stands as a cold, unyielding barrier between you and the world blooming beyond it. It’s as if you’re a bird trapped within a transparent cage, observing the unfettered sky yet unable to spread your wings and fly.

You notice the absence of handles or the screws that once held them in place—there’s no easy way for you to open the windows.

You find yourself contemplating your courage, questioning if you would have the guts to leap through the open window, if given a chance. It’s a thought as daunting as standing on the edge of a precipice, staring into the abyss.

Your eyes sweep across the expansive landscape.. After enduring the relentless cycle of sunless days and pitch-black nights, trapped like a forgotten prisoner in the dim, dank basement, where the four unyielding walls often seemed to close in on you, as if threatening to swallow you whole, the sensation of watching the sunrise is strange. The vastness of the world outside, the freedom it represents, feels almost too foreign, too distant a concept for you to entirely grasp in your current state of mind.

The forest, a dense, mysterious stretch of greenery that extends around the entirety of the property, lies just across the house. Its daunting shadows and eerie silence send a shiver down your spine and open a floodgate of questions in your mind.

Would Simon be able to track you down in there? Or would the towering trees, with their thick canopies and hidden alcoves, provide you with the safety and invisibility you so desperately seek? There’s a part of you that wants to believe in the latter, to hold on to the hope that you could somehow disappear, meld into the forest’s undergrowth, and remain undetected.

But on the other hand, you’re also brutally aware of your own limitations. You have no survival skills, no knowledge of how to ignite a fire using nature’s resources, or how to locate a source of drinkable water in the wilderness. You don’t know how to protect yourself from the harsh weather, how to prevent yourself from freezing to death in the cold, unforgiving nights.

It would be comforting to imagine that you could stumble upon a sign of civilization - another remote house, a gas station tucked away on a forgotten road, or even just the distant hum of a car passing by. But the bitter truth is that you are far removed from civilization, located miles away, stuck somewhere in the heart of the wilderness.

As you continue to stand, your eyes dart over your shoulder, much like a hunted deer aware of the lingered presence of a predator. You contemplate your next move. The thought of going to the bathroom crosses your mind. With hesitant steps, you approach the door. Walking across the hallway is tempting, almost inviting. You could seize the opportunity to check if the windows there are as barren of handles as the ones in the room. And perhaps, if you dare to venture further, you could take a more thorough look around the bathroom. The possibility of finding something in there, something sharp and sturdy, something that could be used for self defense, lingers in your thoughts.

However, the moment your fingers wrap around the cold metal handle of the door, you find your hand retreating back to your side. Simon’s commanding voice echoes in your mind, reminding you of his order - to rest. Even though you don’t believe he would be particularly mad about you leaving the room, you decide not to take the risk. Moreover, you certainly don’t want to risk engaging in a conversation with him. The fear of revealing your insomnia, the fact that sleep keeps eluding you, gnaws at your insides. You worry that he might interpret your wakefulness as a willingness to spend time with him, to engage in intimate talks, or even to endure his touch. The worst outcome, you fear, is that he might decide to expedite tonight’s plans.

The notion of going on a date with Simon strikes you as amusing, albeit in a twisted way. It shouldn’t be, given that he is intimidating, crazy and unpredictable, and you can’t shake off the feeling that he will have all sorts of sinister expectations about how the evening should conclude. The possibility that it might end with him sharing a bed with you sends shivers down your spine, and the mere thought of it frightens you.

Caught in the dilemma’s iron jaws, too scared to venture out of the bedroom yet too restless to lie back in the bed, you decide to explore the rest of the room.

The wardrobe is indeed overflowing with a myriad of garments. Some of them look quite old, as if they had once belonged to someone else. Yet, nestling amongst them are other clothes — undeniably new, with fresh tags still attached, untouched and unworn... You find the skirt that Simon had mentioned. It’s short, black and looks just a tad bit small, which plants a seed of doubt about your ability to fit into it. Nevertheless, you decide to postpone worry about the possible battle of squeezing into it until later.

After carefully extricating the skirt and laying it gently on the nearby table, you resume your exploration. Your fingertips lightly graze over the stack of shirts. You pull out something that immediately catches your attention - a loose, long, and extraordinarily plain tee. It’s something you would typically prefer to wear because it would allow you to hide your figure as much as possible. However, in a sudden change of heart, you instead opt for a pink blouse. The colour is borderline garish, but you find yourself thinking it would somehow complement the skirt.

A scoff escapes your lips as you stand there. A sensation of self-betrayal creeps up your spine like ivy on a trellis. You shouldn’t care about your appearance, and yet, you can’t help but think that if you try to look pretty for Simon, it might serve as a convincing lie that you’re lowering your guard around him. It could make him think that he’s succeeding in weaving his web of manipulation around your thoughts, making you believe that he genuinely cares for you.

Venturing deeper into the wardrobe, you discover a considerable collection of lingerie. You can’t help but notice the array of sizes available. The fabrics, while appearing visually pleasing and feeling smooth under your touch, are unlike anything you’ve ever worn before. The panties, bras, and stockings look too risque, too revealing. If you would dare to wear them — and you definitely wouldn’t — it could potentially lead Simon to a wrong conclusion. And the last thing you want is for him to believe that you are willing to invite him into your bed.

Your exploration concludes with you settling on the bed, a book placed in your lap. As you gently pry it open, a squished paper flower reveals itself, nestled between the pages. Carefully, almost reverently, you lift it, noting how the paper has aged, turning a mellow yellow. You scrutinize the precious little thing in your hand, wary of making any sudden movements that might cause it to crumble.

Ripping pages out of a perfectly good book feels almost sacrilegious, like tearing a piece from a beautiful tapestry. But after checking the title and skimming through a few lines, you convince yourself that it might not be such a terrible offense. After all, the book appears to be nothing more than a biology notebook, and you have no intention of continuing to read it.

Transforming book pages into paper flowers initially seems like a mundane, boring task, but with nothing else to fill your time, you decide to give it a try. The next few hours are spent in an almost meditative state of ripping and folding, ripping and folding. Still, despite your best efforts, you find yourself unable to replicate the intricacy of the flower that now rests on the nightstand.

You entertain the idea of carefully unfolding the original flower, attempting to mimic its folds and creases on a fresh page. Yet, the fear of being unable to reconstruct it stops you. The thought of losing your only reference is too daunting, and you find yourself in a stalemate, with the delicate paper flower continuing to lie untouched.

The sun’s descent, painting the sky in hues of twilight, indicates the time, which slips through your fingers like sand. The door groans open, and Simon strides in, reminiscent of a lion entering his den. A towel is nonchalantly slung around his hips. His chest glistens with droplets of water, each bead shimmering like a pearl delicately strewn across a canvas of taut skin. His hair is wet and clings to his forehead.

You find yourself entranced. Your gaze gets hooked on him for a second too long. When your eyes finally meet his, a self-satisfied smirk is etched on his face, as if he has won an unspoken game that you didn’t know you two were playing.

He leans against the doorway, casual and confident. The slight shift of his towel draws your attention to the sharp angles of his hipbones and the V-line. An involuntary shiver courses through you — a moth drawn to a flame — prompting you to press your thighs together and shift uncomfortably on the bed.

The crumpled book page slips from your lap onto the bed, capturing his attention. His eyes sweep over the mattress and the floor, littered with pages and your botched attempts at origami flowers. As he nods in satisfaction, you notice the rhythmic tap of his fingers against his abdomen.

“You have thirty minutes to get ready,” he states, his voice echoing in the room, bouncing off the white walls. His words jolt you back to the present, reminding you that you need to dress up.

With one last lingering glance, he retreats, leaving the room as the door closes with a soft click. Only when his footsteps fade into the distance, swallowed by the silence of the house, do you roll out of bed. You don’t bother cleaning up the mess.

Struggling to fit into the tight skirt proves to be an arduous challenge. But with some effort, you muster the strength to shimmy into it. The fabric clings to your skin like a second layer. It’s a little too tight for your comfort; it’s uncomfortably restrictive. Yet the thought of searching the wardrobe for an alternative is too daunting.

Once you to button up the blouse, which fits much better than the skirt, you exhale in a sigh of relief—it’s a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in your lungs.

Glimpsing your reflection in the window, you can’t help but notice the unkempt state of your hair. It’s a wild, tangled mess since you didn’t brush it after it was washed. You know deep down that trying to look presentable in this situation is pointless, but the need for a brush gives you the perfect excuse to get out of the room.

Cautiously, like a mouse venturing out of its burrow, you approach the bedroom door and reach out to open it, revealing the hallway that yawns out in front of you. It seems longer than before, as if it has stretched out. Most of the curtains are drawn, cloaking the hallway in a blanket of dark shadows.

As you tiptoe towards the bathroom, curiosity pricks at your resolve and you dare to pull some curtains back. The sight of windows with no handles doesn’t surprise you, but it does send a chill of unease crawling down your spine.

The bathroom seems to have shrunk since the last time you were in here. You wonder how you and Simon managed to fit in this confined space. As you rummage through the cupboard above the sink, you try to push away thoughts about the intrusive shower you were forced to take earlier today. You consciously avoid looking at the stool that Simon sat on, which is now pushed next to the edge of the bath.

Before retreating back to the safety of your room, you take a moment to inspect the bathroom door. There’s no lock on it.

On your way back, you hear the soft echo of footsteps. Instinctively, you whirl around to find Simon emerging from an unseen corner — you can only assume that’s where the staircase is.

“You look...” His eyes slowly scan your figure, taking in every detail. You feel the heat of his gaze on you as it lingers on your blouse, then subtly trails to your chest, pausing there, before finally drifting down to your too-tight skirt. “Lovely.”

“Thank you.” You manage to strangle the words out. A lump of dread is lodged in your throat. A wave of nausea sweeps over you. Each second spent pretending that you don’t want to flee, that you don’t want to scream and hide from him, feels like an eternity. The charade of accepting his compliments, as if you’re not being courted by your kidnapper, is a bitter pill to swallow.

Simon motions for you to come closer. Gathering the courage, you approach him, daring to steal a glance at his casual attire — a pair of worn-in jeans and a black hoodie that seems to swallow him up. His hair is dry and a little ruffled.

As your gaze drifts further down to his feet, the absence of shoes catches your attention. A sinking feeling of disappointment swells in your chest as you realize that it probably, almost definitely, means that you won’t be leaving the house tonight. The first date that he promised to take you on will just be happening in the home.

taglist: @kingsprettyangel if you want to be added - let me know!

59 notes · View notes

eiightysixbaby · 1 year

Text

let’s take jesus off the dashboard

word count: 2.7k

pairing: jonathan byers x fem!reader

summary: steamy car sex with jonathan, i don’t know what else to tell ya

cw: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI - SMUT. oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, sex in a public place sort of???, implied first time w/each other

It had started with persistent touches; a hand resting on a knee, fingers climbing up thighs, or lingering a little too long on each other’s arms to deem it casual. You’d shift in your seat here and there, allowing your tight black skirt to ride up higher and higher on your thighs, inviting wandering eyes to steal glances from the driver’s seat. The pads of his fingers pressed into your skin, climbing closer and closer to what was presently uncharted territory. You gasp sharply as he dips under the fabric of your skirt, squeezing the meat of your inner thigh gently, testing the waters. The sound had been enough to get him to pull over, steering the car off to the side of the empty road. Eyes frantically searched your face for any indication of what to do next, only to be met with your lips crashing against his.

Now, you were fumbling in the back seat. Limbs bent awkwardly as you maneuvered through the tiny space. Legs straddling his lap, knees pressing into the cushy leather seats. The sound of a belt buckle coming undone, metal clanking as it falls to the side. You were pulling your shirt over your head, Jonathan’s hands grabbing at it desperately to assist you, as if it couldn’t come off fast enough. Your tits bounced ever so slightly as the tight fabric was yanked off of you. Greedy lips immediately found their way to your breasts, sucking on the soft swell of skin till it stung. Needy hands pawed at the cups of your bra, yanking the fabric to the side, exposing your nipples to the stuffy air of the car. He sucks them into his mouth one at a time, licking over puckered skin, getting them wet enough with spit that they harden when the chill of the air hits them after he’s pulled away. Finally his hands reach around your back, unclasping your bra and taking it off entirely, tits hanging free on your chest. You swallow thickly as eyes roam your naked chest for the first time.

“Fuck,” is all he says, his voice a whisper as he admires you.

Instantly he’s pulled you to him for a sloppy kiss, tongue wasting no time invading your mouth. Your teeth pull his bottom lip between them and tug, eliciting a whimper from him. He smells like cologne and clean laundry, your senses overwhelmed with nothing but him. You’re grinding your hips down onto his lap, his bulge straining behind fabric, begging to be let loose. The car is filled with the wet smacking sounds of lips colliding and pants coming from both of you, gasping for air between kisses. You pull away from him, gripping his face in one hand, admiring the way his lips and the surrounding skin are tinted red from your lipstick. His hands climb up your thighs, hiking your skirt up further and further, eager to get underneath. You shiver as the gentle glide of his fingertips sends a chill down your spine, arching into him. His eyes never leave your face, studying you carefully like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. His fingers rub circles on your inner thighs now, and you slump forward into him, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Can I - fuck - can I taste you?” he asks, his voice quiet, cut off when you rut your hips down into him again.

“Please,” you breathe out, clambering off of him to lay across the seat.

He scoots over, allowing you to stretch your legs as much as you need before settling between them to the best of his ability in the limited space. Nervous hands reach for your waist, tugging the fabric of your skirt and your sheer black tights down at the same time. They’re pulled off of you entirely, crumpled into a pile on the floor of the car, leaving you more exposed than you’ve ever been for the boy in front of you. Your heart races with the delicious tension that always hangs in the air before crossing new boundaries like this. Jonathan eyes your weeping cunt like it’s a prize to be won, like he can’t wait to dive in and devour the sweetness of you. His movements, though needy and eager, are still somewhat tentative. He presses kisses to the soft skin of your stomach, trailing up before stopping at your breasts and teasing your nipples with his tongue. He moves down, now kissing the insides of your thighs, wide eyes looking up at you to gauge every single reaction you have. His mouth continues to leave kisses on your warm skin, inching closer and closer to where you need him so desperately. His hands are trailing gently up and down the sides of your body, giving you goosebumps. After what feels like the longest minute of your life, his silky tongue glides up through your folds, collecting the honey dripping from you. You gasp at the sensation, bucking your hips involuntarily. Jonathan’s hands grip them, pushing you back down so you’re flush against the seat once again. He doesn’t even look up at you as he does it, just puts you back in place for him and keeps lapping at your pussy - demanding and greedy. You’re spread wide for him, one leg awkwardly bent upwards on the seat back, the other dangling off of the seat entirely, foot touching the carpeted floor of the car.

He devours you like he needs your pussy to survive, tongue sliding through your folds and dipping past your entrance, your brain turning to static at the overwhelming pleasure. He moans as he tastes you, lips pursed around your clit, sucking on it greedily. You tangle your fingers in his hair and tug, receiving yet another moan from him, this one low and nearing a growl. His mouth works to solve you like a puzzle, learning what things drive you crazy, where and how you like to be licked and sucked. The end goal is to get you off, and he’s getting you there astonishingly fast given he’s never eaten your pussy before. You’re squirming in his firm grip, and he looks up at you with dark eyes. His sticks his tongue out flat, letting it catch on your clit as he shakes his head back and forth. Your toes curl, hands gripping at the cotton fabric of his black shirt as you moan his name. All of his focus is on your clit now, tongue flitting over it again and again, taking notice of how your moans get more shrill and your grip on him grows more harsh.

“F-fuck, Jonathan, I’m gonna-” your sentence is cut off with a moan as your orgasm hurtles through you.

Your legs tremble, hips threatening to buck wildly but Jonathan’s grip on them has gotten impossibly tighter, keeping you firmly in place as he works you through your high. You finally regain your senses, chest heaving with each breath, and Jonathan pulls his face from between your thighs. His chin is shiny with your release, and he wipes it with the back of his hand, licking his lips like he’s trying to savor the taste of you on them. He crawls on top of you, lips attaching to yours in a heated kiss. You can taste yourself in his mouth and it makes you moan into him, legs wrapping around his waist. He grinds himself against you, his cock painfully hard beneath his jeans and boxers, yearning for some attention.

“Can I p-please fuck you?” Jonathan stutters, his cock twitching in his pants as he rubs himself against you.

“Yes, Jonathan, please,” you beg, your voice breathy as you pull him in for another kiss.

He fumbles with his pants with one hand, yanking the zipper down. He pulls away from you briefly, sitting so he can shimmy out of his pants. You take note of the tented fabric of his boxers, his cock desperate. He catches you looking, and his cheeks flush pink, a small smile creeping on his lips. He pulls the gray plaid material off, tossing the boxers on the floor of the car where all of the other discarded clothes lay. He positions himself above you once more, kissing you hard as one of his hands blindly tries to line his cock up with your hole. You whine as the tip brushes through your folds, sliding easily with the wetness pooling at your core. You take a deep breath as you feel him pushing at your entrance, holding it as he slides himself slowly in. The moan he lets out as he fills you is pornographic, his forehead resting on your own. You exhale once he’s comfortably situated inside of you, legs instinctively wrapping around him, caging him in.

“Shit baby, your pussy feels so good,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over yours as he starts to slowly move within you.

You can feel him stretch you out more with each tentative thrust, his cock sliding almost completely out, just for him to snap his hips back into you, filling you to the brim. You feel like the air has been knocked from your lungs momentarily, fingernails digging into his back through the fabric of his shirt. He finds a steady rhythm, fucking you dumb right there on the bench seat of his car. Grunts and moans and whines spill from his lips with every movement, bangs sticking to his forehead with perspiration from his efforts. You catch his lips in a kiss, swallowing all of his gorgeous noises, tongue swirling around his fervently.

“Fuck, Jonathan, feels so good…” you praise as he trails kisses down your neck, sucking pretty bruises into the skin.

“Yeah? My pretty girl likes when I fuck her?” his voice is soft, breath fanning the skin of your ear as he talks.

All you can do is nod, eyes rolling back in your head as he picks up his pace. Every thrust has the head of his cock hitting the perfect spot inside of you, stuffing you so full your head spins. You’re almost screaming his name, overwhelmed with a type of pleasure you’ve never felt before. You arch your back, curving your body up into his, tits pressing against his chest as he pounds into you. No one’s ever been able to make you feel this good before, yet Jonathan seems to know exactly how to please you without you saying a word.

“Sit up, pretty boy. Wanna ride you, please?” you ask, his chocolate brown eyes going a little wider at your request.

“Y-yeah, of course,” he says, pulling out of you with a groan and sitting up on the seat.

You straddle his lap once more, Jonathan holding his cock for you to sink down onto. A pitiful whimper leaves his mouth as you engulf him again, throwing his head back. You litter his exposed neck with kisses, giving him hickeys to match yours as you slowly start to rock your hips against him. Your needy hands tug at the hem of his shirt, pulling the soft cotton up his torso. Your mouth detaches itself from his neck so he can take his shirt off fully, his body now fully exposed to you, making you bite your lip with giddiness. Your brain takes a moment to catch up with everything, the bliss of being fucked by him for the first time, the scandalous notion of being caught screwing in his car, all of it had you dizzy with lust and adoration. You quicken your movements on top of him, rocking more excitedly on his cock now, loving the way he watches your tits bounce in front of him.

“Shitshitshit baby, feel so fucking good on my cock, keep going,” Jonathan pleads, his voice strained as he struggles to keep himself together.

You brace yourself with your hands on his shoulders as you bounce up and down on his dick, the plush skin of your ass meeting his thighs. Your eyebrows knit together as you concentrate, trying to keep a rhythm as you inch closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night. Jonathan’s hands grip your hips firmly as he slowly starts to match your movements with his own bucking hips. The windows in the car have fogged up by now, and all you can see outside is the faint glow of streetlights, illuminating the road ever so slightly. You press a hand to the glass to steady yourself as he fucks up into you harder, leaving a print in its wake, the window cold from the chill of the air outside. You cry out in pleasure, the new angle of you being on top making him feel even deeper. Sticky slick sounds of his dick pumping in and out of your dripping walls fill the car, accompanied by the smacking of skin against skin.

Jonathan brings a hand down to your clit, the other one still holding you. He rubs quick circles on it with the pad of his thumb, smirking to himself at the way you throw your head back when he does.

“Feel good, baby? Gonna make a mess all over me?” he coos, eyes never leaving you as he works you up to your release.

“Y-yeah, fuck, don’t stop,” you choke out, breath staggered as he thrusts into you hard and fast.

Your eyes are screwed shut as he fucks you, your hips still bouncing slightly to meet his thrusts. His thumb applying the perfect amount of pressure on your clit to drive you crazy. You rest your forehead on his and he peppers kisses on your face, purring praises at you, “let go for me, pretty girl” and “I know you can cum for me, baby, come on”.

A few more thrusts and you finally snap, white hot pleasure coursing through every inch of you as you clench around him. He doesn’t stop his movements, fully working you through your orgasm until your legs and arms are tingling. He slows his pace as you catch your breath, looking at him through heavy lidded eyes.

“I’m so fucking close, baby,” he warns, hands squeezing your ass.

“Fill me up Jonathan, want to be full of you,” you plead, lips swollen and red from kisses, almost pouting at him.

“Fuck. Are you sure?” he grunts, looking down at where your pussy swallows him whole, breathing shakily.

“Yes, please, I need it,” you continue to beg, moaning when he gives you a particularly hard thrust.

“Fuckfuckfuck I��m gonna cum, baby, gonna fill you up with it,” Jonathan’s voice is shaky as he speaks, breathing heavy.

Staggered moans escape him as he releases inside of you, pumping you full of his cum, giving you every last drop. You can feel him twitching with every hard spurt, coating your walls completely. You grab his face in your hands and press his mouth to yours as he relaxes, both of your breathing slowing to a normal pace as you kiss him. You climb off of him gingerly, cum leaking out of you and dripping onto the seat when you sit down beside him.

“You’re unreal, holy shit,” Jonathan laughs lightly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’m so glad we finally got to do that.”

“Me too,” you reply, leaning into his touch and gazing at him with lovesick eyes.

He pulls you close, wrapping an arm around you and kissing the top of your head. The two of you stay like that for a while, cuddled up in the backseat of his car. Whispering sweet nothings to each other and stealing kisses between sentences, fingers trailing each others naked bodies gently. Cars whirred past you every so often, headlights illuminating both of you briefly before draping your figures in shadow once more.

By the time he drove you home, it was late. You invited him to stay and he eagerly agreed, unable to keep his hands off you the entire way to your room. Neither of you were planning on getting much sleep that night, longing to be tangled in each other, the need insatiable now that the doors have been opened to it. The night ended with swallowed moans, sweat-slick skin, and persistent touches - just you and your guy, wrapped in each other all night.

#jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers x fem!reader #jonathan byers smut #jonathan byers fanfic #jonathan stranger things

368 notes · View notes

southerngothicchic · 2 months

Text

You're Only Lonely

I needed to write for this man, so this is part one of what's going to be just a two parter, as of now 🙃

Baron's been driving non-stop for days.

The floor of his newest car is covered in various Moon Pie and fast food wrappers. His hand brushes an empty soda cup as he reaches for the map that had fallen off the passenger seat.

He slowly pulls off the highway, putting the car in park as he drapes the map over the steering wheel. His finger traces along the tattered paper, mentally mapping out all the little side roads that branch off the main one.

He decides on the one that seems the most promising then folds the map the best he can, before tossing it back towards the passenger seat.

In his periphery, he catches his reflection in the rearview mirror and almost doesn't recognize himself. His shorter hair, though now necessary, was going to take some getting used to. After spending so much time as one version of 'Baron,' he wonders what the newest version should be like, sound like, etc. He still has time to figure it out, as it's still quite a drive to the next town.

After putting the car in gear, it's engine roars to life as he speeds off down the worn asphalt.

He rolls into town during the hottest part of the day. Sweat forms on his brow before he quickly wipes it away with the back of his hand. He has both windows rolled down, in an effort to create better air flow, since this car didn't have working A/C.

The lack of a breeze makes the heat almost unbearable as he slowly cruises down what passes for this town's 'Main Street.'

He thinks how he'd do anything for a vanilla ice cream cone when he looks up to see a weathered sign for an ice cream shop, at the end of the street. He says a silent prayer as he parks in front of it. With a boyish smile, he hops out of the car and excitedly goes inside.

He emerges soon after, with prized vanilla cone in hand. He then decides to walk around for a little while, and see what his new home has to offer. He tries, in vain, to eat his ice cream before it melts all over his hand and the cracked sidewalk below.

It's then he notices a storefront with the words 'Antiques and More' printed on the glass. He stops and gawks at the mannequin in the window. It's wearing a tight, leopard print dress, and he's instantly infatuated.

He enters the store, and immediately goes over to where it's displayed. He's able to size it up better now that he's closer and thinks it could possibly fit him. He's too lost in admiration to notice someone walking up behind him.

"Sorry, but you can't have that in here," a voice says, pulling him out of his daydream.

"What?" Baron asks, turning slightly to see you standing there, looking slightly annoyed.

"The ice cream. It's melting all over the floor. Didn't you see the sign?" You continue, pointing to the hand written 'No Food or Drink' sign that was taped to the door.

"Oh, no I didnt," he replies, flustered. "I'm sorry, I'll... be right back."

He quickly exits the store and disposes the sticky cone in a nearby trash can. You watch his hurried actions with a bemused expression. He returns, wiping the excess ice cream on his jeans, while sporting an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I guess I was too distracted," he laughs.

"Obviously," you reply, also with a laugh. "Though, I totally get it," you begin, taking a step closer to the window display. "This dress is my favorite one in the store."

He follows, watching with rapt attention as you glide your fingertips along it's hemline.

"From what I could tell from the label, and my thorough, yet limited research is that it's from the fifties," you inform, turning your head so your eyes meet his.

The sudden intensity of his gaze has you looking away.

"Its pretty amazing that it's still in such great shape," you continue, with a wistful smile. "Its, like, comforting to see how certain things stand the test of time, you know?"

You glance at him again and he nods. It's then you notice how his damp, white t-shirt clings to his chest and you have to look away again.

He tries to keep from grinning at the faint hint of blush on your cheeks.

"Anyway, um, I feel like I've taken up too much of your time, so I'll let you have a look around," you announce, with a polite smile, taking a step back.

"Its okay, I don't mind," he smiles, in return. "It's been too long since I've really talked to someone, so this is nice."

You allow yourself to gaze into his soft, hazel eyes and almost melt from how he's looking at you.

"Plus, there's so much stuff in here that I'll probably get overwhelmed, so you might need to show me around," he says, strolling past you before turning on his heel, to face you again, making you giggle.

"I think that's the least I can do, since you're my first and only customer I've had all day," you reply, still with a smile.

"I guess its my lucky day, then," he grins.

You spend the next hour or so guiding him around the store, showing him your favorite pieces. He seems genuinely enthralled with everything you say, a smile still present on his lips, as you ramble on about the history of certain items.

As he follows you towards the back of the store, he notices a rack of more presumably vintage dresses, off to the side.

You also notice how his eyes linger on them, which prompts you to ask, "Why were so you interested in that dress in the window? If you don't mind me asking..."

"It, uh, reminds me of someone," he answers.

You nod, and he immediately senses what you really want to know.

"I don't have a girlfriend, if that's what you're wondering," he adds, as you both reach the back corner of the store.

You try to hide your relieved smile when you turn to face him.

"Why would I be wondering about that when I don't even know your name?" You ask, gazing at him innocently.

He moves closer to you, making you step back. Your lower back presses against the rough, wooden edge of cabinet displaying old NASCAR memorabilia. His eyes never leave yours as he braces his hands on either side of you.

He leans in, his sticky sweet breath on your lips as he counters, "Why don't you tell me yours first?"

Normally, you would never let yourself be lured into a situation like this, but this guy was, quite possibly, the most gorgeous man you'd ever seen. His alluring nature is impossible to resist.

Your name tumbles from your lips, earning another smile from him.

"Its pretty, just like you," he laments, as the tip of his nose brushes yours.

Your hands grip the wood at your sides, with your nails digging into it, as you desperately want to wrap your arms around him.

He teases your waiting lips with his, as he debates whether or not he wants to tell you his real name or another made-up one.

He brings his hand up to your cheek, his thumb lightly caressing your skin, as he whispers, "I'm whoever you want me to be."

#baron lamram #baron x reader #marmalade spoilers

39 notes · View notes

mi-i-zori · 3 months

Text

From In-Between the Lines

CoD Fae!Au - Fae!Price x The Writer (Fem!Reader) - Part 1

SYNOPSIS : When the writer runs out of inspiration, she decides to do what she has always been afraid to : take her writing away from the safety of her little apartment, in the outside world where ideas are often said to be flourishing. What she doesn’t realise is that she might find more than what she came for - hidden in the mesmerising smile of a peculiar stranger.

WARNINGS : Predator behavior (Fae VS Human), anxious thoughts…

I do not give permission to re-publish and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform.

Writing has never been an easy thing.

It works like a muscle : for it to function properly, one would need to train it constantly, again and again, until it eventually starts giving conclusive results. A concept devoid of limits such as this one is made to offer more than a thousand opportunities for one to get better, to keep opening new doors leading to countless universes. Each and every world is unique and fascinating, waiting for a wandering soul to find it before blooming like a flower, wild and colorful.

Many people find it easy to put their discoveries in writing, claiming how it is as effortless as breathing. Words flow through the ink of their minds, using their newfound freedom to paint thousands of mesmerising landscapes with the perfect assortment of letters. Their characters are never afraid of the idea of evolving, constantly diving in the depths of their own existence to try and understand the paths they’re trying to follow ; and their creators easily fulfill this endless choregraphy, their pen gliding across a piece of paper without missing a single beat.

For some other writers, however, following them on this stage without stumbling over their own feet turns out to be much more difficult. When ideas disappear and the ink stops flowing, when their characters hide in the darkest corners of their thoughts, reducing them to being unable to give any kind of meaning to their words for days, it becomes impossible for them to breathe life into their stories.

Those are the exact thoughts that run through her head as the Writer sits at her desk, trying to muster enough inspiration and courage to write. Her laptop lays in front of her, the cursor blinking in the middle of a blank page. Countless papers pile next to the keyboard, holding as many scribbles of ideas and dialogues as possible in their grasp. Covered in highlights and colorful post-it notes, their precarious balance threatens to send them flying with every tired sigh crossing her lips. A few cups of coffee stand nearby, their contents long forgotten. She shifts in her seat every few minutes, and she finds herself unable to stop a hiss from crossing her lips when her fluffy socks twist uncomfortably around her ankles. It is way too early to be thinking so hard about a story, she thinks, feeling her tired eyes drift towards the bold « 9:32 » displayed at the bottom of her computer screen.

A shout echoes oustide of her window, and the streets suddenly become much more interesting than the never-changing aspect of her document. The autumn wind blows waves and waves of dried leaves, igniting the sidewalks with a mesmerising gradient of warm colours. They illuminate the concrete as they dance along the road, and she immediately compares them to the fireflies twirling in the summer nights, both extremely similar and drastically different.

A part of her wonders what it would be like to lose herself in her own world while being lulled by the colorful breeze. She doesn’t leave her apartment often, especially not to write, and the prospect of having to face the many dangers of the noisy streets and their unfamiliar faces is far from appealing. But she needs to refill her inspiration, and something tells her some fresh air could help ; the kind of air her apartment will never have, even with the help of an open window.

Following this train of thoughts, she gives up on her fluffy sweater and socks in favour of a warm yet comfortable outfit. Her trusty backpack is filled with her writing essentials before being thrown over her shoulder while her anxiety is painfully shoved in the back of her throat. She stumbles through the front door before it can try to convice her to give up on this endeavor, one of her sneakers barely secured around her ankle.

- You’re not helping, she mumbles, tucking her foot correctly inside of the shoe while exiting the building.

The wind doesn’t waste a second before offering her a shivering greeting. Its kisses are cold on her cheeks, and she lets out a grumble as her nose is quickly buried within the warmth of her scarf. Her hands take a few seconds to fumble with her headphones. She then finally begins her adventure through the neighbourhood, her head swaying gently along the rhythm of her favourite playlist.

It doesn’t take long for her steps to guide her to the small forest standing at the edge of the town. It thrives under the city’s protection, its borders mixing with a park to offer a fleeting moment of rest to those who wish to forget their urban troubles. The Writer has always liked to follow the trail marking the limit between the organized aspect of the human civilisation and the wilderness of those woods, savouring the scent of nature while on her way to the many small businesses flourishing along the streets hiding on the other side.

And today is no exception.

The trees hold the warm hues of autumn in their grasp, and so does the soil at their feet. She can make out the dancing reflections of the morning dew on their leaves, glinting mischievously whenever a ray of sunlight dares to greet them. The scent of petrichor adds a dreamy touch to the whole painting, hidden among the graceful swirls of a delicate veil of mist. She has always liked spending time in nature, admiring its ever-changing beauty and gathering all the inspiration it has to offer to embellish her stories.

Yet in this moment, as a sudden gust of wind forces her clothes to dance around her shivering form, leaving a trail of disturbed flora in its wake, she can’t stop an eerie feeling from crawling in the back of her mind. The light above her suddenly seems to dim, the road curving slightly to cross the borders of the wilderness.

She loves this forest.

But at the same time, she doesn’t.

Perhaps this peculiar dichotomy comes from the many disappearances a part of these earthy paths keep witnessing, or the dark, ominous trees surrounding them. Their thick, mossy branches swallow every ounce of light the sun has to offer, leaving only shadows to dance in-between their roots. Something in her mind tells her to stay away from them, to never let her feet leave the expanse of her little road of dirt. Her steps are quick, and her heart pounds wildly against her chest. She focuses on her destination, trying to ignore the knots forming progressively in her stomach, the goosebumps running down her skin.

She pretends not being able to hear the mischievous laughter hiding in the whistling breeze. These voices would probably get a comfortable role in her stories ; but, in real life, their echo is too unsettling to be admired.

Her pace only slows once the soles of her shoes meet the familiar texture of concrete. She breathes out a sigh. Holding a hand on her chest as if it could help her catch her breath, she mindlessly follows the line traced by the sidewalk. Her lungs are slowly being set free from the iron grip that seized them, but her blood keeps rushing in her ears for what seems like an eternity.

Her thoughts suddenly come to a halt as the aroma of freshly baked goods flows around her. There, a few meters away from her, a small café reveals itself to her curious gaze. Its daily menu stands proudly in the middle of the path, its contents shamelessly tempting her, even more so when she notices the very few people sitting behind the windows. Her curiosity gently tucks her previous fears aside as she pushes on the door, momentarily focusing her attention on the little bell giggling above her.

She pauses her music as she goes to stand in line, her body immediately rocking back and forth to follow the rhythm of the lo-fi echoing against the bricks of the walls. A series of succulent hang from a couple of shelves, their green hues enveloping the spines of a few decorative books. The man in front of her moves slightly to the side, and her eyes fall upon the counter, where rows of delicacies of all kinds greet her sight.

A silent tremor overwhelms her stomach, and only then does she notice the fact that she is yet to have a proper breakfast.

She settles for a warm drink and a small pastry before finding a small table in a corner of the room. It doesn’t take long for her notebooks and laptop to quickly fill the whole space, piling next to one another. The same blank page automatically opens itself on her screen, greeting her with a small jingle before she sushes it with a trembling hand, cursing herself for forgetting to do it earlier as her gaze immediately darts around to see if anyone noticed her clumsiness. However, only the big Monstera plant sitting next to her meets her gaze, and she allows one of its leaves to pet her arm reassuringly, silently thanking it for the comfort it immediately came to provide.

- Back to work, then, she mumbles, grabbing a pen from a pocket of her coat. Those characters won’t develop themselves.

The ink flows smoothly over the pages of one of her notebooks. She lays as many ideas down as possible, trying to connect them to form a more interesting concept. Some of them end up being crossed out, giving up their place to another set of words that would work better with the story. From time to time, she takes a sip from her drink, munches on a bite of her food, as if trying to bribe her thoughts into working more efficiently. Yet it doesn’t prevent her from stumbling over her main character ; his essence refuses to adopt a defined shape, no matter how hard she tries to focus on the potential details she could weave into his soul. Stubborn as a mule, he remains a vague silhouette in the fog of her mind, mocking her with a voice she can’t even hear properly.

Her pen fall from her grasp, and she barely holds back a frustrated growl as she rubs her tired eyes. Displayed on her computer screen, her Pinterest board stares at her blankly, devoid of any source of inspiration despite the many portraits it holds. She shuts it down, focusing her attention on the other clients crowding the café. Perhaps a few minutes of people-watching could help, she thinks, silently detailing the different silhouettes living not far from her.

Her eyes abruptly stop on a figure sitting on the other side of the small room.

There, a man lounges with his back against the wall, one leg lazily thrown over the other. A tiny cup of coffee dangles from one of his hands, the other holding a book open for his own eyes to explore. The light coming from the window highlights his pale complexion, curving around the muscles the sleeves of his cardigan decided to unveil. He seems relaxed, even slouching a little the more he focuses on the volume in front of him ; yet the corner he decided to settle in only brings out the broadness of his shoulders even more as he brings the drink to his lips, runs a hand through the short, thick beard adorning his face.

He holds a calm, yet imposing presence, and the Writer finds herself mesmerised. A peculiar feeling pulls at her chest, as if this man held the magic she needed to set her inspiration free. Her character slowly starts to take his place, brought to life on the stage of her thougts.

Her hand snatches her pen before she can even realise it. A string of words flow from her mind, only stopping when she focuses once again on her muse to find the exact terms she is looking for. Half an hour passes before she is finally satisfied with what she came up with.

Her sigh of relief gets stuck in her throat as she looks up from her notebook, her eyes suddenly locking with the stranger’s.

She startles, barely catching her drink before it can flood the entirety of her notes. She busies herself with the last few bites of her pastry as she tries to tame her racing heart - distracting herself from the weight of his gaze on her trembling form. She can only hope he will quickly divert his attention elsewhere, hoping he didn’t take offense in her staring.

Yet he doesn’t.

Temporarily setting his book aside, the man leans even further back into his chair, his interest awakened by the young woman squirming in her seat. He had been trying to catch her gaze for a moment now, torn from the imaginary world sitting in his hands by a tingling feeling on the back of his mind. If he wondered for a moment about the amount of notebooks, post-it notes and individual papers laying on her table, he found himself much more curious about their owner.

He noticed how, despite her clear interest in her surroundings, she never really seems to sit straight, as if trying to make herself smaller in her corner of the café. He believes it to be done subconsciously, however, for he can see how focused she is on her work. A faint wave of magic dances around her, small enough for her to probably not even know of it ; yet he can sense how it is constantly impacting her life. Feeding her inspiration, helping it flourish ; drawing it towards ideas a part of her can’t fully comprehend.

Luring her to him.

What an appetizing thought.

Their eyes meet as she slowly lifts her head up once more, and he raises his cup in her direction, a warm smile drawn on his lips. She offers him a small nod before turning away. A timid hand comes to cover her cheek, and his teeth suddenly feel too sharp behind his lips ; his mouth way too empty.

A part of him longs to get closer to her. Strike a conversation. Throw himself into the hunt. But it is far too early for him to pounce. His centuries of experience showed him more than once how rewarding it could be to wait, to let his prey simmer in a blissful ignorance as he takes the time to enhance the flavour of their body and soul.

The young woman sitting in front of him already has the potential to be a delightful meal. But for now, he shall be content with the taste her sole presence sets on his tongue, this delicate aroma taking over the bitterness of his coffee.

He just needs to be patient.

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #x reader #fem!reader #cod au #cod mw2 #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price cod #captain price #captain john price #fae!price #john price x reader #price x reader #john price mw2 #john price #price x female reader #cod x female reader

39 notes · View notes

pearbunny · 9 months

Text

the bucket list ✘ [six.5]

series masterlist | prev | next [ ❀ spotify playlist ]

summary: Fly to Korea. Check. Buy a bouquet of flowers for a stranger. Check. Have said stranger come along with you to accomplish your bucket list? Well that wasn’t on the list, but falling in love was.

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader

genre: 18+ [MDNI] strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include: angst, comfort, smut.

general warnings: tourist!mc, slow burn, adult themes including but not limited to: suggestive content, nudity, cursing, mentions of death, eventual smut.

word count: ~2.2k

chapter content: lots of dialogue, “girl talk”/talking about sex, o/c calls her dad.

author's note: SURPRISE (not really). This is chapter 6.5 and it’s only labeled that because no actual bucket list item will be completed, however I do drop the biggest hint that i’ve ever slipped into the previous chapters. If you’ve read a couple of the author’s notes; you’d know. ;) ANYWAY, on to the chapter! As always, thank you for showing interest in TBL!

You got back to the hotel after your night drive with Jisung at about midnight. It was late and the both of you were hungry, so you ended up just getting some drive-thru fast food and eating it in his car before heading back.

The moment you walked through the door, Jisung bee-lined over for the couch in the corner of the hotel room and plopped down, groaning loudly.

You convinced him to go to sleep first, telling him you would probably be awake for awhile since you were able to get some rest in during the car ride over. He agreed with sleepy sentiments and quickly washed up and got in bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Now, you were kneeled in front of your suitcase, grabbing some appropriate sleeping clothes and your toiletry bag for your skincare routine.

A muted vibration sounds from your phone. You look around, trying to remember where you put it. You lift up the lid of your suitcase and snatch it off the floor. It was an incoming video call from your best friend, back home. ‘Robin’ it read, with a picture of a woman your age drinking straight from a mimosa pitcher.

You bring your phone, clothes, and toiletries to the bathroom, closing both the closet door and the bathroom door behind you to dampen the sound. “Hello?” You answer the video call with a whisper.

“Y/N!” Robin’’s high pitched voice echoes with the acoustics of the bathroom and you panic, propping the phone up against the mirror.

“Shhh, it’s like 2am here.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely middle of the day here, my bad. Where are you? You haven’t been answering my texts all day? Are you okay?” Robin is sitting on her laptop in a cafe with her oversized headphones on, the sun shining through the window to her left, casting a golden sheen on her skin.

“I’m at a hotel.” You turn the faucet on very slightly so you can still hear her over the slow stream of running water.

“Oh, did you ditch the roommate?”

“No, I’m at the hotel… with him.” You put your hands under the tap to check the temperature, then bend forward to splash the water onto your face.

“Rewind.” Robin has a pen in her hand that she waves back and forth.

You pump some cleanser into your hand, lather it with soap, then spread it onto your face. “We decided to do a little road trip to Busan. We’re staying at a hotel by the beach.”

“In the same room?”

“In the same room.” You pick up your fancy electric face cleansing tool and gently glide it over your skin.

“In the same bed?”

“Well, he’s asleep right now… But yeah, same bed.” You glance towards the door where Jisung is surely asleep, probably even snoring.” I mean it wouldn't be the first time I guess.” You mumble the latter part of your sentence, hoping that Robin wouldn’t catch it.

“WHAT?!” People around Robin in the cafe look towards her sudden outburst.

“KEEP IT DOWN.” You whisper aggressively at her.

“You can’t just tell me you slept with a man and expect me to keep it down.” She mimics your tone, whispering although she has absolutely no need to in the noisy cafe.

“Okay, fair. You’re right; sorry.” You go back to cleansing your face, looking at your reflection in the mirror.

“So, spill.” Dramatically, Robin lifts her large coffee mug to her lips for a loud sip.

“Well, you know how I told you I was staying with Jisung.” You work the soap on your face into a bigger lather, inhaling the very mild herbal scent for your cleanser.

“M’hmmm, last name?” Robin pulls up her phone.

“Han.”

“Thanks.” She’s typing away on her phone, already trying to find him on Instagram. It doesn’t take too long, she just had to parse through all the other profiles that showed up before his. “He doesn’t post much, but he looks cute!”

“Anyway, I told you about how he’s willing to help me do stuff on the bucket list, well one of them was Sing Karaoke in front of people and … well he happens to be a bartender at this bar that was doing Norebang, so he took me to his work place.”

“You don’t even follow him on social media do you?” Robin looks at you through the phone with a deadpan expression.

“No, why?” You rinse the brush of your electric face scrubber and stand it on the sink counter to dry before pooling some of the water in the palm of your hands to wash your face from the soap.

“Why wasn’t that the first thing you looked up about this guy?” Robin clicks on a post on Jisung’s Instagram.

“Honestly… I don’t know.” Your eyes are shut as you blindly reach around for the face towel you remember being neatly folded in the center of the counter.

“Well, one of the few pictures he has on Instagram is him bartending v it’s tagged at a place called ‘Loudmouth’, which I assume is his workplace. Y/N, you’re supposed to be the smart responsible one.”

“Yeah, well I think I left that part of me back home when I booked a ticket to Korea last second.” You pat yourself dry and place the face towel on the towel rack behind you.

“Okay, we’re getting away from the good stuff.” Robin sets her phone aside and rests her hand on her chin, batting her eyes at you.

“So, we went to Loudmouth. His co-workers were really nice Minho and Changbin–”

“Haha, Chang-bin and Ro-bin, I bet we’d be cute together.”

You roll your eyes at her with a playful smile. "I was drinking because I needed the courage to sing. They all drank with me. I sang. They sent us home and gave him another week off. We went home, we drank more and then… You know.”

“... Girl of course I know, but I want to know know.” It was Robin’s turn to roll her eyes, but of course, in classic Robin fashion, it had much more of a dramatic flare to it.

“Oh my god.” You cover your face with your hands, applying toner while doing so.

“Was it good?”

“Well, yea.” You gave a casual shrug, patting your toner in.

Robin holds up a not-so-menacing pen at you. “I swear to god, Y/N.”

“I don’t know! What do you want me to say?!” You laugh quietly, holding your hands up in the air in shrug like gesture.

“Who initiated it?” Robin knew how this was going to work; she had to ask the questions.

“Me?”

“YOU DID?” This time, she whisper-shouted at you, not willing to be scolded by you again. Robin’s jaw drops in disbelief. Her little Y/N made the first move?!

“Kind of? I mean, I did kiss him first.”

“Tell me more.” She leans forward in her seat again, eyes wide in anticipation.

“Okay, well he was super sweet. Like, too sweet. I kind of wished he just,” You raise your hands up to make sure your friend could see them. Then you dramatically grabbed at air, “You know what I mean?”

“Okay, but that’s cute still.” Robin gives you a smile, “He just wanted to make sure you were okay with it all, I mean the both of you were drunk after all.”

You start to apply your serum in your face, avoiding looking at your phone. “I mean we weren’t drunk enough that I forgot about it.”

Robin squeals a little, “Okay, okay, back to me trying to get details out of you.” She does a little excited dance in her chair. “How big was he?”

You gawk at the crude question. You look up into the air and shift your weight onto one hip, pursing your lips together as you think of how to answer the question. “Well it was definitely knocking on my cervix.”

Robin’s jaw dropped, but there was an animated expression on her face, “OKAY HAN JISU–”

You grab the phone, muffling the speaker. “Robbie!” You open the bathroom door that leads into the closet. The sound doesn’t echo like it does off the tile bathroom floors and walls. The carpet and wallpaper helps keep Robin’s voice from sounding so loud. That and you lowered the volume on the phone. You place the phone on the shelf, facing the ceiling and you change into a large tee shirt and some shorts.

Robin’s attempt at hiding her giggles behind her hands over her mouth is futile. “So was it, like, vanilla?”

You tug the shirt over your head before grabbing the phone from the shelf and sitting in the corner of the closet, holding the phone in your hand. “Oh my god, Robbie. He did this thing,” You pause and lick the bottom of your lip and close your eyes, remembering the way Jisung cradled your jaw in his hand, “He made me look at him and–” You let a high pitched sound come from you as you slid down from the wall to lay with your back on the floor.

Robin has her chin in her hands, observing you. “Hey, Y/N?”

You looked up at your phone that you held in the air above you. “Yea?”

“You look happy.” Robin’s voice is quiet, not to take away from how genuine she says those words. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

You give her a small smile and sit back up, nodding. “Yea. Or– or at least I’ve felt happy lately.” You shrink into yourself, slouching your shoulders as you lean back against the wall again.

Robin continues on. “I’m glad you decided to go through with the list.”

“Take more risks. Be —a little— reckless… “ You absentmindedly play with your hair as you recall a specific item that seemed to be scribbled on the pages as an afterthought.

A waiter passes by Robin and offers to take her cup, which she places on their tray. “For real, Y/N. I’m really relieved to see that you got on that plane. It sucked to see you in this monotonous routine. You barely ever wanted to come hang out with us and when you did I felt like you only came out because you felt like you couldn’t keep saying no.” You don’t have to look at Robin through the phone to know she was pouting, you could hear it in her voice.

“I’m sorry,” You look at a loose thread in the carpet underneath you and start to pick at it.

Robin shakes her head. “Don’t be. You were doing your best.”

You nod and stay silent.

“Anyway, how many more days do you have until you come back?”

You swipe down on your phone screen to check the time and date. “Like a week.”

Robin looks through her phone again, getting back on Instagram and scrolling through her feed. “Would it be so bad if you uploaded on Instagram? All our friends think something happened and I have to reassure them that you’re just in a completely different time zone.”

You chuckle while giving you a guilty nod. “I will, I will.”

“Also, Y/N,” She looks at you seriously this time.

“Call your dad. I know he doesn’t say or express it much, but he’s worried about you.”

You grow quiet again, biting your inner cheek as the guilt grows. “Yeah, I know.”

“Alright, well I have to get home, text me! Love you bye!”

“Bye, Robbie.” You end the video call with her.

You look through your contacts and call up your dad. The phone rings three times before he answers. “Y/N?”

“Hey Dad,” Your voice is quiet, but being mindful of Jisung waking up isn’t the only reason for it.

“Hey,” Your dad sighs on his end, relieved to hear your voice. “Are you okay over there? I can get on the next plane if I need to.”

You shake your head, even though he can’t see you. “I’m fine, I just wanted…” You thought over your next words. “I just wanted to let you know I think I’m going to be okay.”

There’s silence between you two. A lot of things unsaid; things a bit too heavy to talk about at the moment. But the sentiment is still true; you’re going to be okay.

“I know you are.” He smiles fondly, eyes soft and teary.

“Anyway, it’s almost 3:30 in the morning here, Dad.”

“Okay, yea sorry. I’m glad to hear from you.”

“Good to hear your voice, too, Dad.”

“Hey, Peanut?” It had been awhile since you’ve heard that childhood nickname.

“Yea?”

He pauses and you find yourself holding your breath. “She’d be proud of you, too.”

A beep sounds off in your ear and it means he ended the call. You drop the phone into your lap and bring your knees to your chest, one arm grasping at your hair on the crown of your head. Your other hand covers your mouth, stifling your sobs as the tears fall from your tightly shut eyes.

ending author's notes: Hope you enjoyed this one. More will be revealed in due time. I think I'll release the spotify playlist I've made for this soon. :) Reminder that the chapter 7 will not be until after September, possibly the second week. If you have any questions, concerns, or you just wanna talk about the chapter, my inbox is always always open! Small reminder that reblogs and comments are highly encouraged! taglist

@burningchaosdeer @bat-shark-repellant, @jisunglyricist, @captivq, @lixiel0ver, @channieandhisgoonsquad, @dalamjisung, @laylasbunbunny, @beanebabyy, @leyknowsbin, @vixensss, @hyunfilms, @cutiespaghetti, @hanjisunginc

89 notes · View notes

nightingalestarchaser · 10 months

Text

● Aviditas

Pairings: Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Content Warnings: Yet more terrible rich people doing terrible things, mentions of blood, lust and all that stuff.

A/N: Back in my dream house, playing with these beautiful dolls. Nothing is real, words are a construct. I hope you enjoy, feedback is so appreciated ♡

She will not look.

It drives him crazy, and she enjoys it.

Every detail of her attire for the evening has been chosen purposely, carefully. The dress that exposes her shoulders, reveals just enough cleavage to be alluring and keep her virtuous reputation intact. The way her hair has been elegantly braided back into a bun, with enough left loose to cascade down her back.

She looks elegant, beautiful, graceful and sophisticated. Everything she is supposed to be. And yet she knows that the eyes on her do not see her as those virtues alone.

Especially his eyes.

She feels his gaze burning her skin, searing into her. He sees her to be as beautiful and graceful as everyone else does, but he also sees her as a woman. A desirable, alluring, enticing and enchanting woman. The woman he wants as his own, in his bed or on the dining table in front of everyone gathered, it matters little.

She keeps her head held high, a smile on her lips as she glides across the floor. The men at the table stand for her, watch her approach the seat a servant is pulling out for her.

It's quite sweet how desperate he is for her to see him, she thinks. Such a little puppy, needy for attention. She thanks the servant as they ease her chair forward, keeping her attention elsewhere.

The men sit, conversation begins to flow freely and she still does not look in his direction. Her body is warm under his gaze, she basks in his attention without acknowledgement.

It will be worth it when she does look, and she wants to make it worth her while. Once she looks at him, smiling, scowling, screaming, she will be gone from the table. She will be racing down halls, her skirts bundled up in her hand, the other clutching his. They will not stop until they are alone.

She will tell herself that she will stick to her well laid plans.

She will tease him, make him more desperate than he has ever been, begging for her.

She will have him at her mercy, feel the heat of his desire poring into her body.

She tells herself that is when she will walk away, leave him desperate and alone.

Some lies serve to make the truth even sweeter.

But alas, there is good food, excellent wine and fine company to be enjoyed first, so she will prolong his suffering yet, to extend their imminent ecstasy.

It was not always such, that he would gaze longingly at her while she could focus her gaze elsewhere to tease him. She had grown into the power he had given her, he had yet to grow into the power given to him by blood.

He didn't need to grow, to evolve. Power would be his, the crown would be his, history would record his name regardless of his growth or ability. Why would he change himself when it was not necessary?

Gods, his casual, lazy arrogance infuriated her at times. Could one even be nominated as arrogant without an understanding of their privilege?

It was all so easy for him, as it had always been. From the day he entered the world, his path was clear. A smooth road leading him along a blessed and peaceful life. There was little consequence for his actions, from what she had seen, so why wouldn't he test the boundaries?

That seemed to be his childhood, seeing how far he could stretch one's limits. She had harbored a youthful crush for many years, intrigued as she was by a prince with infinite freedom, who could do as he so pleased.

He never seemed to notice her, unless it was to make some brattish remark, pull her hair, or tease her. She was nothing to him then, just a small, plain girl who barely existed in his orbit. And still she kept the crush, even when she questioned herself for it.

He grew up to be even more of a spoilt brat, and while at times he repulsed her, she never ceased to be drawn to him, to crave just an ounce of his attention. He possessed a confidence that was foreign to her, an air of arrogance and greed surrounded him, but she saw the moments where he could be more. The quiet, rare moments where he would make his brother laugh, or wrap his arm around his sister, devote the time to listen to her.

At 13, she was sent away, a girl still. Her father had promised her to the son of a wealthy Lord, and she was to spend time in her new home.

There were worse places to be than Highgarden, particularly in the warmth of summer. Her new surroundings were beautiful, peaceful, and delicate. The people around her were even more beautiful. She felt like a weed planted among roses.

Her first weeks in the Reach were achingly lonely, she found herself longing for life in the capital, in the keep. She had been given a maid, who, while being polite and obedient and friendly, was ultimately older than her by several years, and did not seem to care for more than her staunchly required duties.

Her betrothed would occasionally take her for walks in the labyrinth surrounding the castle, which she found enjoyable if only as a means to pass time. He was a boy in the process of becoming a man just as she was a girl in the process of becoming a woman. They had perfectly pleasant conversations, though nothing that couldn't also be spoken of with any commoner on the street.

She thought of home often, thought of writing, but knew she had nothing of note to say. He wouldn't have read it anyway.

Several weeks after she first arrived, her first blood arrived in the night. She felt embarrassed to watch her maid uncover it, sitting by the window and looking away.

Word of the event clearly spread, as later that day the sister of her betrothed appeared at her door, a smile and an arm offered to her.

She was a rose in bloom, her future sister-in-law told her. And a rose must be tended to carefully to allow full blossom.

A girl she could no longer be, certain traits were to be taken, but the cloak of girlhood was shed. From that day, her training began.

How to walk, stand, carry herself. How to speak, when to speak, to whom, and what to speak about. What to wear, what to reveal, what to hide, what to tease.

She was not just to be another lovely flower in the garden, she was to be the rose desired to be taken and tended to.

It all seemed to be too much, lacking any real sense of purpose. What was all the work, effort, and pain for if she was only to sit in beautiful gardens sipping tea and discussing tedious affairs with beautiful, vacant roses? It felt as though there was no reward for the work of the transformation.

Until the garden was opened to admirers.

She had attended many grand events in her time, the swell of a gathered crowd was not so unusual to her. But a grand event in Highgarden was not as one would have been back home.

There was much more of an emphasis on beauty, that was what she noticed first. The most exquisite, bright, beautiful flowers covered every surface, lighting up the room and giving it a soft, romantic feel. There were flower petals scattered around wine glasses, sprinkled on plates of food that were more of a work of art than something edible.

Though it was not enough just to have free flowing wine, and mountains of food, everything was considered carefully. The wine perfectly complimented each course of food, poured at the perfect time. There was little chance of hunger, the food was served in abundance, though with purpose. It was not just to display wealth, it was not just to pile meat on tables endlessly, to indulge in gluttony.

Dishes were served, removed, and replaced with something even more beautiful and delicious. Everything was presented carefully, beauty gracing each dish.

Music was a constant, with harps and delicate melodies replacing the lutes and singing she had known. With the music came dancing, endless dancing that she could have watched for hours. Beautiful people moving in perfect unison, skirts swishing the floor, bodies twirling together.

As it transpired, the food, wine, music and dancing were secondary to that which seemed to matter above all.

Roses.

Whispers of who was the most beautiful, the most graceful, the most desirable. She never expected that her name would be among those most whispered about.

No longer was she the plain little girl who teased or ignored.

She had bloomed into a woman of note, at such an age that allowed more time for growth, for use. It frightened and exhilarated her at once, this newfound attention.

These men would not tease her, pull her hair, or push her over. They would approach her gladly, kiss her hand, and admire her beauty.

She tested the limits of her newfound powers, brazen with confidence and overwhelmed with vulnerability. She could say no to the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, only to have an even more beautiful man approach her, ask for her hand in a dance.

In those moments she thought of home, of him. Would he look upon her differently now? Would he still tease her and cast her aside? She felt a thrill when she thought of him seeing her as the woman she had become, and getting her chance to ignore him, cast him aside like he had never meant anything to her.

The only man who seemed disaffected by her transformation was her betrothed. He was not callous, or cruel, rather..indifferent. He was perfectly polite, kind, considered, a gentleman. He did not look at her the way other men did, she had learned what it was to have a man's desire and she did not have the desire of her betrothed.

It was not his fault, nor hers for feeling no desire for him. They were not a suitable match, they could never truly bring one another happiness or their houses a true line.

That was not to say she was satisfied with the arrangement. Part of her training had been to learn the art of seduction - how to seduce, and how to be seduced. How it was to feel truly satisfied, and how to make it appear so she was truly satisfied, such falsehoods could be required. And would be required, for the duration of her married life.

She knew how it felt to have a man look at her with desire. She knew how it felt to have her back arch, her body write under her own touch. While she had not yet had the two connect, she was not willing to go without it. It would be cruel to deny herself, and her betrothed what they both wanted.

She refused to be a rose waiting in the garden for someone to choose her. She chose herself, and she knew what she wanted.

It was quite the scandal. Tragic, but not above whispers. A widow before she could even gain the title. Her betrothed killed not three days before their wedding. It had been a celebratory hunting trip, his last chance for some freedom before undertaking his duties. How she had cried when she was woken in the night, desperately clutching at her maid's arms, begging for it to be a vicious lie.

She was comforted by his family, mourned as the daughter they would not gain. His brother would gain a title, his sisters would gain pity, she would gain her freedom.

Sacrifices were part of life.

Arriving back in the capital was like waking from a vivid dream, coming back to reality. A reality she was more prepared than ever to face.

Gone was the girl, here was the woman.

A woman with desires, with needs, with purpose. And she knew exactly how to claim all of them.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd #hotd fanfic

84 notes · View notes

talldynarider · 1 month

Text

Westside Rd, BC 🇨🇦.

#mine 2024 #mine #spring ride #spring #harley davidson #harley #road glide limited #road glide #bc #bc roads #british columbia

8 notes · View notes

insanethrottlebikernews · 1 year

Text

HEY HARLEY DAVIDSON 2023 CVO ROAD GLIDE LIPSTICK ON A PIG

#GOLDWING #MOTORCYCLE #HARLEYDAVIDSON IT LOOKS LIKE A 85 Goldwing The 2023 CVO Road Glide Limited Anniversary model is an extremely limited, serialized custom bagger loaded with exclusive details, power and styling that celebrate 120 years of Harley-Davidson motorcycles. It’s the ultimate ride to the H-D Homecoming™ event. 00:00 I’m really just confused 01:00 What were the engineers…

View On WordPress

#2023 cvo road glide colors #2023 cvo road glide limited #2023 cvo road glide price #Biker News #Goldwing #harley 120th anniversary #harley 2023 models #harley davidson #insane throttle #motorcycles #new harley models 2023 #review #ROAD GLIDE

0 notes

steddieas-shegoes · 11 months

Note

Request: full funny prompt Steve teaching the different party members how to drive. Steve & the kids having a sibling-like relationship. Just pure fluff and siblings.

MY LOVE MY HEART!!!! I LOVED THIS!!! I didn't include any relationships in this because this one just needed to be focused on Steve being a good babysitter/big brother and the kids just loving him and each other. Also, started thinking about having to teach Liam how to drive in roughly 7 years and decided that I am going to need someone else to do it. - Mickala ❤️

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

Lucas

“Alright, we’re just gonna take it around the block. Slow. Careful. We’re in no rush.”

Lucas tapped Steve on the shoulder.

“Uh. Steve? Are you…talking…to your car?”

Steve looked behind him and up at Lucas from where he was kneeling on the ground in front of his car, one hand on the hood.

“She’s scared.”

“O…kay.”

Steve sighed and stood up, handing his keys over to Lucas.

“Just around the block. Slow. Careful. No rush.”

“I got it when you told the car.”

“You’re the first kid to drive her with my permission. She’s been through a lot. I don’t want to put her through too much stress.”

“She is just a car, right? Not a transformer or something?”

Steve rolled his eyes and got in the passenger side door, tense set to his shoulders getting worse when Lucas sat in the driver’s seat and started the car.

Lucas started the car, put his seatbelt on, adjusted the mirrors. Everything he knew from driver’s ed and what Steve taught him in their pre-drive lesson.

Of all the kids, Steve knew Lucas was probably the one who would be most careful and listen to him without argument.

None of that changed the fact that this was his car.

Lucas put the car in reverse, slowly removed his foot from the brake, and inched his way out of Steve’s driveway.

Steve watched every single movement of the car, felt like he had eight sets of eyes rotating around the car so he could see if Lucas struggled with anything inside, if any cars came out of nowhere on the road, if there was a random pothole that opened up in the last 30 seconds.

When they were completely on the road, Lucas put the car into drive, shifting just like he was shown, his feet gliding effortlessly over the gas and clutch.

It was smooth.

Steve took a deep breath.

“You’re doing great,” he said, his shoulders relaxing slightly as Lucas maintained the speed limit of the neighborhood and followed the line in the road perfectly.

“Can we go to Max’s?”

“Nope. Just here.”

“But I’m almost already at the end of the road. I need real life practice.”

“This is real life.”

Lucas sighed, but didn’t argue further.

Steve let him drive around the block twice before he told him to pull back into the driveway.

Once they parked, Steve let out the breath he’d been unintentionally holding.

“Is it that bad? I thought I did good,” Lucas asked as he removed his seat belt.

“No, you did great. Really. Just a lot of pressure.”

“On you? For what?”

“To make sure you guys are safe. I know your dad is gonna take you out a bit, but he trusted me with this today.”

“We went, like, 10 miles an hour.”

“People have died going slower.”

Lucas was a good kid, but he couldn’t help the laugh he let out at that.

“You’re worse than my mother.”

“Look, you got the first time under your belt, right? Let me be stressed.”

“Sure, Steve.”

—----------------

Will

El was sitting in the backseat, tapping her fingers against the seat as some music played.

Hopper insisted that he teach her to drive, barely wanted to let Steve teach Will.

But Will was nervous, probably more than Steve was, so Steve let him listen to a few songs in the driveway before they got started.

“Is it normal to sit in the car for so long before driving?” El asked.

“It’s important that he feels comfortable, El. We can take as much time as he needs,” Steve replied, glancing over at Will, who somehow looked more pale and nervous than when they first got in the car.

“Maybe I should wait. It’s not like I even have a car to drive,” Will finally said a few minutes later.

Steve knew that Hopper had already planned on giving Will and El a car to share in a few months, but it was a surprise. He couldn’t ruin the surprise, but he had to get Will comfortable behind the wheel.

“I’m sure your mom will let you borrow her car sometimes. Plus it’s good to know in case of an emergency. Remember when Max nearly killed us all driving this thing? You don’t wanna be like her.”

“Also Dad got us a car,” El contributed from the back seat, immediately picking back up on humming along to the song like she didn’t just ruin the biggest surprise of the year.

“What?”

If anything, Will looked even more nervous.”

“El, that was supposed to be a surprise. How did you find out?” Steve asked exasperatedly.

“He is not very quiet when he is on the phone.”

Steve sighed.

“Alright. Well, even more reason to practice right? It’s gonna be easy! Just back out of the driveway, drive around the block, then park it again.”

Will nodded, but otherwise didn’t move.

“If you really can’t do this, we can just switch and I’ll take you back home. We can try again next week.”

“No! I can do it. I survived the Upside Down. Driving is nothing compared to that, right?”

Despite his words, his voice was shaky, like he didn’t quite believe them.

“It is very easy. I have driven many times,” El said happily from the backseat.

“What?” Steve turned all the way around in his seat. “Hopper said he wasn’t starting lessons with you until next month.”

“I did not drive with Hopper.”

“Who did you drive with?!” Steve could not think of a single adult who could be trusted to let El drive, and if Hopper found out…

“Eddie.”

Steve facepalmed.

“Do not tell your dad. He’ll throw Eddie in jail for endangering a minor.”

“That is silly!” El laughed. “I was not in danger. Eddie said he was the one in danger.”

“That sounds about right.” Steve shook his head and looked back at Will. “Okay. So at least you’re with me and not Eddie. You can do this, man.”

Will nodded and checked all his mirrors for the 12th time.

He put the car in reverse.

He slowly backed out.

A car honked from the road.

Will slammed on the brakes and put it in park.

“I’m never driving,” he said as he unbuckled and got out of the car.

“He will learn someday,” El said as she followed him out.

“I’m in hell,” Steve said out loud before joining them outside of the car.

—-----------------------

Mike

“I don’t understand why I can’t listen to music louder.”

“Because this is your first lesson and we have to be able to hear each other and other cars,” Steve sighed.

He was not looking forward to teaching Mike, had practically begged Nancy to come back from college to do it.

She said that no one could pay her enough to teach Mike how to drive.

Steve wasn’t getting paid a damn thing and here he was anyway.

God, he wished Mrs. Wheeler would have let Eddie teach him.

“It’s just your neighborhood. There’s, like, five people counting you who live here.”

“And any one of them could drive by while you’re driving so just. Focus. Please.”

Mike rolled his eyes, but surprisingly let it go. Steve knew that just meant that he would be picking a new fight soon.

It’s not that Mike was difficult, it’s that his hormones decided to hit all at once and no one knew how to handle it, least of all Mike. Steve tried not to take offense to any of his attitudes, but he was already a bit stressed from the situation, so he couldn’t be faulted for his shortness.

Mike started to reverse.

“Nope. Park. You didn’t check your mirrors first.”

“I was going to once it was in reverse!”

“You check mirrors first, then reverse while checking all mirrors again. You know that.”

“You don’t check the mirrors before you reverse.”

“This isn’t about what I do or don’t do. You have to be taught properly so you can pass the test. You would’ve had points deducted.”

Mike rolled his eyes again.

That must cause headaches or vision problems or something eventually.

Mike checked the mirrors, then reversed, continuing to check each mirror as he backed onto the road.

His foot was a bit heavy on the clutch, but Steve didn’t say anything.

His foot was also a bit heavy on the gas, but he technically wasn’t speeding, so Steve stayed quiet.

He hit the curb in the cul de sac, and Steve winced.

“Remember to check your mirrors every once in a while to make sure you don’t hit a curb or go over the lines.”

“It was an accident!”

“I know! I’m just saying!”

They ignored each other for the remainder of the drive. Luckily, Mike did fine until he put it in park in the driveway.

He unbuckled, but didn’t get out.

“You did good, Mike. Just gotta make sure you’re safe,” Steve said softly, hoping it wouldn’t start anything, walking on eggshells like he so often found himself doing around Mike.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Steve looked over at him, noticed how tense he was, how his eyes were shiny like he was trying to hold back tears.

“You wanna come inside and have a drink?”

“Beer?”

“No, just soda,” Steve snorted. “Your mom would kill me. Nancy would kill me.”

“I’ve had beer before.”

“But I didn’t supply it.” Steve noticed he relaxed a little. “So? I got some chips too.”

“Sure. Okay.”

They didn’t chat much while they enjoyed soda and chips, but any moment not arguing or on edge with Mike was good.

It felt good.

—----------------------

Dustin

Everyone stood around the car as Dustin sat in the passenger seat. His mom had been hesitant to let him come, had said multiple times that he could wait another year.

But he repeated it wasn’t fair that everyone got to learn except him, and Steve did take his side on it this time, agreed that it was better he know how to in case there was an emergency.

Claudia Henderson was no fool, but she was unable to resist Steve’s charm.

“I don’t understand why everyone is here for this,” Steve said, watching everyone back away from the car as Dustin adjusted the mirrors.

“No one believed I could reach the pedals.”

“Can you reach the pedals? I didn’t even think about that.”

Dustin glared at him for a second before continuing to adjust everything.

“Yes, I can reach the pedals, asshole.”

“How’s it going?” Max yelled from in front of the car.

“Just fine, thanks!” Dustin yelled back.

Max technically could see, but she was definitely not able to drive, so she just got to hear the stories of everyone’s lessons.

“You sure you’re ready for this? It’s okay to wait. None of them will judge you.”

“I said I’m ready!” Dustin exploded.

Dustin rarely reacted like that with Steve.

“Dude.”

“Sorry,” Dustin sighed, his grip on the wheel tight. “I just don’t wanna mess up in front of everyone.”

“I can send them all home right now. None of them watched anyone else.”

“No, I wanna prove I can do this.”

“Alright, bud. Ready when you are.”

Dustin adjusted a bit in the seat, checked his mirrors, and put the car in reverse.

Steve could tell he was having to sit up more than the others to reach everything, but he didn’t comment on it.

It was a smooth ride until the end.

He pulled into the driveway just a little too fast, then slammed on the brakes.

Steve’s head went forward, Dustin’s head went forward, and the kids outside were yelling something.

“Alright. Just one note. Maybe take it easy on the brakes.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You did good, dude. Proud of you,” Steve ruffled his hair and smiled at him.

He was proud of him. He was proud of all of them.

He was still worried, and he knew they all needed way more practice before they actually took their driving tests, but they all did good.

Steve probably developed gray hairs over the next month of lessons, especially when Mike drove over a curb on the road between his house and Eddie’s.

The kids sometimes showed up for each others’ lessons, in support and to make fun of their mistakes equally, but Steve usually shut it down quickly.

And when all of them passed their driving test on their first try, Steve threw a party that they all drove themselves to.

And when Will became a bit of a passenger princess in Mike’s car, and Dustin still called Steve for rides a couple times a week, and Lucas got pulled over for going too slow, Steve smiled to himself. No amount of lessons would change who they were.

#steve harrington #stranger things #the party #fluff #eddie is mentioned but not in it #this is just wholesome #ficlet #request

115 notes · View notes

badnoahmens · 10 months

Note

187. folio

Okay, this prompt is hot. I’m just gonna say it, it suits Folio.

187. “use my thigh”

Smut prompt list found here.

The odd hook up in the greenroom before a show was pretty common on tour. Sometimes it was old flames showing up expecting a doorspot, and paying their tickets worth with sex. Other times it was strangers looking to get their quick fix. But most of the time, it was the longterm partners that knew that on tour, time spent together was very limited.

And that was the case for you, and Nick. The band had been on the road for 2 months now, and you travelled to see them when you could. There was only so many plane tickets you could buy until it was ridiculous. Nick knew this too, so he wanted to make sure he used his time with you wisely.

Everyone else was out doing their thing. Whether that be watching the support band play, warm up for their own show, or simply go and get something to eat, it left you and Nick alone in the greenroom backstage of the venue.

You were sat atop his lap, legs perched on either side of him, and he laid back on the couch, sinking into the cracked brown leather of the old decor. An old lamp hummed on the small black table next to you, giving off enough light to see the features of Nick glow in front of you. His hair hung just enough to hide parts of his eyes, already slicked and ready for the performance later on. The fingers on your left hand graze through the locks, gliding over his hair to reveal the lustful look in his eyes. Your right hand was cupped around the side of his neck, just below his ear, where you could feel his heartbeat stammering under the skin.

He leans up to reconnect your lips with his, and you submit to his touch, leaning into him with an eagerness only he got to experience. Lips lock together in a sloppy and hot manner, opening to push through tongues that danced between both domains. You had been together long enough to not need to worry about hurting another, so you bite down tenderly on Nick’s lower lip, tugging it back and you lean away to admire the sweaty state he was already in.

“That door has got a huge window in it” he stammers out between breathless huffs. “I think we need to be a little more inconspicuous than normal.” His hand raises to warm your check, thumb rubbing up and down the flushed pink skin on your face.

He’s right. The window was too big, and people were walking past, albeit not very often. You couldn’t just strip naked and hop on his dick like there’s no tomorrow like you normally do. Fuck, you couldn’t even ride him up and down or have him fuck you from behind as he pulls your hair like normal. People respect your relationship, but that is pushing the boundaries by putting on a show for them.

“Use my thigh” he demands, looking at you with a hopelessness to it. “Grind on my thigh, and I’ll do what I can around that. At least that way it just looks like we’re just making out.” He was nodding his head as if to agree with his own idea.

After glancing at the door, which stood threateningly on the opposite wall on the other side of the room, you look back at him. His eyes were ablaze with desire, pupils dilated so the black almost took over. How could you say no?

His right knee was closest to the door, so if you straddle that, it would hide the most of the action occurring on the other side of his leg. So you do just that, swinging a leg on either side of his right thigh, grinding down your hips in the same motion.

Oh, Nick likes that. He likes the way you’re using his leg like that. The way that you’ll do anything to have him as your source of pleasure. Taking his face in your hands, you kiss him hot and heavy. It was sloppy, but oh so passionate. Teeth clashed in the most unromantic of ways, but you didn’t care. Time like this together was rare so you were both in such a state that any connection would do.

You rock your hips some more, using the edge of the couch as leverage to ensure you don’t topple and lose your placing. He can feel you on him, the neediness ricocheting off you. His hand slides up one thigh if yours, electric tingles left in the wake of his touch. Knowing going slow drives you wild, he was taking his time for once.

“You know what I’m going to do with this hand? These fingers?” He asks into your ear, quiet enough so only you could here. “I’m going to finger fuck you so good you’ll forget where you are.”

You eyes roll back into your head, overwhelmed with pleasure as his fingers tug at the zipper of your pants and rub over your sensitive clit. It almost felt like it was on fire the way he was thumbing it between his fingers. It riled you up in the best and worst way possible. The tip of his index finger pressed against the fabric of your underwear, teasing at your entrance. His movements were bound by the clothing restricting your body, and it took everything in him to not tear holes right through it.

With the flick of a wrist, the delicate lace was rugged to the side, and one digit entered into your folds, spreading slick so that he could move with ease. The friction of his thumb in your clit and one finger inside you made you pull at the hairs on the back of his head, grabbing fistfuls and yanking then down involuntarily, making Nick’s head snap back.

He saw your face in all its glory then. The sweat on your brow starting to drip as your anticipation grew stronger. He watched how you couldn’t hold you eyes open as he included another finger into you, a slight frown appearing in your face now at the sensation.

“Tell me what you want me to do” he whispered, loving this side of you.

“Faster. On my clit.” You demand. And he listens. The rubbing increased, and it was honestly amazing he didn’t lose his placement. It tugged back and forth, making the waves of pleasure ripple through your body. That, along with the curling of his fingers inside you, made you double over, forehead pressed tight against the crook of Nicks neck, hips bucking down on his thigh in sync with his fingers, and the white hot explosion of your orgasm blew wide open. He could feel the tensing pulsation that you had no control over.

As the heat started to subside, he withdrew his fingers, promptly closing them in his mouth as to taste the fluids that he helped elicit from your body. As you lean back, his hands rest do your hips, and the dirk on his face was one of pure pride.

As if they were waiting for the perfect time, there is an announcement for final checks and positions for the main act to be taken, and he knows that it’s his time to leave. You nod at him, brushing away the sweat-stricken hair from your face, rolling beside Nick to the vacant spot on the lounge.

He stands promptly, kissing you on the forehead, then sending you a wink as he walks out of the door. You would go and watch him play from side stage tonight, but you just needed to catch your breath first.

#bad omens #bad omens band #nick folio #bad omens fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #Nick folio fan fic #Nick folio fan fiction #Nick folio fanfic #nick folio fanfiction #smut #nick folio smut

115 notes · View notes

quickspinner · 7 months

Text

Even Superheroes Need a Hand

Normally I don't do great with word count limits (or word count goals) but I thought the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers minific challenge might be a good chance to try getting some mojo back. Instead of checking my word count I did a timed sprint, but apparently I gave myself a little too much time because I still came out well above word count.

I also kind of fizzled out at the end, not sure exactly where to go (probably should have rewatched the NY special bus scene, but I was too lazy).

But, I figure any writing is better than no writing, right?

No edits, just brain dump.

Fictober prompt Day 1: "It's not too late, let's go."

Even Superheroes Need a Hand

She was panicking. She could feel it in the way her heart felt like it was shoving up into her throat and choking her, still beating wildly the whole time. She was so stupid, she knew better, why did this always happen, why couldn’t she be on time for just one day—

Think. She needed to think. Solve the problem, that’s what we do right? Marinette put one hand on her purse, but guilt stopped her. There had to be another solution, Tikki wouldn’t like it if she just—but what else was she supposed to do? A taxi—did she have enough money for a—

“Marinette?”

Her head snapped up, and she found herself staring up at Luka, who was standing with one foot on the ground and the other still on the pedal of his bicycle. His brow furrowed in concern even as he looked at her. “Weren’t you supposed to go on your school trip today?” he asked. “I thought that’s why Juleka left early, to catch the bus.”

Marinette slumped, ashamed, and whipped her hand away from her purse to rub at the back of her head. “I—” Even as she stuttered out an explanation, she could see Luka taking in her suitcase and putting together what must have happened.

Her babbled explanation was cut off by the click of his kickstand as he got off of his bike. “Come on, it’s not too late, let’s go.”

“What? But Luka—” Marinette began protesting, even as Luka was loading her bag on the luggage rack. “You can’t ride all the way to the airport!”

“I could try,” Luka grinned. “But I think I can catch the bus before it come to that. It couldn’t have left too long ago, right?” He was still moving, even as he was talking, and Marinette took the pink helmet he handed her without thinking.

“Luka, I can’t ask you to do that—” she began, but he was already straddling the bike again. She took the hand he offered without thinking, climbing onto the bike seat. “You can’t catch up to a bus—”

“In this city?” Luka snorted. “Bet you I can. Hold on, though, it might not be the smoothest ride.”

“This is insane,” Marinette moaned as she put her arms around his waist. “You’ll be late for school!”

Luka just shot a grin back at her and started the bike with a hefty push. “Here we go.”

Marinette moaned to herself, and held on tighter.

The ride was a blur. It was hard to see much beyond Luka’s back anyway, and between the crisis and the bump of the bike Marinette’s brain was too rattled to process what was going on. Luka whipped into alleys she hadn’t even known were there a heartbeat before he turned, and Marinette clamped her teeth to keep from squealing and distracting him. He didn’t have much breath for talk, anyway, and some corner of her mind found the time to be impressed, not only at how well he knew the city’s back ways, but at the way he was thinking on the fly to find them a route that would, she hoped, eventually intersect the bus. Then they hit another bump and Marinette squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to Luka and praying for heavy traffic on the main roads.

“We’re going to make it,” he told her as her hands tightened on his shirt. “Don’t worry.”

Marinette laughed weakly, and as a downhill slope gave him a chance to glide, he looked over his shoulder and shot her a reassuring smile.

She had to smile back.

She was too overwhelmed in the moment to take in everything that was happening, but that night, she would call him, babbling apologies, promising him pastries, and anxiously asking how long it had taken him to get home. He laughed at her concerns, admitted he was a little sore but he had taken his time getting home, stopping by some shops in that area of the city. He’d gotten his mom to call him in sick, so as long as his classmates didn’t rat him out, he wouldn’t be in too much trouble.

#quickspins #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #lbsc minific challenge

38 notes · View notes

bijouxcarys · 6 months

Text

Honey Bee / Part Two (2)

Click here for Part 1

Click here for my Fanfic Library

Pairing: Robert Plant x fem!reader x Jimmy Page x original female character

Summary: You've been on the road with Led Zeppelin for over two months now, acting as Robert's convenient little companion. It's now the final night of the tour, and tension has been rising. With the addition of Jimmy's new pretty young thing, you find yourself in a situation that just might take the cake for the best night of your life...

Warnings: NSFW (18+ only) Exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), more drug and alcohol use

Word count: 3,331

**I am now taking fic requests. Info in my pinned post!**

Tags: @firethatgrewsolow @brownskinsugarplum76 @keepcalmandcarryfire @callmethehunter @jimmypage7 @whothefuckisanja @jimmys-zeppelin @m-faithfull @lemongrablothbrok (Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in further fics)

If someone had told me that on the last night of the tour, Lila and I would be on our knees in front of the sofa where Robert Plant and Jimmy Page were seated, with a room full of people able to see us and a camera recording the moment for eternity, I would have thought they were joking.

Robert must have noticed my slight bewilderment as he and Jimmy relieved the pressure in their trousers, their arousal standing to attention. His hungry eyes softened briefly as he leaned forward and pecked a soft kiss to my lips.

“You sure you’re alright doing this, luv? We can disappear if you’d like,” he said quietly against my lips so that only I could hear him.

With a breathy laugh, I shook my head. “Nah, I love this. Just wasn’t expecting it to happen.” I smirked, lifting my gaze to look into his gorgeous blue eyes.

He gave me a satisfied grin and another heated kiss before sitting back against the sofa. “You are one naughty little minx, Y/N…”

His praise made me giggle enthusiastically, my hands holding onto his thighs. “Only for you, my Golden God,” I purred up at him.

“Here y’are, you two,” Peter appeared behind us, passing two shots of vodka to Lila and I. Without hesitation, we downed them, but not without a small droplet spilling out the side of Lila’s mouth and running down her chin.

I glanced at the two rock gods before us, and made the move to close in on Lila. Starting at her neck, I lapped up the spilt vodka. When I got to her lips, we shared a dazed expression. Her eyes were dilated, and I have no doubt mine were too. And before anyone had a chance to encourage us to close the gap, we did it ourselves, our plump lips connecting in a sloppy and passionate kiss.

The music that had been playing all night faded into the background and meshed with the whistles and drunken cheering. We tasted the vodka on each other’s tongues, as well as the desire to satisfy the men in front of us. This was a good start.

I heard satisfied murmurs, both from the men before us and the men around us. It was rather invigorating.

“Nothin’ better than watching two beauties worship each other, right, Perce?”

“Mhmm…”

Once I’d pulled away from Lila, my eyes shifted directly to Robert, his legs as open as they could go within the limited stretch of his jeans, and his erection stood proudly against his bare stomach. Two months was enough to get used to his size, but it never failed to make me weak at the knees as though I had never seen it before.

“You gunna give our stars a congratulatory blowy, you two?” Peter jeered behind us with nothing but encouragement. I chuckled under my breath, knowing he and his camera were watching everything Lila and I were doing.

I didn’t need much encouragement to have Robert’s cock in my mouth within seconds.

Glancing to the side, I could see that Lila made herself busy also with Jimmy, and before we knew it, we were both in the throes of pleasing our Gods.

The salty taste of skin delicately gliding along my tongue drew a small moan from my mouth, and my hand wrapped around his base, my head lowering by the second to try and take as much of him inside of my mouth as I could.

Hollowing out my cheeks, Robert’s fingers threaded through my hair, holding it back into a makeshift ponytail so he could watch as I wrapped my lips securely around him. I dragged my tongue along the underside of his cock, applying pressure in the right places, along the prominent veins, and circling his hot tip.

Had we been alone, Robert would have been making all sorts of noises, but I imagine the very public way we were doing this kept some of those noises at bay. After all, we were only doing it to appease the camera, and our own debauched mind.

I glanced up at Robert, my lips suctioning around his tip. His eyebrows narrowed and he bit harshly onto his lips as his hips intuitively jerked upwards. Before long, his head fell backwards against the sofa, eyes closing as he enjoyed the steady pace I set. My goal wasn’t to make him come. At least not yet.

The whole scene was completely sordid. Two groupies being filmed on their knees in front of Robert Plant and Jimmy Page, high on cocaine and drunk with lust and whiskey. People around them cheering them on whilst going about their own drunken evening. Couldn’t get away with it these days.

I bobbed my head up and down along Robert’s shaft, trying to take more of him each time I lowered my head, and my efforts were rewarded by a satisfied hum.

But then my head was completely pulled off of him and my lips were soon smashed against his. His hands were gripping onto my hair and his mouth was hot with want.

“There’s no way I’m coming in front of all these people, and so early on into the night,” he breathed. He turned his head to Jimmy, who was making small thrusts up into Lila’s mouth, with his hand holding tightly onto the back of her head. “Oi, Pagey,” Robert nudged him. Jimmy opened his eyes, looking at Robert and I.

With one swift nod of Robert’s head in the direction of the elevators, Jimmy nodded, an unspoken agreement coming to light by the second. The two of them shoved themselves back into their trousers, gave Peter an innocent smile, and stood up from their seats. Robert offered his hand to help me up.

“Have a good night, you two–enjoy!” Peter laughed, the camera following us as we left the room, Robert right up behind me with his ever-growing bulge pressing into my lower back.

“So, does this have anything to do with where you two disappeared to tonight?” I asked Robert once the four of us were in the lift. Robert cornered me, his hands resting on the railing around the walls of the confined space to completely block me in. He lowered his head and peppered kisses along my cheek, to my nose, and then to my lips.

“Such a curious little thing… That’s why I picked you, darlin’,” he chuckled.

Jimmy had Lila in his arms, her back to him as he mumbled into her ear. Soon, Robert's lips were on my ear, and he was mumbling to me as the lift started ascending to the sixth floor.

“We were just wondering, my sweet, if you and Lila would be up for a bit of fun. To finish off the tour with a bang, y’know?” He smirked, nuzzling his nose into my hair and inhaling deeply as his arms wrapped around me tightly.

I couldn’t stop my own devious smile, reaching up to hold onto his biceps. I grazed my lips along his lower neck, resting my head on his shoulder. “I’ll do anything for you, Robert.”

I felt his chest vibrate as he hummed in approval, “Yeah?”

Nodding, I moved my head back to look up at him. “You deserve something after that show. And besides… it wouldn’t kill to be able to say I’ve had two rockstars, would it?”

Robert’s eyes darkened, and his grip on my waist tightened. “Well, no it wouldn’t. But let’s get one thing clear, darlin’,” he leaned down to whisper into my ear with a somewhat stern tone, “nobody else gets to sample your sweet nectar while you’re with me. It’s all mine…”

Something about the possession in his voice and his words, despite being fully married with kids an ocean away, was comforting. His unwillingness to let Jimmy fuck me was delicious all in itself. A lion must mark his territory, after all.

“We’ll still have fun, of course,” he continued. “But there’s no way I’m letting Pagey feel all of you the way I do.”

I gently brushed Robert’s hair from his face, studying his expression as anticipation flickered across his features. “I have a feeling that the Golden God is particularly insatiable tonight,” I remarked, my voice low and suggestive.

He chuckled in response. “A bit difficult when it’s you, luv.”

Before we could delve any further into our playful exchange, Jimmy’s voice cut through our reverie, snapping us out of our trance. He had his arm securely around Lila, who likely had received a similar teasing lecture from him as Robert had given me, as he exited the elevator.

I shot Robert a coquettish smirk, taking his hand as I led the way out of the lift.

An hour later, after a few more drinks and lines, we settled into the evening’s main event. It was clear that the two mischievous rockstars had been discussing this moment for some time, and they had finally found a suitable fourth member in Lila to join us.

Nestled within the confines of Robert and I’s room, the Golden God had me pinned against the wall, his fervent hips pressing into me as his lips claimed mine with a raw, consuming hunger. In the swirling haze of intoxicating substances and the pulsating heat of our shared desire, I surrendered to the night’s relentless embrace, the world beyond our immediate sphere fading into a distant murmur.

Amidst the swirling chaos, fleeting glimpses revealed Jimmy and Lila in the background, entangled in their own passionate dance upon the bed, their laughter merging with the symphony of our own unbridled ecstasy.

With my fingers entwined in Robert’s tousled locks, I exhaled into the kiss, the weight of my ankles locking around his waist in an insatiable quest for heightened sensation. I arched my hips, seeking any semblance of friction, to which he responded with a mischievous chuckle that mingled with the warmth of our breaths. Our tongues danced in a final intoxicating swirl before he broke away from the wall, his muscles rippling with controlled strength as he effortlessly carried me to the bed.

With a primal grace, he lowered me onto my back just above where our two companions lay entwined, Lila already on her way to being completely undressed. Robert, keeping his eyes locked on me, threw off his shirt and quickly got rid of his jeans before pulling me into a seated position.

“Time to see that beautiful body, baby,” he teased with a low rumble, tugging at the bottom of my top.

My skin prickled with goosebumps, the air in the room cooling in comparison to the heat spreading across my entire body. “Robert…” I whimpered as he lowered his head to kiss along my exposed chest.

“So desperate, darlin’,” he chuckled. “Shall we check in with our companions?” he asked with a smirk, but not waiting for an answer. He looked up at Jimmy and Lila. “My Y/N is so wanton, Pagey.”

The heat pooling between my legs intensified as I listened to Robert speak about me as if I weren’t there, and I shared yet another eager look with Lila, who seemed to match up to my desperation.

Jimmy’s eyes diverted down to my chest, his eyes eagerly taking in the sight before him. “Jesus, we’ve done well,” he breathed out, not bothering to respond to Robert.

Something I had very quickly learned about Jimmy Page was how insistent he was. Sure, he could joke around, engage in banter as well as the next man, but as soon as he set his eyes on something, once he had a very distinct idea in his head, he was going to have it. Take it, if necessary.

And Jimmy craved Lila and I.

The bare skin of my thighs burned against the feeling of Robert’s, my legs enclosing the singer between them. But my eyes were locked with Jimmy’s, and before I knew it, his hand was clasping the back of my head, and his lips were smashed against mine.

He growled lowly against my lips, and pushed me back until he was hovering over me, Robert still nestled between my legs, and Lila crawling beside me. I felt the fullness of her lips on my jaw, and the wandering fervour of Robert’s hands creeping up to discard my skirt.

Jimmy’s tongue was persistent, prodding at mine and tasting every last bit of what my mouth had to offer. It wasn’t until he pulled away that I noticed Lila’s state of undress. Complete. And I couldn’t stop my gaze from wandering over the curves of her body and the way her bronze skin shimmered in the odd flare of light from the few lamps in the room.

Robert’s form hunched over me, taking up most of the space now as Jimmy leaned over to kiss Lila. “You want to do something special for us, love?” he asked loud enough for the others to hear as well. “Both of you,” he added, looking at Lila.

I bit down hard on my lip as Robert leaned over to steal a kiss from Lila, Jimmy’s hand roaming along my leg hungrily. At this point, I was willing to do anything to serve these two Gods, and to satiate the growing wetness between my legs. I found myself clenching around nothing, needing anything, anyone to fill me up.

“Would you like to feel how good my Y/N is with her mouth, Lila?” Robert teased. I watched as she audibly gasped, her innocent eyes moving between the three of us, but mostly landing on me. I gave her an encouraging smirk, my eyes never leaving hers as Jimmy completely removed the rest of my clothing, leaving only Robert’s pendant hanging around my neck.

Robert sent Lila a crooked smirk, gesturing for her to follow him further up the bed. With his back to the headboard, he invited her into his embrace, and she accepted, leaning back against him in her bare form.

“C’mon, love,” Jimmy mumbled in my ear, planting kisses along the expanse of my jaw. Catching his suggestion, I shimmied back onto my knees in front of Lila, lifting my eyes towards Robert, who was watching my every move. Something in his eyes… made my stomach clench. Nothing new, but so welcomed.

I caught my lip between my teeth, crawling forward and reaching over Lila’s shoulder to kiss Robert feverishly. The sigh I let out against his lips turned into a gasp as calloused fingertips traced over my backside, inching closer to my aching core.

“No more wastin’ time, darlin’,” Robert hummed, the backs of his fingers brushing delicately over my cheek. “You make this pretty little girl come, and I’ll make sure you’ll be fully rewarded.”

I nodded obediently at him, much to his pleasure. Not wanting to keep either him or Lila waiting much longer, I licked my lips and lowered my head between the silky flesh of our female companion’s thighs. And as if in sync with the careful yet willful movements of my mouth along Lila’s soaked centre, a calculated tongue dragged along the desperate flutter of my own nectar.

My back immediately arched, Jimmy’s lips quickly performing an unforgivable suction. The moan that grumbled from the back of my throat vibrated along my tongue and caused Lila to throw her head back against Robert’s shoulder.

Jimmy’s calloused fingertips ran up my thighs, and he was soon clinging onto my hips as he devoured me from below.

I flicked my eyes up, watching as Robert’s large hand moved some hair from Lila’s face. His hungry eyes absorbed the sight in front of him, his free hand reaching up to cup Lila’s breast, his fingers teasing over the erect nipple.

What followed was an eager and constant swirl of my tongue on Lila’s clit, coating her entire core with my saliva. I so wanted to make her come. Partially to fulfil my own ego, but mostly to please Robert. I wanted to make Robert proud.

Jimmy, behind me, was taking exactly what he wanted. He seemed to be savouring every drop of my essence. The desperation in his actions came through, and I kept pulsating and fluttering against his hot mouth.

“That feel good, darlin’?” Robert hummed to Lila, giving her nipple a small pinch, her body responding with a twitch. She whined and nodded as I continued my ministrations. “Tell her, then.”

Robert held Lila’s head in my direction, his eyes zeroed in on my mouth pressed flush against her weeping folds.

“P-Please don’t stop, Y/N–fuck, it feels so good!” she panted.

At her request, I gently eased my middle finger into her entrance, the tightness eliciting a moan from my chest.

I found myself starting to roll my hips against Jimmy’s face. But his hands were quick to keep me still as he sucked my clit into his mouth with harsh vigour.

“C’mon, come on her tongue, little one,” I heard Robert coax from above. I picked up the pace with my finger, as well as the slippy circular motion I set around her sensitive bud.

It was when I eased my ring finger inside as well that she contracted around me and her back arched off of the bed. Robert continued to praise her, and I felt myself edge towards my own release.

However, whilst Lila writhed and basked in the release I had given her, Jimmy retreated from me before I could reach my own. I pulled my head up and looked behind me, seeing the guitarist back up and remove the remainder of his clothing.

The rejected orgasm left me whimpering under my breath, and I became hot with want–even more so than I had been the whole night.

Jimmy crooked his finger at Lila, helping her to a seated position so he could easily pull her to the end of the bed. Meanwhile, I looked over at my Golden God wantonly.

“Awh, did Pagey not manage to make you come, honey bee?” he asked softly with a slight pout.

“Oi, you told me not to, you pri–”

“Either way,” he interrupted, sending him a sideways smirk, “it still took way too bloody long to get her to that point, mate.”

Usually, I would have enjoyed their back and forth, but in this particular moment, I just wanted Robert all over me, in me. Really, Jimmy was fantastic at getting me to the edge. Robert knew that. We all knew he was good at that. But you know how men can be when faced with a competitive circumstance.

“Robert…” I called to him, crawling up to meet him where he was sat back against the headboard.

“Shh, darlin’, I’ve got you now.” His attention was immediately back on me for what seemed largely overdue. His hands encased my face and his lips met mine.

Taking the opportunity, I ran my fingers through his golden locks, my tongue rolling into his mouth. The closer I got to straddling him, the more I became aware of the hot tip of his awaiting cock against my skin. The sensation made me press my body up against his, and he was soon guiding me onto my back, his form hovering over me.

“Please…” I whispered against his lips, his hips grinding against mine, giving me a teasing taste of what was to come.

“So desperate, love,” he chuckled. “You know I need to make you come first…”

“I know, but I just…” I breathed out, flustered at the energy circulating in the room and the persistent high taking over both of our bodies.

“I know… I know you need it so bad, you pretty little thing.” He traced his lips over my neck, pressing hot kisses and sucking intense marks along the expanse of my throat until he got to my chest.

“Need to feel every inch of you, baby…”

#70s #classic rock #fanfiction #led zeppelin #led zeppelin fanfiction #robert plant #jimmy page #robert plant fanfiction #robert plant fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fanfic #fanfic #1973 #masterlist #classic rock fanfiction

23 notes · View notes