#he’s always smiling behind his piano and laughing at the jokes

[wigglys-dikrats]

matt dahan is my favourite character in the guy who didn’t like musicals

#he’s always smiling behind his piano and laughing at the jokes #his lean-in to see hidgens dramatically sit is gold #he always looks like he’s having the time of his life #matt dahan #deserves more appreciation #nothing but respect for my emotional support background pianist #starkid #dikrats #team starkid #starkid productions #tgwdlm #the guy who didn't like musicals #piano #music #pianist #background acting

[rinbowaman]

heyy girl by the drumsticks, i meant like actual actual drumsticks 😭😭

thank youuu

"A Tighter Grip."

Warnings: foreign object penetration (consensual), corruption kink, rough smut (consensual) hints of rough smut, reader gets a very pleasurable time with her man. some...corny jokes toward the end.

"We're here." he calmly states as he places the car in park. You unbuckle your seatbelt and wait for him to come over and open up your door for you, a rule that he had set and made clear for you not to break. Pulling you up from the seat, he wraps his arm around your waist as he walks you inside the empty sub building, which was used by the school's band.

"do you and jake come here often to jam out?" you asked.

"From time to time." he smirks out as he plants and rest his lips on top of your head while walking you in.

"Hey! you made it!" jake smiles as h/n sits atop his lap, both of them playing the piano.

"Hey man whats up? long time no see." Giving out bro hugs, Heeseung reunites with his old friends from high school, most of them spread out and attending different universities, yet one face was familiar since he shared the same class as you.

"Hi Jungwon. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing good, how you doing? How's your study group?"

"Fine. Our group leader is a bit frantic at times, but he's mostly good. How about you?"

"oh you're lucky. I got Wilson, and that guy is such a pain."

Laughing as you both exchanged jokes, you felt yourself being pulled back as Heeseung wraps his arms around our waist and plasters your back against his chest. Exchanging his own greeting and bro hug with Jungwon, Heeseung drags you away to introduce you to his other friends, one of which you had met before, Jay.

"Oh hi Jay, its so good to see you again."

"Y/N, how are you?"

Taking a quick moment to catch up as Heeseung spooned you from behind, yet conversed off to the side with Jungwon, you caught up with Jay from the last time you saw him...and well, met him, at a local frat party. As the entire group mingled, you noticed the usual trait of Heeseung's habit whenever you both were in an overcrowded area.....

He always became far more clingy, and never allowed you to break away from him, not even for an inch. Whenever you btoh attended a frat party, went to a large dinner event, or just anywhere where people were a plenty and you were attracting eyes like bees with honey, Heeseung grew far more protected, possessive, and practically manhandled you in keeping you close to him. Not that his usual possessiveness and protected vibes weren't enough. Yet, something about his rough and abusive attitude in keeping you trapped within his arms, not letting you go and even tugging you harshly whenever you caught yourself slipping away whenever someone called your name. He was brutal, forceful, demeaning, restricting, and tough, yet was it was all so very.......sexy.

The way he eyed everyone down with a deathly glare whenever he caught them staring, or when Jay, Jungwon, or Jake would point out and hint for him to keep a close eye on a random stranger or party goer, who took way too much time to admire your rear end or your breasts, Heeseung noted their warnings and issued out his own to said stranger. Ensuring that just by the look of his eye, that whoever was caught eye-humping you was to look. theother way...unless they wanted something bad to happen. Which unbeknownst to many, aside from jake and maybe a few others who were close and personal friends of Heeseung, the range of 'bad' things could be anywhere from a brutal beating to their bodies suddenly disappearing overnight. you've seen it happen both ways, yet tried your best to deter his attention and getting him from ever utilizing the latter option........you tried at least.

Yet still....despite his violent nature in keeping you all to himself, there was something so very breathtaking about the man as he would keep his hands on you, ravish you with kisses and look at you much more softly than he did with others. He loved you...he adored you.....he would do anything and everything for you.

Noting how much you were pressing up against him as you sat on his lap, while he dabbled in playing with the drum set, you leaned your face at a tilt and kissed his ear. Shifting his face to look at you, he smirks with a dashing smile and leans back into the seat as he pulls you into him.

"You want something pretty baby?" he teases as he nuzzles his nose against your neck.

"maybe." you softly chuckled as you felt yourself yearning for more of his clingy touch, he rough and possessive grip, and his soft kisses to cover your entire body. Times like these, you couldn't help it.....you wanted him badly....and unlike most times where you yearned for him, this time....it was so much stronger.

"Yeah? he straightens his smile and his eyes grow sadistically wide. "well lets go and give it to you then...." he deeply exhales with an eager gasp as he grabs onto your neck. Getting up, he walks you out, telling the boys that he'd be right back, that you both were running a quick errand. He pulls you swiftly as the door gently shuts, yet doesn't take you to his car as you had presumed, instead, he takes you right next door to an empty room. It was an old science classroom, yet hadn't been used for quite some time, yet the structure of the chalkboard, the experimental counter spaces, and the seat and desks remained. Swinging you over, he leans you over. the edge of one of the island's and props himself closely behind, pressing his groin against your derriere. Taking a big inhale of your hair, he groans at the scent of your hair as he trails his nose from your nape, to the top of your head.

Whimpering, your spine jolts as you felt the tingling sense of tickle and pleasure riddle inside you. You didn't notice it until now, as he was pulling them out form his back pocket, but he had brought along the drum sticks and from the looks of it, he intended on using them.

"Tell me what you want baby..." he deeply teases....his voice...it carried the same depth in tone, yet was far more seductive and malicious.....

"......Ethan...." you mentally thought.

"I.....I....want you."

"Oh yeah?"

Raising the hem of your skirt up high, revealing your round and plump rear to remain perked up as your breasts remained plastered over the counter space, he swings your panties over the side and uncovers the crown of glory.

With the base of both sticks, the thicker ends paired together, he presses them up against your slit, rubbing them up and down. The slick and smooth wood of the two bundled up, caused you to gasp as you felt him nearly breaching your entrance.

"Tell me what you want me to do......baby doll." he grins against your ear as he presses forward and slips the bundled pair into you. Gasping out a moan, you perk your hips up and motioned your body back and forth, begging for him to go harder...deeper....and to move vigorously.

"mmm......i.....i want.....oh God...." barely able to speak, as he continues to slide the sticks inward, deeper and deeper, your body vibrates as you feel yourself becoming hot and bothered. The sticks were triggering that tingling feeling within you, yet it was nowhere near the sensation of Heeseungs own fingers...or his member. Still....the momentum was similar, as you laid limp, hunched over, taking in the inches before he finally pauses and starts to slide them out, only to ram them back in until his palm met your base.

"Oh my! God! Heeseung!" you gasped out, more and more as he increases the thrust and finally, he was going at a relatively high speed.

"Oh....wrong fucking name baby."

Catching your mistake, you tried to apologize but it was no used, he went even faster and faster. Finally, he was riled up enough where he himself, couldn't take any more of it. Placing the drumsticks in front of your mouth, he tells you to "bite down." You did so, keeping both sticks in your toothy grip as you hear him unbuckling his belt, loosening his pants and fishing out his lengthy member.

Already moistened and lubed up from being fucked by the drum sticks, he slips in with such ease.

"Oh.....fuck...baby you're that wet already?" he taunts out as he begins to fuck you. ata fast pace, not even setting of at a slow momentum.....it didn't matter, the feeling was incredible and something you yearned for all day.

Your saliva slips out from the corners of your mouth as it drips and lathers the drum sticks, finally, the sensation was far too much and you had to moan....you had to scream. Opening your mouth wide and releasing your pleasured gasps, the drum sticks fall before you as your body shifts up and down from receiving his thrusts. Reaching over, his hand hovers over your mouth, where the horizontal length of his finger makes its way in between your lips, to replace the drumsticks. Biting down on his thick finger, you remained merciless as you continued to get fucked. His free hand gropes your rear end and lifts one of your cheeks and gently pulls it apart for him to get a better view under the glare lighting that peered through the window. Watching as the skin around your opening, tightly wrapped around his shaft, becomes pulled as he thrusts out, only to swallow him back in as he shoves inward, he nearly drools at the sight of how you look in this angle, while he fucked you relentlessly. What made it even better, was the sounds of your pleasured gasps as you screamed out his name, begging him for more.

"E-Ethan...please...please!"

"Please what?"

"Please...please....ugh! fuck me! fuck me! more..more......i want more...." you gasped out, tears streaming down your cheeks as you pant out your high pitched cries.

"Yeah? baby wants more? come here...." he kisses the back of your head, releasing his finger from your toothy grip, he places both hands on your waist and pushes you downward, while causing your back to arch and your rear end to perk up. "Ill give you more."

Going at high speed, his groin smacking into your rear cheeks as they bounce and jiggle from the impact, he watches as the dip in your arch smooths out perfectly, and forms the most beautiful curve he's ever seen. Leaning his weight down, you feel his hands around your waist tighten, and squeeze hard as you felt all the pressure radiate in your lower pack as he leans forward and continues to thrust epically into you. He leaned so far in, his feet shifted onto his tip toes as he stabilized himself with his grip around your sides, thrusting...over...and over....and over again.

Who knows how long you were being fucked for now, all you knew was that your drool was foaming up, your hair was a sweaty mess, and you were already dripping with a creamy substance yet he remained thrusting into you, not once letting up or stopping. Your body was entirely limp, and would have failed to remain up had it not been the counter space, or Ethan propping you from sliding with his grasp. Finally, he growls out and there at that moment, you felt that familiar sensation, that warmth, that oozing bit that filled you.....

"Oh fuck i'm cumming....." he breathes out, his fingers digging into your skin as he remained grasping onto your waist. His cock twitches and taps your inner walls as he pumps a few more thrusts inside, releasing every single last drop.

Pulling out, noting the slimy and creamy substance that connected the tip of his shaft to your entry, he smirks as he notes his fine work, after viewing how the base of your entry was completley covered and filled with the thick white substance all over.

"what a mess...." he teases. His voice becomes less roaring, indicating he was going back to his Heeseung side.

Gently sliding your panties back over your entry, he gently pats it sealed as he lowers your dress and helps you to stand upright, carrying most of your weight as you were far too weak to stand on your own from being pelted for so long. Kissing your cheek, he whispers to you.

"keep it all in...let it do its magic..."

with that, he helps you walk out and back into the room next door. You did your best to smooth out your hair and look less of a wreck, yet the moment you walked in and saw the look h/n gave to you, you already knew that you failed to cover up the image of what had transpired.

Taking you over and sitting you down in one of the chairs, he kisses your forehead and tells you to stay put as he goes to get you a drink. Nodding, you placed both hands on your lap as he whispers "good girl." and walks away.

"Hey Ethan, can i get those drum sticks?" one man calls out as he sits at the drum set.

Without saying anything, Heeseung displayed his side profile as he reaches to his back pocket and takes out both sticks, and tosses them towards the man who catches them effortlessley. "thanks man."

"no problem. enjoy." heeseung smirks out as he continues to make his way over to the cooler and takes out two bottles of water.

H/n comes over to sit next to you. "so......what exactly uh....did you guys do for the last two hours?" she smiles teasingly. You looked at her somewhat wide eyed, knowing it was futile to even try and cover anything up.

"..........its...its just been a long day......you know?" you respond back.

"Oh i know." she teases as you both chuckle. The background of silence was suddenly filled with the delightful and skilled sound of the man playing the drums.

"Whoa.....Ethan, what did you put on these drum sticks man? they're so much better and smooth, and i can play so much better with them like this.....they also smell so ......sweet."

"Oh that?" Heeseung takes a swig of his water to replenish his energy as he still was catching his breath, wiping the sweat off his chin. "It's a special type of squalene that is used to preserve wood."

"man you gotta give me the name of it because these feel so much better in my grip. Its like i can hold onto them better and tighter now."

"yeah.....wood is always better when its gripped tighter."

Glancing back over his shoulder at you, he winks as you sat wide eyed blushing, with H/n laughing into your shoulder.

Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️ 

☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard hours #enha heeseung #enhypen smut #yandere heeseung imagines #yandere heeseung #heeseung yandere #heeseung imagines #heeseung au #enha drabbles

[endlessnightlock]

If you feel inspired, #10 “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” from the random prompt list <3

Her dad's guitar takes up a fair amount of space in Katniss's lap, boxy but lightweight, with room to hide behind when her nerves get the better of her. Slightly battered and smooth from use, the balsawood is cool to the touch when she picks its strings and makes it sing. But she's getting antsy, so she puts her guitar in its case and wanders over to the corner of the stage. She's careful to stay hidden behind the heavy velvet curtain. Ms. Trinkett will give her the devil if she catches her peeking out.

People are trickling into the high school auditorium: classmates, a few teachers, and a smattering of parents. She sees Gale and the rest of her cousins file into a row near the stage with Hazelle. Prim and her parents have been here for a while. Katniss hopes the auditorium won't be too full when Principal Flickerman starts the show. She's not a confident performer. Singing and playing are more of a compulsion for her, a hunger she has to feed rather than a bid for attention.

When the clock ticks down to zero (performance time! Ms. Trinkett brightly states), she's waiting for her turn to go on stage with the guitar strapped to her chest.

Madge starts the show with a classical piece. The school's piano is out of tune, but her best friend makes it work. Katniss can't keep the smile off her face. Madge is the shyest person she knows, and she's proud of her friend for getting over that fear to play tonight.

"Wow. Did you know she could play like that?" Peeta Mellark asks. Somehow he'd wandered away from the group he was standing with and up to her side.

Katniss gives a sharp nod, surprised he said anything at all. Not that he doesn't talk. He's popular, friendly, and always hanging out with one group or another. He just never talks to her.

"I mean, of course you do," he laughs at himself. "Is that why you're such good friends? Shared talent?"

She shrugs. "Maybe." She's never considered that before, but he might be on to something.

"Nothing like twenty questions before we go onstage. I'm just a little nervous. Talk too much when that happens."

"No, it's okay," she says. A strain of nervousness makes her insides tight, too. She decides she likes talking to Peeta. He says what he's thinking, but in a more thought-out way than she can pull off. Words stumble across her lips, leaving her embarrassed more often than not. "You can talk. It's not too much."

Peeta grins at her.

"Um, what are you doing?" she asks. "Not like, life in general. For the show."

"Comedy. Going to try getting laughs out of my dumb jokes."

"Oh. I didn't know you did that."

"Me neither, until two weeks ago when they posted the sign-up sheet. I had to find a way to get into the show."

"I was dragged here kicking and screaming. That's brave of you to try something new."

"Or stupid. We'll see." Peeta says. "I know you have a beautiful singing voice, but I didn't know you played."

"My dad taught me. This is his, actually." She pats the fretboard, keeping her eyes on the strings, feeling shy at the compliment. "I didn't know you'd heard me sing."

"I think it was your first public appearance. Kindergarten. Mrs. Paylor asked if anyone knew The Valley Song. Your hand shot up, and when you stood on your chair and sang, my fragile 5-year-old heart was lost," he says.

"That didn't happen," she says.

"Swear to god. You had on a red checkered dress, and your hair was in two long braids. I like your hair tonight, too. It's really pretty."

"Thank you," she murmurs. Katniss pats the braided, pinned updo her mother did for her. She likes the old-fashioned style because it feels in keeping with her mountain heritage.

Vague memories of that red and white dress invade her mind. She does her hair in a single braid most days because it's long and gets everywhere if she doesn't, and she did wear it in two as a child.

"You have an incredible memory."

Peeta shrugs, smiling down at the tips of his shoes.

"Peeta, you're next dear," Ms. Tinkett says, bringing Katniss back to herself. Madge's song was over three students ago in the rotation, and she hadn't even noticed.

"Wish me luck?" Peeta asks her quietly.

"Good luck," she says, kind of dumbfounded by their conversation. She'd caught Peeta looking her way when he thought she didn't notice but never considered what that meant.

She couldn't hear most of Peeta's stand-up routine, but she caught amused laughter from the audience. When it was her turn to go onstage and stand in the spotlight, their conversation was still in the forefront of her mind, and she found her fingers moving over the strings, playing The Valley Song and remembering the little curly blond headed boy from kindergarten.

#endlessnightlock writes #everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlark drabble #katniss everdeen/peeta mellark

[algea]

Bluebird

song (inspired by): Bluebird by Luca Fogale

pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader

prompt: Simon gazes at his significant other and realizes that he is completely in love with her, and when she puts this song on play, his feelings blossom.

warning: British humor, strong language, angst (more of a happy sad), chalk full of fluff

a/n: just remember that my requests for things are always open, and I’ll happily write whatever you want!

————————————————————

“…Simon.” A voice softly called, pulling him out of the trance he was lost in. He blinked and lifted his eyes to hers, recalling that he had been staring at her far too long, mesmerized by her. A soft smile had graced Y/N’s lips, her eyes crinkling in a way that only she could wear.

“Hm?” Simon grunted, his eyebrows drawing together underneath his balaclava. 

“You were staring, hon.” Y/N responded, sashaying her way to the other side of the kitchen, searching for an ingredient to go into the dinner she was making. Not that Y/N cared, she basked in his cold, yet loving, stare.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought, love.” Simon murmured, standing up and stalking towards her. He stood behind her as she cooked, placing his arms beside hers, caging her in from behind.

“You’re just so bloody fucking gorgeous that I couldn’t stop looking.” He finished, resting his chin on her head. 

“You, mister, are going to be the death of me.” Y/N laughed, turning around and grabbing his shoulders and placing a kiss on the chin of his balaclava. Simon daringly moved his hands to her waist, being careful not to topple over whatever she was brewing up. 

“Why do you wear that stupid fucking mask when it’s only you and I? I loathe that mask.” Y/N sighed, brushing her fingers across his cheekbone.

“And why would that be?” Simon asked, his deep, gravelly voice rumbling through the air. 

“I can’t see your beautiful face, Simon.” Y/N smirked, softly grabbing the edges of it. Simon only stared down at her, his eyes silently saying ‘I love you.’ She lifted the mask up to his nose, where she placed a kiss to his lips. She slowly pulled the mask farther, until it was hanging limp in her hand.

Not many things really surprised Y/N, come to say. She’s seen most of it all, working as a Ground Operations Specialist. But the thrill she got seeing Simon without a mask was so much more than what she encounters on her job. 

“There’s the Simon Riley I know.” Y/N smiled, her other hand softly caressing his jaw. Simon could’ve sworn that if it got any better, her eyes would be making hearts at him right now.

“You makin’ fuckin’ heart eyes at me, love?” Simon joked, though there wasn’t a joking tone to his voice.

“Why yes, I am, how did you know?” Y/N smiled, turning back around and finished cooking the food. She’s always been overly blunt, saying whatever comes to mind, whether good or bad. That’s one of the many things Simon likes about her, that and the fact Y/N doesn’t care whether she’s rude or not. 

“How about some music?” Y/N asked softly, setting the plates and food out. As Simon stood there and watched her, he found that the more he watched, the more he wanted to marry her. She would look so perfect as a wife, and maybe even with his children. Y/N pulled out a record, unmarked and unknown, but she set it on the record table nonetheless. As she pushed the needle onto the record, the crackle of white noise began, then the beautiful chords of guitar floated to Simons ears. The breathtaking strikes of the pianos chords sang in accompaniment to the guitar, creating a serene sound. 

She moves a ghost, sleepless eyes and weathered bones

She is glass, and stone, and all things in between

Simons lips parted at the words, and he set his eyes on his girlfriend once more. He noticed how the words described her more than perfectly, something only he alone could understand. 

And so it seems that she floats amongst the fallen leaves

She is all the places I have ever been

So maybe you’re a bluebird, darlin’

Tearing through the darkness of my days

Simon would never fully let himself admit that Y/N was the light, the joy, that completely crashed his life that evening where he found her captive in Valeria’s house. Her life was slowly coming to a close that night, but luckily Johnny had found her before they got to Valeria. Johnny was the one who helped her get out, carrying Y/N’s broken and struggling body to Ghost. 

“Who the bloody fuck is this?” Ghost scoffed, holding the unidentified woman’s body in his hands. 

“She’s a Operations Specialist, aye. Surprised she’s still alive, Valeria fucked her up bad, mate.” Soap replied, gazing sadly down at the woman’s body. Simon felt her stir in his arms, and she slowly opened her eyes and blinked. 

“Ugh…Where the hell am I…” Y/N started as she looked around. Suddenly being more aware, Y/N smashed her foot into Simons chest in attempt to escape.

“Oi, easy there soldier. We ain’t gon’ hurt you.” Soap said cautiously, taking a step towards Y/N. 

“We’re here to arrest Valeria, be fucking grateful we found you.” Simon muttered, throwing the obvious insults at her halfheartedly. 

“You don’t think I fucking am? You are some dim witted soldiers, I’ll tell you that.” Y/N laughed, sliding out of Simons hands and standing on the ground. 

“Well, on behalf of the 141, we greet you, Colonel.” Soap sighed, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. Y/N’s body went rigid, and she whispered,

“141…? Who exactly are you people?” 

“I’m Soap Mactavish, Sergeant.” Soap greeted.

“Ghost. Lieutenant.” Ghost snapped. After quick introductions, they boarded the chopper, Soap sitting next to Alejandro, Y/N next to Ghost. Silence filled the air, and Y/N awkwardly looked around.

“So, Lieutenant, don’t ya have a first name?” Y/N yelled over the chopper. Ghost glanced over at her, studying her face. He found that her nose was broken, lips cracked and busted, various cuts donned her face, and one of her eyes was swollen.

“You don’t need to know.” Simon replied back, shifting his gaze down to her arms, which were littered in bruises, cuts and burns. A few of her fingers were broken and her hands were also slightly swollen. He could guess she had a few broken ribs and internal bruises. God knows what could be wrong physiologically with her now, but it seemed like nothing bothered her nonetheless.

Once they arrived back at the base, Y/N stood to get off the chopper, but Simon refused to let her walk. 

“Love, you aren’t gonna be able to walk, let me carry you so you won’t get hurt anymore.” He sighed. Y/N obliged, letting Simon carry her to the infirmary.

“Simon.” He muttered softly to her. “My name is Simon Riley.”

Simon was shook from his flashback as Y/N called his name, sitting down in her chair at the table. He silently moved to sit, making the chair creak under his weight. Her soft gaze settled on his, and he smiled slightly at the attention.

“Y/N, I want to tell you something.” Simon started, placing a hand on his chest to find the box.

“You don’t have to ask, Simon. Please go ahead.” Y/N laughed, placing her hand on his. 

“I know this isn’t the ideal place, nor the ideal time,” He started, sliding off the chair and sitting on one knee. He slid the box out of his jacket and opened it up, revealing a gorgeous diamond ring.

“But fuck I love you, marry me please.” Simon whispered. Y/N’s glassy eyes found his and she swooped down to plant a firm kiss to his lips.

“Simon Riley, I’ll marry you.” She cried, placing more kisses to his lips. Simon took the ring and slid it on her finger, smiling into the kiss. Right then he knew he really was the worlds most happy man, and would forever still be.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost #cod mw22 #cod x reader #Spotify

[myunghology]

LET'S PUMP IT UP! random moments / headcanons with pjsk boys ! pjsk males x reader. some sexual jokes, but i don't mean it. BY THE WAY, check out my spotify profile here! i make playlists for genshin, pjsk, etc! it would really help if you liked my playlists :)

♥︎ : AOYAGI TOYA

# 1. as much as toya hates his dad forcing him to play the piano, this guy will not hesitate to learn your favorite song for you. you don't even have to ask him to. you can say he doesn't have to, but toya is a bit stubborn when it comes to this. or.. if you ask him if he could teach you how to play.. who is he to decline? you have to sit beside him while your hands are on the piano keys, resting your head on his shoulder. meanwhile his hands are on top of yours, slowly guiding your hands. ew haha corny

# 2. he once sent you a spotify link, then a message following saying, “this song reminded me of you.”

# 3. this is kinda a scenario, but one time you and him, actually.. just you.. sleeping, toya just looking up at the ceiling because he can't sleep. and he had a weird thought. what if.. doesn't matter what he did, he just did it. he ran his hands under your shirt, in response you furrowed your eyebrows and shivered under his cold touch. toya has naturally cold hands, and the room was freezing, too. the male chuckled slightly at your reaction.

# 4. whenever you two just walk around, late night walks or afternoon walks it doesn't matter, he brings one pair of headsets and you both share it. always playing the playlists you made for each other.

# 5. tutors you even when he's tired. his eyes are very droopy and it makes you feel guilty, he should've just told you that he's tired. sometimes, he realizes you're tired too. you accidentally fell asleep once and he had to carry you to the bed.

# 6. very much likes making out with you. not in THAT way i mean in a way that he likes giving you continuous kisses on your lips while you just stand there flustered

# 7. playing games with him 24/7!! doesn't matter if arcade or in his room. preferably in his room at night though! he turns off the lights except for the led lights while you two play games or watch a movie. makes sure you sleep at a normal time though! maybe at least 12am - 2am. no further than 3am.

♥︎ : AKITO SHINONOME

# 1. whenever you two wake up, it's usually you who wakes up first, but in rare occasions, it's him, and when he does, let me tell you, he blows in your ear to wake you up and laughs you whenever you give a reaction.

# 2. "you know you have a weird taste of style." akito says, “I KNOW YOU AREN'T TALKING. you wear fucking 3 jackets in this type of weather, shouldn't have let the cold bother your ass.” his jaw hung open.

# 3. so a few months ago i found out that ena used to scratch akito:( so before, you used to bandage him even when he says, “the wound isn't that deep.” but are you listening? no. he gives you kisses as a thank you <3

# 4. one thing you like about him is that he would never stare at others like how he would stare at you. he would give a strong cold glare to others while once he sees you, his eyes soften and he smiles softly.

# 5. “what's that thing on your neck?” — an. “sorry, it's a mosquito bite.” — y/n. *sees akito* “what's up, mosquito?” — an. “wtf?” — akito. sometimes it isn't even like that, she just likes teasing the both of you.

# 6. “i feel kinda feverish.” — akito. “i think i got it from y/n, since they also have a fever.” — akito. ena scoffs, “why would you catch their cold?” — ena, in a teasing way.

# 7. everytime you don't want to wake up for school, akito calls you to wake up as you groan while your head is buried in the pillow and your back practically facing the ceiling. and when you don't respond to his calls, he goes back inside the room and pulls you by your feet HAHAH but dw about falling back, he's already there behind you to catch you.

♥︎ : RUI KAMISHIRO

# 1. one thing about rui is he's always there when ever you need help, to the point that you think it's destined and not a coincidence anymore. he's always prepared to carry you whenever you get hurt, he's always there when people pick on you for even dating him. while you just watch him scare the shit out of people

# 2. very touchy im telling you, if you get flustered easily, then good luck. makes you sit on his lap from time to time.

# 3. whenever he carries you on his shoulders, he always pretends he's gonna make you fall;( first time it happened you screamed your lungs out HAHAH

# 4. it may be true that rui has a horrible sleep schedule, but he ALWAYS makes sure you sleep at a decent time, the same with toya.

# 5. most dramatic mf EVER. whenever your moody or you just don't wanna deal with everything, he clutches his chest (where the heart is) acting like he's all hurt and shit. but don't worry, he won't take it too far <3

# 6. btw please make sure he eats properly... get him to eat vegetables it doesn't matter if he doesn't like them man shove that in his mouth and he'll just be dumb founded

# 7. you're his assistant when he's doing whatever this mf can do in his room, pros - spending time with rui, faster progress cons - uhhhhhhhhhhhhh you might get hurt

♥︎ ; TSUKASA TENMA (TYSM @mrxinnie FOR HELPING ME WITH THIS PART)

# 1. sing for his s/o <3. sometimes you sing with him as well, but maybe because he suggests that you should sing LOL

# 2. gift giving and quality time type of person! i don't think he handles physical affection well because he probably gets really flustered,,

# 3. he CAN be loud in public but he's more relaxed with his s/o, but that doesn't mean he still isn't loud, just tell him to calm down and he's obeying you and saying sorry

# 4. helping him with his rehearsals!! looks at romeo and juliet

# 5. also helping him with his vocals<3 this guy had such a high voice range like wtf. but sometimes he has his voice cracks too HAH

# 6. definitely the type of guy to try and change his whole personality for you. once you say "i really like boys who are ____" just watch what will happen to him

# 7. also the type of guy to like matching stuff! maybe not clothes since.. yk! maybe matching earrings or rings. maybe even a necklace with something you know that's written on it.. like an inside joke that only you two know!

©miihai ; another one is still coming btw

#miihai works #project sekai x reader #prsk x reader #pjsk x reader #aoyagi toya x reader #aoyagi touya x reader #toya aoyagi x reader #touya aoyagi x reader #shinonome akito x reader #akito shinonome x reader #kamishiro rui x reader #rui kamishiro x reader #tsukasa tenma x reader #tenma tsukasa x reader

[iamsherlocked1479]

Kinktober: Day four, prostitution

Okay, so far so good, we've made it to day four and i'm still going strong, Hope you enjoy this one!

Warnings: Prostitution

word count: 1.4K

Kinktober masterlist

This was a new thing for you, jt wasn’t work that was well received by others, but it paid your bills. When people asked what you did for a living your answer was always IT and you made sure that you missed out the fact that people would pay to spend the night with you. And now here you stand in probably the nicest building you’ve seen in an elevator far too extravagant to be in an apartment complex. The man in question your appointment was with a new client, he had sent a healthy deposit into your account and a promise of more money after the evening had ended. It was enough to convince you to come to his place, you normally have your own space for these kinds of meetings but he insisted on it, and with your college funds still needing to be paid you weren’t in the position to decline.

You stood outside his door, in your leather boots, fishnet stockings black denim skirt and a white t-shirt. Your hair was curled so its dark waves curled around your neck giving your head more of a highlight making the bright red lipstick really pop. You knocked on the door and heard the sounds of footsteps come towards the door. As the door opened you were greeted by a handsome man, clean shaven with bright blue eyes. His hair was dark with a hint of curls to them, his temples had silver streaks running through them. He was fairly toned with his chest pressing against his his shirt that was neatly tucked into his black jeans.

“You must be y/n.” He smiled opening the door, giving you room to walk in.

“And you must be Stephen.” You smiled as you walked into the apartment. It was huge and spacious, the kitchen taking up most of the corner, though it looked mostly unused, the view of the city was immaculate with a black grand piano placed behind the grey sofa in the living room, a large bookshelf replacing where a TV would normally go. The shelves filled with Shakespeare and human physiology books.

“Not much of a Tv person.” He laughed “take a seat” he gestured to the sofa. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah sure bourbon if you have any” you smiled sitting comfortably on the couch as he grabbed to glasses.

“I’ll send over the rest of the money later.” He said sitting on the sofa, handing you the drink.

“So Mr Strange, how may I assist you this evening?” You say sipping your drink

“It's Doctor, Doctor Strange and it depends. I gave you more than enough for the full service.” He leaned back into his chair, his eyes scanning your body.

“Well then, Doctor, the evening is yours to plan, I only ask that you wear protection. You must do this often if you know what you want.” You begin to grow more comfortable and twirl your fingers through your hair.

“Occasionally, protection is fine. I can’t afford any health issues. It wouldn't look good on my reputation.” He raised his brow.

“Don't want to give the hospital receptionist an STD?” You joke

“How did you know?” He put his glass on the table. You nodded your head to the black panties stuffed down the side of the couch

“She must have forgotten something.” You put your drink down and straddled his waist, trailing your fingers across his collarbone. His hands slides to your waist where he played with the fat of your ass. 

“You’re a smart one aren’t you.” He quirked as you began rocking into his legs.

“I like to make men think they have to work for me.” Your arms crossed around his neck and you leaned in close to his lips leaving only a small gap. You could feel his hardness pressing your cunt and you began to exhale with pressure.

“Is that what you like? You want us to feel like we deserve you, I paid for you didn’t I?” He smirked at the sight of you enjoying yourself, and began to moan. He grabbed your lips with his hand and pulled you closer. “Don’t go faking it on me.” He said with a dark tone, you smiled and crashed your lips to his. 

“Never.” You smiled, he stood up and you wrapped your legs around his waist as you continued to kiss. He kicked open a door and flopped you onto a large bed. He pulled off your t-shirt smiling at the fact you weren’t wearing a bra. His mouth moved from your lips to your chest, his tongue swirling around your nipple until it peaked with hardness before moving onto the other.

“Are you going to let me fuck your throat?” He lifted his head off your chest and you nodded. He got off the bed and you stood on your knees kissing him, helping him to remove his shirt. It dropped to the floor and then you moved to his jeans, pulling them down with his boxers. Your eyes widened at his thick cock bouncing up to his abdomen, it was long and thick and you knew this evening was going to be worthwhile. You take him in your hands and his breath hitches at the sensation, you leave a trail of light kisses along his length before taking him all in. You swallow as much of him down but he fills your mouth easily, he angles himself and begins to gently thrust allowing you to get used to the sensation. “Did i tell you how pretty your mouth looks when i fuck it.” He moans holding onto your head and keeping your hair out of your face you moaned as he contined you fuck your mouth, you could feel he was close, but judging by his relentless you knew he’d be able to do more than one round. “Shit baby, your mouth is so good. Im gonna- gon- fuck.” White ropes flooded down your throat and he held your mouth there making sure you swallowed every last drop. You pulled away and left a trail of saliva still connecting you.

“Would you like to rest a little.” You as he wipes your mouth.

“Hell no” he laughs “gonna make you feel good baby.” He laid you on the bed and began to remove your skirt and stockings. He kissed your pelvis lightly, your stomach rising and falling with anticipation, it was very rare any man made sure to touch you during your visits. His tongue swiped through your folds settling with circular motions around your clit.

“Yes! Shit thats good.” You moaned loudly pushing your fingers through his hair pushing his face deeper. You could feel a pulse making its way to your clit. He added to the sensation with two fingers, pumping them in and out of your hole.

“God you taste so good, want you to cum on my mouth baby, you think you can do that for me?” He asked, increasing his motion. 

“Y-yes.” Your words stuttered and you clenched around his fingers

“Thats it, good girl, let loose” he moved his tongue down to you cunt and began fucking your hole, you came into his mouth like he did to you. “Taste so good.” He muttered licking up your juices.

“Stephen?” You looked at him with desperation 

“Yes?” A smile crept to the corner of his mouth

“Fuck me.” You begged 

“Why else would you be here?”' He stepped away and got a condom from his drawer and put it on. You bit your lip and watched as he climbed on top of you. He lined himself up and pushed in with one strong thrust, he hit that spot instantly, you could already feel your second orgasm building as he hit his hips into yours, you wrapped your arms around his back digging your nails in hard enough to cause your knuckles to turn white. “God your such a good girl for me, letting me fuck you like this.” He groaned as sweat began to form in the corner of his brow.

“Stephen, don’t stop, I'm so close.” You cried out as he found a way to hit that spot even harder, you came again for a second time, you could tell he was close. He stopped being able to form sentences and you could feel the way he pulsed inside you and finally he let loose groaning as he came. 

“Shit!” He collapsed onto you “God i’m gonna pay you double”

“Its free” you panted

“What?” He looked up at you

“If i can see you again it's free.”

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

Taglist: @rmoonstoner @mary-johnlocked

falcityllemon it won't let me tag u :O

#benedict cumberbatch x female!reader #benedict cumberbatch #dr strange x you #dr strange smut #dr strange x reader #dr stephen strange #doctor strange x female reader #doctor strange sorcerer supreme #doctor strange #smutty #screaming #marvel smut #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #october

[ohsunnyboy]

to chase a dream | zhang hao ˚₊‧⁺˖

all your life, you and zhang hao have been chasing each other. you wonder here, if this is where your symphony ends.

TAGS: musician!au, gn!reader, rivals to lovers, angst with happy ending, suggestive!makeout

A/N: something about zhang hao called for dramatics so here i am (≧∇≦)ﾉ ! self-indulgent as usual :)

WORDS: ~1450, EXTRA: music info and terms here !!

"That was wonderful playing earlier."

History doesn't even begin to describe what you have between you two.

Your friends could joke that there would be enough to write an opera. Star crossed and all. All about the virtuosos of violin and piano. Of Zhang Hao and you.

You want to hark it back to those fitful days in grade school. Full days of comparing sheet music, trying to one-up each other about the difficulty. Hao, and his too big violin case and you, trouncing him every talent show because his hands hadn't quite yet grown out of their stubbiness. The satisfaction in remembering those big whiny tears brings warmth to your soul.

Then, there came high school.

Oh, you loathe it; he doesn't. Not when his hands became a study in lines and grace. Envy would eat you alive if you had any less pride. But you weren't so above yourself to not look at him. Hard to not notice when he grows a head taller and of course, starts topping the local competitions only to shove it under your face.

Your parents loved it. Gave a reason to push you further and deeper into competitions and over the top galas. To push your fire against someone who was all finely diced ice. There was nothing you liked less when you wanted to live for the glory of the crowd, not medals and flowers.

Eyes followed you everywhere when he was in the picture. And yours always found his.

"Here to mock me?" you ask.

The laugh you draw is enchanting. "Never." And it's so sincere you might just believe it. "Just here to say my farewells."

The Winter Gala spins behind both of you: through a door, down some ornate stairs and into a pit of some thoroughly drunk musicians. From the balcony, only the trickles of laughter and music eke out the door. But you would hardly focus on that, not when Hao stands very plainly in front of you.

"Already? it's only an hour into reception." You twirl the champagne in your hand with consideration before you gesture him to come to where you lean on the balcony rail. "Thought you would stay to kiss ass with some of the others."

"Not this time. No, I mean..." The howl of the wind carries his unease. Traffic horns and gala laughter do nothing to smother whatever he tries to hide in his tone. You know him too well.

There's more than history between you two.

But whatever he says next has you rethinking everything. "I'm leaving, leaving. I won't be back in the country for a while so, here I am."

There's a moment where you think he's entirely pulling your leg. Pulling you along to another little joke at your expense. But you've known him your entire life at this point, and you’ve been through too much to realize that he’s not joking.

“… Am I the first to know?”

You count the beats and steady your breath. Years of this, all for what?

“Only Minghao-Ge and Junhui-Ge, and now you. But knowing them, they’ll be drunk enough tonight to let it slip,” he explains in this awfully fond tone. “Mark Lee from the LSO watched me perform at the showcase in July and scouted for me. I think he got on Junhui-Ge’s nerves with how much he emailed him.”

Medals and flowers. Smiles and bows. The curtain draws, where are you now?

"Congrats," you say after a second – watching nothing but your past fly by you. Despite the ache, you raise your glass. "Cheers," you smile and take a sip. Raising it into the moonlight and offering the glass to Hao for his own toast but he just shakes his head.

You pout. "Don’t like it?”

Instead, he takes the glass from you and settles it onto the edge. Pink dusts his cheeks as watches you from the corner of your eye. “Want to remember this.”

Heat flares to your cheeks at the weight of Hao’s words. A night to remember is one way to put it.

"So, when are you off to London?"

"This Monday."

You blink. "... That's fast."

"Why? You think you'll miss me?" and it's said with that smile of his. Infuriating and secret, so many layers of discourse that haunt you – it’s a memory that you'll take to the grave.

"Of course, it's you," you mutter, disgustingly honest with yourself. "It'll just be... quiet, without your excuse of music causing a riot." Honestly, you can barely hear Hao's chuckle when you're too stuck in your head to mind the charm in it.

You want to edge back into your comfort zone of easy quips, nothing serious but scathing wit. But nothing you say lights the fight that used to start so easy back when you two were younger. When your worries were small like the cars below.

A full look at his face is all you want to chance a glance for. What would you see? Remorse? Eagerness? Disappointment? You could read him like a book with a single glance, what’s stopping you now?

"What about you? are you going to stay in Singapore? I thought you'd be the one to chase excitement."

"I’ll chase whatever my parents dangle in front of me.” And the laugh he breathes is empty because you both know it’s bitter but true. Hao’s stood aside long enough to understand. So, when he sidles closer next to you it warms you more than they ever did. "Yixing-Ge told me he's also planning to leave for Boston, promised me that I'll get his seat when it happens."

"If it happens,” he teases.

"It’ll happen."

You nearly jump when you feel it. Hao’s warm hand on top of yours. It’s spindly and calloused, worn out in the way a weathered musician’s should be. It’s all you need to guide you back to where you are.

"I know you'll make it. Just make sure it's something you want.” Hao’s breath is right next to your ear. Clear as day and easy as a song. It’s so simple to say: take what you want.  

Blood in your ears, chest heaving, nothing to catch you when you fall but the discordant crash of keys.

It sounds like a melody.

"It's never going to be something I want."

"Then, what do you want?"

You.

Instead, you turn to face Zhang Hao. A challenge of a smile on your lips because you know where this ends.

To face the music, the crowd, the eyes that watch.

"What's it like? to chase a dream?" you ask.

Brutal, visceral, freeing. An infinite number of interpretations for one word.

The stage becomes your world, and the spotlight burns you alive. Pressure flays your skin even as your fingers glide across smooth keys and you hush your heaving breath. Running to your last page, heart in your hands, smearing red across white. There's no audience when you dream; you are your own critic, you are your own end, but your destiny is not you.

To chase a dream is to become raw.

"Like chasing you."

You hum low and satisfied. Carding a hand through Hao’s hair, you guide him down.

Kissing Zhang Hao feels like being on stage all over again. Being set on fire, skin flaying, blood rushing. It’s everything he isn’t, but everything you are.

You swallow his groan, biting across his lips as your hands trail down him. Everywhere you've wanted to touch feels unbearable. You want to chase this feeling: Hao's hands on your hips and cradling your jaw. Trailing his red ears and holding around his throat; it's little fires everywhere.

Distance doesn’t exist as you push into each other. Hao has you against the rail, hands cradling you like you’re his own instrument. Playing you to pluck you into satisfaction.

Years of us, made for this final movement.

This ache and greed that makes musicians like you two come alive. You know Hao as your years of black and white keys that haunt your dreams and make your reality. There isn’t a crevice in his mind you haven’t touched or a melody that he’s played where he never thought of you.

You hold Hao by the chin, determination set into your eyes and a chord of steel in your tone. "There better be a future for us – I’m not having you leave me here in your past.”

"Anything," he breathes against you. More than history. More than a future. Chasing your dream. "Anything for you."

thanks so much for reading !! this was a tough one but i'm glad i wrote it ! if you enjoyed please like or reblog :D ⭒ masterlist

#surprise!! #edited it quicker than i thought i would #zhang hao #zhanghao #zhanghao x reader #zb1 x reader #zerobase1 #kpop #kpop fanfic #zb1 #boys planet #kpop fanfiction #zb1 oneshots #gn!reader #zerobase1 x reader #rivals to lovers #sunny forecast: reading weather

[i-didnt-do-1t]

Newsies Goil

“Dat goil over there s called Emma.” Jack says pointing her out to Racetrack.

The newsie goil was far better than that bitch Sarah, who fooled CowBoy and then cheated on him.

“I’s love you.” Emma said and Jack smiled at her.

“I love that you’se a Newsie Goil. Dat’s so much better than Sarah. I’s love you too.”

Too show his love, Jack begins to serenade her.

“Wow.” She says. “I never knew you could play the piano.

“I’m full of surprises.” Jack says back with a wink. “Did you know that I have enough money for a wedding. You can get a dress and be the prettiest goil there.”

“I don’t wanna wear a dress.” She says frowning. “Those are so girly.”

Jack laughs and keeps singing Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri.

“Yous is right bout dat.” He says. “That’s like you wearing make up.”

They both laugh at his joke as they both know she doesn’t wear make up like Sarah to try and impress the boys. Her face is naturally pale and flawless with her green eyes bright even with no mascara.

She watches intensely as Jack keeps playing the piano. He must still be sad about Sarah cheating on him with Blink and Skittery two separate times she thinks, because how much emotion he puts into the song as his eyes tear up.

Tears start to stream down his cheeks as he sings about ice in her soul and Emma wants to hug him.

Her raven black hair covers her face as she looks down. She likes to stand like this so no one can see how ugly she is although she always has boys chasing her. She doesn’t understand why.

Jack finishes his song and she doesn’t look up.

“I won’t cheat on you like dat bitch Sarah.”

“I trust you.” Jack says and they kiss.

Jack goes home to tell davey and the other boys that he’s in love.

Emma is about to leave to but then she spots a man in the corner. One she never thought she’d see again.

Morris Delancey. A bully of the newsies.

She quickly tucked her hair under her hat to disguise herself as a boy again like she did for a year, it always helped her sell the most papers when she pretended to be a boy, especially because there were no goil newsies.

she was surprised when Morris started to cry.

“What’s wrong.” She asked trying to keep her voice low to disguise she was a girl, it was difficult because her long eyelashes could give her away so she had to disguise everything good.

“I don’t need no help from a newsie.” Morris says but his eyes are sad.

She hates him for hurting her friends but she feels bad for him also.

She decides to help him because if she wanted to she could beat him in a fight. She would take the chance at talk to him.

She did it last week when he had made a comment at Jack, the love of her life. She had punched his r face and broke his nose and was too fast for him.

“Even delanceys can get sad.” She says as comfort and he nods. “What’s wrong.”

“Ise in love with the prettiest girl I ever seen with raven black hair and green eyes. She’s 4 ft 5 inches but she disappeared before I could tell her I love her.”

Emma gasps. There’s no way he can be talking about her can he??

But she is that short she thinks. She always needs Mush’s help to climb into her bunk and reach things cause she’s too tiny.

It’s hard being the only news goil.

——-

Pops head up from behind walls

Waves. Hi guys sorry it’s been a few months-

Spot: a few months! Dat ain’t good enough goil the people was waiting

Me: I knowwwww

Didn’t watch newsies for a bit

Jack, looking offended but ripped: I thought you loved me

(My eyes tear up) ignore him!!

Anyway I’m back in newsies now and the next chapter is comingsooooon

Spot: (rolls his eyes)

Me: hey! Don’t roll your eyes at me! I could kill you off.

(Takes deep breath and smooths out shirt)

*anyway* should be back with the next update soon!!

Rawr XD (rolls out on mini convertible)

#newsies #jack kelly #92sies #Sarah jacobs #Morris delancey

[inejschumacher]

Day 15 of Via’s Taycember

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

wc: 0.7k

cw: frustration, little gifts

an: well of course I had to write him to this song, that interview wasn’t for nothing

I was ridin' shotgun with my hair undone in the front seat of his car. He's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on my heart. I look around, turn the radio down, he says, "Baby, is something wrong?" I say, "Nothing, I was just thinkin' how we don't have a song"

The wind blows through the open windows of Danny’s truck, undone hair flying behind you as you sit shotgun, one of his hands resting on your thigh. The radio is playing some sort of country music, maybe Luke Bryan? But it only gave you a single thought: you two didn't have a song.

You look out the window, then at him, and turn down the radio, suddenly too loud against the roar of the highway. Danny frowns, asking what’s wrong when ten minutes ago you both were screaming along to the radio. You let a few seconds pass, thinking about how to frame your words, then decide to just say it straight.

And he says, our song is the slamming screen door, sneakin' out late, tapping on your window when we're on the phone, and you talk real slow, ‘cause it's late, and your mama don't know

Danny grins, and squeezes your thigh. “You know, we do have a song. Our song, no one else has it.” You raise an eyebrow, unsure of what he means when you’ve never had a discussion or moment of decision for what your song could be.

“Babe, our song is the slammin' screen door you’re so careful with when you’re sneakin’ out real late. It’s my tappin’ on your window to get your attention because you’re so charmed by me on the phone you don;t even realize I’m standin’ right outside. Especially ‘cause you're talking real slow so your mama won’t hear and get mad.”

You take in his words, smiling from ear to ear as you realize that you didn’t need a traditional beat or a guitar string or piano playing for you to have your own song, and he was right; unique, personal, it was something only you and Danny shared.

Our song is the way you laugh, the first date, "Man, I didn't kiss her, and I should have", and when I got home, 'fore I said, "Amen" asking God if he could play it again

Danny looks over, his signature sun-bright smile lighting up the cab of the truck, and continues as he smoothes a thumb over your thigh. “Our song is the way you laugh, oh sweetheart it just lights up my day. That first date I finally got the courage to take you out on, and then spent that ride home cursing myself out ‘cause I really should have kissed you and I don't know why I didn’t”.

He blushes slightly at the admission, and you laugh, the same way he strives to make you with his jokes. He was just so sweet, always ready with an answer to your strangest of reasons, and this time is no exception.

“Oh, and when I got home, ‘fore I said Amen, I asked God if he could play our song again ‘cause I could have it one repeat over and over again darling, because I love it. And I love you.” 

I was walkin' up the front porch steps after everything that day, had gone all wrong and been trampled on and lost and thrown away

Back in Australia, you walk up the front porch steps of your house after a long day that had seen everything go wrong. An empty gas tank, a broken office coffee machine, a huge pile of work, a spilled lunch, it seems as if there was nothing that would go right with so much time still left in the day.

Got to the hallway, well on my way to my lovin' bed, I almost didn't notice all the roses and the note that said

At the very least, the door unlocked easily, and you head straight in, kicking your shoes off and go straight to your bedroom, almost missing the bright red roses already in a water-filled vase, sitting all nice and pretty on your kitchen table. You pick up the note left with it and read the words written on it. Or rather, your song.

I've heard every album, listened to the radio, waited for something to come along that was as good as our song

The radio was the one thing on repeat over and over again while you or Danny drove, on the plane or writing in your journal, listening to each and every song while waiting, waiting for something to come along that was as good as your song. There was a lot of variety, so many songs and genres to choose from, but still, nothing was as good or as right as your song. The tune never brought out the right feelings, the words never matched perfectly and you decided that there was so use waiting, not when there was something much better.

You reread the note Danny had written the lyrics of your song written, and you smile back at the memory of the first time you wrote your song. Back in that truck, wind blowing through your hair as Danny; laughter overtook the sound of everything else, you had looked for something to write it all down.

I grabbed a pen and an old napkin and I wrote down our song

#via’s taycember #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfiction #formula 1 #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #taylor swift #our song #Spotify #fanfic #fanfiction

[terrence-silver]

We know that TIG can sing, and so can some of his characters. If pressed to sing, which songs would TIG characters choose?

---

― Twig, growing up as a rich boy with, if we read between the lines, draconic parentage with possibly high standards and rather perfectionistic attitudes in education, the only things a young Terry would sing is some kind of classic tune instructed by an onslaught of private tutors hired by his parents for the explicit purpose of training their son's voice or the Zemirot sang around the table during Shabbat, Jewish kid that he was. That's it for you. The first vestige of actual freedom and individual expression, came, perhaps, ironically, in the military, in the early 1960's, surrounded by soldiers from all classes and walks of life, everyone with their own flavor of music, songs and tunes of the decade and my god, if the high of that didn't hit a young Terry quick and hard to the degree it re-wired his brain chemistry, I don't know what else to tell you. Self-control and liberty gained, Twig, would, given the chance, sing or hum anything just because and he was pretty damn good at it too. Suppose when it was just him, John Kreese and Ponytail in the bunk all by themselves, a young Twig might merrily sing something while they conducted their chores together; moments of calm before the storm.

― Terry Silver in the 80's gives a mocking and taunting edge to everything he does because he's tough, he's powerful and he's at the top of his game and he's fairly shameless and despicable when he wants to be which means, around this era in his life man could do anything from busting into an operetta with expert proficiency, because if he does something it will be done perfectly or sing into a mic like he was born to sing into a mic, but will do neither seriously because there's veiled cynicism and an ulterior motive behind it. He's always laughing behind the eyes and yes, you're the joke. Imagine him singing We are The World during the height of a famine in Africa (Ethiopia 1983-85) he might've contributed to by having a major factor in the continent's pollution through Dynatox and trying very hard to seem very heartfelt and genuinely empathetic as he does it for a non-profit organization meant to help the poor (Look! He's helping!) or in equal measure, being at a black tie event fundraiser and singing some tune for (reads smear on hand) ah, yes, children in need. Either ways, the audience esthetically clapped and Mr. Silver gleefully ate up the praise being the center of attention like the big, smug snake he is.

― Old man Terry, if prompted to sing, simply wouldn't. He's past the point of singing, regardless of the fact he's a fierce, deep voice that's more than educated for it. Sure, there must've been a garden party or two where some rumbunctious guest must've prompted Mr. Silver charm all those gathered with a song or a tune on the piano but Terry might've responded with an equally charmed smile and had the obnoxious guest singing for him instead (as a very concealed punishment and veiled hazing ritual hidden beneath layers and layers of relaxed politeness) --- yes, who's to tell Emile, for example, didn't end up entertaining the whole party because Terry turned the tables around on him? Or god knows what sort of various humiliations he put Stingray through purely because he could and because it's awfully easy to imagine him saying 'Sing, Raymond.' as he pours himself a glass of Cognac, eases himself into the nearest armchair and has the buffoon shakily sing, for quite literally, his life. Nothing's for free, right? But, see, that's the point: Terry's convinced he's the earned the right sit back and be the overlord. Not that he ever doubted it. He's Grandmaster. He's Sensei. He's Sir. He's Mr. Silver. He's the Dragon. The dragon doesn't sing. The dragon rules. If he sings and plays it's because he wants to, mostly for himself.

---

― Terry McCain undoubtedly sings something Irish, to nobody's colossal surprise because everyone who even vaguely knows the man knows for a fact that this is his go-to choice of music each and every time; some folk tune from the old country passed down through many generations, until the person it originated from is long since forgotten in his family and all that remains is a memory of a memory and Terry's rendition of it, that is, for all intents and purposes, spectacularly good and catchy, especially when he follows up his own song with a tune he plays on a piano --- a thing culturally near and dear to him, and it's surprising with what gusto, passion and emotional charge he does it with, the same way, Catholic boy, born and raised that he is, it is not entirely shocking to find him being very apt and capable of delivering a church melody that could bring a parish choir member to absolute shame and in times like these it is abundantly clear that The Detective is awesomely multi-talented, and that if it wasn't for his career in law enforcement, one in music would've suited him just as well, if not better.

― Cash cannot be persuaded to sing because he doesn't care about the pursuit, finds it a waste of his time and quite frankly, he'd be most likely to glare if it's ever suggested to him --- the most he's willing to do is absent mindedly and very quietly hum some real or imaginary tune while he's waiting in ambush, tapping his gloved finger on the steering wheel, car parked a couple of blocks down as he carefully scopes out a target and patiently lays in wait for his cue, sipping on a cup of black instant coffee --- and even that only if his wait proves to be very, very long. His life is one of excess tension and it's quite literally no song (pun intended) nor is there any time for it and when there is, there's little place for yearning left. In fact, the man undoubtedly doesn't remember when was the last time he genuinely had time or the desire to switch on the radio and deliberately sit down and just listen to music for its own sake. But, if this man ever stalked someone? He's never likely to forget the music he's heard them listening to when they thought they're all alone. Undoubtedly, they're the very tunes he later absentmindedly hums.

― Gus Travis likes his sea shanties because his dream was quite simply put to buy a boat one day and sail out there, live off of the great, wide blue, but it's an ambition that never really came into fruition in the fullest sense, bogged down by the career criminal in's and out's of his dalliances on the wrong side of the law. It is what it is. Nevertheless, he enjoys the notion of a life at sea and everything involved in it, including the associated tunes, songs and music, not that he sings with any positive notion behind it, a full heart and joy either, more like, if Gus ever sang, he'd sing it almost mockingly, yo ho ho, while dangling a live victim upside down over a shark tank, mocking both the poor, unfortunate soul he's about to feed to the fishes down below and mocking himself, in a way, perhaps without even realizing it or wanting to admit that that's precisely what he's doing, because this is what his life has come to and everything he's ever wanted has been slipping further and further away from his fingers with each passing year or has, for the lack of a better word, gone to shit.

― Jan Valek is a medieval Bohemian clergyman, so, utilizing some form of logic, if he ever sang, it could be some old lullaby in Czech that lingers on the very edge of memory, sang to him by who knows who and who knows when, perhaps a mother, a kindly family member, someone from where he used to live when he was human and very young at that, long before he took his vows, or he'd sing some religious hymn in Latin in a voice that could freeze over the full moon with it's haunting beauty; a remnant of a bygone time when he was mortal and dedicated to the service of God, all association with music intricately tied to a more vulnerable time when he wasn't accursed and condemned, now, his song resembling a howl in the dead of night, a phantom's call slashing through the darkness, something chilling and gorgeous that is hard to explain, but certainly not entirely human. The type of thing you hear and you no longer belong entirely to yourself, falling under a vampire's spell, rather, you go out there, looking for the source of whatever it is you heard, mesmerized.

― Jack Blaylock, or rather, Timothy Calloway is All-American; irregardless of the fact that he lives in Japan, made his life in Japan, is embedded in the culture (and its Underworld) of Japan, operates out of Japan undercover with the facade of an Expat like any other, and hey, for all we know, he was born there too, which might make his attachment to all things American profoundly fascinating, no less the fact that if he sang, he'd not only sing something American, but something profoundly anachronistic and belonging to a bygone and nearly idealistic era he never even experienced himself, the same way he either never experienced his actual homeland or experienced it so little and so long ago, one can consider him remotely estranged from it (never say this to his face). So, knowing all of this, it is easy to envision Jack softly singing something by The Harptones, Bobby Darin or The Platters as he cleans his sword, produces his blades, checks his firearms with an immaculate attention to details, puts on a crisp, clean button up shirt, preparing for his next hitjob.

#terry silver #terry silver twig #twig terry silver #80's terry silver #old man terry #terry mccain #jack blaylock #jan valek #gus travis #cash #cobra kai #kk3 #excessive force #ulterior motives #vampires #black friday #the kidnapping #the kidnapping 2007 #excessive force 1993 #ulterior motives 1993 #black point #character analysis #music #song #singing

[inourtownofhawkins]

𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝒾𝒸.

Summary: Your after school piano session gets interrupted by your favourite person in the best possible way.

Author's note: I wanted to write just some fluff to balance out the amount of angst I've been writing recently. I haven't played piano in forever and haven't had lessons in much longer but this idea popped into my head and I felt like I couldn't not write it. I had this in mind as "Eddie's song" but of course, you can pick whichever song you like!

CW: Just a whole load of fluff.

Word count: 608.

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

You sat down in front of the grand piano in the music room and pressed a few notes, you knew it badly needed tuning, but you knew the likelihood of it actually being done was slim to none. You didn’t mind it, though. Any chance to play the piano and forget about everything else in your life was welcomed.

You didn’t even need sheet music, you knew Für Elise like the back of your hand. As soon as your fingers began to tap on the keys, the world melted away. All your anxieties, fears and problems didn’t matter as long as you kept your fingers pressing those keys and music was in your ears, everything would be alright.

You felt hands cover your eyes, a wide smile coming across your face as you heard a whisper of “Guess who,” in your ear, causing you to feel goosebumps. You tried to keep playing but your notes became sloppy until you stopped playing and turned around.

Behind you was Eddie, grinning away as he walked around the piano to press a few keys. “Für Elise… it’s a classic. I wonder when you’ll compose Für Eddie.”

You laughed at his corny joke, blushing as you began to start playing again, albeit not as well as beforehand. Eddie always loved to watch and hear you play, although you would always get embarrassed whenever you would be aware of his presence.

Eddie would always ask you to record your piano skills just to “hear your improvement” but he wouldn’t dare tell you it was really because any night you two didn’t spend together, he would listen to hours of your recordings to help him sleep. He didn’t care if you ever played a wrong note or let out small growls out of frustration.

Although his favourite recordings would be where you’d play some of your original compositions; you’d always talk a little about each one, give it a name and always disclaim that it was a work in progress and apologise for how bad it would potentially sound. But to Eddie, every single one would sound like a work of art.

You grab your bag and pull out a folder of all your sheet music, pulling out several sheets and placing them in the correct order on the music stand. “It’s funny you should say that, because I have something I want to play for you.”

Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of your head before moving to sit down on a chair behind you, his eyes closing. You watched him before beginning your piece, silently praying he would like it.

For Eddie, hearing you play a song you’d composed for him was nothing short of euphoric. Your music was dream-like and calming but slightly melancholic, it perfectly encapsulated how you saw Eddie and in fact, how he interacted and saw the world around him.

All too soon for his liking, the piece was over, and his eyes slowly opened, bringing him back to the ugly reality, his only shining light being you. “What’s it called? The piece.”

“I’m not sure yet. In my notes, I just have it down as Lullaby,” you shrugged, placing the sheet music back into your folder.

Eddie came over to you and pressed another kiss to your head before leaning down to kiss you properly. “I love it, thank you so much for composing it for me. You promise you’ll send it to me?”

You nod happily, leaning your head back against his stomach to stare up at him. “Of course. In the meantime; Burger King and a movie?”

“God, I thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.”

#spilled ink #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfiction

[xsapphirescrollsx]

Forever

Written: May 6 2021 La Vie en rose · Joséphine Baker

You and Steve share a sunset.

“Do you miss being home?”

Steve lifted his eyes to you. 

You were near him but to his opposite as he straddled a short rock wall. Squinting against the last rays of the day he peered out on the vastness of the Wakandan prairie.

He titled his head in thought as he shrugged gently. “Not really,” he finally said.

The wind softly rose, brushing long strands against his forehead. He turned his he eyes back to you. Pointing with one long finger before raising the sweet sticky snack up to his mouth.

“What about you,” he said with a mouthful. “Don’t you miss the States?”

You bumped into Steve a few months ago between busy schedules. Though now, you see him far different than the once ‘star-spangled man with the plan’. There was an air about him wholly set in the present, embedded in life here beyond saving the world, he was simply living. It was inviting.

“I miss,” you rolled your eyes in thought. “-the morning commute. There was a clarinet player who always performed la vie en rose.” you laughed at the memory. 

You popped the last bits of your lunch back into the bag. “It would be a great warm day, and he would recite this sad, lonely version of it. And I always thought the song was a celebration of sorts. But not for him.”

“Life’s not that grand for a lot of people,” said Steve.

Silently, you nodded. 

Steve added the paper wrapper to your bag. With a smile on his face, he swung his leg over the wall, held out a hand to you. Easily you hopped off landing directly into his arm. 

“I think,” he said as his arms wrapped around your waist. “We could make a better memory.”

Your eyes traced the unshaven surface of his bushy beard. Another breeze brought in the fragrance of his hair, light and clean. Naturally, you ducked in closer and clasped your hands around the base of his neck as you smelled his neck. Steve hummed as he continued to fidget with his wrist behind you.

Quietly, the jazz tempo began and steadily grew into the melodious voice of a woman as the song also passed to the beads around your wrist. Piano notes trilled gently under the voice of a woman singing in French. Steve’s hands spread out over your back and down further as he began to sway with you in tow. He held you close at first. His bristly cheek pressed against yours as he hummed the song in step. 

“See that’s better isn’t it,” he pulled back and looked upon your face. A bright toothless smile spread over his lips. “Just the two of us and dusk?”

“Romantic?” you asked as he became proud of himself. He tilted his chin up, the smile grew into a grin. With a press of his fingers, he continued to encourage your hips to swing against his. 

“Sure, you could say that. But then again you love me don’t you?”

Your brows rose suspiciously and wondered where this was going. So you nodded wordlessly.

“You love me,” he pecked your lips tenderly, still smiling. “And I adore you.”

“Okay,” you mouthed quietly.

“Be my wife, be with me.”

The voice and music rose into a crowning harmonious call as your eyes widened. You finally blinked and at the same time, an honest broad smile grew across your lips, to your cheeks, to your eyes.

“We can make as many memories as we want together,” he said serenely.  “For as long as we have each other. So what’d say?”

He waited, though not for long. 

Heart thudding in your chest, “Yes!” you half laughed back.

Steve attempted a graceful spin on thick grass but only ended in a clash of giggles from you when he nearly fell on you. 

“I won’t always be that graceful,” he joked and brought you back to him. 

The song ended leaving you and Steve in the presence of chirping evening birds, and the breeze bringing in with it the smell of wild purple flowers.

“I think we can be graceful in other ways...” you lingered off.

The tops of Steve’s cheeks began to turn pink at the suggestion. Though subtle you could see behind his eyes the memory of this morning replaying in his mind.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said quickly, and grabbed the refuse of dinner. He started off toward the path as he grabbed one of your hands.

You trailed behind him smiling big.

“I want to see you do that thing again,” he added, and looked over his shoulder at you until you caught up. 

“My future wife,” said Steve.

#x black!reader #black reader #black!reader #steve rogers x black!reader #Steve Rogers

[dontaskwhybutarsonsoundsokay]

My Muse|| Sleep Token || 18+ || Fem Reader X Vessel

Vessels hands dance over the piano keys. Getting to sit in on his writing process, even if he doesn’t call it that feels so special. It’s like he is writing the songs to you, even though you know that the song is to sleep, you cant help but feel like some of it is directed to you. You watch all of his movements, as he sloppily writes down chords and notes into his notebook. Lyrics start spilling from his mouth. You watch as a masterpiece is scrawn onto the walls of the bedroom the two of you share. 

He looks at you, “The night belongs to you, my love.” His smile fills the room as if his mouth is full of toxic gas. You feel a blanket of warmth light up through your body. Life has been so special since Ves’ walked into it. The trees are more green, the sun is brighter. His eyes look deep into yours, before he looks back at the keys in front of him. He plays over the song again. Lyrics flow from him, like a freshly tapped well of water. You know he will be at this for a while. You walk upstairs, making sure to go slowly so as to not disturb Ves’ work. 

You reach the kitchen, deciding to make dinner or else Vessel wont eat. You start preparing a recipe from your childhood, some good ol’ fashioned shepherds Pie, and cornbread. Suddenly you hear footsteps approach the kitchen, “What's for dinner?” III struts into the kitchen with a slight kick in his step as per usual. You look at the vessel, deadpan. 

“Whats for dinner?!” you say in a low voice mimicking III, “I’m making this great thing called food.” you laugh to yourself. You missed the playful banter you two always shared. III was almost like a brother to you. 

 IIIs face drops, “Ohh, really???? Who woulda guessed” III flicks your shoulder. You feel his eyes linger over you. “Must you be such a smart ass all the time?” His voice is playful, you forgot how much you missed joking around with him. You shoot him a glance, and that was all he needed. “Okay, okay, I’m going to go get the rest of the guys. Its food time!” He pumps his arms up into the air in excitement over the idea of a home cooked meal. Finally a change from the TV dinners everyone eats on tour.

A sigh escapes as you put the pie into the oven, as well as the cornbread. You grab 5 plates, as well as glasses and silverware. And put them onto the table, making each spot look as nice as one can. You clear off the clutter of mail, bills, books and random scraps of paper. “These boys will be the death of me,” you think to yourself before sitting down at the kitchen island, waiting for the oven to beep. Arms wrap their way around you, the grip on your arm familiar as you look up to meet vessels eyes. 

[ After Dinner ] 

Everyone slowly gets up from the table putting their plates away before walking off to other parts of the house. Vessel, on the other hand, continues sitting at the table, his hands folded together as if he was praying to sleep, which he very well could be doing. You, used to Vessel's antics shrug it off and start heading to the bathroom for a bath. You reach the bathroom, the tile cold on your feet, shutting the door behind you, before turning the lock, you don't need iv trying to join you in the tub. You turn on the water allowing the water to heat up. Slowly you strip, the cool air hitting your skin softly. You dip a toe into the water, testing the temperature, before putting the plug in the tub. You grab the bubble bath II got you for your birthday, the scent of cherry blossoms fill the air when you put a lid into the tub. As the tub fills you hear a soft knock at the bathroom door. You open the door a crack to be met by vessel. His hand pushes at the door, you squeeze behind it, shy to show him your body, even though he has seen you in far more vulnerable positions than this. He enters the room, and softly closes the door behind him. He doesn’t even need to say anything. You slowly make your way to the tub, right before you step into the tub, you feel Vessel's hands slowly encompass your hips. His arms slowly pulling you towards him causing you to slowly fall back into him. He plants a soft kiss into the crown of your head. Before letting go, and allowing you to step into the bath. 

#sleep token band #sleep token #sleep token vessel #sleep token worship #iii sleep token #vessel sleep token #tmbte #x female reader #x fem reader #x fem!reader #sleep token x reader

[ladytesla]

Breaking His Record (Gale x Tav)

(Mindless self-indulgent fluff featuring Mr. and Mrs. Dekarios. Usually my tav Medora is a Halsin girlie, but I do love an alternate ending in Waterdeep. No content warnings, just a couple of nerds being nerds. Be gentle lol)

it was one of the rare days in Waterdeep when the snow fell hard. It collected on the panes of the windows, and the balcony outside was unusable at the moment, the furniture nothing more than rounded lumps under a good three inches of snow. Glancing outside at the steel-gray sky made Gale even more content sitting where he was on the couch. He had a fire roaring in the hearth, the piano in the corner idly playing soft music as it always did, a glass of red wine and a plate of snacks on the end table within reach, Tara draped around his shoulders like a purring scarf, a cushion behind his back in just the right spot, and his new wife asleep beside him with her head in his lap.

Gods, Medora was his wife now. She had been for three months, but it still amazed him every morning when he woke up beside her, or every time he felt the weight of his new wedding ring. His family adored her, his friends welcomed her, even Tara tolerated her as much as a grumpy old tressym could. She had lost her home and her family. He had lost hope. And somehow, in their darkest days, they'd found it all again in each other.

That's a good line, he suddenly realized. Got to remember that one in the next chapter I write. His manuscript, chronicling what Medora jokingly called 'The Tadpole Adventures' only had a few chapters written out. Someday he'd finish it. He let his eyes wander drowsily over the sheets of parchment, the rich dark wood of the desk, the ink, the quills...

His lips suddenly curled into a small smile. It had been a while since he'd tried to break his record... and now was a perfect time.

He brushed the back of a finger over Medora's cheek to test if she was awake. She didn't stir. Perfect.

"Levitatus," he whispered, pointing to the jar of pencils and quills on the corner of the desk. It floated slowly across the room toward him and he gently caught it, wincing when some of them clacked together. It might as well have been a thunderclap with how quiet the room was. Still, Medora didn't move, not even when he took one pencil from the jar and gently, ever so gently, lodged it in the thick, messy bun of her hair.

He'd started doing it as a joke when they sat together at faculty meetings at Blackstaff Academy. She often had her hair tied back now in a careless half-knot at the back of her head, and she sometimes kept a pencil in it in case she needed to take notes on the fly. Due to the curls and thickness of her hair, it rarely ever fell out.

So what was one more? Her hair was so thick that it took ages for her to notice that he was slowly adding pencils to it. After that, she rarely let him sit behind her... but then their friends caught on and also began to try their hands at the pencil game. It became a joke among them, and Medora would always pretend to be exasperated, but she still laughed. The day she didn't was the day Gale would put a stop to it all, but so far it was still a mindless and silly little game. He still held the record of four, much to the chagrin of his friend Quill from the transmutation department, who had a wager riding on their other friend Inara who taught psionics reaching five. As nice as those numbers were, they didn't compare to how many he could get when Medora was asleep. That record sat at nine. And now here she was, bundled in a thick blanket, lulled into an afternoon nap by wine and the fire and the music (and, he hoped, the comfort of his presence), so it was unlikely she would awaken.

As he reached for another pencil and found a crochet hook instead for some reason, he felt small paws kneading at his shoulder. Tara was awake, and watching the show. He shook his head slowly, tapping a finger to his lips. Not a word.

She dug her claws in slightly, as if to say I can speak whever I very well please, thank you very much Mr. Dekarios, but stayed silent. Gale paused as he considered where to place the next (oh, it was a knitting needle this time). He couldn't go too close to the scalp, and also he couldn't dislodge any of the other objects as the accidental movement might wake her up. He wondered, as he slowly slid the knitting needle home, if this was what surgeons felt like during operations.

Gale held his breath as the ninth pencil (he'd moved on to quills now, actually) lodged in what was starting to look like a bird's nest. Still, Medora slept on. The song the piano was playing ended and he screwed his eyes shut and didn't move a muscle until another began. No unnecessary sounds. He was so close to breaking his record. He reached for the jar again, and his face fell. The jar was empty! He held it up for Tara to see, craning his neck to meet her eyes and pleading silently for her help. She rolled her eyes as only she could, then got up and with a tressym's grace leaped off the couch and silently padded out of the room. Gale sat and waited, hoping she'd hurry. He didn't know how long Medora would doze.

Finally, Tara reappeared, and oh gods yes he'd buy her as many fine treats as she wanted. She'd found the soft case with the rest of Medora's knitting needles inside. He took it gleefully, carefully unrolled it and withdrew another needle.

And... ten. The record was broken! Gale turned to silently celebrate with Tara, but she'd left the room. Of course she had. Not satisfied with simply breaking his record, he grabbed an eleventh knitting needle. Then a twelfth. And reached for a thirteenth.

"Get them out, Gale."

"Ah!" He hadn't been expecting Medora to speak, and the knitting needle fell from his hand in surprise. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, a wry smile on her face.

"I broke my record," Gale grinned, tapping her nose with his finger before starting to remove the various objects from her hair.

"Did you now?" She asked airily. "Or did I wake up midway through and let you think you were winning?"

"No..." he breathed, looking down at her in dismay. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, I would," she grinned back. "Your record is invalid, my love."

"When did you wake up?" Gale asked as more pencils and quills clacked back into the jar.

"I'm not telling," she said simply. She sat up and stretched, then reached for the wine glass on the end table. Her own sat empty on the other end table, and his was still quite full.

"Oh no you don't!" Gale triumphantly held it out of her reach. "You're not telling because you don't know because you're lying through your teeth!" He grinned. "You slept through the whole thing and you know it! Admit it!" He leaned away, keeping the wine still out of her reach. "The record stands!"

"Wishful thinking!" She laughed, trying to climb over him to get the glass. He finally let her have it with an exaggerated sigh of annoyance, and she curled up closer to him with her prize and examined the contents of the jar.

"I was wondering where that knitting needle went," she mused, plucking it out of the jar and adding it back to her needle case.

"You need to stop leaving them all over the place," he chided as he settled an arm around her shoulders, twining a loose curl of her hair around his fingers. Once the wine was gone, she got up and went to the kitchen for the bottle to refill both off their glasses. They huddled together under the blanket, staring into the fire and listening to the music from the piano and the wind howling outside.

"The record still stands, though," Gale said after a while. Medora smiled and rested her head on his shoulder.

"We'll see," she murmured.  Gale turned and pressed his lips to the top of her head... mindful of the single quill he'd still left in her hair, just to see how long it would take her to notice.

#my writing #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #Medora

[gretavanfleetposts]

Persuasion: Pt. 2 || An Indecent Proposal AU

Author's Note: I wrote this instead of working on my resume :) Here's part 1!

Content Warnings: swearing, fingering, oral (f receiving), light bondage (just wrists tied), unprotected sex (18+ minors do not interact)

Category: smut, fluff

Word Count: 8k

You found yourself at Sam's house once again, the way you had over a year prior but now knocking on the door with considerably less nerves than you had the first time around, although you were still half expecting him to answer the door naked.

And it still felt odd knocking, especially considering what had transpired over the last year. But still, you figured it would have been even stranger to just barge in, like a deranged fan of his begging him to touch you. At least this way, if he was lying naked on a rug waiting for you to enter, he’d have to get up to answer the door and it would be a big inconvenience to him. That was the least you could do after he had been so bold. And in his brother’s house, no less.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” Sam said as he opened the door.

It was only four little words and yet you knew you were doomed, your original pet name making a sudden reappearance, one that you hadn’t heard uttered in sincerity by his mouth in quite some time.

And the butterflies already flitting about your chest as you laid your eyes on him were impossible to ignore. He was always beautiful, there was no doubt about that. But as he stood there in the doorway, a devilish smile licking at his lips, his long hair cascading over his shoulders and his facial hair making a rare groomed appearance, he was utterly glowing in the soft light of the sun setting behind you.

You gave him a silent smile as he led you into his house. And to be honest, you were half expecting the setup that had been there the last time the two of you had done this. But looking around his house as you walked through the foyer, you found it clean, no evidence of anything planned to ease your nerves as you shed your shoes and purse.

"No date this time?" you asked, suddenly faced with the idea of jumping straight into things without so much as a drink for a warm-up.

"Yeah I thought we'd just get down to business," he answered, giving you a very suggestive eyebrow raise that made you remember your nerves.

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not and a degree of panic must have been obvious on your face because his own features quickly turned humorous as he knocked you lightly on the shoulder.

"I'm kidding, y/n, relax,” he huffed out, a laugh escaping with it and bringing the memory of your first time together flooding back.

“I actually have something I want to show you," he continued, paying hardly any mind to the most likely bewildered look on your face that was only now easing itself as he led you through his beautiful home.

"It's not your dick, is it?" you joked, trying to ease the nerves you had thought you'd gotten over as you followed closely behind him.

It earned a loud laugh from Sam, a sound that did much more to put you at ease than anything else he had done, before he threw backward a quiet, "No, not quite yet."

At the back of his home sat a quiet little room lined with windows, encouraging the warmth of the sun to cascade through and naturally heat the room, all the while caring for the many ferns which hung from the ceiling or sat around on the golden hardwood floor. It was especially beautiful now as the sun was setting, casting fiery shadows along the walls and dancing across the large piano that sat in the middle of the room, a heavy instrument that you figured was new as you hadn’t seen it in his house before, now dressed in tall, waxy candles and inviting you in with somehow the same presence that Sam did: warm, inviting, and only slightly intimidating.

He sat down on one end of the wooden bench, patting the seat next to him as he spoke. "Wrote you something."

You stood behind him, watching him adjust his feet on the pedals and set his finger placement, a tinge of surprise tingling through your body at the whole setup. You loved watching Sam play the piano. It was nothing like how he played the bass and neither was your appreciation for it. Of course, you could watch him play bass for hours, an instrument he wore like it was an extension of his body. And he wore it well. But Sammy behind a piano? Now that was a sight to see, a feat of human ability and the encouragement of all of the emotions Sam usually hid so well. If you had to guess, that was one of the reasons you loved it so much. Sam rarely spoke on his true feelings. But he played them. He engrained them into keys of ivory and made them speak for him.

It all felt far more romantic than anything you had been expecting.

Maybe you should have worn more thought-provoking lingerie. Or erection-provoking or whatever.

"If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to romance me," you quipped lightly from behind him, still taking it all in through shaky breaths that most likely signaled to him how new this felt for you. Although if he recognized it in your breathing or your demeanor, he didn’t announce it.

"Would you just sit?" was the only response he gave before he cracked his knuckles and set his fingers again, already tapping out a beat with his foot that he mimicked with his lips.

And as you sat down on the bench next to him, he started in, his fingers flitting over the keys and his mouth moving along with the sound in a soft melody that suddenly surrounded you, practically pushing a breeze through the leaves of the ferns, sweeping you up with it and carrying you off to a place deep within Sammy’s mind, a place that was only ever accessible when he made music.

It was always a different experience listening to him play in the absence of Josh’s voice ringing out over top, and this was no exception. It was just Sam, fully, letting you catch a glimpse into his mind as his fingers played on.

You tried to pay attention to the notes, to the way his mouth mimicked the sounds he produced, and the way his fingers stretched and reached for keys far away, trying to decipher the feeling behind it, whatever it was he was trying to tell you without the use of words. But all you could really do was bask in it, let the music linger on your ears before the sound shifted, constantly moving and changing like wind through the trees. It was utterly beautiful, no matter the meaning behind it.

"Kind of a work in progress," he said eventually as his fingers slowed to a halt and his foot lifted off the pedal on the floor with a hard metallic thud.

"It's beautiful, Sam. I absolutely love it."

His eyes floated gently up to your face, seemingly searching for a moment as silence overtook the room and the light buzzing of jitters vibrated through your skin while you waited in anticipation of what he would do next. Maybe he would reach out and kiss you, put a fast end to the misery that was waiting. It sometimes felt that you were in a constant state of waiting, especially with the most recent days spent with the boys, waiting, wondering, watching, lingering. If someone could put an end to it, it would be Sam.

But he didn't. 

"Do you want to dance with me?" he asked as his eyes shifted from your lips back up to yours to meet your gaze.

It was somewhat enrapturing, the look he gave you with a smile barely teasing up the corner of his mouth as if he were far too privy to how nervous he was making you, a tinge of amusement mixed with something a bit softer than lust melting behind the warmth of his eyes. It was a look that gave you butterflies and yet a look you couldn't tear your eyes away from.

After a silence far too long, you nodded, adding a quiet, "I'd love to."

He stood from the piano and crossed the room to the record player that sat in the corner which he must have carried in from its usual place in his living room for this very purpose. And there was an album already resting on the turntable, merely awaiting the drop and scrape of a needle to crackle out a magnificent, jazzy sound, an album you quickly recognized as a favorite of Sam's.

Turning back to where you sat, you found yourself presented with a hand, a gesture provoking you to stand and cross the room to where he now stood near the record player.

He dragged you into him quickly with the touch of your hand meeting his, letting his arm dip low around your waist and using it to press you into him, making sure not an inch of you escaped him. His other arm now outstretched, your hand slotted into his palm all the while your other arm draped across his slender shoulders. And with the closeness of your bodies and the difference in stature between you, your face pressed perfectly into the crook of his neck, your chin resting just above the strong line his collarbones chiseled into his chest.

You danced in silence for a bit and as you did, the memory of the last time the two of you had danced came drifting back to you: the wedding you had attended with him. Only now, his gaze wasn't flickering constantly to some other girl, vying for her attention instead of yours. It was only the two of you, his face turning in toward yours and moving his mouth closer to yours in the process as your eyes lifted nervously to his.

And suddenly, the weight of his eyes on yours made you nervous enough to chuckle at the stark contrast. Was this how that girl had felt?

"What are you laughing at," he asked with humor in his voice, clearly amused by your reaction.

"Reminds me of that wedding we went to together,” you said, averting your eyes. “What was that girl's name?"

"I don't even remember honestly."

You laughed harder then. Of course he didn't remember.

"Wow, she must've showed you quite the time then," you said sarcastically, your face still dangerously close to his but your eyes now fixed to the collar of his shirt, as if it held secrets there for you to distract yourself with.

But his smile from before waned a bit as he turned his face forward to stare at the floor as he spoke. "Actually nothing happened."

It was an admission you certainly hadn't been expecting, the realization pushing you backward a bit so you could fully look at him as confusion undoubtedly spread like wildfire across your face.

"Wait…what?"

"I took her back to her hotel room and then left."

"You didn't sleep together? After all that effort we put in?"

You had really just assumed they had, certainly after the degree to which he was trying to woo her, and it wasn't as though he had ever said anything to make you believe otherwise. That was, until now.

"Nope," was all he said, popping the ‘p’ in a typically sassy manner that you hardly paid any attention to.

It didn't make any sense. He had begged you to go along with him to make her jealous. And you had put in a considerable amount of effort to get her eyes on him.

He had gotten what he wanted, or so you had thought. So you pressed.

"Well…why not? Not that you had to, I'm just…why not?"

He shrugged, rather nonchalantly for how you were reacting, giving you a seemingly half-hearted, "Just didn't feel right."

"Didn't feel right," you repeated with an exasperated laugh as you moved back into his arms, shaking your head as you still tried to process the latest reveal. "You never cease to surprise me."

"Did you want me to sleep with her?" he questioned, his eyes back on you with amusement still lurking somewhere behind them.

And you suddenly realized how it sounded, your reaction and surprise. It seemed a bit…well, too invested. Although in all honesty, you had, in fact, been invested. After all, it was the situation that had prompted your first kiss. Not that that kiss had really meant anything. Though it hadn’t meant nothing exactly.

"I guess I just figured that was the goal, I mean that was the whole reason I went home alone-" you started off, trying to remain neutral, but he quickly stopped you with his own words.

"You didn't have to go home alone," he responded, shaking his head, the amusement suddenly gone from his face and replaced by a look of almost annoyance. Which you chose to shrug off with an eye roll.

"Who was I gonna go home with? The DJ wearing the shirt with flames on it?"

With another disapproving shake of his head, he pulled you tighter to his chest. "I think just about anyone would have taken you home from that wedding, missy."

Your dancing resumed through your mumble against his shirt, an unfair quip that you couldn't seem to bite back. "Anyone but you, I guess."

At your words he pulled away again, holding you at arm's length to look you in the eyes, letting the amused sparkle once again shine through as his usual smirk found its way back into his lips, although not quite as big and bold as it typically was. But his words were nevertheless just as smug as always.

"So you're upset that I wasn't the one to take you home."

You couldn't deny the fluttering feeling of butterflies in your stomach that rose up once more out of the implication of his words. But you attempted to hide it with the huff of a sigh, determined to steer this admission away from yourself as you pushed through his locked elbows and found the warmth of his body again, hiding your face near his neck.

"I just didn't know that nothing happened, that's all. You're twisting my words."

But he shook his head again. "You're not saying what you mean."

"You're not saying what you mean," you threw back, frustrated at his ability to deflect all the while putting you in the hot seat. But finally you felt frustration flaring up through him as he gave a sigh which indicated that he was currently rolling his eyes at your persistence. Even though he should have known you better than that. You weren't one to just let things go. And neither was he for that matter.

"It was a mistake, okay? I realized it when I got to her hotel door. And by then I figured you had already found a ride so I left you to your fun. Are you happy now?"

You said nothing, only floated on in his arms in silence, hugging onto him a bit harder now as guilt admittedly spread through you, feeling bad for pressing but still far too curious to fully let it die.

So after a moment of cooler silence, you spoke again.

"Why was it a mistake?"

It earned a breathy laugh in response, one that sounded much more a product of exasperation than humor.

"You're so nosy," he said, letting his chin rest lazily on the top of your head as he moved his arms around you, both now draped around your shoulders as yours found their home around his waist.

It might have been odd to an onlooker, watching you bicker in a position not entirely devoid of any intimacy. But that was yours and Sam's relationship. It had been that way in the hot tub as you had clung to him and it had been that way a year before as you ate desserts at his kitchen table not long after detangling your limbs. It was the only type of relationship that ever made sense with Sam.

Hence the reason you pressed on.

"You're usually only secretive when you're having fun."

"I'm not being secretive," he sighed, chin still resting against your head.

"You're the king of secretive, you'd think you'd recognize it."

He pulled back yet again to look at you, his jaw clenching slightly as he bit back the majority of his annoyance for your benefit.

"Can we just drop it please?"

You pursed your lips, unhappy, but nevertheless nodded.

Almost begrudgingly, he pulled you back into him, a bit more aggressively this time as if he was trying to work through his frustration with you and regain the mood he had so perfectly set with the piano playing and the candles and the room with the ferns had you not ruined it. And with his arms back around your shoulders, he hugged you tightly to him, somewhat as a ‘please stop talking’, and you hugged him tightly back, somewhat as an apology.

You let the topic die there, silently agreeing to find the mood that had been there not long ago as you pressed your face into his neck. Silence, lingering again, until he began humming along with the jazzy notes still circling into the air. And as you continued your swaying, eventually the softness returned, and with it, a quiet comfort found you both, enveloping you in an unspoken understanding of the night that had passed years ago. He didn't have to tell you why it hadn't been right. Perhaps you could feel it. And perhaps he had even played it for you just moments ago.

It did make you wonder, though, how you could so quickly turn from the events in the bathroom not long before to this now, arguing and dancing together in the room with the ferns. So naturally, the question bubbled up to your lips and you found yourself speaking against his chest, your eyes shut and your body barely even aware of the fact that you had opened your mouth and set your tongue on its journey.

"Can I ask you something stupid?"

"Always," he answered.

"Why aren't you coming on to me?"

It was an embarrassing question, one that you almost regretted as soon as the words dispersed into the air and rested upon his ears as he moved his chin off your head to look down at you, a downright entertained smile crossing his face.

"Do you want me to?" He questioned you with a careful raise of his eyebrow.

"I…think in a weird way it would ease me more than…this." You struggled to find your words, to even fully comprehend what you were trying to say, but the look on Sam's face told you he was maybe a bit too aware of what you were feeling in that moment, a mixture of uneasiness at the softness of the moment, at the loss of the pure desire he had set forth in the bathroom in favor of letting touches linger a little longer, a little more feeling.

“What is ‘this’ exactly?” he asked, amused, no doubt, at your fumbling for words.

“I don’t know…this,” you repeated without much elaboration.

He chuckled, likely at your inability to form coherent sentences, but his face as he rested his gaze on you was soft, inviting, and oh, there was that intimidation again.

With a single finger, he brushed a tendril of hair out of your face and behind your ear, letting his finger trail down along the side of your neck where goosebumps formed in its wake.

You couldn't help the way your eyes fixed to his lips, soft and plush looking, a rosy pink that complimented his skin so nicely. They were inviting, practically calling you in along with the intensity of his gaze. And soon you found yourself utterly breathless under his eyes as his words barely registered in the background of your mind.

"What do you want me to do, y/n?"

His finger lingering, now moving along your collarbone and dipping lower on your chest was what woke you from your state, suddenly far too aware of this softer side that felt like maybe it wasn't meant for you, even though you knew it was.

"I don't know, call me ‘princess’, make some snide remark about me and Danny, give me that fucking look you've been giving me like nonstop, anything."

If there had been amusement there before, it was amplified by ten as he suddenly released you and leaned against the back of the piano donning faux confusion.

"What look?" he asked, although you both knew exactly what look you were talking about, a look that was somehow far easier to digest than the soft gaze of wide eyes and parted lips.

And despite the fact that you knew he knew what look, you elaborated anyway. "That look that you do, the fucking intense eyes and evil little smile."

It seemed a pleasing response to him though because finally, the look you had been expecting when you walked through the door graced his features and the Sammy you knew so well was suddenly standing right in front of you, giving you that nasty smirk that sent a tinge of arousal blurring at the edges of your vision.

"I don't think that's really what you want," was all he said.

It was infuriating. He was infuriating. And getting exactly the reaction he was hoping for, no doubt, heat flowing into your cheeks as your arms flailed widely.

"I'm literally asking you for it, Sam."

"Yeah because you're uncomfortable being with me this way," he responded, far too pleased with himself.

"That is not true," you responded defensively and somewhat angrily although if you had to be honest, he wasn't entirely wrong. Not that you were anywhere near prepared to face the implications behind his words.

"Then why are you trying to deflect?" he continued, putting you on the spot now the way you had done to him not long before, much to your annoyance.

"I am not," you spat back, frustration biting at your tone and demeanor as he seemingly endlessly egged you on. 

But he clearly wasn't finished, continuing on with a jeering, "Okay so you're obsessed with Danny's dick now, huh?"

You buried your face in your hands, trying to tangibly grip onto your anger as a swift, "Oh my god," breezed past your lips, flushed and frustrated with the turn in the conversation.

"What? I thought that was what you wanted?"

"You know what it is I want, the whole reason I'm here, Sam," you finally admitted. It wasn't clear when your anger and frustration had morphed into desperation but there you were, lifting your face to meet his eyes and giving away the true sense of frustration you felt which was how badly you needed him to just fucking take you already, to set aside the feelings and wrap his body around yours and take his goddamn turn again without muddying the waters further.

And maybe it played on his own features too, that same desperation, because as your eyes met his, there was arousal there. There was need that he suddenly didn't seem eager to hide any longer.

"Tell me," he demanded, wanting to hear the exact words for himself.

"You're just doing this on purpose-" you started before he quickly cut you off, not having any of it having finally reached his true point of frustration as he watched you try and deny how badly you wanted him and save any semblance of shame you might have had remaining.

"Just tell me, y/n," he tried again, much like his brother over a year ago.

Only you weren't so willing to give him what he wanted this time around, your mouth opening as if you were about to speak but quickly clenching shut again.

It was silence met with an eye roll.

“You can be really infuriating sometimes, you know that?”

He took a step towards you, and then another as your silence trailed on, until finally his hands met your hips and he backed you into the wall not far behind you. And as your back hit the wall, his face drew close to yours, his nose trailing lightly up your neck until the tip reached the shell of your ear so he could whisper to you.

“God you are so stubborn; It’s a wonder you and Jake ever accomplish anything together.”

“Yeah and you’re not even a little stubborn, Mr. I Want Another Redo.”

In one swift motion, he was gone, crossing the room back to the piano to begin blowing out candles.

“What are you doing?” you asked, still pressed against the wall, your chest heaving now with the sudden contact and even swifter lack of as he disappeared from your grasp altogether.

“I’m blowing out these candles. Don’t want the house to burn down,” he said far too nonchalantly for where he had been not seconds ago.

It seemed to be the final straw because again your hands searched for something tangible to grip onto, flexing and clenching as another exasperated plea to an other holy being escaped your lips.

“What’s the matter? There something you want?” He turned to you with an expectant look much too smug for your liking, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you, most likely trying to get you to show your desperation this whole time. That was the ruse after all, right? Get you to admit that you can't wait any longer? Push until you are begging for him? And dammit, you were giving him exactly that.

You almost didn't know what to say, knowing you had walked right into it, and yet you couldn't remain silent. So when you finally voiced your desperation, your voice was small.

"I…I want you.”

But of course it wasn't enough. Not after the push and pull, the romance, the bickering, the feelings that rested on the table threatening the nature of the relationship you had set off to appreciate a year ago given a very specific set of circumstances. Of course, it wasn’t enough. You hadn’t expected it to be. It wouldn’t have been enough for Jake either. They had that in common and you were growing familiar.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

And just as you had relented to Jake, allowing yourself to fully experience him, you relented to Sam, with a gritting of your teeth and a sigh resting upon your lips before you finally spoke again.

“I want you to touch me the way you did in the bathroom," you elaborated. "But I want you this time."

And finally, he turned his body fully back to you and took a step toward you as you stuck firmly against the wall where he had left you, afraid that if you fled, he'd never meet you there again.  But he did meet you there, his hands wasting no time to find you and hold you there to show you the touch you had yearned for so unfairly since he had snuck into the bathroom after your shower.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" he breathed, his face merely an inch from yours.

“Oh fuck you-” you started but in one fluid motion, he connected your lips and pushed you further into the wall in no gentle manner, taking advantage of the fact that you were now firmly in place to press his body further into you, his lips desperate on yours.

It was nothing like the first time, the way his lips felt against yours, heated and needy, practically melting your skin at the touch and scalding you, evaporating your thoughts from your mind almost as quickly as they had formed and leaving nothing but want behind. That’s what it was. You wanted Sammy. You wanted him closer as you threw your arms over his shoulders, pushing and pulling in a dance the two of you were seemingly getting much better at. You wanted to feel his skin against yours. You wanted him right there and then, against the wall in the room with the ferns, carefully perched between it and the piano as Sam played you better than any music he possibly could. But maybe he was determined to make you wait, ever the impatient person you were.

"Come here," he whispered as he drew back, your lips chasing after his but never connecting again. And soon he was leading you to his bedroom before you had any time to start working on undressing him.

The walk was short although it felt far too long given the anticipation bubbling up inside of you, but you soon found your way to his bedroom and as he turned to you, his hands began the work of undressing you, carefully, much different that the way Danny's hands worked off your clothes days earlier, until you were finally left in your admittedly underwhelming set that was more comfortable than anything else. You were certainly regretting your decision not to put on anything like you had the last time now but as his eyes raked up and down your body, he seemed just as pleased, if not more.

"So beautiful," he said in an almost whisper before removing your final pieces of clothing and gesturing for you to get on the bed.

Vulnerable, you laid before him, fighting the urge to cover yourself with your hands as he stood, fully clothed, towering over you, his eyes tracing every single line on your body, memorizing every inch and repeating it back as if it were a line he could play with his fingers on his bass, plucked to near perfection as he felt the notes deep within himself.

“Did you touch yourself like I asked you to?” he asked, his face holding no humor as he voiced the question.

You nodded silently, afraid of what your voice would sound like if you spoke.

He nodded back, satisfied with the answer.

“Good. Show me.”

You were a bit hesitant. It was, after all, a fairly dirty request, one that might have felt less private if you hadn't been someone else's. Although why it felt more intimate than the actual act of having sex, you weren't sure.

It wasn't that you didn't want to do it, because you certainly did. But for the shortest of moments, your mind flickered to Jake.

“Don’t make me ask again." There was an authority there that he rarely had, mimicking more closely the way Danny was in bed. But it certainly wasn't lost on you as you finally snaked your hand downward, settling back into the mattress and letting your eyes fall closed as your fingers brushed down your body and finally found your thigh, dragging heavily over your skin there as you set out to tease yourself lightly, the way you had worked yourself up to it when you had been alone and thinking of Sam. You thought of him now, too, carefully pushing Jake to the background as you felt your way toward the image of Sam holding onto you from behind in the reflective glass of the bathroom mirror.

His eyes fixed onto your hand as it moved, watching carefully as your fingers danced to the inside of your thigh and then up, slowly, until they were dragging along your slit, collecting the wetness that was pooled there.

Without lifting his eyes from your hand trailing lazily through your folds, Sam continued with his demands.

“Tell me what you thought about."

Your breath hitched lightly in your throat at the request, somehow even filthier than the last.

“I-I thought about you," you stammered as you began to rub tight circles over your clit.

“Be more specific."

“I thought about your fingers. I imagined it was them.” 

"Did it feel good, princess?"

"It felt so good. I came so hard for you." You punctuated your words with the quick insert of two of your fingers, and the combination of the sight in front of him and your dirty words incited a low 'fuck' from his lips as he moved to rid himself of his clothes, sinking to his knees next to the edge of the bed when he was left in nothing but his boxer briefs.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs for me,” he urged as he settled on the floor before you. And you obliged, spreading your knees and hooking your heels over the edge of the bed, spraying yourself out for him, only a bit self-conscious of your position, vulnerable as it was.

"Don't stop," was all he said before you felt a single finger of his prod at your entrance along with your own fingers, which you quickly removed in favor of toying with your clit as he pressed one long finger into you.

You lifted your head for a moment to watch him, the concentration on his face as he curled his finger up into you, before the pleasure pushed your head back into the mattress with a loud moan of his name and a filthy curse.

The way his finger grazed along your walls, dragging out just to push in again, deeper, further, but just as slowly as the first time, it stole the breath from your lungs as you tried to focus on your fingers still working over your clit, all with his words from earlier, 'Don't stop', in your mind and dancing on your tongue as your own request now mimicked his.

And as he slowly inserted a second finger, curling them both upward now to brush against your g-spot, you felt your shoulders inadvertently lift off the mattress as both of your hands instinctively moved to grip the sheets beneath you, abandoning the task of touching yourself as Sam's hands treated you better than yours ever could.

"Oh my god, Sam," you choked out at the sensation.

And in your fingers' absence, he attached his lips rather suddenly to your clit, sucking in time with the thrusts of his fingers as his tongue periodically darted out to gently flick against you, prompting your hips to raise and grind into his face each time.

You tried not to compare his fingers to Jake's or his tongue to Josh's, despite the fact that that was the whole point, but rather you focused on what it was that was unique to him, slender fingers, long and just as skilled, plush lips that could drive you insane.

He wasn't as familiar with your body as Jake or Danny but it didn't seem to matter as he felt his way around, experimenting with the prod of his fingers to study which earned the loudest moan, tumbling clumsily from your lips and signaling to him to repeat the motion. All the while his tongue gently flicked across your clit, switching between a soft circling motion and light sucking as he wrapped his lips around you. He was a fucking fast learner, a dutiful student as he noted each bucking of your hips, every whisper of his name, every flex of your fists around handfuls of material. 

His fingers and his tongue could have been your undoing, you thought in that moment as he continued his movements. The relentless teasing that admittedly you had partaken in over the past few weeks quickly swept through your mind and was left somewhere far away to be forgotten as he worked you closer to your high rather quickly, your hand darting down to his hair to grip and pull him closer, somehow closer, urging him to bring you across the edge you were teetering so dangerously on.

You wanted to ride out your orgasm on his face, to rut your hips against him and drench him, a fitting reward for doing such a good job the third time around. You wanted to scream his name and thank him as he made you come undone.

But just as stars began crossing your vision, dancing around the edges of coherence, he ceased his movements and withdrew his fingers. And you did nothing to stifle the frustrated groan that emanated from you at the loss of contact which earned a pleased look from the bassist somewhat out of breath between your legs.

Standing in silence, you watched as he disappeared into his closet and quickly reappeared with something long and thin and silky in his hand.

"Is it okay if I tie your wrists?" he asked, toying with the fabric between his fingers.

You gave him another nod, sitting up for him. "Where do you want me?"

"Get on your knees and put your hands behind your back," he instructed, his words fueling your arousal as you moved into the position he wanted, letting him tie your wrists snugly behind your back.

Sinking into the pillows at the head of the bed, he gestured you over to him, helping you move into his lap.

Sticking two fingers into his mouth to wet them and lazily dragging them back out, he lined them up with your entrance before easing them into you.

“Ride my fingers, princess,” he urged as he thrusted his fingers up into you once, giving you hardly any time to readjust and waiting then for your hips to begin their movements.

It was no easy task with your wrists behind your back throwing off your balance but you were determined to learn just as quickly as he had.

You moved as best you could without the use of your hands, gliding up and down on his long digits as he watched, self control growing thin, from below.

It wasn't enough, by any measure, even as deep as they reached and as good as they felt, long and skilled, easily navigating their way to find the spot that made it hard to concentrate on your movements as you continued lifting and lowering your hips. But as he held them still, your noises turned from pleasure to frustration as you struggled to angle your hips just right.

“Tell me what you want me to do, princess,” Sam voiced from beneath you, his eyes having never left yours.

“I want you to fuck me, Sammy, please,” you begged, your legs beginning to shake with your clumsy effort.

"I think you should have to work for it a bit more," he said, thrusting his fingers deeper into you, doing a bit of the work himself now but still not giving you nearly enough.

"Please, Sammy, I'll do anything," you spoke between shaky breaths.

"What was it Danny called you? Greedy little thing?"

Shit. You didn't know he had heard that.

"I want you to show me just how greedy you can be. Can you do that for me, princess?" His unoccupied hand moved to your chin, holding it in place to force you to look at him as he continued fucking you with two fingers and you continued riding them as best you could. And you gave him an eager nod, swallowing back your silent promise to yourself to reprimand Danny for being so loud.

Finally helping you off his lap so he could remove his last article of clothing, he helped you resituate yourself.

“You’re gonna ride me, okay? Do the best you can.” Carefully he guided your hips so they lined up with his throbbing erection, steadying you with one hand at your hips and guiding his cock through your entrance with the other.

You moaned at the feeling, much fuller than the last as he stretched you until he was fully seated inside of you. His own mouth fell open as he bottomed out,  letting out a low curse as you began to move on his cock.

But as your hips started into a faster pace than they had managed on his fingers, he stopped you with both hands digging into the flesh of your hips.

“No, I want you to go slowly,” he scolded, earning a not-so-pleased groan from above.

“Sammy, please-”

“Look at me,” he cut you off. And you did as you were told, lifting your eyes to look at him. “I said slow."

You took no pleasure in what he was telling you to do but the words themselves? The way he had said them, in that quiet, velvety tone that you were quickly becoming addicted to? There was pleasure there, evident in the whimper that escaped you as you slowly lifted your hips once only to drag them back down around his cock.

It wasn't the pace you wanted but you did as you were told, riding him slowly, just as he had asked, the small amount of friction giving you only a taste of what you wanted. Each languid movement of your hips down around him felt like the first, gasp-worthy, breathtaking, only to be dulled by the lack of movement soon after until you were allowed to repeat the action all over again.

Torture.

“Good girl, just like that. You’re doing so well,” he praised you, his head falling back with a sharper thrust of your hips, desperate to show him how good it could feel if he would just let you move the way you wanted to.

“Sammy, please let me go faster,” you begged, dropping your forehead down onto his shoulder as you continued your grinding. “Please, god, please.”

“What’s the matter, princess? Can’t get enough of me?”

“You’re so fucking unfair, Sam, God fucking dammit!”

“I think you know all about unfair,” he mused, undoubtedly also struggling through the short lived pleasure of each movement of your hips down around him despite his willingness to give you a hard time.

But you couldn't take it anymore, having reached your breaking point and fighting through misty eyes and the wave of pleasure dulling far too soon. You cracked.

“Okay I get it, I get it, fuck! Please, Sam, I am begging you to fuck me," you practically sobbed. "I just need you to move.”

“I’ll give you what you want if you tell me how good I feel inside of you.”

You continued your movements, slow as they were, and lifted your head to look him in the eyes. And his eyes betrayed him.

“You feel so fucking good, Sammy,” you started, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust that had him clenching his jaw trying to keep himself from abandoning his game and fucking up into you right then.

His eyes were practically watering with need as you continued.

“Every inch of you, like you belong inside me.” 

He mumbled a low ‘fuck’ before quickly undoing the tie binding your wrists and pushing you onto your back, wasting no time fucking you into the mattress. And suddenly it seemed that something within him had snapped, as the movements of his hips quickened and yet the trails that his fingers traced softened, as did his gaze as his brow furrowed and he climbed the ledge along with you, one hand pressing into your lower abdomen almost as if to feel the tip of his cock there, and the other cradling the back of your head, fingers knotted in your hair.

His face turned toward something akin to broken concentration as he fucked you hard, sweat dripping down his forehead, his jaw clenched toghtly shut, and eyes losing their focus as they glazed over at every movement. And it wasn't long before you were seeing stars, your own orgasm building quietly and hard as silence overtook you, unable to form even a single sound as pleasure washed over you.

“Oh my god-” you whispered softly before the air completely evaded your lungs.

And suddenly, the only thing you knew was Sam.

His eyes met yours briefly before your orgasm fully overtook you, blurring your vision as it swept through your body and left you shaking in his arms.

"My pretty girl," he whispered into your skin, dropping his head below your breasts as his own orgasm overtook him and he spilled inside of you, hot and desperate as his arms reached out on either side of your body to grasp at the sheets, as if he were praying to his newfound god beneath him as he rode out his own high.

When his hips finally found their halt, your thighs were left shaking in their wake, your body completely breathless and clinging to him as if your life depended on it, aftershocks waving through you like the clench and unclench that you inadvertently found yourself grinding onto his cock.

His face as he peered down at you was utterly flushed, his mouth gaping the way it had so many times before when he spoke bass on stage, and there was a serious look burned into his features, almost born out of deep thought as he gave you a look you had only seen him direct toward you a handful of times previous.

And in a moment of closeness, his cock still buried deeply inside of you and still making your mouth water, he brought his lips to yours and kissed you deeply. And you kissed him back, bringing your hands up to his hair to deepen it, to somehow get closer to him as you lifted your body into him.

He swallowed your sounds, muffled cries as he pressed you harder into the mattress, thrusting upward so his cock practically bruised your cervix, trying desperately to feel you closer, to taste more of you.

You clung to him, as if you were practically a part of him now, letting your tongue linger on his while you tugged his shoulders against you, searching and feeling. And your mind was void of any coherency, practically stolen from your lungs by his fervency and forgotten somewhere. There was no thought of Jake or Danny. It was only Sam.

But your lungs burned for air, just as his did, so you soon found yourself with distance between you, breaths still shaking and heavy as you each fought to refill your lungs, eyes studying one another closely all the while.

And mingling somewhere in the sound of tangled breaths matching rhythm and pace was Sam’s voice as he whispered down to you.

"I hate being your last place.”

His thumb swiped once over your cheek, delicately, before you lifted your head to his and caught his lips again, desperate to taste his words and let him taste reassurance on your own tongue that that wasn’t how you felt, not really, not even after the week in the cabin.

It didn’t last though, his lips on yours replaced with nothing as you searched for him while he drew back. He seemed to be studying you, or maybe your reaction. Maybe he had even tasted something on your lips as you had kissed him in response. Whatever it was, the line crossed was palpable in the air. And it instantly made you want to flee and hide yourself along with any emotion he had invoked with six little words.

“I-” you started before pausing, looking up at him with wide eyes as the sound died quickly on your tongue.

An image of the girl at the wedding flashed in your mind, of Sam bringing her back to her hotel room, kissing her sweetly on the lips, but refusing her offer to come inside. An image of Sam riding the elevator back down alone, silent save for his thoughts. Thoughts of you.

And suddenly you found your words again.

“I should go,” you squeaked out.

He simply nodded, understandingly, pulling out of you with a quiet sound and standing from the bed.

“Don’t move,” he said quietly. So you stayed where you were, confused as to what he was doing but sitting up on your elbows to watch him.

Silently he pulled his pants on, keeping his eyes on yours as he did, then searching, eyes darting around over the surface of the floor, clearly looking for something although you weren’t sure what. Until he dipped down to grab something and straightened with the cotton panties that had been discarded onto the floor in his hand.

Moving back to the bed, he took your ankle in his hand, extending your leg and putting your foot through one leg hole. Then taking your other ankle, he helped your other foot through, pulling them up and letting his hands graze your skin the whole way until they were in place at your hips.

Then he resumed his search, scanning the floor now for your bra which, once in hand, he helped you into in a similar fashion, brushing your hair over your shoulder so he could hook it together in a gesture you could only describe as obscenely gentle.

He found your shirt next, throwing it over your head and gently pulling it down as you worked your arms through. And then, leggings in hand, he extended a hand out to you, helping you stand to your feet, meeting him on the hardwood floor.

Sinking to his knees, gently he lifted one of your feet, scrunching the material and sliding it over your ankle. He did the same with the other and then dragged the hem of the waistband upward, letting his hands feel their way all the way up your legs, covering the growing goosebumps with material as he went.

When he reached your waist, he continued upward until he was standing in front of you, dangerously close now and hovering near your mouth, his hands still resting at your hips where they had completed their task. He was close, close enough to reach out and touch with your lips if you had worked up the courage.

He dipped down slightly, closing some of the short distance, and for a moment, you thought he was about to kiss you again. But instead, he pivoted his head and pressed his lips to your jaw, his long hair brushing your shoulder as he moved.

When he pulled back, he was still silent, an unreadable expression gracing his features as he simply took a step back and walked past you, into the bathroom behind you where you heard the water of his shower start before he stepped in, leaving you standing alone in his bedroom, the innocence of this latest challenge dying somewhere in the back of your mind.

Taglist: @hyperfixated-gvf @stardust-and-shadows @s-u-t @obiwanwhore @myownparadise96 @fatefellshortthistime @joshkiszkaenthusiast @theweightofstardust @age-of-nyahh @jake-kiszkas-smirk @maedesculpaeusoubi

#persuasion #full disclosure #an indecent proposal #sam kiszka smut #sam kiszka fic #greta van fleet smut #greta van fic #greta van fleet fic

[callsignrooroo]

Recreating Memories

The Hard Deck was packed. Bodies were pressed tight together and Penny was running around the small area behind the bar like a mad woman. But you were happy. Bradley was at the piano, as he always was on nights like these, belting out the lyrics to Come on Eileen like he was the only person in the bar, but half the people there were gathered around him singing right along. You were sitting at a table a few feet from the piano with Maverick and he was telling you some story about how when Rooster was a kid he thought he was Spider Man and launched himself off of the trampoline. “…he was fully convinced when he landed he was just going to stick to the ground with webs,” the man was saying. You were only half listening, your eyes had been glued to your husband for the better part of the fifteen minutes Maverick had been telling the story and the older man finally seemed to realize it. He looked over at you and laughed at the look on your face and bumped his elbow with yours. “Have you even been listening or have been you been to busy making eyes at my nephew,’” he joked. You let out a small laugh. “I was,” you defended, “Bradley ended up with a broke arm and you ended up with a cute nurse’s number for your trouble.” Maverick only smiled as your gaze made its way back to Rooster as you finished your sentence. Rooster finished the song with a flourish and the whole bar seemed to come alive with clapping. He did a little bow while sat in the stool and then his eyes made their way to where you and Maverick were sitting. His face was flushed and his eyes were shining. He gave Mav a quick glance and smirked before his eyes met yours. He gave you a quick wink before turning his attention to back to the piano. The opening notes of Great Balls of Fire floated throughout the bar and the whole place threw out cheers. He looked over at you as he started playing, his swift hands never pausing as they flew over the keys. You bit your lip and yelled out over the crowd, “Hey Rooster ya big stud.” He smirked and looked at you through the crowd. “That’s me Honey.” He yelled, a huge smile on his face. “Take me to bed or loose me forever.” You heard Maverick laugh beside you. “Show me the way Honey,” Rooster yelled. You laughed and got up and went and stood next to the piano as Rooster finished out the song. “Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!” The whole bar went up in cheers and Rooster hauled you down next him and kissed you hard. You caught a glimpse of Maverick through the crowd and his eyes were beaming as he watched the two of you recreate the memory of his best friends. Rooster leaned into you and whispered again your ear, “How bout we get out of here and make our own ball of fire.” You laughed and pulled away from him and said “Show me the way home honey

A/N- I loved writing this!! This was such a fun piece and all the credit for the idea came from @sadpetalsstuff I hope y’all like it!

#top gun: maverick #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster #pete mitchell #pete maverick mitchell #carole bradshaw #goose bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw #no use of y/n #rooster imagine #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw #mine #top gun maverick #fluff