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cherriedsin · 4 years

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𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 in our beds ; three cheers for tyranny , unapologetic apathy !

tw : death , emotional manipulation , unapologetic asshole , ferocious writing .

and here we are for our second round ! one more to go and i promise u will be rid of me . now in this shitro we will tackle the living legend and boogeywoman known as lavinia , whom used to mean well and be the apple of everyone’s eyes until vampirism hit her like a train and she never recovered . has been struggling emotionally over the last millennia trying to get the real her back but keeps failing and pushing down any efforts she has with alcohol and sarcasm and occasional dirty jokes she found online . internet is her playground . anyway ! same thang chicken wang , show this some love and we will be attached at the hip !

╰ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 ; undeserving of your sympathy 'cause there ain't no way that i'm sorry for what i did !

government name : lavinia rosamaria soledad paloma marquez .

nicknames : vinnie , vivi , delicious �� devil , hot pants , little marquez , salvador junior , angel ( childhood nickname long abandoned due to demonic behavior )

physical/actual age : twenty two , old as fuck .

hometown : unknown but has been in watermount for forever .

occupation : owner of the beer cellar , occasional instagram influencer .

gender : cisfemale , female pronouns preferred .

orientation : pansexual .

height : 167 cm , 5′5 .

weight : 53 kg , 116 lbs .

complexion : sun kissed to perfection , freckles spanning along nose and towards upper face just enough to be noticed , a scar below bottom lip on right side from a childhood fall , almost airbrushed in reflection .

hair : almost jet black in winter and spring , summer brings light brown and blonde highlights to twirl in thickened curls that were once cascaded down spine now only come to shoulders . well kept in loose ringlets touched by gods but gifted by the devil .

distinguishable characteristics : deep brown hues to show uninterest in many things , a laugh that fills rooms though has felt empty over the last few fallen empires , an accent so thick one can barely make what is being said and gets worse with heightened emotions , a physical frame to die for and she has in her own hell many times .

favored : science fiction and action movies , shows about illegal activity and of course lucifer , cooking competition shows or honestly the tasty videos off f*cebook , eating any and all foods except meat we are vegetarian blood suckin’ fang founders in this house , listening to obnoxious eighties rock and my chemical romance at every hour of the day , stealing her mother’s wardrobe though a thousand years has given her plenty , starting arguments with her siblings then trying to take selfie , doing her lipstick in a golden spoon because nothing looks better than her in richness , being chaotic .

distastes : caramel flavoring and itself entirely , anything with meat in it despite a living human ( animals don’t deserve to be hurt in her eyes which is valid ) , not having her nails painted at all times , getting ignored at the grown up family table , the attention not being on her , sappy moments in life and on television , when america’s next top model doesn’t get recorded , the smell of anything besides chanel and food , having to repeat herself more than once , and someone not noticing her new hair style .

fears : someone finding out the facade she’s forced herself to believe her whole existence &. not getting the real her back before her damnation .

aspirations : raising as much hell as the devil will allow her before fingers swarm her throat and pull her under , fishing pieces of what she used to be in the river that now runs red with sin .

╰ 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐍 ; sometimes i see flames and sometimes i see people that i love dying and, it's always just sleep !

ask anyone now to speak your name and they forbid to call on the boogeyman . you have made a name for yourself as the youngest and most vicious marquez , to be feared and hated than to be hurt yourself in the process . no one looks out for you like you and the family branded to you like the scarlet a on a sinner woman’s chest . but those people don’t really know you , do they ? they don’t know what has sent you on this downward spiral lasting all of your vampirism , they don’t know how plastic the mask you have twisted to suit fabrications you believed your family wanted . you couldn’t be who you were and live the life you do now , could you ? they speak of how sweet you were once , like a freshly picked wildflower just bloomed . you cared for others much more than they did you , and back then , it was okay , for your maker would thank you in the afterlife . but now after the life lived , the only thanks you would get would be your own personalized hellish slumber to fall into for the rest of eternity . it was like a light switched off that night , by now you don’t remember but suppressed memories flow in late at night like a broken record with no relief . you would become what would best suit your lifestyle and family , though you lost the reigns and now a stride of impurity follows you like a lost puppy trying to find a home . and you gave it one , too , you gave the evil bounded by thick strains of belief and hope from past you the breath of relief it so craved . you’ve spent your existence ignoring voices in your head begging to be released , a sugared smell and kind octaves from years of pushed down resentment fill the corners of your mind but booze , misplaced anger , and bad decisions act like homemade earplugs so you can’t hear what you don’t want to anymore . you have become deaf to your own screams of help , how poetic of you , my love .

hunger nips at you like frost on exposed skin , bound to happen and painful no matter how many times you fall victim . this life wasn’t something you wanted . you wanted the fairytale ending ; the love of your life growing old with you , starting a family and watching generations unfold before your eyes , doing good in the world so when it was your turn they would do good back . had your faith been thinner than you thought ? for you dropped your beliefs and your ways like hot sacks when you were granted power never asked for by your lips , the thrill of eternity seemed like something you would enjoy for a fresh minute . for a fresh minute after turning , you felt like god . you felt just like him , as if you were watching over the mortals and could do what you desired with no repercussions . every time you do something you want to do , though , an uneasy setting in your gut proves otherwise . maybe the devil has his limits and , dear , perhaps you have reached yours . maybe this is the fairytale ending prescribed to you so long ago . a villain shall never get the heroic ending but , oh , how you would slaughter a thousand heroes just for a taste .

#she is my most evil muse by far but is also **MF CHAOTIC** babey #i took the quiz to validate #hell.intro #003 . ♡ › 𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐙. † ruminations .#also used this gif in that set did realeyez but we love recycling

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winedwords · 7 years

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Finn| Into Your Arms |Bálor

Title; Into Your Arms

Pairing; Finn Bálor/Reader

Word Count; 5523

Summary; If it’s just a game, then I like the way that we play.

Warnings; NSFW. Body painting leading to smut. Smut for smut’s sake. Here be no plot. Latex free.

A/N: repost from the old blog

If there was one thing I hated most about my chosen and beloved profession, it was cleaning my airbrush gun and brushes before each body painting session.

Cleanliness was next to godliness and I was practically divine, cleaning all the tools of my trade before and after each session. My back ached from being hunched over a sink for hours, my cuticles and palms dry and cracking from cleaning solution, and feet terribly sore from being on them all day. My thoroughness and attention to detail in every aspect of my career had served me well and had landed me my current position.

Makeup artists were a dime a dozen these days, with everyone with some cheap brushes, a neutral eyeshadow palette, and an iPhone claiming the title. It was a disservice to those of us who literally starved for the opportunity to assist more established artists, who had to decide between spending the money on purchasing items for the kit or paying rent. I put in my time and paid my dues, assisting and learning from award winning artists, landing small gigs that didn’t pay, to finally getting a contract for a television show and working a Fashion Week.

The WWE was just a new challenge.

I had joined the Glam Squad three months ago when one of their girls went on maternity leave and they were desperate for someone who was proficient in airbrush and body painting. I got along famously with the others, after a few days of initial awkwardness and tension. We had all cut our teeth in the industry and there is a certain degree of professional jealousy that taints every relationship, but this felt more like family. The camaraderie was there, it had to be, since we traveled like nomads across the world, never staying in one place too long.

I was the first one at the arena, and for good reason.

It was another pay per view, which meant I needed to be at the arena obscenely early to prepare for body painting.

I found the dressing room to be used for the artists easy enough, the gophers having gotten to the arena just before me and they had set up our stations. Now it was just myself, the soft sounds of a random Pandora station, and thoughts of my muse.

Finn Bálor.

He’d essentially given me free reign, after the first couple of sessions, with his body painting. He’d entrusted me with making him look badass and let my creativity run free. That feeling was addictive, especially after doing nothing but a smoky eye and flawless skin on women who were already flawless.

He though… he was perfection personified. Brilliant blue eyes, a wide smile, sharp jaw line, and what seemed to be negative body fat, every muscle sharply defined against his pale skin. He genuinely appeared to be carved out of marble and given his predilection for almost too tight tailored suits combined with his affectionate gestures for other male superstars, I had some questions about his preferences. Okay, some questions was an understatement, when in reality he could just have been living up to the reputation of being European.

I chuckled to myself and shook my head. Glancing back down, I realized I had been cleaning the same makeup sponge for a solid five minutes and the material was starting to shred. I made a face and grumbled, before pushing the now ruined egg shaped sponge into the trash can rather violently.

There was twenty dollars down the drain because I was busy thinking about my very possibly gay male fantasy.

“God fuckin’ damn it. I need to go buy more fuckin’ sponges.”

Someone cleared their throat behind me and I nearly jumped out of my skin, whirling around with a hand pressed to my heart to see the tall Irishman that had interrupted my thoughts. He was just standing there with his hands in his pockets, a silly grin on his face.

“Should I come back later?”

I frowned and shook my head. “No, no, it’s fine. What are you doing here? We don’t have to start painting until eleven.”

His grin pulled just a fraction wider and he glanced down at his phone. “Yeah, I have the paintin’ session at eleven, but it’s half past already. I apologize fer bein’ late.”

My mouth dropped into a perfect o, my brain working rapidly to try to recollect my schedule. “Oh shoot, I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”

Finn laughed, his face lighting up. “Oh no, darlin’ it’s fine. It’s m'fault for bein’ late and ye seemed pretty absorbed in cleanin’ yer brushes.”

I waved off his words, already beginning to arrange the alcohol based body paints on the table that would serve as my work station.

“It’s all okay Finn. I was just about ready for you anyway. You know the drill.”

Finn chuckled and unzipped his hooded sweartshirt to reveal his bare, broad chest. My mouth went dry and I had to look away quickly with a cough, grabbing at my brush belt, nearly knocking over my carefully arranged set up.

Finn’s expression was simultaneously amused and unreadable, the flicker of heat that I caught on his face making me feel suddenly self conscious. As quick as it had appeared, it was gone, leaving me to think it was just a figment of my imagination. My face flushed as he pulled his sweats low enough to be dangerous, the smooth flesh of his pelvis exposed to my suddenly too hungry eyes.

I gave the barest shake of my head, trying to clear out the rapidly forming unprofessional thoughts. As the tall Irishman was sorting himself out and getting comfortable for the hours long painting session, I pulled my hair up into a sloppy ponytail to get it out of my face. I was fussing with the spray bottles of alcohol and strapping on my brush belt, the weight of his eyes on me the entire time.

I was dressed almost too comfortably to be professional, hastily applied makeup that had been put on in a compact, and my hair, though now in a ponytail, was only finger combed this morning. A quick glance in one of the mirrors along the wall had let me know that there was nothing out of the ordinary on my face. What could he possibly be looking at?

The possibility that he was looking at me flitted across my mind, but I dismissed that thought as soon as it had come. I was being ridiculous. Even if he was straight, there was no way he would look in my direction. We were surrounded day in and day out by ridiculously beautiful women, let alone the women who hung around after the shows and in the hotel lobbies who were hoping to warm the talent’s bed for the night. Finn was sweet and well mannered, but an incorrigible flirt if the rumors about Japan were true.

I sprayed a large fan brush with alcohol and swirled over the black cream makeup, before turning to face Finn. I don’t know why I had a slight tremor in my hands or why every nerve ending in my body was on edge. I had done this exact same process with Finn multiple times, so was I all out of sorts now?

“Ready?”

Finn stretched his neck to the left, then the right before nodding while turning his back to me to start painting.

“’m always ready darlin’.”

I hesitated for just the briefest of moments, my heart skipping a beat. Nope, he totally wasn’t making a sexually laced flirtatious comment in my direction. I was just imagining things and clearly needed some quality time with my battery operated boyfriend. I mentally shook it off, before beginning the outline of the demon eye that I had sketched out a couple of nights previously. My mouth went a little dry as I watched the well defined muscles of his back flutter, tense, and jump under the bristles of my brush.

“Dunno why yer brush is always cold. Can’t they make this stuff warmer?”

I giggled.

“Unfortunately not, Finn. It’s hard to keep alcohol warm in spray bottles. And you know it gets worse once I fire up the airbrush machine.”

He groaned playfully, before the two of us fell into a companionable silence. For well over twenty minutes, the only sounds in the room were the soft notes from whatever song Pandora was playing, the spraying of alcohol into the cake makeup, and the bristles of the brushes gliding along skin.

I always started low on his back, being a full head shorter than him. It was just easiest to start there and work up, when I would eventually need a step stool to reach his broad shoulders and onto the sensitive skin of Finn’s neck. He truly did look like his body was carved by one of the Renaissance masters, all milky smooth skin and chiseled muscle. Predictably, my mind went wandering to places where it shouldn’t be and wondering what his skin would feel like underneath my fingers…

“Y'know, every time ye do this, I almost want ta go ta sleep. It’s relaxin’.”

His voice interrupted my thoughts and I flushed, my brush never faltering. I kept my eyes low, trying to focus on the line work, when I noticed it.

He was crouching to make it easier for me to paint his back. I took the smallest of steps back.

“Finn, you don’t have to crouch. I have a step stool for a reason.”

He snorted, almost incredulously.

“Ye’ve been helpin’ me out wit this for… four months now? And yer just now noticin’ that I’m crouchin’?”

I couldn’t help myself, the giggle that snuck out was a little high pitched and flirtatious.

“Oh I’ve noticed before. I just didn’t care enough to let you have it easy.”

I could feel the grin in his voice as he clucked his tongue against his teeth.

“What’ve I ever done to ye, (Y/N)?”

I exaggerated a sigh, before playfully quipping back.

“The mere fact you exist, Finn.”

The Irishman barked out a laugh, “Ye cannot just leave me hangin’ like that, what’s the real reason?”

I was thankful that his back was to me, because I’m almost positive that my face was doing its best imitation of a tomato.

“I get a lot of messages from the female friends and family members who watch RAW. I don’t hear the end of it.”

He snorted, “And here I thought it was because of the Twin Terrors.”

I froze, the angled brush motionless on his skin, before I shifted on my feet. I looked at the back of his head curiously.

“The Twin Terrors?”

Finn shrugged and he glanced back over his shoulder to meet my eyes. “Marie and Lauren in wardrobe.”

I made a face and pressed my lips together tightly.

“I have nothing to say about them.”

How he picked up on what I thought was well disguised distaste for the two women who made up wardrobe, I don’t know. I’d never heard them called the Terror Twins, that was relatively PG compared to the epithets others on the Glam Squad called them. Why did Finn even bring them up? I kept to myself backstage, so I never really paid attention when they were fawning over him, especially when it seemed that he enjoyed their attentions.

I didn’t pay him any attention.

At all.

Ever. I swear.

He shrugged again and his mouth pulled into an almost childlike smile, that for some reason came off as incredibly sexy. I was sure that any red blooded woman, and some men, would have that the same as well.

I blinked rapidly and went back to painting the flesh of his back. It was a few minutes of brush strokes, the blending of colors, complete with the marveling at the way his muscles jumped, and a long, loaded silence before I caved.

“The objection I have to them, is the same objection I have with all women that act like that. It’s not because they’re paying attention to you.”

He was silent for a moment, tension flooding his shoulders.

“Oh…”

I could have sworn that I detected the barest hint of sadness in his accented voice after I said that, but it could have been just my imagination playing tricks on me. He was flirting with me like he flirted with everyone, male or female, backstage. The time I had spent around him had led me to believe that he flirted with the same ease that he breathed, it was just natural to him. It was that flirtation, combined with the accent and smile, and Finn could quite literally charm the pants off of anyone and they wouldn’t know what had happened until Finn was back in Ireland.

I swapped brushes and colors, setting about coloring in the fangs of the demon I was painting onto the Irishman’s back. I had knelt down to paint along the small of his back, my neck and back having tired from hunching over. It was a few minutes of complete silence between the two of us, Pandora still chirping away, when he sighed and a low chuckle rumbled through him. That chuckle was like a jolt of electricity to the juncture between my thighs. The rumbling and short laugh was incredibly seductive and laden with heady intentions.

I glanced at him curiously, expecting to only see the back of his head, but instead I was met with bright eyes and his trademark grin. I was woman enough to admit that Finn’s smile, no Finn’s everything really, affected me in decidedly not professional ways. He affected me in ways that almost always ensured that I needed a cold shower or at the very least, would strike me dumb for a solid minute.

“What?” I muttered, looking back down to my work as I swirled red in strategic places of the demon’s mouth.

“Oh, nothin’,” he mumbled. He took a breath and continued, “I was jus’ thinkin’ that you’ve spent hours on yer knees fer me and I haven’ even taken ye ta dinner.”

My face was radioactively hot and I could practically feel the tips of my ears sizzle at his words. Something was wrong. Finn was an unrepentant flirt and an incorrigible charmer, but never had I heard him be so vulgar. There had always been innuendo, most certainly, but he had never been so forward.

And than… It struck me like a bolt of lightning. Did he really mean to ask me out? We barely knew each other, having only made small talk while he was essentially held captive for body painting.

And I still pretty sure he was not interested in women.

“Aren’t ye goin’ ta say somethin’?”

I glanced back up at him, before straightening up to my full height and turning to my supply table, with every intention of hiding my burning face. Even at my full height, I would have only reached his collarbones. On my tiptoes, I would have been able to see over his shoulder or maybe even speak into his ear. I was painfully aware of how large he was in comparison to me, and how easy it would have been for him to overpower me… If he was that kind of man. My gut and observations told me he wasn’t, he was never anything but respectful.

“What do you want me to say?”

He turned to face me, but I was still making every attempt to hide my face in order to try to cool the flush on my face.

“Oh goodness Finn, I thought ye’d never ask!”

His attempt at an American accent was miserable, yet endearing.

I sighed, picking up the white body paint and yet another brush, before turning around to get back to the job at hand. Too bad that I was struck dumb by how quietly Finn had been able to move towards me, within an arms distance, without me noticing and the way his abdominal muscles practically rippled. Any progress that had been made on cooling the flush on my face was all for naught, as I did my best impression of a tomato.

“Why’re ye blushin’?” he inquired.

I looked up to make direct eye contact, my face burning. His eyes were searching mine rather intensely, looking for something that I wasn’t quite sure of.

“Ye’re never this quiet,” he remarked.

I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, like I wasn’t just thinking about the heavy, blatant innuendos and what he could have possibly meant. “Maybe I’m having an off day?”

His eyebrow raised so high, I could have sworn it disappeared into his hair line. “Every single time’ve come in here fer the paintin’, ye’ve talked m'ear off about somethin’ or another. And now ye won’t say anythin’ and ye’re doing a pretty good impression of a cherry. What’s goin’ on darlin’?”

Had I really been so talkative? My stomach roiled uncomfortably at the thought. My mind flashed to all of our previous sessions at a dizzying speed, and it was true, every time I had been around him in the past, I had babbled. I don’t know what it was about today, but it was different. The words that would have previously rushed out of my mouth were now no longer there.

‘Or… You’re afraid that if you open your mouth today, you’ll say something that’ll embarrass the shit out of you.’ That dark little thought came unbidden to my mind.

“Don’t take it that ’m complainin’,” he said. “I mean, I like listenin’ to ye talk. I find yer American accent relaxin’.”

I frowned for a moment, before stepping forward and painting a broad stripe across his collarbone. Just like any other time when I had painted him, he shuddered as my brush glided over his skin in this particular area, but Finn never said anything about it. It was… Curious. I noticed it happen every time I painted in the areas of his collarbones, chest, and neck, but I had brushed it off. I had thought that it was maybe just a ticklish reaction and not the thing that the tiny, horny voice in my mind wanted it to be.

It was after the second or third stroke of my brush and the corresponding full body shudder, that I had noticed that the feeling in the room had changed.

“O-okay,” I stuttered, having decided that I needed to get away from him for a few moments, just long enough to collect myself. I began to pull away when he reached out for me, catching my elbow in a large, calloused hand. Sparks danced underneath my skin where his hand was, and he spun me back around to face him.

Before I could regain my ground, his lips were on mine.

At least, that’s what I was pretty sure that was what was occurring.

I was already dizzy from being spun around, and now this kiss was making me dizzier. The moment our lips had touched, there was a tingling, thrilling electric surge that shot through my body. Finn was possessive at first, claiming my mouth, an arm wrapped around my waist in an iron grip. It felt like he was trying to make me understand something, just by using his mouth. Slowly, after several moments of our mouths working feverishly against each other, the pressure of his mouth on mine lessened, and he pulled back slightly.

His eyes were searching my face for something, but I couldn’t put my finger on it, as I was in a daze. My legs felt like there were made of rubber and I desperately needed something to hold onto for support.

Definitely not gay. Definitely appeared to be attracted to women.

Okay, so he wasn’t gay. European. Only European.

I blinked owlishly, trying to clear the cobwebs from my mind, as he stood motionless in front of me, his mouth still only a breath away from my own and his arm still tight around my waist. I was confused and ridiculously turned on all at the same time. I was most certainly viewing Finn in a new light, one that I was able to admit to in the light of day and not just when I was alone at night.

“Um, wow.”

Well that was brilliant and eloquent.

He just chuckled, his eyes bright, and shook his head. “Let’s get this finished so that we can make plans for dinner tongiht.”

“Who said I accepted?”

The shift from lightheartedness to dark and predatory was faster than a blink. Before I knew what was happening, Finn was kissing me again. Just the same as mere moments ago, but this time, he was kissing me thoroughly until I was convinced. This time though, when he began to pull away a second time, I reached an arm around to keep him securely in place so that the kiss wouldn’t end. It didn’t take much strength, because he clearly didn’t want to leave the embrace either. His other arm dropped lower than the one that was wrapped around my waist, grazing daringly against my butt.

I grazed my teeth against his lower lip and his fingers curled into the clothed flesh of my butt in response, before pressing me firmly into his body and holding me in place. It was there that I could feel the rather impressive evidence of his arousal and I was lost. It had been quite some time since I had been with a man and my body was screaming for this kind of attention. That it was Finn, in all of his Adonis-like glory, made the heat pool dangerously fast between my legs.

Curious as to his reaction, I slid my hand between our bodies, running it down his bare chest as my brushes had done so many times before, and he stopped our kiss. Instead, he watched the trail of my hand, both of our chests heaving in tandem as my hand traveled still lower, almost of its own accord, stopping at the waist of his joggers. I looked up at him, the question clear on my face.

“Please don’t tease me darlin’.” His voice was strained and rough and I’ll be damned if it didn’t make my thighs clench together.

My mouth was a little dry as I ran my hand over the clothed bulge and grasped what I could. Impressive didn’t even begin to describe what Finn was clearly gifted with. The strangled moan that tore from his throat startled me and my eyes were wide as they shot to meet his half lidded ones. His lips were just barely parted and his pupils were so blown out from the sensations that only the tiniest sliver of blue was visible. That was all the cue I needed, running my fingers along the hard ridge a few times more.

He stopped me quite abruptly, his hands clasping my hips as he maneuvered me backwards. I was in a daze and not terribly oriented to my surroundings. My mind was a pink and lusty haze, and I most certainly was not thinking about where we actually were or the very, very real threat of someone walking in on us at any given moment.

The backs of my calves hit leather covered cushion and my question was answered. I had forgotten about the old leather couch that was pressed up against a wall in this locker room, but it was going to serve its purpose quite well.

There was no way he was backing out now.

Hopefully, he wasn’t just doing this to play with me.

His fingers slipped up underneath the hem of my shirt, not straying from my waist until they began lifting the shirt with their progress, mapping out the contours of my body. I mewled and shivering at his touch, it felt like he was leaving trails of fire across my skin, and Finn appeared to be satisfied with my reactions.

The shirt came off over my head and then it was thrown haphazardly somewhere within the room, and a perfect moment of clarity settled in my head, the lust induced haze lifting briefly. I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him away ever so minutely, and he paused the distractingly erotic way his fingers were tracing up my ribcage. He moved back, albeit reluctantly, a slightly worried and questioning look on his face.

I held up a finger, just to signal to him that he had to wait a minute. It also served the purpose of allowing me to regain my wits.

“We can’t smudge the paint.”

Relief blossomed across his eyes, the tension in his face relaxing.

“Oh. ’ve no problem with that at all darlin’.”

I giggled, and moments later he was completely naked, as he had made short work of his joggers are Armani boxer briefs. Why I knew and catalogued that information, I didn’t know. My eyes trailed down, and my mouth went dry. I wasn’t new to sex, but I could honestly say I had never seen a cock look beautiful, but I suppose it had to match the man it was attached to.

Without another thought, I reached out and wrapped my hand around the base, giving his length an experimental stroke. He inhaled sharply, his eyes dropping shut, and his hips stuttering at the touch. I grinned and released my grasp for just a moment. His eyes opened for a moment, until he saw me working my bra off of my shoulders and he was more than eager to assist in that venture. So eager in fact, he helped me to slide my panties off, pressing soft kisses to my hips and thighs, before sliding back up my body to press a fiery kiss to my mouth.

My hands were splayed over his chest, to stabilize myself as I was no longer sure that my knees would support my weight. A nip at my lower lip made my nails reflexively dig into the firm flesh of his chest and he moaned. The sound itself was sinful and sent another rush of liquid heat to the juncture between my thighs.

I stepped back again and switched our positions, so that he could sit on the edge of the couch, his back far from the cushions as to not smudge my work. The change of positioning was a great equalizer, as I didn’t feel so overwhelmed by him and the size of his body.

His arms were long enough to ensnare me again, pulling me down on top of him before I could gather my wits again fully. Finn’s hands went directly for my core, his long fingers curling up to press against the tight bundle of nerves found there. The bolt of pleasure that surged through my body left me breathless and ground into him, my eyes slipping shut and my hands finding purchase on his barely painted shoulders.

His hand slipped further down and I took the opportunity to grind into the heel of his hand, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough contact, enough friction, enough pressure. I knew what we both needed, as did Finn. I rearranged my position in his lap, straddling him in such a way that his cock rest along my inner thigh like a brand and my breasts in my face. His eyes glazed over in a way that if it were any other situation, would have been funny, but then his hands were suddenly there, cupping and teasing and pinching. The matter was settled, Finn was indeed a boob man.

He stopped in his attentions rather suddenly, gazing up at me with wide blue eyes.

He wanted me to make the next move. He wanted me to tell him that I wanted this.

And oh god, did I want this.

I shifted onto my knees and moved over him, his hands again on my hips, guiding his cock into me as I shifted my hips downwards.

I can honestly say that I had never felt anything so mind meltingly amazing or felt so full. I was stretched to the limit and neither the long groan that escaped from my lips as my hips met his or the way my head fell back in bliss could be helped. His lips found the sensitive skin of my neck, coaxing me to look back to his molten gaze. I began to move my hips, slowly at first, but his hands guided me to a pace that he was in control of, not allowing me to move any faster or slower than what he wanted. The dig of his fingers into the soft flesh of my hips should have hurt, but there was something erotic about the way he dictated the pace.

Everything in me wanted to go faster, to buck wildly, to chase my own release, but his grip stopped me from doing so. I leaned into him, kissing his mouth his lips again, in a vain attempt to distract him. My efforts failed, as his thumb slipped our moving bodies and stroked at the slick bundle of nerves just above where our bodies were connected, and white hot fire surged through my veins.

It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how far gone I was, and it only took a few flicks of his finger for me to be spiraling out of control. My fingers dug into his chest, leaving little half moon indentations. His hands circled behind my head, fingers lacing up into my hair, as he smoothly changed our positions while never breaking our contact, pinning my hips to the couch as he was crouched in position between my spread thighs.

With smooth movements, he began to move in and out of me with more force and speed than could possibly keep up with. I could feel a second release building, coiling tightly in the pit of my low abdomen.

It was only a matter of time before I was gasping my release again, my hips arching wildly. One of his large hands steadied me by resting on my lower stomach with the other on my thigh as his own body was wracked with shudders. He leaned over me, keening lowly into my ear. It was a most intoxicating mixture of a groan and grumble combined together.

We lay like that, in our post-coital haze, his body pressing into mine and his head cradled in between my neck and shoulder. It was as our bodies slowly began to calm and come down from the endorphin induced high, did the reality of the situation hit me.

“I’m confused… Y-you’ve never shown an interest in me before.”

He let out a huff of air that sounded suspiciously like a self-depreciating chuckle. “’ve been tryin’ to get ya to pay attention t'me since ye came on board months ago.”

I blinked rapidly, my heart stuttering in its rhythm at his words.

“But…”

Now that I thought about it, he was always within my line of sight when I arrived and hanging around the Glam Squad’s “office” when he really had no reason to be there. Whenever I say him, he was flirting heavily with the women that were almost always around him. Was it to make me jealous? I didn’t know, but the puzzle pieces were starting to fit together.

“Why me?”

“Because ye aren’t the Terror Twins.”

I craned my neck to look at him, though his face was nuzzling into the skin of my neck, I could have sworn I saw a grin. I thought I would have had something smart to say, but nothing came to mind. My head fell back into the worn leather cushion of the couch and I just listened to Finn’s steady breathing.

“Are ye goin’ t'have dinner with me now?” His question pulled me out of my sated, content haze.

I chuckled languidly, “What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinkin’ we find a little twenty four hour diner after the show.”

I chuckled, “Oh be still, my beating heart.”

He laughed and pulled away to look at me. “I promise to take ye out proper later, but that’s all I got right now.”

I smiled and lifted my head to meet his twinkling blue eyes. “You throw in a coffee from Starbucks and I’m yours.”

“A coffee?” He was almost incredulous. “I coulda had ye months ago if I’d gotten ye a coffee?”

I laughed, and wiggled myself out from under him. I stood on shaky legs, to look for my clothes and give a small prayer that no one would walk into the locker room. It wasn’t until after I finished the body painting and we were preparing to leave that I noticed that the door had been locked and essentially barricaded from the inside.

Finn shrugged and didn’t look the least bit remorseful, even if he did hold his hands up defensively

I couldn’t bring myself to be upset.

#finn balor imagine #finn balor smut #finn balor fic #repost from the old blog

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