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yourlocalsmutwriter · 7 months

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A dramatic overture - Bada Lee x reader

You were a bit of an unusual ballet dancer. To put it plainly, you were a bit of a fuckup sometimes. But wasn't everyone? Apparently not, according to your overbearing mother. And your choreographer, the infamous Bada Lee. How you landed in her troupe was a mystery.

Not only was she an insanely talented leader, she had been a phenomenal dancer beforehand. Other girls like Lusher and Tater flourished under her guidance. You, on the other hand still needed some work.

And that is exactly what you did. Day and night you practiced tirelessly. After all, ballet was an art, and weren't all the greats tortured and starving? You were eating still, the only pleasure you allowed yourself. The rest was wake up, go to dance, go home, and then repeat the cycle again and again. But your efforts paid off in the end.

And you had perfected your routine just in time for your audition. You were doing Swan Lake, a staple in the community for dancers and the audience as well. And of course, Bada wanted to put her twist on it. So at the end of the season there would be a special ''modern'' retelling of the plot, with all original choreography from her. You were excited. As stereotypical it was, you loved Swan Lake. It was the ballet that made you want to be a dancer in the first place. And Odile was your dream role ever since you were a child. So you tried to brush off your insecurity and worked for it.

You had been to the studio at such late hours that your parents started to suspect you had a boyfriend. You didn't have the heart to tell them that a boyfriend was the last thing they would ever have to worry about it. So you brushed it off and insted went in during your allocated dinner hours. And since you absolutely hated breakfast and really anthing early in the morning, you were down to one meal a day. It's not like you planned it and it wasn't affecting you that badly. At least thats what you thought at first. But by hour 4 of practice, you were exausted. You did a turn and felt your body go limp. You tried to break your fall in, but you still slammed to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Your fall must have been serious because Bada rushed in. You didn't even know she was in the studio then. You prepared fora lecture and her berating you on your stupidity and carelesness. But instead she let you lean on her and get to her office. There, you sat on a comfortable plush chair as she brought you a sports drink and an icepack. You were too tired to think about where her personal fridge was located and just how big it was. As your pain got lighter, you could focus more on what she was saying.

''And please, be careful. I see you work hard. But don't neglect yourself too much. The most important thing to focus on is your health. And as for the role, don't worry, there's plenty of roles, plenty of other shows.''

While she was right, you were stubborn. But you did not have a death wish, so you scaled back your practices by only 15 minutes, but it's the thought that counts. And also you started packing sandwiches. And little by little, it came time for auditions. Surprisingly, Odile was still popular, so you were up against the stars of your group. Still, they relied on their already existing talent and hadn't really bothered to memorize new techniques. And you had worked hard, building a completely new persona for your dancing. And that did not go unnoticed by Bada. So her decision was easy. Almost as easy as the way you cried tears of joy upon seeing the cast list. You had it. The role was yours. The pain was over.

Little did you know, the pain was just beginning. Now it was just a lot. while Odile was a background character most of the time, there was still her solo. And you dreaded it. Not only the dancing but also dancing with a man. It's not like you had anything against men. In fact, you were on good terms with most of the male members of the troupe. You just couldn't feel the necessary passion and attraction needed to dance with them. And you couldn't fake that love, even on stage for just a few minutes. But you managed. Bada had some minor critiques, which you corrected. And so the first cour of your performances began. Your choreographer had you do a limited summer run with the original production. Then, in the quieter ballet months you'd train again for her version of Swan Lake.

You were excited to play Odile twice. But little did you know, in Bada's version the cast would be all female. And you found out that last.

While you were on your last regular performance, she pulled you aside and told you there would be some changes to the cast list. She watched your face pale for a few seconds before adding that your spot would not change. And you swore she added a wink at the end, just to torment you.

Maybe it was worry. Maybe it was a stomach bug from all the supermarket sandwiches. But you were too sick to make it to rehearsal. You called your choreographer and almost tearfully apologized over and over again. Yet, Bada reassured you. Your role was not in the first acts anyway, so she'd focus on them now. But little did you know, she was simultaneously holding auditions. And she made sure to take down the new cast list before you return.

It was worth the hassle and the looks of bewilderment from the other dancers. Because she essentially saw you go through every stage of gay panic in the span of 5 minutes.

You walked in the studio, seeing her. She queued up the pas de deux music and walked over to the oposite side of the room. She stood on the blocking of your partner's position and motioned for you to take your place. When you were still frozen on your spot, she began explaining.

''We're in Bada's version now. And seeing how abysmall your chemistry was with the male leads, I made some changes.'' she said.

''If I was so bad, why didn't you say something. Why didn't you recast me.'' you questioned.

''You're a good dancer. And besides, it was just Swan Lake. I cannot be revolutional, I don't want to claim I can rewrite the story better. But making my cast all female of my own show, that's another thing. A modern retelling of a classic. With a strong message on how love isn't dictated by the gender binary. These tickets will sell like fresh bread.'' she explained

''And you're coming out of retirement to do this.'' you added, getting it now.

''Jackpot.''

''So you're doing this to get money.''

''I'm doing this for art. And to keep your fees from raising. Costume, set decor, rent on the studio, I'm guessing you don't want to pay that. Unless you do, then get in position.''

Her movements were so fluid. Additionally, she could lift you with ease. The thing is, every time she touched you, it felt like electricity was running through you. So you couldn't really focus and fumbled. Bada was a bit annoyed, but then she started over. Still, you were rattled. Why did this make you feel this way? Bada was attractive. But why would her appearance affect you so much? And now? So you continued to dance, pushing away the thoughts for some time. And it worked for a bit. You two managed to complete the routine. And did it again a few times again, to solidify it.

And then you did it perfectly. You would never use that word lightly, but it was true. It was a million times better than with your male partners. So you were confident that you would nail it.

''Okay, you have the energy now. Let's start learning the routine.'' Bada said.

You were confused. You knew your choreography, and you were wondering if there was a light misstep on your part. And then, Bada started a completely new dance. You wondered when she had the time to choreograph this. It was a completely different way of moving, looking more like a street style. You had never danced like this. But clearly, Bada had. She was so good, even better than with ballet. Was this on purpose? Or was it just her trying to showcase a skill? But why throw you under the bus? You could talk to her about it. Ask her to pull back on some moves, but still add that Bada flare. But you didn't do that. You just tried to copy her moves. You were a professional, so you could pick it up. And it's not like you picked up ballet in one go.

So you tried again. And again. And again. At first, Bada was guiding you very closely, being next to you, correcting your posture with her hands. After a few hours of that, she gets tired of this and sits down, just giving you oral feedback. That frustrated you. And the fact that she kept forcing you to practice over and over again. And at the end of the day, you were just tired and ended up just going home, with no progress on your end. The thing is, you tried again and again. You ended up having a sleepless night in order to get something done. And even though you were dancing like there was no tomorrow, there was little progress.

But you just kept at it. Rehearsing. Going home and dancing there. By the time you went to sleep, it was time to get up again. On days when you weren't training you'd just sleep and eat, calling it a day. You were becoming slovenly. Makeup and brushing your hair were becoming luxuries and so were laundry and showers. And the worst part is, you weren't improving. Street dancing was just not your thing. But it was everyone else's thing. Bada and the whole group could do it. Except you. You were the outcast again. And for no reason. It's not like you were bad at performing in your signature style. What pissed you off the most was surprisingly Bada. She was the incompetent one, not you. She couldn't lead you properly. You hoped she would help and you were called to her office at the end of the day. But instead, you got chewed up. Midway through her rant, someone stormed in, talking to her about a defaced poster and how it was going viral, but not in a good way. She excused herself and promised she'd be back soon. But 5 minutes past. Then 10. Then 15. And the whole time Bada's phone was buzzing with notifications. It was driving you insane. So you reached out to put it on silent mode. But something caught your eye. All the notifs were from a groupchat called TEAM BEBE and the picture was that of the troupe. So you looked at the messages and everyone was talking about you. Lusher, Tatter, even Cheche, they were all bad mouthing you. Making fun of you for the things, that were beyond your control. You had had enough so you just stormed out of there.

So you did the only thing you could think of. You dressed for revenge. First, you went to a salon to reverse the damage to your hair. Then you actually took time and booked a morning makeup session at the MAC counter, making sure to add a striking red lip. To top it all off, you decided to get some new clothes for the rehearsals. A few sexy and black pieces later, you had wiped out your salary. But none of that mattered.

While your transformation was already almost unbelievable, you knew it wasn't enough to shine to dazzle your so-called teammates. But the first person with a target on their back was Bada herself. After all, she was the one that got you into this mess in the first place. So you knew just how to make her regret it. But your plan wasn't exactly foolproof. And you were about to find that out.

First, you joined Bada in your usual practice room. It was surreal to see yourself reflected in so many mirrors while looking like this. You brushed it off. You began the routine and messed up horrendously, this time on purpose. You kept butchering it again and again until Bada stood up begrudgingly to help you. As soon as she got close enough, you pushed her back, watching her topple to the ground, her spine contorting into a graceful, sweeping curve. She was beautiful, even when falling. You wasted no time in straddling her waist, fully prepared to fight her. By then, she was fighting back too, trying to knee you, making you enclose your legs against her thigh. Bada pushes you back, but her hands meet your chest. And you fucking moan. She just raises an eyebrow and looks at you. Then she moves her hands to your hips, making you rock back and forth.

''If a good fuck is all you need to dance correctly, I'll give it to you princess,'' she said. You were about to protest, but she flexed her thigh and you were a goner. You let her take control completely. Bada made you grind your hips on her, to hump her leg like a horny pet. She snapped off the buttons of your leotard, so your bare pussy was rubbing against her. Your wetness was all over her black pants.

''Bada, I'm going to cum.'' with that your mentor bounced her leg up and down. You leaned towards her and kissed her as your orgasm took over you. She helped you ride it out and watched as you rolled over on the floor, panting and tired. Bada watched you for a minute and then said.

''Oh, my darling, I'm just getting started with you, so you better get up.''

Taglist: @withoctober

#street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #bada x reader #bada lee #bada lee x reader #swf2 x reader #bada lee fanfic #bada lee x y/n #bada lee x oc #bada lee smut #black swan #thigh riding

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fatalitysficbakery · 1 month

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𓆰♡︎𓆪 NEVER Trust The Love Interest. —

Samantha Carpenter x Black Fem!Y/n

genre: angst | fluff | SMUT.

warnings: listen to 'What a wonderful world' by Louis Armstrong while reading, ghostface!sam, sub!sam, soft dom!y/n, praise, oral (reader giving), slight!fingering, soft ‘reuinited’ smut, sub worship.

synopsis: legacies make franchises.

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery navigation menu 𓆪.

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery multifandomed &&’ oc menu #2 𓆪.

❦ ⌫ ❦

An unsettling silence plagued the halls, so quiet you could hear a mouse squeak, but who could blame anyone in the complex for leaving after what had happened in only two weeks.

Nobody wanted to believe it was happening again until the bodies in the morgue began to pile up, and the first mask was found next to the third victim, it was almost a taunt. No...A greeting.

Ghostface was back in business.

The Carpenter sisters were on immediate alert, but it didn't take long for someone to throw a big party, the perfect opportunity for new victims, and for some unknown fucking reason no one seemed to be concerned with the outcome that Samantha and Tara could sense a mile away like clockwork.

Tara stayed home, luckily. But that's not who Sam was worrying about right now as her phone went to voicemail for the 20th time that night, Sam was quick to grab her keys. There were many ways this could go south but with her being radio silent? Sam couldn't care less about the consequences than the idiots that had willingly gone despite the risks. On her way out the door, she texts Chad, Tara, and Mindy to warn them of her whereabouts, gun holstered and knife in her boots.

Never too armed. There was a mace and taser in her purse for backup.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

The scene was a bloodbath, the moment you entered the place there were bodies and puddles of red as far as the eye could see and Samantha was quick to unholster the gun resting on her hip, there wasn't a lot she was afraid of anymore, hell blood had become so normal to her, she stepped over the bodies like they weren't there.

If anything everything in sight had become invisible to her eyes, her thoughts solely on the one person she was hellbent on saving, on protecting. Nearing the staircase, she hears distant voices, and murmurs.

'C'mon, Y/n. Not today.'

Rounding the corner, her heart nearly beat out of her chest when the voices only got louder just for to realize.

'I see trees of green, red roses too..'

She grunts a hiss of air out when her eyes land on an old stereo. With her jaw set, she pushes on, determination filling her gaze like it had only done when Tara was the one who needed her protection. Her head cocking slightly to the side when a new gaze meets hers; pointing the gun directly between the males eyes, she crouches next to the figure.

"Travis. Where's Y/n?" She asked quietly, the sight of her bestfriends boyfriend hidden in the same room she'd gone into putting her on high alert. There was blood on his collar. She scoffs when he doesn't answer. "Trav, c'mon. I need to find her. Keep her safe, that's what you want, no?"

Travis trembles from his spot on the floor, and Sam spots a puddle forming beneath him. The empathy in her eyes left just as fast as it had come, eyes moving down his neck to his hands; Bloodied.

Sam clicks her tongue, standing up from her spot next to him.

"Or at least, that's...that's what you should want, Travis. I mean look at you, lying in wait while your girlfriend gets possibly murdered. Jesus...That's cold-hearted."

Travis squirms from his spot on the floor, eyes frantic and body trembling like a fish out of water. Samantha just watches as he grows more inconsolable, attention on him only diverting when she turns to find a cloaked figure.

Stu's mask on their face.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

Samantha barely manages to dodge the knife aiming for her abdomen, stepping out of the way at the last minute, her movements fluid and clean as she does like it's a choreographed dance she'd obsessively learned the steps to.

Her strangely calm demeanor shifts slightly when she looks back at Travis, who only seems...confused.

"You really are a little bitch, Travis. That's what's sad. You date a close friend of a Carpenter sister...but you never thought twice, did you? Don’t you know the rules?"

Holstering her gun, she sighed and kneeled down next to the bed while the cloaked killer worked on dragging Travis to the middle of the room, both his kneecaps had been shot out, rendering the poor thing immobile and utterly useless.

Her fingers brushed against the mask, a shudder running down her spine at the feel of sheer power beneath her thumbs, a legacy she was tired of running from, one she'd been so desperate to get rid of. One that she was now even more hellbent and desperate on keeping alive.

'Do it, Sam. Put it on. You've earned this' Billy's voice plays in her head like an echoing cave, and with every fear the old Samantha held in her heart of hearts...She uses it to drive her; Billy's knife in her boot and his mask in her hand.

Her lips quiver the moment she bites the bullet and puts it on again, this time...to be used as her father intended it to.

'Atta girl, Sammy. Now. Do me proud, kid. Flood this fucking town RED!'

"Sam."

A voice cuts through the hallucinations, snapping Sam out of her stupor, she looks up at the cloaked figure standing over Travis, nodding to herself; a confirmation to herself that there was no going back after this. Standing up, she takes her spot next to the person in Stu's mask, cutting on the voice changer, she feels a spark traveling down her spine, breathing it all in.

Samantha Carpenter meets Samantha Loomis.

"There are rules, Travis. And you broke one of the biggest. Now the sad thing is...I can see it in your eyes. Shifty. Maybe I was wrong, maybe you do wanna save Y/n. Is that what you want? To save her?"

The tears that gathered in his eyes bring a smile to Samantha's face from underneath her mask, neck craning to the side, her eyes meeting her partners just as Travis finally whimpers out a pathetic pleading "Yes".

"You wanna tell him? You do the honors."

Stepping back, Samantha allows them to the front, their voice disguised as well when speaking, a crackling robotic tone sounding through. "It'd be my pleasure. I've really been waiting all night for this."

Dragging his body to a sitting position, they go to lock the door, the radio being turned up just a tad louder to drown out the incessant whimpering, squatted beside him now, they slowly begin removing the plastic Halloween mask.

Travis's eyes widen the moment he's aware of what's underneath.

The tears, oh how they freely fall down the apples of his cheeks.

❦ ⌫ ❦

The radio, it repeats, and it repeats, keeping time with his rapid heartbeats. She straddles his lap, knife grazing his skin, forcing him to look in his eyes.

The tears, oh how they freely fall down the apples of his cheeks.

'I see trees of green, red roses too...I see them bloom for...'

"Y/n." He breathes out shakily.

'Me and you.'

With the voice changer resting underneath her lips, her knife, she nods, pulling a gun. Stu's berretta, from her pocket, whistling quietly.

"And I think to myself..." She leans in closer, a soft smirk curving onto her lips, "What a wonderful world. Hi baby. You know what this is right? Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you. We're just talking, right? Just talking. Don't cry."

Samantha's jaw sets watching the scene, her body itching for a kill. Specifically this one.

"What is this? Huh?" She repeats, waving the beretta at him like a nice greeting, or in this case, maybe a solemn goodbye.

"The...The gun you shot me with? I-I don't know, Y/n please...W-why?"

"I'm getting there. Patience. I mean, you're not wrong. I did shoot you with it, but you know...I also shot that bitch you were cheating with. Junie? Her favorite scary movie was weak. The nun. Ugh. No. This? is Stu Macher's gun."

"J-junie's dead?"

"As a bitch, Travis. As a fucking bitch. You know, Sammy's right. You did break a rule. Two actually."

"One, you cheated and told Mindy of all people. My sister, really? You never could handle your fucking liquor." Rising up, she points the gun at his thigh and pulls the trigger, relishing the way his screams align with the music. "You trusted the love interest. Sammy?"

'I see skies of blue and clouds of white...'

On cue, Samantha walks ahead of Y/n, kissing her cheek as she does so, Billy's knife tightly gripped in her hand.

'The bright blessed day...The dark sacred night...'

"I guess you're even, Trav. I mean, she was cheating on you too. Bestfriend? You could say we're close. The only problem is..." Samantha drops down into his lap, but there's nothing erotic about the plans she has for him, her knife to his neck; she removes the old mask, a shit-eating grin on her face, "Only one of you cheated with a goddamned Loomis."

'And I think to myself...'

Without a second word, his throat is slit, and she blacks out. His body riddled with stab wounds when it was all over she could hear Y/n's heeled boots against the floor, looking back to see Stu's berretta pointed at Travis's head though he'd taken his last breath seconds before; smoothly Samantha rolled out of the way, allowing Y/n to deliver a swift shot to the head.

'What a wonderful world...'

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

After all was said and done, Y/n leaned her forehead against Samantha's taking a deep breath at the next steps, her eyes staring deeply into hers, "I'm ready."

"Baby, we...we don't gotta." Sam reasons, but she shakes her head, a bittersweet smile spread across her cheeks, she whispers to Sam, eyes glossed over with tears. "I won't die. I'll be fine. It's for you, I'll do it for you."

"Are you sure? Completely?"

"Completely."

There's a replica knife, one of Billy's that Y/n had crafted herself, one she'd stabbed Junie with before shooting her, one she'd stabbed Samantha's ex-boyfriend with, and you know the people that came to the party, it was easy to do so when not many dared to arrive due to the restart of the killings and being the only one with a gun helped too, of course.

She passes it into Samantha's gloved hand.

"Do it. And after you do it, I need you to go. Okay? Go, and don't call me. I will call you. Understood?"

"Understood." Samantha takes a deep breath. It had been all too effortless to kill Travis, to kill Gale but the thought of hurting you only slightly was one she hated.

"Now, Sam, NO- AH, FUCK!" As soon as Y/n cries out, she's pulled into Samantha's arms, careful to mind the abdomen wound she'd just given her girlfriend, shushing the poor thing.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...Shh. Shh, I got you."

As much as Y/n wants to hold on tighter, she just whispers one word in Samantha's ear, sliding off her cloak and handing it to Samantha to get rid of. "Go."

Samantha nodded, pecking Y/n's lips before grabbing the cloak and ducking out of the backdoor they stood by, leaving Y/n to call the police, though she didn't know just how far Y/n would go to protect her until she heard a pained yell inside and a gunshot and as if she could sense Sam's concern, another "GO" is yelled out from inside.

Sam goes.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

"She's gone, Sam. She's gone. There's no true love for a Loomis, remember your true love. Pick up the knife, Sammy." His voice grows increasingly aggressive, brows knitted together waving the infamous dagger in front of my face, like bone to dog and it almost physically hurts to not reach my hands out, wrap my fingers around the handle -- Let the electricity liven me.

Her being mentioned is the only thing that breaks my attention away, and I can see his face fall into something blank when he realizes I wasn't budging on my stance, it isn't until I wake up with a jolt, looking at the clock and very predictably my phone, itching to see if she'd called or messaged.

She hadn't.

It wasn't until that afternoon that I heard from her, waiting with bated breaths to see if she was still breathing, if we'd gone too far and she was a part of the carnage, the gunshot still rang fresh as day in my head, her voice the only thing to cut through the thoughts, through my father's taunting. I could hear him now, there was no love to be truly had regarding what we were, but I refused to let him be right. Not when it came to her.

"Spare key. Earth to my beautiful girlfriend?"

I think my jaw goes slack, my lips slightly parting themselves and I'm almost in denial. I'd almost let my father ruin love for me, and though I hadn't budged, that moment of dread I felt when I considered the possibility of her having died ran so deeply that it was almost like seeing a ghost when she's finally within a foot or two in front of me, that familiar cheeky smile stretching from ear to ear.

God, she's as beautiful as I remember and though it's only been a mere half a day apart I find myself scanning her from head to toe, analyzing and trying to scope out if any of the little details that she was made up of had changed; To my relief, the only things out of place are the stab wound near her side, and the cast on her wrist which must've been the beretta's doing.

Other than that...It was her, it was my lady that stood in front of me.

↳

"Oh thank fuck. You're alive." Samantha's hands find my waist so naturally it feels like it's instinct for her, to pull me into an embrace without the slightest thought to it. I can feel her body shudder, eyes pricking with tears; She squeezes me so tight I have to tap her a few times to let her know her hold is a bit too strong, and even then she seems reluctant, as if I've just dealt her a...disrespectful request.

"Not for long if you keep squeezing me like this, sweetheart. I shot myself in the arm, hit nothin' vital. Again there's nothing I wouldn't do to see you get out of this without being caught. Best damn Ghostface there ever was. Y'know that right?" I can't stop staring, though I'd never been able to, not since we'd been friends. Sleepovers almost always ended with us talking about everything and nothing while staring into one another's eyes until the moon made way for the sun.

She nods, but I can tell she's wary and I take no time to bring her into my arms, brushing her hair from her face, a small whisper of a "Hey" spoken through the silence to hush her worries. "I'm alive, okay? Wouldn't leave my favorite girl alone."

"You could've been seriously hurt." Sam nuzzles herself against me, arms gripping around my waist protectively as if she thought I might disappear into thin air.

"But I didn't and if I did? It would've been damn worth it, I don't regret a damn thing." I'm sure of this, I know it to be true. I bring my hand up to her cheek, keeping it there until I'm sure she trusts that it's real, that she's real. I hear her chuckle but there's zero humor behind the sound, it breaks my heart to see her so scared when she whimpers, letting go and allowing herself to be picked up and carried upstairs to her bedroom relenting like she'd never hesitated.

We climb the stairs in a comfortable yet tense silence, making our way to Sam's bedroom. I push the door open with my foot and gently kick it closed all the same.

"Do you trust me?" I ask, sitting her on the bed and coming to take place between her legs, hands cupping her face. I tilt her chin up to look directly into her chocolate-brown gaze.

It's a brief moment before I hear her voice again, I forget myself within one smooth motion, my right hand moving to her lips and a kiss pressed upon the back and if that isn't enough, her words press their own soft kisses to my ears. "I think you might be the only one aside from my sister that I trust right now, Y/n."

Lying her back on the bed, I feel myself aching in ways no one has ever made me ache and I hadn't even touched her yet. She was just that good. I chased the high every time. "Then let me take care of you."

Standing over her, I reached for the hem of her shorts, only hesitating on my movements just to gauge her reactions and make sure this was okay. She had this look that could get her anything she ever wanted and when she flashed it at me I knew to do exactly that.

Those pretty little eyes of hers, she gave me that stare and I was turned a slave for her love, she had me in only one night and she still had me now.

She was always so reluctant to be vulnerable, to allow herself something so human. No one could blame her, she'd gone through a lot to get here. I see it in her though. That fighter. — She still deserved to let those defenses down every now and then and I was more than honored that I'd become trusted with such realities in which Sam just got to be Sam.

"I gotta hear you before I go any further, baby. Speak up for me?"

The poor thing's words must've been caught in her throat for a second or two but I allowed her the chance to gather herself before my lips were on her inner thigh, I swear I did but I know that if I were a lesser woman my self-control would've been stripped the before she uttered a damn word. "Just...touch me."

Now that I didn't need to be told twice.

I think one of the most fascinating things about Samantha is her power to seduce and addict, and she had me absolutely sprung. My lips ghost over her thighs before actually meeting the skin. Call me slow but I loved seeing her reactions and keeping myself between her legs at all times, letting her know how appreciated she truly was.

She looks down at me, her abs taut as I bring up the tank top she's wearing, exposing her muscled physique to my hungry eyes. That dark hooded stare is intense on me, and it's a damn shame she has to work tomorrow. I'd be here all night if I could.

My lips had wandered everywhere, neglecting Samantha and themselves while straying away from its intended target until finally, we'd both had enough. She lets out a frustrated whine and I'm too far gone to keep denying myself so I settle our collective woes when I wrap my lips around her bud, her body flinching only to end up running further into my tongue. One hand gripping her thigh in a firm hold.

I bury myself within the temple that is Samantha Carpenter's body, her slick coating my lips, my cheeks, my nose. Drowning in the scent and taste of her all I feel is a simple man's greed. Right now I am that simple man, and I have only one thing on my mind.

Making her sing. I always told her she had a beautiful voice.

Her moans egg me on, legs hoisted up on my shoulders. Her gaze is still locked in on me heavy, and when I pull away for air I can see a small hint of disappointment. "You seem disappointed. Have I disappointed you, my love? Don't be afraid. Speak your mind."

"You're an assho-" I shush her with my lips, giving her a taste of the liquid heaven that rests between her thighs, a moan slips out of those beautiful lips and the sound gets me high. I pull back, my mind back in that simple man's place as I lower myself back between her thighs. My tongue finds her slit and runs the length, revelling in the way she shudders each time.

Once upon a time, I told her my favorite thing was making out with her. I didn't clarify that I meant that in every sense of the word my mouth engaged in a heated makeout session with Sam's cunt. I'm not ashamed to admit it but after the night I had that ended with my arm in a sling, this felt like a reward. I'd gotten to the finish line. My prize was in front of me, and I was happy to take it. More than.

It wasn't long before I recognized those telltale signs that meant she was close to climax. The way her eyebrows knitted and she bit down on her lip harshly trying not to show just how good she was feeling, as she attempted to keep some semblance of that signature Samantha stubbornness; She failed miserably again and again. It was amusing to watch, and I was more than willing to...but granting her the serenity of hiding in the end was something that was completely off the table.

I let two of my fingers graze the edge of her hole, eyeing her reaction when I plunge the two deeply into her pretty pussy. If I wasn't so occupied I think I could've smirked a little.

The reaction this garner is as precious as it is delicious. Her legs squeezed themselves around my neck, her hands gripping the sheets and her back arched, eyes squeezed shut as her orgasm wracked through her body.

Her taste is something I couldn't quit if I tried, and I had no intention to. No, in fact, I locked my lips around her, fingers pumping in and out with her cum coating my tongue. Every little drip came from paradise and god was it heavenly.

And listen to that melody in which she sings my name.

"Y/n...B-baby, I can't-"

Fucking beautiful.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

"Do you think we could ever live a normal life?" She asks while her girlfriend lathers her hair up with shampoo, sitting behind her in the clawfoot bathtub. She can still see flashes of the carnage they left behind and she wonders just how much of her father she'd absorbed from the real-life cases to the movies her friends liked to binge repeatedly, and now she was continuing his legacy. A killer.

Y/n can practically see the overthinking inner battle Sam is having, and she immediately stops her movements. She pulls her in, one arm wrapped securely around her waist and the other tilting her head up to face her. She presses a brief but sweet, gentle kiss to her lips. Her forehead is against Sam's when they pull away.

"I'm gonna be honest, my love. I don't know. But what I do know is that I'm damn well gonna fight for one for us. Do you hear me? I want you to fight too. I...need you to fight too."

Her voice cracks on her last words until she feels two hands grabbing hers. Sam's eyes move over her and it's like she's falling in love with her girlfriend all over again. "Hey. I never said I was giving up."

Y/n stops in her tracks, taking a deep breath and nodding in agreement. "You didn't..."

Sam shakes her head, a smile slowly crawling onto her lips. She leans in to kiss Y/n again, head back against hers. "I didn't."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎

A/N: Listened to Fiona Apple and Cowboy Carter high while I wrote this. 10/10 would recommend.

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