Bellamy Blake Imagines

Guys My Age (Smut)

warning - SMUT! LOT'S OF SMUT! hope you enjoy ;)

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You were reckless. You thought with your gut. Not your head and heart, like Clarke or Bellamy. It got you into trouble on several occasions, but it also earned you a reputation. You were what camp called, the bad bitch. It wasn't as if you didn't live up to the reputation, because you did. You knew how to fight... that was the whole reason for your being on the ground with other hundred delinquents. You had an attitude, but always got your way with things.

You weren't a brat, however. You knew when no meant no, and you wouldn't create like a five year old whenever something didn't go your way. You were fearless, many of the hundred were intimidated by you, some scared at how you may react if they were to approach you. You weren't a horrible person either, you were surprisingly outgoing and kind, but if anyone got on the wrong side of you, they'd know about it.

The night was young as you sipped on Monty's moonshine, a sigh escaping your lips. You were perched on one of the three logs that surrounded the fire, listening haphazardly to the chatter around you as the substance settled into your veins. You always felt more confident after a few drinks, resulting in yourself being much more daring than usual. You were insanely laid back when you'd been drinking too. Very chilled and peaceful, but that wasn't all the time. And it certainly wasn't the case this time.

Although you'd only had two drinks, the moonshine had already began taking its toll on you. You could feel your hormones overtaking yourself, dirty thoughts invading your mind as your eyes surveyed the camp for one person in particular, until your eyes found him.

Bellamy Blake.

He leant against the wall that surrounded the camp, his knees slightly bent at his slouched position and a small smirk played on his lips. You couldn't tear your eyes away, you didn't want to.

You could see his smile grow as he laughed at something Murphy had said. You whined to yourself silently, your bottom lip tugging between your teeth when you caught sight of the visible veins protruding from Bell's arms. Without a second thought, you guzzled the rest of your moonshine, setting the cup onto the dirty ground beneath you and standing from the log. With a sly smirk, you strutted through the camp, catching the eyes of most the boys — including the guys with Bellamy.

Murphy hit his shoulder gently to get his attention, warning him you were approaching. With a smirk tugging on your lips, your legs carried you gracefully to the men as Bellamy turned to you with slightly squinted hooded lids and a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Evening boys," Bellamy eyed you, his smirk only growing as he caught your slight wink you shot him. It was no lie you were both attracted to one another. You both constantly flirted with each other, no matter who was around.

The camp were just waiting for you to fuck, and so were you. But you were tired of waiting. "And how can we help a pretty thing like you?" Atom queried, eyebrows raised slightly and you could've sworn you heard a low growl slip from Bellamy's lips. You smirked. "Oh Atom, aren't you sweet." You spoke slowly, inching toward him and placing a hand on his chest and rubbing your thumb against the dirty fabric of his shirt. "I wonder how else we could put that mouth to use." You hummed with a soft giggle shortly following, your bottom lip tugging between your teeth and you pulled away from him. Atom gawked at you, swallowing thickly as he shifted uncontrollably on the spot, his cheeks blushing crimson as the other boys hit him in praisal with wide grins.

You turned to Bellamy, eyebrows raised but his smirk never falling. He knew you were trying to get him jealous, but it wasn't working. He knew you'd never sleep with Atom. He knew you weren't a sleaze, like him. "Unfortunately, I'm not here for you, Atom. Guys my age don't know how to please me." You sighed out, your hands toying with the beige shirt that clung perfectly to Bellamy's toned chest. You hummed to yourself, your panties pooling at the thought of tearing it off him.