you did some bad things

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/48046693.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/F
Fandom: Taylor Swift (Musician)
Relationship: Taylor Swift/Reader
Characters: Taylor Swift, Reader
Additional Tags: cannot believe i'm writing y/n fanfic in 2023, but alas, Smut, the
vigilante shit tour choreography lives rent free in my mind, as does the
garter belt
Language: English
Collections: Anonymous
Stats: Published: 2023-06-21 Words: 1,882 Chapters: 1/1
 you did some bad things
by Anonymous

Summary

Suddenly, Taylor is right behind you. Your breath can’t help but hitch in the back of your
throat when her hands land on your shoulders. She reaches one of them down, trailing over
your shoulders and throat with a mere finger, her touch fluttering and light. Your body feels
feverishly hot.

“Fuck, what are you doing?” you ask.

“Shh,” she cuts you off, her breath hot on your earlobe. “Just – let me try something.”

//

or: Taylor shows you her new vigilante shit choreography for the first time.

Notes
See the end of the work for notes
The chair is already there when you walk into the dance studio, and so is Taylor. She spins
around when she hears the door open, smiling at you from the other side of the room.

“Hi, there you are! You look great.”

“And you look… hot.”

Taylor looks down at her midnight blue body suit, starts laughing. “Thank you, thank you, I
aim to please,” she smiles, almost bashful. Then she gestures to the chair. “Sit down.”

You blink. “Uhm. What? Why?”

With a small chuckle, she repeats her words. “Sit down, babe. C’mon, I wanna show you
something.”

“No 'Hi, honey, how was your day?'” You mock. “'Oh, mine was great, I spent most of it
rehearsing for tour.'?”

She snorts, rolling her eyes fondly. “I did in fact spent most of it rehearsing for tour. That’s
why I texted you. I wanna show you something that Tyce and I have been working on for the
past couple of days. So sit down.”

“As much as I love to watch you practice your stuff, I really don’t have long,” you say, hand
coming up to caress Taylor's cheek. “Like, fifteen minutes tops. So, if you wanna show me
something, we better hurry.”

Her lips form a pout as she leans into your touch. “Oh my God, are you using your fucking
pout to get me to stay longer?”
“Maybe,” she sing-songs when she feels your lips against hers, and then to her cheek, her
nose, and finally her forehead. “It's kind of working though, isn't it?”

“Nope, absolutely not,” you lie, grinning from ear to ear. “Completely immune to your
charms.” You place another kiss on her lips for good measure. “So... going to show me a new
choreography?”

“That... is not exactly what I planned on doing,” your girlfriend says, guiding you towards the
chair. “Sit down, please.”

“Hm? What's all this plan you're talking about, baby?” You lift your eyebrows curiously.

“It's a surprise, actually.”

“Oh? Care to tell me more about this surprise?”

She turns her attention back to the stereo set up in the corner of the studio, “You’ll get your
surprise faster if you sit down.” Then, clearly unimpressed: “Like I already asked you to do
multiple times.”

You grin at her, sitting down in the chair.

For a moment, you allow yourself to simply stare at your girlfriend’s back, drinking her body
in. The body suit she is wearing is bejeweled with various beadings and crystals throughout.
It is almost giving it the appearance of a midnight sky, you think to yourself. The matching
knee boots compliment the outfit nicely. As soon as your eyes catch sight of the black garter,
holding up a sheer pair of black stockings, your cheeks warm. You wonder what song the
outfit belongs to.

“Which song did you practice today?”

Taylor looks over her shoulder. “Vigilante Shit.”

At that, you grin. “Ah, obviously.” You make yourself comfortable on the chair, wiggling
around a little. “The outfit really fits the part.” Taylor is still fiddling around with the stereo
in the corner when you say: “I can’t believe I’ve never seen you do Vigilante Shit. Remember
that one time I came into the studio, and you just -”

Before you can say anything else, she moves over to the door and then – without giving you
any sort of warning – flips all the lights off at once. The studio turns pitch black in a second,
and you’re not able to see a single thing.

“What the fuck?”

“Don’t freak out, okay? It’s part of your surprise.”

“Right,” you mumble. “Jeez, Taylor, in the dark? What kind of surprise are you planning? A
murder mystery?”

You’re so startled that you realize too late that she’s already put the song on. You take a deep
breath, trying to stop yourself from being disoriented, trying to make out shapes around you.
It’s impossibly dark, all around you. Your senses sharpen.

Suddenly, Taylor is right behind you. Your breath can’t help but hitch in the back of your
throat when her hands land on your shoulders. She reaches one of them down, trailing over
your shoulders and throat with a mere finger, her touch fluttering and light. Your body feels
feverishly hot.

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice shaky.

“Shh,” she cuts you off, her breath hot on your earlobe. “Just – let me try something.”
Your eyes follow the movements of her fingers until they curl on top of your abdomen, your
belly button, come to rest just above your panty line. Your lips part slightly in anticipation,
the bass of Vigilante Shit sounding miles away in your swimming ears.

When you try to put your hand on hers to guide it down into your underwear, she quickly
slaps it away. “Nope. No touching me until I say so.”

“Fuck, are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

You can only mumble a soft okay at that, hands gripping the sides of the chair to steady
yourself as she starts moving around again.

Then, she’s standing right in front of you. She is circling you. There’s that same hand on your
jaw, your neck, fingertips trailing over the skin of your inner thigh. Taylor walks around you
slowly, only giving you the smallest amount of touch, until she places both hands on your
thighs and leans in close, in kissing-distance. But her lips only ghost over yours for a split
second before leaning back.

It results in a groan from you. Taylor’s lips quirk in victory.

“You’re torturing me.”

“That’s kind of the point of a lapdance,” she mumbles before she starts swaying her hips to
her song again. The way she moves is fluid, completely intentional and in this tight body suit
that leaves almost nothing to the imagination, downright sinful. She thrusts in line with the
beat of the music for a few seconds and then she, excruciatingly slow, starts to move closer
and closer to your thighs. When the beat drops, so does she. She falls down on your lap hotly,
legs on either side of you as she straddles your midsection for a few beats with her head
thrown back, simulating riding you, hands roaming over your body. The first verse morphs
into the chorus. Her eyes flutter closed as she mouths the words to the last line of the chorus.
Your head falls back at the weight of her on top of you. “Fuck, Taylor. I wanna touch you so
bad.”

At those words, she grins a little, obviously very pleased with herself. “Really?”

You nod almost embarrassingly quickly.

She turns around, sits down on your lap like that and starts to grind her ass against you
instead. You can see the gleam in her eyes when she looks at you over your shoulder. “So bad
that you’d do anything?” she rasps.

“Yeah,” you mumble, mind unable to form coherent sentences. “Yes. Anything. Jesus Christ,
Taylor.”

“Hm.” She hums, thrusts once more. “I’m gonna have to think about it for a little while,
actually,” she says, slipping away from you. You whine at the sudden lack of contact.

She leans down, begins toying with her garter belt. You watch her in rapture, squinting. She
removes the belt from her thigh and sways over to you, eyes like charcoal, straddling you
again. But this time, she swings the garter around the back of your neck, grabbing it with
both hands and using it for leverage as she grinds against your lower stomach and crotch,
providing more pressure every time. The movement creates an almost painful throbbing
between your legs.

You are biting your lip so hard you’ve started to taste blood. You have a tight grip on the side
of the chair, because you’re so afraid Taylor will stop if you dare to break the rules and touch
her. Instead, you focus on the touch you’re getting. The friction that your girlfriend creates by
grinding against you in rhythm to the music is amazing. You let out another moan when she
starts going faster.

“God,Taylor... please...” you whine, hips bucking up against her helplessly.

“You can touch me now,” she whispers, hands sliding down yours to guide them towards her
hips. “I want you to.”

You moan again at that, you can’t help it. Her skin is so hot, and your ears are thrumming.

“Oh my God,” you groan between clenched teeth. You feel like someone is running an
electric current through you. You feel like you’re on fire in the best way possible.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, you feel a hot tongue on your neck. You gasp audibly, craning her
head back to give your girlfriend more access. You can feel Taylor grin against your neck at
that. She has her mouth on you for several minutes, alternating between soft bites of the teeth
and tracing of the tongue to soothe the stinging, which make you moan louder and louder.

Taylor keeps grinding down on you throughout the entire song, growing less coordinated as
time goes by. She starts making noises herself too, these little high-pitched whimpers and
moans that make you even more desperate.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking close,” she murmurs in the crook of your neck.

“Me too,” you gasp, and that makes her smile a little. Makes her go a little harder, too.

Your entire body is trembling, you’re right on the edge, so close to release that your abdomen
is flooding with warmth. It’s maybe another thirty seconds before you can’t hold out any
longer. You gasp, buck your hips up to meet the rhythm of her last few thrusts before pulling
her down impossibly close against you as you come. You can feel her follow you after a few
seconds, her entire body going rigid for half-a-second on top of you before you both melt
head to toe into a violent wave of goo. She’s still panting when she collapses limp on top of
you.

After a moment of trying to catch your breaths again, Taylor looks down to face you.

“Hi,” you whisper, absolutely wrecked.

Taylor lets out a soft laugh, leaning her forehead against yours. “Hi.”

She brushes some locks out of your face and smiles down at you. It makes something warm
flutter in the base of your stomach. Then, you slump against her shoulder, letting out a tired,
satisfied sigh. You are quiet for a moment before she pulls back and starts laughing.

“I’m sorry, did I just break you?” she asks, hints of amusement ringing through in her voice.

You let out a laugh too. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you exhale. “That was one hell of a surprise.
Holy shit, Tay.” You shake your head in bewilderment. “Are you going to do that on tour
too?”

Taylor starts cackling. “Oh my God, can you imagine? The tabloids would have a field day
with that one. Plus, I’d get, like, sued by so many parents of thirteen year olds I woulve have
scarred. No one would ever take their child to one of my shows again.” She leans against
your chest, presses a soft kiss against your clavicle. “So it’s probably for the best that we
keep this between us.”

You laugh right along with her, shrugging. “I mean... Ladies know what people want, right?”
End Notes

kinda feel like i'm going to hell for this idk

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