#now this...this is what i'm talking about

[samcarter34]

At this point I'm largely 'it was what it was' vis a vis campaign 3.

But occasionally I'll think about how the climax of campaign 1 is Scanlan having to sacrifice his one chance to save Vax's life in order to stop Vecna from escaping, how the cast has multiple times acknowledged how strong the story of the tragedy of Vax is. Then I'll think about they consciously made the decision to undermine that, and I get a little annoyed again.

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine Being Isekai'ed into KPOP DEMON HUNTERS. (part 3)

This chapter is mainly Baby (Beom) oriented!) THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT! I think this ones a little longer!(my tag list IS closed but you can follow the post in order to receive updates on when i make edits!! So sorry!)

Part 1 Part 2

To Y/N’s surprise, the Saja Boys were actually a talented bunch. Although, she wasn’t sure how much of it was raw talent or made by demonic power. 

The tired girl had finished up the lyrics, allowing Baby and Romance to write with her. She had ingrained into them that, if they used their fake charm on her, she would withdraw her offer and leave them to rot. Y/N despised flattery, it was a candy trail for those, foolish enough to pick up a piece of poisoned candy.

‘Huh, you really make it obvious. “Gotta drink every drop.”? I might as well tell them I'm a demon.’ Jinu sneered, with his hand over one headphone as he listened to the demo Y/N had drafted. His words, however sharp, bounced off Y/N as she noticed a small detail in Jinu’s behaviour.

‘Your shoulders are dancing.’ Y/N grinned cheekily, her chin resting on her balled fist.

‘I didn’t say it was bad.’ Jinu grumped, bopping his head to the beat. ‘Abel was right, you do have talent.’

‘Why thank you Jinu.’

‘Y/N?’ A voice called out, ‘For the rap, can you help me with some of my lyrics?’ Baby grasped Y/N’s hand delicately, as if unsure.

‘Hm? Yeah.’ Y/N slipped out of her chair, inconspicuously removing her fingers from Baby’s grip. She wasn’t sure how much of him was actually shy, and the other just a sarcastic mock of the industry’s infantilisation of idols.

‘Let me know if you want anything changed, Jinu.’ Y/N patted the older man on the shoulder quickly before moving over to sit with the youngest of the bunch. 

Jinu watched on with a familiar feeling in his chest.

Envy.

Greed.

Jinu blinked, quickly jerking his gaze away from Y/N and his youngest friend. Was he jealous? What for? His eyes narrowed, sneaking a glance at the pair again.

Y/N and Baby, were leaned over Y/N’s notebook, chattering animatedly. Baby, actually seemed to be enjoying the conversation.

‘Hey, wait, these are actually really good, kid!’ Y/N laughed, ruffling the hair of the youngest. The boy in return grumbled, red cheeked, battering Y/N’s hand away.

‘I’m over two hundred years old.’ He slumped over, laying his head on the cool marble table.

‘Huh, y’know sometimes I forget.’ She mused, looking at Baby’s now messy hair. 

‘Is this actually you writing or you guys using your powers.’

‘I was a poet before I took a deal with Gwi-ma. My name was Beom.’ He hummed, looking at the notebook, tapping the pen on his cheek.

‘I see! It really shows. You have really good flow as well.’ Y/N smiled, leaning back, forgetting that the stool had no backing.

‘Watch it.’ Jinu’s arm wrapped around her waist securely. His gaze was… conflicted? When did he move from the set up to the kitchen table?

Jinu was stuck between wanting her to fall and wanting to wrap her up to keep her safe. He could feel the heat of her skin through her thin shirt.

‘Holy crap, thanks Jinu. I forgot about these chairs. I don’t usually sit here, I don’t really have people over a lot.’ Y/N’s sentence drifted off, as she realised how sad that sentence sounded.

‘I mean, you’ll be stuck with us for a while.’ Beom smiled nervously, looking at the girl with hopeful eyes.

‘Yeah, this song will take me less than three days. I mean, look at your writing! It’s been less than two hours and you’re already almost done with your lyrics!’ Y/N praised, forgetting for a split moment that she was talking to a demon.

‘Thanks Y/N.’ Beom beamed, standing up and gathering his notes. ‘I’m going to go practice with the music!’

‘Alrighty kid, let me know if you need anything.’ Y/N called, watching the man’s blue hair bounce slightly as he ran over to join Romance, Mystery, and Abel.

‘Why are you pretending to be nice to them?’ Jinu sounded irritated, his voice was filled with aggression. 

‘Huh? I’m not pretending to be nice. In fact, I actively claim to be a rude and disagreeable person.’ Y/N crossed her arms, at his accusatory tone. Why was he being so rude to her? He was at least somewhat nice to Rumi in the movie. Maybe, even kind.

‘Yeah well, I can see that.’ Jinu bit back, staring at her with a similar stance.

‘Look Jinu, I don’t know what your problem is, but I'm helping you at the moment so the least you can do is be nice to me. Or in the least, be agreeable.’ She spun around, picking up her note book and standing. ‘I get that I’m not pretty like the rest of Huntr/x but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad when you treat me differently.’

‘Who said I thought you weren’t pretty?’ He frowned, looking confused. ‘I’m an asshole, not blind.’ 

Y/N  waved him off, seemingly seeing through his lie.

‘Flattery won’t get you anywhere. I’m not stupid Jinu. All I’m saying is, you don’t have to hate me.’

‘But I-’ 

‘Let's go over the lyrics. Is there anything you want me to change? Do you want line distribution done by you or by me?’ Y/N picked up a pen, changing the topic so quickly it almost gave Jinu whiplash.

‘Uh…’

‘Well, Jinu was a singer before we became like this. He should have the most lines.’ Abel hummed, leaning over Y/N’s shoulder. 

‘I think we can take care of line distribution. Did you wanna change anything?’ Abel smiled as he continued. ‘I think we’re ready to record!’

Y/N nodded at the taller man before turning to look back at Jinu.

‘Is there anything you wanted me to look at Jinu? Or did you wanna start recording?’ Y/N tilted her head, a habit she had picked up from leaning to listen to Bobby ramble during loud Huntr/x concerts.

‘No, they look good. Let's start recording.’ Jinu looked at the hand that Abel had placed on the small of Y/N’s back, guiding her towards her set up. Why did he feel heat spreading through his chest? An uncomfortable burning that set him aflame with this... resentment. 

--

The recording lasted only two other hours, but the mixing and mastering lasted the rest of the night. Y/N ended up with eyebags and heavy eyelids as she finished up using her pitch corrector and adjusting the mixer levels to be within industry standards. She slumped down the back of her chair as she pressed export, sending it to be downloaded onto her desktop.

‘ ‘m done.’ She mumbled, closing her eyes as she slid off her noise cancelling headphones. The boys had decided to stay in her apartment to figure out the choreography. Of course, being demons meant they didn’t have to sleep so they actually could spend hours upon hours doing whatever suited them.

Honestly though, Y/N was surprised that they actually came up with their own choreography. She had thought it was just some spell the demons had cast to make it easier. 

‘Wow, that was fast!’ Romance commented.

‘Can we hear it?’ Mystery asked, leaning to rest his forearms on Y/N’s seat from above.

‘Mm.’ Y/N mumbled laying her head on her crossed arms and ignored the boys. She was getting too old for these all-nighters. She could feel the youth drain out of her body as she closed her eyes. 

‘Oh oh! Me first!’ She could hear the boys squabbling over who got to hear the finalised version first. The voices began to drown out, as Y/N drifted into a silent sleep. Blocking out the noise from the conscious world. Whenever she overworked, she tended to pass out completely rendering her useless to the rest of the world. Not even alarm clocks would wake her up. Several times, Bobby had to come into her apartment and rouse her from sleep. It was why he had a spare key card. He wanted to make sure Y/N was alive during the weeks where they were preparing for a new album.

‘Be quiet.’ Jinu hushed the group, looking at Y/N, hearing her slowed, steady breaths. 

‘She’s asleep. Y/N’s been working on this the whole night.’ He said slowly, eyes tracing over her slowly rising shoulders.

‘Right. Should we leave her here or?’ Beom kneeled down to look up at Y/N’s sleeping face. He made a mental note of how Y/N’s eyelashes fluttered when her eyes moved behind her closed lids.

‘I’ll carry her back to her room. Keep practicing the choreo, just make sure you’re quiet.’  Jinu kneeled, delicately slipping his hands under Y/N’s knees and wrapping a protective arm around her neck. He stood with little effort, his demon strength aiding him in carrying Y/N.

He nudged a door open, decorated with sound proofing foam with his foot, peeking around to see if it were her room. He hummed in amusement, spotting pages of writing on the floor, scattered in a semi readable pattern.

‘So you’re a work-aholic, huh?’ He whispered, laying Y/N down on her back. The room was relatively clean despite the lyric sheets scattered on the floor. It looked like she spent more time in her set up than in her room.

Y/N groaned, as she rolled over in the bed, hunching over.

‘Cold?’ Jinu mumbled, shifting Y/N’s legs so he could grab the comforter and lay it over the sleeping girl. He watched as Y/N’s face smoothed, relaxing under the light pressure of her blanket. 

A rush of warmth.

What? Since when did he feel anything but rage and shame. He had feelings, but none of them ever felt so…

So tranquil, as if it were lulling him into a gentle embrace.

No.

He didn’t have time for that. Jinu needed his memories gone so he could move on with his life. He was sure that he could find a way to leave Gwi-ma’s hold, he just had to get past his first hurdle. 

‘Who cares if you’re pretty or not. I’m not shallow enough to think that’s what matters.’ He muttered, turning around before pausing. 

‘And I never said you weren’t pretty.’ He added, before stepping quietly out of the room. Jinu returned to the living room after closing Y/N’s door, watching his friends practice their new choreography.

‘Is she asleep?’ Mystery asked, pausing the music as he spotted Jinu stalking back towards them with a sour face.

‘Yeah, let’s get to work.’ Jinu nodded, taking his position in the formation. ‘Abel did you figure out the entire dance?’

‘That's right.’ Abel looked proud, his thumb pointing toward his chest. ‘Y’think Y/N will like it?’ 

‘She doesn’t have to like it. It’s about whether or not the people will. We’re stealing the fans.’

‘I think it would be nice if Y/N also liked the dance.’ Beom rolled his eyes, sassing the leader.

‘She isn’t important. We’re just using her to make sure we can steal Huntr/x’s fans and get Gwi-ma his souls.’ Jinu stated firmly, As if trying to convince himself of his own statement. He pressed play, resuming the music on the computer.

‘There's no need to be mean about it.’ The purple haired man hummed, before falling into position with the rest of the group.

‘Enough. We have two days left to have this choreo down. Let's start rehearsing.’

A soft melody of whistling, and popfunk synth filled the night, accompanied by shuffling footsteps and quiet singing. Y/N remained fast asleep as the boys practiced well into the morning, each man making sure to be as quiet as possible to keep from waking their new producer and writer. 

-

Y/N winced as she stretched her complaining joints, creaking in protest. She sat up, rubbing her sleep filled eyes, looking around at the new scenery. Huh, she was in her room. Last she remembered, she was laying her head down on her desk after finishing Soda Pop. The tired girl roused herself from the bed, shrugged on a random jumper and opened her door.

A soft whump as the boys landed on their feet into their ending pose.

‘Huh, that's lookin’ good!’ Y/N cocked her head, an approving smile lighting up her face. ‘Wanna show me the number from the top?’ 

Pressing play, Y/N watched the boys easily slide into their beginning poses and begin their song from the top. It was extremely impressive, the way Jinu’s voice was almost an exact one to one of the recording. His stage presence was evident, even in her very own living room. Mystery had an incredibly sweet voice, whilst Romance had a round, upbeat one. Coupled with Beom’s deep voice and Abel’s boyish charm, the group meshed into a force to be reckoned with.

Huntr/x really did have some competition. But Y/N was sure that she would be able to figure out a way to stop Gwi-ma from slipping through the Honmoon. 

She’d find a way.

‘Thoughts?’ Jinu grinned, his chest heaving from exertion. 

‘If you guys weren’t trying to take over the world, I’d actually consider taking you on as personal clients.’ Y/N smirked, turning around to switch off the music. 

‘A couple more times and I think you guys have it down to perfection.’ She laughed, turning her chair to open up her browser.

‘Watcha doing?’ Beom walked over, dragging another gaming chair with him. Y/N kept several of those for whenever she had HUntr/x over.

‘I’m gonna send you guys the file so you can upload it. That way you can also have it in your respective phones.’ Y/N hummed, logging into her email.

‘What's your email?’ 

A pause.

‘Do you guys even have phones?’ Y/N blinked, turning back to face the boys.

‘Yeah, here I’ll give you mine, Beom nodded enthusiastically, putting his phone on the table in front of Y/N. 

‘Alrighty Beom, I’ll send it over to you. After this, I’m going to get breakfast. Are you guys gonna go home?’ Y/N clicked away on her screen, typing in the details of Beom’s email.

‘We’ll get breakfast for you.’ Mystery called out, already walking away towards the elevator. The rest of the boys besides Beom walked towards the door.

‘Beom will stay here with you.’ Jinu clarified, walking towards the door that led to the stairs.

‘Hey Abel, do you think you could out run me on the stairs while I took the elevator?’ Jinu struck up a challenge in a prodding tone.

A challenge that Abel jumped on.

‘Oh, you’re on.’ Abel flung open the door and rushed down the stairs. The pattering off feet on stairs diminished slowly, echoing off the stairwell.

Jinu however, strolled leisurely back to the elevator door and pushed the button. He met Y/N’s confused stare with a confident smile and said, 

‘He's the biggest one and I wanted more space. Y’know how it goes.’ He walked into the elevator doors as they opened, whilst Romance and Mystery gave small chuckles, shaking their heads.

‘We’ll see you soon Y/N.’ Romance waved as the doors closed.

The girl slowly side-eye'd Beom and pressed send on the email she had written.

‘So, is there anything else you wanted me to do?’ Y/N spun around in her chair lazily, allowing the inertia of her spinning chair to keep her entertained.

‘No not really. Although, I do want to say that, I saw another song in your notebook.’ Beom’s eyes followed Y/N’s spinning figure.

‘Wait what?’ Y/N slammed her hands on the table, grasping at her notebook.

‘Did you write that for us?’ Beom’s tone was inquisitive.

And there it was. The back bone of ‘Your Idol’ written out in the notebook. When had she written this?

‘I… It’s not finished.’ She gazed into the book, as if in a trance. 

‘It looks pretty cool! I hope that I can hear it one day.’ Beom shrugged, leaning back on his chair.

‘So, a poet huh? What made you choose that path?’ Y/N closed her notebook, setting it aside. She wanted to change the subject, and fast. ‘Your Idol’ wasn’t meant to be written already and if she were being honest, she wanted to avoid the story plot advancing to that stage.

‘Yeah, my father was a court official in the palace. They wanted me to become a scholar and follow his footsteps.’ His eyes were glazed over, staring out the glass window.

‘Yet, all I wanted to do was write. I wanted to make words flow into a beautiful stream, to be read and understood by all.’ He continued, smiling slightly before his eyes came back into focus.

‘But my father disapproved.’ Beom's gaze hardened and his jaw was set.

‘He wanted me to be just like him. A cunning, snivelling leach who kissed the feet of the emperor. So I took a deal with Gwi-ma. That I’d give him my soul and in return, I would be a well known writer, famous enough to sustain myself and my mother.’ Beom’s hands were clutched in tight fists.

‘And so?’ Y/N prompted cautiously, leaning over, elbows on her knees, resting her head on her open palms.

‘It was amazing at first. People paid to hear my poems, they came from all over the country. But then the patterns started. And they kept spreading until Gwi-ma took me into the underworld.’ Beom’s patterns flashed, his form glitching for a split second into his true image.

‘He took you?’ 

‘Yes. Just like he took Jinu and the rest of the boys. I guess he wanted to use us somehow. Gwi-ma always takes back the favours he’s owed. It’s part of the reason we’re here.’ Beom sighed, shaking his head as if to clear away thoughts, clouding his mind.

‘But even here, we can still hear him. Telling us we aren’t enough. That we deserve nothing and that without him, we’d be rotting in the dirt.’ Beom smiled bitterly, looking up at Y/N through his lashes.

‘Well that's simply untrue.’ Y/N laughed, sliding her chair closer to Beom’s side.

‘I think you would have been successful, even if you didn’t take that deal. I mean look at your own writing! I’m a harsh critic, trust me. But you wrote these lyrics in such little time and they’re actually good!’ Y/N gently placed a hand over Beom’s shoulder, in a comforting motion. 

A spark. 

Just like before.

A jolt of white blue electricity, emanating from her fingertips into Beom’s skin, Illuminating his patterns. Y/N slowly took her hand away, watching the boy’s patterns rippled, amalgamating with the white blue light.

‘How did you…’ Beom stood abruptly, splaying his hands, flexing his fingers. ‘My patterns, they… You made them shine.’ He looked utterly stunned.

‘Um… I don’t know?-’

‘My head!’ Beom raised a shaky hand toward his forehead. ‘I can’t hear him. I can’t hear Gwi-ma. How is that possible?’ His eyes snapped to Y/N, yet there was not an ounce of malice in his gaze.

‘I’m still me, but I can’t hear him! Do you think he could still call me back? Does he still have control over me? I have GOT to tell the others.’ Beom hurriedly pulled out his phone, typing away a message possibly to a groupchat of the Saja Boys.

‘No, wait. Don’t’ Y/N grasped at Beom’s wrist. ‘You can’t tell them. If Jinu finds out, he won’t be happy.’ She reasoned, whilst lowering Beom’s hand.

‘That's true… He still wants his memories erased. You’re right.’ Beom nodded, sitting back down, placing his phone back in his pocket.

‘But how did you do it? Is it permanent?!’ He rambled on eagerly, like a puppy that had just found a new toy.

‘I’m not sure honestly. I mean, I was meant to be a hunter but… I can’t manifest a weapon. Maybe it has something to do with that?’ Y/N raised one eyebrow, turning her hands to splay her palms. She scrutinized each line on her palm, wondering if she could control whatever it was.

‘Well whatever, I’ll keep your secret Y/N.’ Beom softly wrapped his hands around Y/N’s and lifted her left hand. ‘Just promise me you won’t think too badly about Jinu?’

Y/N looked up, bewildered at the sudden mention of Jinu.

‘He’s not actually a bad person. He just… He wants to forget his mistakes. I know it seems selfish but it’s been four hundred years. Jinu barely talks to us about it. I think that's what’s slowly eating away at him.’ Beom explained, releasing Y/N’s hand and leaning back on his chair.

‘I think he just has to accept his actions. But it’s easier said than done. His mistake cost him his family. The rest of us didn’t actually leave anything behind, so we don’t understand how he feels.’ Beom continued, shrugging his shoulders. ‘It doesn’t help that he hears Gwi-ma the most. He’s been with Gwi-ma the longest so Jinu’s already so heavily under that old man's influence.’ 

‘I see.’ Y/N let out a short snort. ‘But I don’t think he’s going to talk about it with me to be honest. He very clearly hates me.’

‘What makes you think that?’ Beom looked floored, as if this were a new revelation.

‘Um, hello? He insults me whenever he sees an opportunity? He never smiles around me and lets not mention that he accused me of being fake.’ Y/N rolled her eyes, slumping down in her chair.

‘Jinu’s just like that. He’s blunt and prickly, but that's how he protects himself, and us. But, Y/N I think, he doesn’t hate you. He genuinely thinks you're talented! And, he was the first one by your side when you collapsed last night on the street.’

‘Huh..’ 

‘Yep! Jinu doesn’t hate you.’

Y/N was about to retort as the elevator dinged happily, the doors revealing three of the boys, the same ones as before.

‘Huh, where’s-’

‘AH HAH.’ Abel cried out, flinging the stairwell door open. ‘See? I can make it up the stairs at the same time. I'M A BEAST.’ 

‘Oh honey…’ Y/N stifled a chuckle behind her fist.

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[rottingpink]

free use

cw. cnc, established relationship, free use, going at it CONSTANTLY, p/v, breeding, corruption kink, unprotected sex

synopsis. since discussing the idea of both of you being willing to fuck whenever, your husband has not let up off you.

"we should try something fun."

your husband lifts his gaze slowly from the newspaper he was reading.

"fun?" he indulges you, tilting his head slightly to search your face. you suggested something without a description intentionally to make him ask for an elaboration, meaning what you're about to tell him will either be very intriguing, or the complete opposite. he searches your features in an attempt to determine which it'll be. "what kind of fun?"

you pause to make him squirm in anticipation. "i was thinking," you murmur, tracing your finger along the couch's lines with your fingertip, a sign of nervousness. "we could try… being available to each other. like whenever one of us wants-" your face goes warm, "sex."

the newspaper lowers down to his lap so your husband can stare at you intently, but he doesn't move otherwise. he's seated with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his legs apart in a lazy manspread, looking way too composed for what you just suggested. your body is so tense right now that you feel the urge to take a cold shower before the conversation continues. why isn't he saying anything?

"available," he echoes your choice of words. "as in free use."

you nod, trying not to squirm in your seat. "mhm."

he hums, tongue running over the inside of his cheek, and his eyes drag over your body as if he's already imagining all the different ways he can catch you off guard and ruin you. just as you suggested.

"sweetheart," he murmurs quietly, folding the paper and setting it aside, "do you even know what you're agreeing to?"

you shrug, a guileless glint in your wide eyes. you couldn't seriously be asking him this. you, who cries within the first ten minutes of him fucking you and tries to crawl away from him when he's pounding into you, wants to be free use for him, constantly? "i trust you. there... shouldn't be any issues."

he leans back in his chair and lets a silence pass once more. he seems to be considering it. the longer he goes without talking the more you squirm. he lays a cheek in his palm, and continues. "and why do you want to be free use for me?"

your eyes widen and your lips press together. you're nervous but trying not to show it. "it's not just me, you know. both of us are available for each other. i just wanted to suggest it because it's been on my mind a while."

"mm. no other reason?"

you hesitate a second too long, and he notices immediately. his eyes narrow ever so slightly. "well," you fidget, toying with a thread on your shirt to break eye contact just long enough so you don't explode. "i just thought it might be exciting."

"exciting... how?"

you puff out a soft breath and try to play it off. "i dunno… like, getting dragged into a public washroom while we're out grocery shopping. or, like… in the car. pulling it over so we can go to the backseat. or while i'm doing laundry."

"so you mean you want me to be so desperate i can't wait and have to have you. right then, right there."

you fidget again, but nod. "mhm."

he laughs once under his breath. "that's cute. so if you're half asleep," he says, "and i want to wake you up with my cock inside you, you won't mind? or if we're on a hike and you're in one of those pairs of leggings i really like, i can put you up against a tree?"

you nod, but look away bashfully. "i said whenever."

he hums and looks away for a moment in an attempt to stay calm while he processes. then he looks back at you, tutting with a pitying look on his face. like you're a lamb up for the slaughter.

"you don't know what you just agreed to," he says affectionately, like he's sorry for you.

you frown, feeling like he's underestimating you. "yes, i do."

he smiles. "you really don't."

the first time he tries out your new agreement is when you're brushing your teeth with him the next morning. you're standing at the sink in just one of his old t-shirts, groggy, hair messy, toothbrush hanging from the corner of your mouth as you blink blearily at your own reflection. he's behind you, pretending to brush his teeth too, but he's just looking at you.

your thighs are bare. the shirt rides up when you lean forward to spit into the sink, and he can see the crease where the back of your thighs meet your plush ass. he's entranced by the quiet way you operate when you're still half asleep and unaware of how good you look.

he swishes some water in his mouth and spits, setting his toothbrush back in the holder while watching you. you didn't notice he was ogling until you look up to meet his gaze in the mirror reflection to see him reaching around to pull you flush against his chest, lifting his hands under your shirt from behind to cup your tits. you don't wear a bra around the house, much to his convenience.

"just trying something fun," he murmurs into the curve of your neck, kissing the soft skin there. you tip your head a little, a pleasant feeling washing over your body as his thumbs roll over your perked nipples. he then wraps his hand around your throat to tip your head back. "aren't you so pretty?" he coos, one hand toying with your breast while the other gives your throat a light squeeze. it does nothing for your sanity. your brain might as well be slipping out of your ears.

you try to respond, but all that slips out is a helpless little whimper, the toothbrush still dangling from your lips.

"you're already shaking," he says softly, letting go of your throat only to glide his hand down the front of your shirt, past your navel, and into the waistband of your thin cotton panties. "and it's not even been a minute since i started. why're you acting like some helpless little virgin?"

you slip the toothbrush out of your mouth and drop it in the holder, using both hands to hold his wrist to keep yourself steady. "you're being mean," you breathe, embarrassed by how quickly he's unraveled you.

he hums, slipping his fingers inside your tight pussy to find you warm and wet. your hips jolt, but you don't move away. "i'm doing what you asked of me," he corrects you, his tone patient. "you said 'whenever,' remember?" he begins to lift up your shirt and tosses it onto the counter beside you, and your panties come off right after. then he pushes you forward so you're bent over onto the smooth marble in front of you.

he leans over your back, palm pressing down gently between your shoulder blades to keep you in place. "you know what your problem is," he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, "you get way too ahead of yourself. then you ask for things you're not ready for."

"baby please," you whine, grinding your hips back, only for him to pull away. he's teasing you. you look back at him with frustration, wanting friction against your sopping core, but he's not allowing it.

you feel him hook a hand under your knee to prop your leg up on the edge of the sink for a better angle, and he tuts at how messy your little pussy is so soon. he spreads you as much as you can go, then nudges his clothed bulge against your core, listening to your breath hitch and breathy pants to leave your mouth. "hmmh... that spot... do that again,"

he hushes you patronizingly, tugging his pj pants just low enough for his cock to be free. you're completely bare in contrast. with a hand pinning you down and the blunt press of his cock between your thighs, he slowly, maddeningly starts to slip it inside with a purposeful roll of his hips, and the stretch immediately hits you. you feel so full with just the first few inches of his fat cock in you.

your mouth opens around a silent moan, eyes rolling back. your grip on the counter tightens while he rocks into you steadily, holding you firmly while his gaze flits from your hole sucking him in and the lewd look on your face in the mirror.

"you wanted this. look at yourself. look how pretty you are when you're being used."

you try. you really do. your eyes flutter open just long enough to catch sight of your own flushed, wrecked reflection, your hair a mess, mouth parted, as he slowly fills you up to the brink, tip kissing your womb. his hand gathers a fistful of your hair to tip your head up.

your head spins as he thrusts into you roughly, flesh slapping against flesh making nasty sounds that echo off the bathroom walls. "y-you're... haaa gonna be late f'work," you moan as he fucks into you deep and rough, his thick cock curving just right inside you to keep bumping against your sweet spots.

"shit... y'wanna talk about that now?" he tugs your hair a little to make you squeal, using it to keep you in place like it's a handle. "i'll grab breakfast on the way there," he says into your skin. "this is more important."

you reach behind blindly because you're desperate to feel your husband or hold him, but he pushes you back down, then leans down to push his chest flush against your back, his skin hot against yours. he nudges his cock deeper in you at the new angle, moving a bulky arm to wrap around your neck and fuck you in a chokehold.

he groans against your ear, rutting harder now, his rhythm starting to lose control while your back arches for him, trying to take more even though you're so full. his hips snap forward with more force and he chuckles into your ear when you let out a garbled, " 'm gonna cum..." followed by a loud mewl. he groans, slamming into that one spot that gets you to tighten up around him each time his mushroom tip gives it a kiss.

"hmm, ask nicely, sweetheart," he nips your ear and bottoms out with an obscenely wet squelch. "mmmm.... c-can i... fuck, c-cum? please, 'm gonna..." your eyes screw shut and your pussy gushes around his thick shaft, leaving your thighs slick and shaky.

he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you so his cum can shoot as deep inside you as he can. he doesn't pull out right away. arms wrapped around your middle, nose pressed into your hair like he's anchoring himself.

"god," he mumbles, still pumping you full, and there's now a creamy ring where his cock enters your cunt. "filled your little pussy all up, didn't i? now i'll feel bad leaving you like this."

you're too wrecked to answer, slumped forward against the sink, letting him hold you up. he reaches for a washcloth by the towel rack and dampens it so he can clean you up, giving you little kisses the whole time while you cling onto him. he keeps praising you, too. "did s'good for me, pretty baby."

he leaves you with a soft peck on your cheek. "ill see you later tonight..."

it doesn't stop after that morning in the bathroom. that was just his warm up, after all; his first taste of what you gave him. the second the floodgates opened, there was no closing them. poor you.

there's the time in the gym changeroom, right after your shared workout ends. you're both sore and sweaty, and you duck into the locker room so you can grab your stuff and head home with him to shower. however, the second he sees your flushed skin and damp chest through your sports bra, he doesn't hesitate to tug you into one of the showers and sit down on the bench, tearing off your clothes and tugging you into his lap.

he'll stuff your panties in your mouth so your moans are muffled, and fucks up into you hard and fast with no shame, even as he hears people talking and shuffling about behind the flimsy shower curtain. "you're gonna make a mess on me, aren't you?" he murmurs against your ear. "you like knowing someone could walk in right now and see you like this? my sweet girl, cockdrunk in a gym shower?"

he makes you cum on his cock, stuffs you full of his seed and leaves with you once the coast is mostly clear.

next was the hike. you're halfway up the steep trail with him, on a quick break on the grass off the main path. you'd just bent over a little to re-tie your laces since your boots had been far too tight, when he'd come up behind you, grinding against you and palming your ass through your leggings in broad daylight.

"shouldn't bend over in front of me unless you want me to do somethin' to you," he mutters, voice low and warm at your ear as he presses himself closer, fingers kneading into the backs of your thighs.

he doesn't give you a second to argue before he's guiding you face first to a tree and dropping to his knees. he pulls your leggings down just enough to get what he wants, and the air hits your slick folds pleasantly. you whimper, bracing yourself as he spreads your ass to have your pussy fully presented to him.

"gonna be quick," he whispers, "just a little taste." he mumbles, before shoving his face right into your cunt.

you gasp loudly and your hands shoot up to brace against the tree bark right in front of you and dig into the wood. you tremble and let out a shaky breath when he licks a slow, nasty stripe from your pussy up to your clit, shaking his tongue a little so it slobbers over every inch of your drooling pussy lips, occasionally prodding your hole.

his hands are firm on your thighs to spread you open wider, dragging your hips back toward his mouth while he eats you out filthy and sloppy. his nose nudges your clit, tongue flicking in and out of you, then slipping deep inside.

you bite your lip and your eyes, wide and panicked, glance toward the trail. anyone could walk by since you're not that far off the path, hidden, but not well. if someone wandered off long enough, they'd find the two of you.

"god," he moans into you, closing his mouth around your pussy lips and sucking gently, then going back to make out with your pussy. "taste so fuckin' good, babe. made for me." your orgasm hits so fast that you barely have time to warn him, pushing back against him so you cream right into his mouth.

you intended to have one wholesome weekend without your man ravaging you on any available surface in the vicinity. a family gathering that your parents are hosting. you enter the countryside house with your husband's hand on the small of your back to guide you inside, smiling politely as your relatives greet you both with warm hugs and laughter. everyone is in a good mood, sipping drinks, chewing on appetizers. there's music playing, and scents drifting from the kitchen.

he lasts about twenty minutes into the evening before he leans down to whisper filth into your ear while everyone else is distracted in the dining room. "you keep looking up at me like that and you're not leaving this place without my cum dripping down your thighs."

you stiffen, body heating up with arousal instantly, even as your face stays composed for the sake of your family standing two feet away. your husband knows exactly what he's doing. he brushes his lips just under your ear again, letting his breath brush over your skin while his palm subtly slides down to squeeze your ass through your dress, making you yelp.

he's all over you most of the evening. hands holding your hips from behind, cupping your ass, arms around your waist, smelling your hair... blatant public displays of affection. he keeps whispering things. "you're dripping through this dress," he murmurs while you're getting drinks in the kitchen. "do you even know what you look like right now?"

you try to push him away, but he's already behind you, brushing your hair over your shoulder as if he's helping, just to kiss the back of your neck. he's all over you right up until you take a break to get away from the party for a bit before dinner. you choose your childhood bedroom as an escape, needing one second away from him before he decides to finger you at the dinner table or fuck you in one of the bathrooms, but he follows you shortly after.

you just entered your old room, not realizing the door didn't click shut behind you. you make it two steps before he grabs you and pins you down onto your back in your old twin bed.

you jolt. "baby! where did you- what are you- "

"shhh," he murmurs, lips already brushing your neck. "just missed you. five minutes."

your body reacts before your brain can catch up. you tip your head to the side for him, breath catching as he kisses behind your ear and tugs the straps of your dress down your shoulders and pushing it under your tits so he can cup your bare mounds. his thumbs brush over your nipples until they stiffen under his touch, and he groans at your soft whines, pinching and rubbing them with his fingers while he kisses down to your chest, laving his tongue over the swollen peaks. he's practically slobbering on them, one bulky hand playing with one while his mouth works on the other, sucking sharply and then releasing with a wet pop.

he drags your panties down and off your ankles, spreading you into a shameful position to get a good look at you.

"fuck, look at this mess," he thumbs over your pussy with light pressure, teasing you. "this for me?" you whimper a soft yes, causing him to chuckle softly. he leans over you again, playing with your hole while his other hand wraps around his cock to stroke it slow and firm from tip to base, aligning himself with your hole. he doesn't make it easy for you and put it in straight away, instead tapping his cock against your folds and listening to the nasty little squelches that come from you. he slides it up and down, delaying your pleasure to make you desperate.

you gasp and mewl, thighs already lifting for him as he lines up and starts to press in slowly. your body clutches around him immediately, the stretch making your head spin. "ohhh my- fuck," he groans, pushing in all the way until he bottoms out. "tight as ever. made to be fucked in."

you moan breathlessly and tip your head back, letting him start to plow into you. he doesn't waste any time in putting one leg up over his shoulder and thrusting so deep that his balls squish against the curve of your ass and his shaft forms a faint print in your belly from how huge he is. your head lolls back with each of his deep, grinding strokes.

"look at you," he whispers, eyes trained on your filthy expression. "getting ruined in your childhood room. all the innocent memories, corrupted by this one." he mocks you while fucking into you harder. you moan loudly, hands fisting at the sheets, then clawing his biceps, then running down his torso. you have no idea what to do with yourself right now. he's fucking you into oblivion and now you're completely out of it.

"bet your parents think you're still their good little girl," he pants, rocking into you, stretching you out with his fat shaft with every drag. you can feel every vein and the exact angle in which his cock curves inside you. "they don't know you're upstairs getting your pussy wrecked like this."

"fuck! baby slow down, ahn, we're gonna get caught mmfuck, please!"

"please what?" he taunts, slowing his thrusts to an unbearable pace. "please fuck me harder?" he punctuates the question with a sharp thrust so deep inside you your vision swims. "or please fill me up in my little princess bed?" he coos, grinding his pelvis against yours. your mouth falls open in a silent scream as a particularly deep thrust hits your sweet spot, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine while your back arches off the bed, pressing your heaving tits more firmly against his chest. you can basically feel his heartbeat against yours, thudding in time with his sloppy thrusts.

" 'm gonna cum inside you," he grits, pounding into you hard, cock scraping against your plushy walls and the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every inward thrust. "goddamn, look at me. want you to -haa- remember this." your nails scrape his back. you're crying out softly, trying to stay quiet, but you're so close. you clamp down on him so hard when it hits that he chokes on a groan, hips stuttering as he starts spilling into you with a harsh jerk of his body.

his cock jerks and pulses as he hilts inside you, the thick head flaring inside you as he releases ropes of hot cum pumps into your greedy cunt, your womb quickly filling to the brim.

within seconds, excess semen is already bubbling out around his shaft, dripping down onto the sheets beneath your ass. your pussy clenches and ripples, desperately trying to milk every last drop of him, and he continues rocking his cock inside you as he cums, fingers moving to play with your clit, and you cum shortly after, gushing around his cock and adding to the mess on the bed.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Poppy~!! I saw that you're taking requests now and I wanted to know, if reader had to pretend to be the spouse of a 141 member for a brief undercover mission, how do you think that would go? 🤭 I'm thinking maybe someone has a love they think is unrequited until they discover it isn't, someone else was indifferent to the act but ended up enjoying the scenario too much, another one maybe was just waiting for a chance to pin you down and this is a prime opportunity, and maybe someone else was already involved in a secret relationship and now they're "married", so it works out perfectly? Idk idk, this is my first time requesting anything from you and I am just so excited to see where you would take this idea! Thank you so much for your time, love ya!! 💖

Anon, I know you asked for this forever ago, but I never forgot about it! I certainly went the naughty route with this one. I hope that's okay! These men are thirsty, and they're salivating over the opportunity to be flirty and forward. Enjoy!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x 141!fem!reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, brief alcohol use, flirting, vaginal fingering, piv penetration, sex club, fake relationships, mutual pining, dirty talk, voyeurism

Word Count: 2.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“You clean up nice.”

“Not so bad yourself.”

Captain Price’s smile is sultry and glowing, his gaze hungrily devouring every inch of you. This is a mission. This man is your superior. And yet he’s always John to you. Your John. The man you love and secretly meet when others aren’t around.

Over his shoulder the setting sun bathes the ocean in a beautiful orange, almost as if the water is on fire. The two of you linger on a balcony overlooking the ocean, pretending that the two of you are married and in simple conversation. Within is a party. Live music. An open bar with flowing liquor. Waiters with hor d'oeuvres.

Malta is beautiful. It might be summer, but the air is surprisingly cool. The salty breeze sticks to your skin. John reaches out, brushes away a few salty flecks with the pad of his thumb. He brings it to his mouth, moaning softly.

“Be professional,” you scold with a teasing smile.

“I am,” he croons. “To them, you’re my wife.” He leans in, brushing his lips along your ear. “And my wife deserves attention.”

As his lips land on your throat, licking up the bit of wayward ocean salt, John’s hand delicately grasps your ass, squeezing.

“We have a job to do,” you murmur, grasping his arm, giving him more of your throat.

“We have the whole week. Target isn’t going anywhere. Not when he’s the honored guest.”

“Champagne?”

John draws back, shifting his stance to block your view of the waiter. “Thanks, mate,” grins John, snagging two flutes. He offers you one.

“This isn’t a vacation,” you chide, taking the flute. The bubbly liquid bursts and fizzes on your tongue.

“We’re in Malta. Staying in a castle. And I get to spend the week referring to you as my wife.” John takes your hand, his thumb brushing over the gold band on your finger. “Think I like this.”

“You think?”

John glances up, and your heart stops. “Would you like that? Wearing a band that marks you as mine?”

“John,” you breathe.

“Say yes,” he murmurs. “And we’ll go back to the room right now.”

“You’d risk the mission just to fuck me?”

“No question, love.”

John’s hand descends again, cupping your ass, squeezing roughly. “If you don’t want to go back to the room and fuck—”

“Oh, stop,” you giggle, smacking his chest.

“—then how about we have a dance.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Your cheeks flame as you turn away from the faces in the room.

It’s not that any of them are really looking at you, or where Johnny’s hand is, or what he’s doing with his fingers. Nearly everyone else in the room is doing something lecherous—something dirty. Johnny is simply fitting in, pushing the agenda, making those around him believe that he’s fingering his wife and not his fucking teammate.

“You’re a fucking lucky man.”

You roll your eyes, and then stifle a moan as Soap pinches your clit between thumb and forefinger.

“Oh, aye,” croons Johnny, nipping your earlobe. “The luckiest.”

Burying your face in Soap’s neck, your breathing quickens, nails digging into his shoulder. A little moan escapes you, but it’s eclipsed by others who are much louder.

This wasn’t part of the mission. The mission was to attend this gathering, for Soap to be nothing more than a businessman seeking a lucrative deal, and you nothing more than his pretty arm candy. What wasn’t supposed to happen was a fucking orgy.

The target in question is sitting in a lounge chair next to Johnny, his mistress in his lap, legs spread open so the whole room can see her bouncing on his cock. They aren’t the only ones engaged in sexual activity. Most of the room is doing something, or they’re watching.

Noticing the shift, Johnny had dragged you into his lap, situating you so that he could easily finger-fuck you but no one would be receiving a show. For that, you’re thankful, but fuck, you weren’t expecting this, let alone enjoying it as much as you are.

With perfect precision, Soap rocks two fingers in and out of your pussy, his thumb rubbing your clit in tandem with his movements. The orgasm sprouts, blooms, explodes in color. You bite down on Soap’s shoulder to muffle the cry.

“She’s a lovely thing,” the target groans, and the blissful mood dissipates.

“Careful,” growls Soap. “That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

You’re fake wife, you mentally correct. But you smile, preening with the way Soap stakes a claim.

Johnny’s hand starts up again, and you shiver.

“You’re doing so well, lass,” he whispers against your ear. “So fucking tight.” Your pussy clenches around his fingers, and Soap groans.

With his other hand, Johnny tugs at the front of his pants, opening the fly. Reaching down, you slip your hand underneath, grasping his cock. Johnny’s eyelids flutter, and when he looks at you, you understand the silent communication. Like everyone else in this room, the two of you will be expected to fuck.

Better him than a stranger.

Johnny helps, bringing you into his lap as your stroke him to hardness. This will never leave this room. You will never mention this to the rest of the team. As you sink down on him, Soap adjusts your dress, covering what’s happening beneath. You grasp the back of his neck, using it as leverage to come down on him as he pumps up into you.

You press your forehead against his, exchanging breaths.

“Making a proper wife of you,” he teases.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” you smile.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“We look good together.”

Kyle’s comment catches you off-guard. “What?” you laugh, pressing your hand to your fluttering stomach.

He saunters up beside you, lowering his head in an intimate familiarity. “Captain made the right call. Putting us together.”

You giggle, lightly pushing him with a carefully placed hand to the middle of his chest. “It’s pretend, Kyle. We’re bugging the place and then we’re leaving.”

“We can have a bit of fun,” he smiles, tapping the tip of your nose. “We’re married.”

His teasing and playful smile is warming something low in your belly. You’ve always had a soft spot for Garrick, but you’ve never pushed it any further than some light teasing.

“Fake married, sergeant.”

Kyle drapes his arm around your back and over your hip, pulling you in close. “Need to act like we love each other.” Slowly, and with such affection your heart skips a beat, Kyle presses his lips to your throat.

You twist out of his grasp, flustered and overwhelmed by the attention. But Kyle is all smiles, reaching for you again as the two of you walk up to the house. An “Open House” sign with an array of balloons is out front. Several groups of couples and realtors in suits linger out front chatting about the lawn. The house itself is large, bordering on mansion.

But you and Kyle aren’t there to house shop.

This home is owned by a wealthy businessman. He used to make his money on real estate, but now he’s shifted into drugs and weaponry. More lucrative. Under the table. This home is just one of many targets. The goal is to bug it.

There might be a “for sale” sign out front, but it’s for show. The property already has a buyer. This is just to make it look legit.

“Welcome. I’m Heather.”

Heather, the realtor, extends her hand. Kyle accepts it, keeping his other hand attached to your lower back.

“It’s a beautiful home,” replies Kyle. “Eager for a look.”

Heather beams. “It really is stunning, isn’t it?”

“How big are the bedrooms?” asks Kyle. “Plan on growing our family. Space is important.”

“You’ll love the master. Lots of room,” replies Heather, gesturing toward the open front door. “The rest of the bedrooms have a good range in size to be used as bedrooms for children. Office space. A nursery.”

“Hear that, love,” smiles Kyle. “Lots of options.”

“Sounds like we need to take a look,” you say with an easy smile, leaning into Kyle’s arm.

“Grab a refreshment and explore. Let me know if you have any questions.”

“Thank you,” nods Kyle, urging you further into the house.

When the two of you are out of earshot, you pinch his arm. “You’re having far too much fun.”

Kyle chuckles. “Don’t like the idea of me knocking you up?”

“Kyle,” you hiss, smacking his arm.

“They’d be cute little buggers.”

You smack him again.

“Could start now.”

You playfully dart away. “We have a house to bug,” you hiss.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“He likes a show.”

“I know,” you murmur, pressing closer to Simon’s chest.

He’s being a gentleman about the whole fucking thing, and for that, you’re thankful, but neither of you expected this when you agreed.

“Won’t come otherwise. Need him alone.”

You sigh, tapping your forehead against Simon’s bare chest repeatedly. “Why did he have to be a voyeur.” Simon’s rumbling chuckle is soothing.

He runs his hands up and down your back. “Promise I’ll be gentle.”

“Gentleness isn’t what I’m worried about,” you murmur. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

Simon’s arms tighten around you, his tone dropping to a teasing tone. “Think I won’t make you come?”

You bark a laugh, and then stifle it by smothering your face into his chest. “You’re not funny.”

“It’s only for a bit.” Simon grasps the back of your neck, drawing you back so he can gaze into your eyes. “All they know is that we’re married and we like it when people watch. Which is why the target is interested. We need him to watch us. To get comfortable. Let his guard down. The team will swoop in and take care of the rest.”

You inhale deeply. “I’m ready.”

“Are you?”

You nod, and Simon draws your mouth to his. It’s tender. Soft. A ghost of a touch. You open for him, and Simon dives in, tongue meeting tongue. You grow dizzy. Light-headed. When he breaks the kiss, you almost stumble.

Simon smirks. “You can pretend that you like me.”

“Let’s get this over with.”

You grasp his hand, pushing back the black curtain, revealing the dimly lit room. The edges of the room are all in shadow, but in the center, where the lone light illuminates, is an elevated platform. It’s covered in plush black velvet and pillows. An altar. You lead Simon to it, swaying your hips in a slow dance.

Just as you turn toward Simon, you glimpse the target seated in the corner. Most of his face is obscured, but you recognize the shape. If Simon notices him, he doesn’t show it. His attention is fully on you, his dark eyes burning behind the half-skull mask. You have a matching one, also in black to pair with the lace bralette and panties.

Simon’s hands are everywhere, grasping, touching. His lips find yours, and you sink into him, trying to focus only on him. That is the point after all, to pretend that he’s your husband, that you’re here for him to fuck you in front of others.

And that’s exactly what he does.

The intensity in which Simon puts you on your back, strokes your legs, and opens you wide is more than a job. He is worshiping you, lips traversing over every inch, hands touching everything. You groan and gasp, arching into his embrace, crying out when his tongue finds your sensitive clit.

You don’t care that there are others in the room. That you’re being watched. It’s nice, actually, to be desired in both ways.

“Taste so good,” groans Simon, running his tongue over your pussy.

You’re lost in him, and when Simon ascends to slot is cock at your entrance, your legs fall wider. Hooking his arms around your legs, Simon thrusts relentlessly, each connection pushing bright bursts of air from your lungs.

The pleasure of him inside you is so profound, that you don’t realize the room is being stormed by men in tactical gear until Simon throws himself atop you, shielding your body from view. He acts protective, and in moments the room clears, and the target is dragged away. You cling to him, unmoving, both of you breathing heavy.

“We should go, shouldn’t we?” you ask after a few lengthy seconds. Simon remains where he is, unmoving. His cock is still inside you. “Simon?”

His lips find yours again, and then he’s thrusting, lifting you against him. “Need to finish pleasing my wife.”

“Simon. I’m not your wife,” you whimper as he grinds his hips against you.

“Oh, love. You could be.”

[emriiis]

Sneak Peek: THE CALL

📣✨ 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 ✨📣

I honestly don’t even know where to begin—thank you, thank you, thank you. 🩷

We're almost at 300 followers now?! I’m genuinely overwhelmed. 🥹

I didn’t think anyone would notice this story. but you did and that means everything. Seeing the reblogs, the tags, the comments—it’s more than I ever expected. Thank you for reading!

So, as a little thank you gift… here’s a sneak peek of the next chapter. Just a taste. Just enough to make your heart race. 😈🔥

my inbox is open for requests, thoughts, ideas, or just screaming.

Saja Boys x Manager! Reader

Your apartment is too quiet.

Too still.

Ever since you walked out of that room—since you ran—you haven’t been able to stop feeling them.

Their eyes.

Their heat.

Their voices echoing in your skull like a siren's song.

God, what the hell is wrong with you?

You slap a hand over your face, heart hammering. But it doesn’t help. Because every time you close your eyes—

You see them.

Worse—you feel them.

A vibration against your leg makes you jolt. Your phone. You fumble for it, heart still pounding. 

Unknown number.

You answer anyway.

“…Hello?”

A pause.

“Good morning, Miss Y/N. I'm calling on behalf of the Saja Boys.”

​​You freeze.

The voice continues, polite. Controlled. But something about it makes your stomach twist.

“I’m reaching out to confirm that you’ve been accepted as their full-time manager. Congratulations!”

“I—I didn’t accept anything,” you blurt. “There’s been a mistake, I didn’t—”

“Yes, well, that’s the wonderful part. You don’t have to accept it. The contract’s already processed. We’ll send a car for you this evening—”

“I said no.” Your voice is sharper now, slicing through the sugar-sweet tone on the other end. “You can’t just assign me a job I didn’t—”.”

“Hey baby”

You freeze.

The voice has changed.

It’s not hers anymore.

“J-Jinu?” you breathe, scanning the room. There’s no one there—but it feels like there is. The air shifts around you, thick with pressure and heat, humming low and strange.

“How are you?” he asks, his voice like warm silk over ice. Calm. Gentle. But you hear the weight beneath it. The restraint.

“I—uh—I’m good.” You grip the edge of your cup too tightly. “How did you even—Never mind. Can I help you with something?”

His chuckle is soft, low, and it curls around your ribs like smoke. 

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“We’re talking right now.”

He hums again. Slower this time. Like he’s savoring the sound of your voice. 

“I meant in person.”

His voice warms around the words, coaxing instead of pressing. “No pressure. Just… a coffee. A quiet spot. Just you and me.”

Your throat tightens. You blink, and suddenly the room feels smaller. Warmer. Like the sound of his voice alone is wrapping around your ribs, holding you still.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you whisper.

He’s quiet for a moment.

“That’s okay.” 

Still soft. Still warm. Not pushy. But beneath the words… something deeper. A thread of something that reaches for you without forcing.

“You don’t have to decide now.”

You shouldn’t even be considering it. Not after what happened. Not after the way you’d felt in that room.

He doesn’t say anything else.

He just waits.

And somehow that’s worse. Because it leaves you sitting there, breath caught, heart pounding, mind spiraling with the memory of golden eyes, warm hands, and heat.

You bite your lip.

You should say no. You should...“When would we meet?”

comments and reblogs would be appreciated!

[keirareidss]

tight skirts and nerdy glasses - s.r

♡ summary: spencer gets flustered when you wear a short skirt to work pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut wc: 1.3k inspo

Spencer glanced at his phone again. Read 20 minutes ago. You'd been texting earlier, him telling you about the toast he made this morning, and you letting him know you were going to be a bit late to work because of your doctor's appointment. His last message to you read, 'how's everything at the doctors office?'

You read the message but never responded. Maybe your name was called. Maybe you got some really bad news and couldn't handle talking to anyone right now. Maybe-

The door to the BAU office opened, heels thumping quietly on the carpet floor, Spencer's head lifting to follow the sound. His eyes caught on your figure, watching as you strutted towards your desk, sending a dazzling smile at Derek.

"Hey, gorgeous." Morgan's chair spun slowly as he turned to follow you with his full body. Spencer understood the feeling. The magnetic pull of you, his body being tugged in your direction.

"Morgan." You drawled in greeting, reaching your desk where you set down your purse, turning your attention to the dorky man across from you. "Hi, Spencer."

"Hi." He said, his throat dry. "You didn't answer my text." He was deliberately keeping his eyes on yours, forcing them not to drag down to the short skirt clinging to your legs. The hem barely kissed mid thigh, surely not appropriate for work but you were on good terms with Hotch so he'd let it slide.

Spencer had noticed the skirt right when you walked in. The sway of your hips distracted him from the cute pink and black pattern, his eyes widening. He barely pulled his eyes away from your ass when you reached your desk, not confident that you hadn't seen him ogling.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you know what happened? I responded in my head and I forgot to actually text you back." You explained, chuckling as you tuck your purse under your desk. His eyebrows furrowed, confused.

"Oh." He said dumbly.

"Do you want a coffee? I'm gonna run to the kitchen." You asked, hesitating by your desk.

"No, I'm good." He responds, unable to help the way his eyes follow your ass. He tries not to stare, he really does, but he can't help but be bewitched by the way your skirt rides up the back of your thighs as you walk.

He forces his eyes back to the file on his desk but, out of the corner of his eye, he notices your figure bending down at the waist, picking up one of the stir sticks you dropped on the floor. He turns his head, his breath hitching as he caught a glimpse of your underwear under the skirt.

He quickly averts his eyes, a blush rising on his cheeks. He kept his eyes down as you sat back down with your coffee, sighing softly as you turned on your computer, heading to your email folder. Spencer didn't have to worry about accidentally mindlessly gazing at you, burying himself in his work.

The next incident is when you bump into Penelope as she hurries her way up to Hotch's office. She drops her pen which you bend down to pick up. Spencer's eyes find their way to you once again, burning into you. You hand Garcia her sparkly pen with the fuzzy top back to her, your head turning to find Spencer's stare.

You grin at him and he looks away, blushing as he adjusted his glasses. If there was one thing Spencer wore that you were absolutely obsessed with, it was his nerdy, black and gold glasses. They made him look so cute and innocent. They made you want to get on your knees and suck his cock until the glass fogged up.

You round his desk, leaning back against his and looking down at him. His eyes flicker to your thighs before he glanced up at you.

"Hi, Spence." You smiled, bracing your hands on the edge of his desk.

"Hi."

"Can I show you something?" You asked,

"What is it?" He tilted his head, the gold of his frames glinting in the light.

"Just come with me." You pulled him to his feet, starting to walk away. He doesn't follow right away frozen in his spot by the sight of your skirt, high on your thighs. He blinks quickly, rushing after you, following you out of the bullpen.

You lead him to a dark storage closet down the hall, following him inside. He turns to face you, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What did you want to show me?" You stepped forward, chest to chest with him in the small space, standing up on your tip toes, your lips inches from his.

"I've seen you staring, Spencer." You purred and his eyes widened, cheeks flushing a pretty pink to match your skirt. "Is there something about my skirt that's enticing to you?"

"No! No, I mean, well- yes but, it's just-" You chuckled, your hands sliding down his chest, feeling the soft of his sweater vest under your palms.

"Or is it something other than my skirt?" His face got redder as his back met the wall. Your fingers untucked his shirt from his slacks, finding his belt buckle. His breath hitches as he watches your movements. "Do you want this?" You asked looking up at him. He nodded frantically.

"Yes- please, please." Grinning, you sank down onto your knees in front of him, pulling his zipper down. His head falls back against the wall with a thump when your hand palms him through his boxers.

You free his hardening cock from his pants, stroking slowly and watching a bead of precum dribble from the tip. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, taking him into your mouth, feeling him heavy on your tongue. You take as much of him into your mouth as you can, breathing deeply through your nose.

"God- you, you're so..." Spencer whimpers his hand gripping your hair as you bob your head. You swirl your tongue around the tip and he twitches in your mouth.

A trail of spit follows, clinging to your bottom lip as you pull back, looking at him. You were a sight for sore eyes, skirt bunched up your thighs as you sat on your knees, your hair tousled from Spencer's grip. You were his wet dream come to life. Well, it's more the other way around. His wet dreams were inspired by you, made of you.

His wide eyes stared down at you from behind his glasses as your hand continued to lazily stroke his length, his small whimpers music to your ears.

"I'm close." He warned you, moaning quietly.

"Do you want to cum in my mouth, Spencer?" He swore he stopped breathing when that sentence came out of your pretty pink lips. He could barely make his brain work enough to form a response.

"Y-yeah." You grinned, taking him past your lips again, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked. With a few more bobs of your head, drags of your tongue, and twists of your wrist on the base of his dick, he's coming down your throat, his hot release coating the inside of your mouth, dribbling down your lip.

He moans, cursing under his breath as his hips jerk, his eyes squeezing shut. Once you've pulled every last drop from him you sit back, climbing to your feet. You brush off your skirt as Spencer does up his pants.

"You, uh- you look really pretty in that skirt."

"Oh, honey, I know." You pat his chest, walking out of the storage closet, leaving him leaning against the wall, chest heaving deeply as he stared at the sway of your hips in that skirt. That damn skirt.

Taglist: @superbeaglewitch, @perfectgoopfishuniversity-blog, totallynotabuckybarnessimp, @dramioneforevertilltheend. @cynbx, @diminombre, @tinythebunni

[frogsandfries]

I don't know if this is actually relevant/related, but it feels so: This reminds me of how my relationship to my dad has changed. My dad has untreated dyslexia and is not the strongest at reading. (And only because it's important, my dad is also mtf.) I was pretty parentified as a child, starting at around age seven: I was a built-in caregiver for my own siblings, but also, something I didn't notice until recently, a bit of a companion for my dad. I would do her reading, such as for job applications.

I was also extensively her personal assistant: I would reluctantly, bored and annoyed, help with vehicle stuff. I would help her lift and move two-person things, like furniture.

She texted me recently something to the effect of "wish you were here, so you could help me, like old times".

The ONLY reason I'm back in contact with my dad is that my younger sister wishes to maintain their relationship. After she told my ex something to the effect of "ha ha she always panics about crossing the country with near strangers for survival; lol she's your problem now", I was done with my dad. I didn't talk to her for nearly five years and it was great. She treats my sister and I like proxies or extensions of herself.

I don't need my dad. She's not a good person. She's actually in therapy and doesn't even realize what would be valuable to the people she wants to be around her for her to fix to be a better person....to the people she wants to be around her. Maybe that's selfish of me, but there are reasons of interpersonality that I would like to get therapy. I want to be a better person for myself--but I also want to be a better person for those around me. She doesn't realize, or maybe care, that she's not actually a good person for the people she wants to have around.

Absolutely wild to me how sometimes you don't even realize the way you'd been taught to perceive things as a kid was kinda fucked up, actually, until decades later.

Example:

As a kid, I constantly lived in fear of damaging shit in my parent's house. The walls. The floors (especially the floors. The wood was beautiful. Shiny. But so easy to scratch). The cabinets.

As a sixteen-year-old, I once took my car to the dealership after work and paid a very dear sum of $250 ($10/hr cashier salary) to fix a slight scratch in the paint because I knew if my father saw it there would be hell to pay. It didn't matter that I parked far out, like I'd been taught, and someone scratched it anyway. It was my fault. I failed in my duties as a steward of my vehicle.

Every time I scratched a rim on a curb while parallel parking or got a door ding or, god forbid, didn't wash and vacuum that car every weekend, it was treated like some sort of moral failing.

Last year, when my husband and I first moved into our house, he scraped the side of our car when parking in our (Very Narrow) garage. When he told me, my first instinct was to be afraid for him. Like something terrible was going to happen to him because of this mistake. I urgently reassured him that it was okay, it was an accident, I wasn't mad. Baffled, he was like, "Yeah? I know? Like, thank you for the reassurance, but I'm only a little annoyed, I'm not upset. It's just a car." And I had to take several minutes to process that. It's...just a car.

We keep the car tidy. We maintain it. But we wash it maybe 4x a year. We only vacuum it after dirty road trips or when the dog hair starts to get annoying. It has scrapes and dings and the leather seats have stains. But that's ok. Because it's just a car.

This morning, I realized that a small rock had gotten embedded in the felt foot on one of our bar stools. Neither of us had noticed. There are now scratches on our beautiful hardwood floor. My immediate response was fear accompanied by a heavy measure of paralyzing guilt. "I'm so sorry," I told my husband, "I should have noticed. I'll figure out how to fix it, I swear. I can probably sand down that section and match the stain and--"

"Whoa, hey," he said. "It was an accident. And it's fine. Floors are going to get damaged. They're floors. We live here. There was damage in places before we even bought the house, remember? It's not a big deal. It's just a floor." Right. It's just a floor. Right.

My husband's mom is visiting and this afternoon, as I was sitting in the kitchen looking at the scratches on the floor, I offhandedly asked her if my husband had ever broken or damaged anything as a kid. "Of course," she said. Household items. A TV. A wrecked car during his teen years. I asked how she punished him.

"Why would I punish him for things like that?" she said. "They were all accidents."

Right. Of course. Right.

[rauferes]

I love writing Emmrich's stupidly eloquent verbal flirting more than as much as anyone, but this week I've been thinking about the times he says nothing at all. That man is MADE for intense eye contact.

Rook turns around and is pinned by Emmrich's dark, hungry gaze. Every iota of Emmrich's considerable attention fixed on Rook, vibrating with intensity.

There's something beautiful about how strong desire makes the complicated world fall away. It all becomes remarkably simple: let me touch. Let me taste. Let me please you.

And with Emmrich, always, always: let me love you.

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve had this kind of stray puppy thing going on that Wayne was reluctant to give him a shovel talk. And he didn't even do anything! All he did was sat there with his perfect posture—straight back, hands politely folded on his lap, big earnest eyes, and calm breathing. He was all good-mannered and nervous smiles, which was both annoying and endearing.

Now, Wayne wouldn't call himself soft or lenient when it came to securing his nephew's happiness. But maybe, he'd mellowed out because of old age. Or maybe, he'd seen how Steve always brought out the best of Eddie, making him the kind of man that Wayne was proud of.

Either way, Wayne didn't have the heart to threaten Steve with something truly malicious, so he just skipped right over it and ended the talk with a well practiced stern look that made the Harrington boy cower just fine.

Later that night, when Eddie came home with a goofy, lovesick smile, Wayne couldn't help but ask, "Anyone given ya the talk, yet?"

"What talk?" Eddie plopped down beside him on the couch and took a long swig from the bottle of Guinness he'd just retrieved from the fridge. A metaphorical lightbulb went off above his head when Wayne gave him a raised brow. "Ah yes, The Talk. 'Course. I'd be offended if they didn't!"

Wayne hummed and continued nursing his lukewarm beer while watching the TV, ignoring Eddie's curious look that slowly turned mischievous.

"What? I just left you guys alone for fifteen minutes and you already adopted him?"

"He's your boyfriend, Ed, not some stray," Wayne responded gruffly, but Eddie could easily hear the exasperation in his flat tone.

"Jesus," Eddie cackled, slapping his knee as if he couldn't believe it. "You're worse than Hopper, old man!"

This time, Wayne just stopped pretending to not care and smirked at his nephew's nativity.

"Ya really think it took that man longer than me?"

Eddie paused and let out a gasp, eyes widening as realization dawned on him.

"He threatened to hunt me down if I dare to hurt Steve." Eddie slapped his forehead. "No way it'd take him months to adopt baby Steve on sight!"

Wayne nodded, not so smugly. "Now you're talkin'."

He'd eat his pickup truck if Hopper didn't also immediately yield under those puppy eyes. The Harrington might not be the best kind of people, but Wayne had to admit that their son was a sweet soul with a big heart. No thanks to them, of course.

"Anyway," Eddie smirked, nudging at his shoulder teasingly. "You're not distracting me from the fact that you consider Steve family now."

Wayne shrugged, unbothered. Family was family. He'd lived long enough to know it had nothing to do with blood relation.

"'Course, he's your boy."

And though neither of them said it aloud, they both agreed that Steve had been a Munson since the day he saved Eddie's life and continued to make it better with his presence alone.

"Thank you," Eddie said softly a moment later when they were about to go to bed.

The only good thing that came out of the whole 'earthquake' incident was their new apartment, which was afforded by the government's compensation money. And even so, if Wayne was allowed to choose again, he'd rather they still lived in their shoebox of a trailer than watch his nephew suffer from blatant PTSD that none of the kids were willing to talk about and this town's blind hatred.

"He makes you happy and you love him. That's what matters to me." Wayne shrugged, ignoring Eddie's blush and sputtering N– No, I'm not!

Before Eddie could try to argue against a moot point, the phone rang and he sprinted toward it to snatch the receiver up as if fearing it'd disappear otherwise.

"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie said breathlessly, looking far too smitten for someone who'd just refused to admit he was in love.

Shaking his head, Wayne decided to leave his nephew be for now. The way he saw it, Eddie wouldn't be able to hold back for long. Not with someone like Steve Harrington.

[mattsslvtt]

ɪ ᴄᴀɴᴛ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ; ᴘᴜʀᴇ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴀʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴡᴇᴀᴛ, ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ, ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘʏ ꜱᴇx, ꜱᴄʀᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ, ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx(ʙᴇ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ), ᴄᴜᴍᴍɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙᴀᴄᴋ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ(ʙᴀʙʏ, ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ʜᴏɴᴇʏ, ʜᴏɴ, ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ, ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜꜱ ɢɪʀʟ, ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ) // ʟᴍᴋ ɪꜰ ɪ ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ<3

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ; ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ, ꜱᴏ ꜱᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ ʜᴇʟᴘꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀʟᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ.

It's late, Much too late to do anything but sleep — to be more specific it's 3:17am, Spencer; your boyfriend got home from a rough case about 2 hours ago and all he wants to do is sleep, infact, he's almost asleep right now, but your not. You're wide awake, just staring at the ceiling. You don't know why, because you ARE tired.. but you just can't sleep, not when spencer is lying next to you looking so SO perfect... he always does, but tonight, he's delicious looking. The window is cracked, letting light from the moon seep in and catch his features in the most angelic way, his hair is laying over his forehead messily, a few beads of sweat on his forehead, a few strands of his pretty brunette locks sticking to his damp skin. His chest rises and falls slowly, his arms are draped over his stomach, and the sheets are pushed down to just above his knees. His adams apple bobs slightly as he swallows, letting out a lengthy exhale.

You push the covers off your legs and sit up "Spencer.. baby?" Your voice is hushed, but his eyes very slowly open, and he turns his head to look at you "What is it, my love?" His voice is raspy and weak, you can tell just by how he sounds that he's exhausted, guilt forms in your throat, making you struggle to find your words for a moment "I can't sleep.." he sighs at your statement, just laying there silently for a moment before gradually sitting up "Why not? What are you thinking about, hon? " his voice is still weak and raspy but you can tell he's a little worried. It's not very often that you can't sleep "I dunno.. I'm sorry. I know you're tired.."

He turns his head to look you in the eyes "Nooo.. I mean – I am tired.. but if something's the matter, you can tell me" he grasps your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours "no nothings wrong... I just can't sleep, like I'm tired but.. I don't know.." the whole time you guys have been talking, your eyes have been locked on his face, you haven't looked away once "I don't know what to say baby, is there something you think will help?" You just stare at him, in the back of your head you want to say sex, you want to ask him to touch you, but you know he's tired so your afraid to ask "i don't know..." you finally drag your gaze away from his face "tell me what you want pretty." He tilts your chin up and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. His eyes are drooping, he's so visibly tired it makes your heart ache a little "no your tired.." he can tell you feel guilty for whatever reason and he sighs "just tell me.. please." He's starting to get just a little annoyed, he knows you feel guilty but he knows you know he will always prioritize you over himself.

"Can we have sex..." you finally let the words leave your lips, but your voice is shaking "oh sweetheart.." he sighs, squeezing your hand "I know I know I'm sorry-" he cuts you off "no no don't apologize, we can, but I can't promise I'll do as good as usual honey" he brings your hand up to his mouth and presses a kiss to your knuckles "don't worry– I want sleepy sex.. slow sex I mean.. I just want you.. ok?" Your eyes are pleading "Ok baby.. ok" he presses his lips gently to yours. You both scoot down until you're lying down again. He pulls his mouth away to take your tank top off. You're not wearing a bra, so your tits are immediately visible to his gaze "oh my pretty baby.." he squeezes one of your boobs gently, but his touch is slightly hesitant.

You sigh quietly, letting your eyes fall closed "my gorgeous girl.." he rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger slowly, making you whine. With his other hand, he reaches between you two and slides your sleep shorts down "kick them off baby.." you immediately do as he says, kicking them off your ankles and letting them fall somewhere on the bed, He rubs extremely slow circles on your clit through your panties "Spencer no teasing seriously.." you whimper. He presses a kiss to your jaw and slides your panties down to your knees, he presses his thumb to your clit but doesn't move it at all "spencer.. please." Your hand snakes up his back "and take your clothes off.. I want to feel you.." he hums softly as he sits up and tugs his shirt and sweatpants off, he takes this opportunity to slide your panties the rest of the way off "look at you.. my perfect girl.."

He drags his middle finger through your damp folds before rubbing circles on your clit, your hips twitch towards his touch and he chuckles quietly, he presses his lips to your jaw again, letting them linger a little longer this time as his fingers speed up a bit "oh god..." you mewl, your hands splayed across his back, which is slightly sticky with sweat "that feel good sweetheart?" He mutters against your neck, you nod frantically "y-yes.. yes spencer.." you babble, beads of sweat forming on your forehead. He leisurely slides his fingers down your slit before slipping his fingers into your tight cunt. They slide in easily because your extremely wet. A choked moan leaves your lips and your nails scratch down his back. He sucks in a breath through his teeth "I wanna be inside you..." he whispers the words against your jaw "Please..." your Plea is enough of a yes for him, he tugs his boxers down and kicks them onto the floor "how do you wanna do this, pretty?" He's referring to what position you want, he always makes sure to ask you "whatever you want.." you whisper back, giving him a soft smile "Ok hon, roll over f'me" you nod before turning over onto your stomach.

He puts his hand under you– against your lower stomach, lifting your hips up. You feel the head of his cock press against your dripping pussy before he pushes in slowly, his sweaty chest pressing to your back. He groans against your shoulder quietly, pushing all the way in, the tip of his dick pressing against your cervix, a strangled gasp leaves your lips, you bury your face in the pillow as he starts thrusting slowly but he wraps his hand around your neck, pulling your face away from the fabric "i wanna hear you hon.." Whines leave your lips at his words, God, he's so good at sex. His hips snap forward quicker, fucking you into the mattress, your bodies are slick with sweat but neither of you care in the slightest. "My perfect girl..." he whispers against your ear. Your moans ring out along with the sound of skin Slapping against skin and Spencer's panting. Warmth pools in the bottom of your stomach as you already get close to cumming, you feel pathetic for being so easy but you really can't help it, Spencer makes you feel so good.

"Are you gonna cum baby..?" His voice is raspy in the best way, making you impossibly wetter, your walls flutter around his cock. "Y-yes.." you sob, tears slowly rolling down your cheeks as his dick kisses your g-spot with every thrust. Not even 20 seconds later your orgasm rips through you, all your muscles tightening under him, he thrusts a few more times before pulling out, he moans as he cums across your back. He rolls over and lays next to you for about a minute before he gets up. He comes back with a wet washcloth and gently cleans his cum off your sweaty skin. You roll over and lock eyes with him "there's my gorgeous girl.. are you ok?" You nod in reply to his question "yes.. I'm better than ok" he smiles softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom again, he comes back shortly after and plops down next to you "no need for clothes hm?" You nod and roll over to face him "let's just sleep.." he kisses your lips gently and tugs you against him "Yeah.. let's sleep baby."

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱɴᴛ ᴀꜱ ʀᴜꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴍʏ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜰɪᴄ ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴍ ꜱᴜᴘᴀ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ꜱᴏ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴀᴡꜰᴜʟ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ 💔

[manariee]

ACT LIKE IT

𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝟬𝟰 ★ you have to make it believeable

enemy situationship (?) 박성훈 & fem!reader wc 522 ◜ᯅ◝ implied harrassment, implied situationship, mentions of drinking, slow burn-ish, tension

REBLOG4AKISS

MANA: a bit rushed but this may be the only fic before i dissapear for a week !!

The club was packed, you told yourself one night to yourself would be good. That your friends were right about a break.

Now your friends were long gone, phone had no signal, drink cup empty. And the last guy who got too close had made your skin crawl.

You were desperate - for ANY help.

So when you saw another one of those nasty drunk men walking over with a smug grin, you knew you had to think fast. You looked around EVERYWHERE for someone who you might've could've known would help. And there he is.

Park. Fucking. Sunghoon. Of all people.

The one guy who you swear lives to make your life miserable, sometimes in a good way, sometimes in worse. The one whose smirk you wanted to slap off his face. Most days..

You swallowed your pride and pushed your way through the crowd, his own brows furrowing the second he locked his eyes with yours.

''What?'' He asked flatly as you stopped in front of him.

''Pretend to be my boyfriend,'' you whispered, low and urgent, already grabbing his wrist.

Sunghoon blinked once, then twice.

''Are you drunk?''

You were taken aback before scoffing. ''What? No what the hell are you talking about?''

You then glanced back, spotting the guy from earlier then looked back at Sunghoon. ''Please.''

Sunghoon’s brow furrowed. You never said please to him. That alone made him pause.

He then glanced over to the guy and quickly tugged you closer to his chest.

''Is he still looking?'' you whispered.

''No,'' Sunghoon said. ''But he is walking over.''

You didn’t have time to process. Sunghoon turned to face you fully, tilted his head down - and wrapped both arms around your waist like he meant it.

''Look at me.'' he murmured low. ''If we're doing this, we're doing it right.''

You looked up - and suddenly you forgot how to breathe.

He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear. ''You owe me for this,'' he whispered, almost smug.

You almost shivered, though Sunghoon's eyes narrowed on the other man, his intense gaze scaring the guy away.

But you noticed the way his hands remained on you, for longer than necessary.

''You okay?'' he asked, snapping you out of whatever trance you were stuck in.

''Yeah.'' you answered back, heart beating so loudly you could hear it in your ears, and you just knew he could too.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. ''You look like you're about to combust. Didn't realize pretending would get you this worked up.''

''Shut up,'' you hissed. ''You're enjoying this.''

His grin turned downright devilish. ''Maybe. But I'll admit something-''

His hand cupped your jaw, tilted your head so you couldn't look away.

''You asking me for help?'' he murmurs. ''That’s kinda hot. And a bit cute.''

You turned and walked away before you could embarrass yourself further.

But your phone buzzed an hour later.

P.SH [DNI]: y'know if you ever need another boyfriend again..

P.SH [DNI]: what i mean is you can just walk over and kiss me

P.SH [DNI]: fuck it i'm coming over

lovliezᡣ𐭩: @chrrific @saemisic @heeaara @ltfirecracker @woniefication @lezleeferguson-120 @rikifever @chaeneu @jjennuine @callikari @yuuuraaa @wondoras @koiiqqqq @orimuraa

NETS: @k-films

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being the non-mc significant other of lead guitarist! Sylus. part3

Imagine walking back into the pub where everything first started falling apart. The lights are dimmer tonight or maybe your eyes are still too tired to see them the same.

Imagine you did not come with the intent to argue. You come because your chest is too heavy and your heart is too loud. You come because something in you whispers that maybe there's still something worth hearing.

Imagine the pub owner sees you first. Her lips twitch with something between surprise and relief. "He's in the back." She said before you even ask. "Haven't touched a single drink. Haven't said a word.”

Imagine you nod and make your way past old wooden tables and soft murmurs of strangers who don't know how your world just cracked open a few nights ago.

Imagine your heart skipping as you see him. Sylus. Hood up, hands locked in front of him, staring at something small in his palm like it's the only thing keeping him together. You don't need to see it to know it's the pick. Your pick.

"Sylus." You say. His head snaps up. You expect surprise, but what you see is something worse, remorse. Deep, carved into his bones. Regret. "You..." His voice cracks. "You came back."

"I needed time." You tell him honestly, watching his jaw clench and release like he's bracing for impact. "I think I overreacted." "No." He says immediately, standing too fast. The table wobbles between you. "You didn't. You didn't overreact. I fucked up."

Imagine the way silence falls between you, tense but not hostile. Not anymore. "I didn't know you were there." He says, softer now. "I wouldn't have played it if I knew. Hell, I shouldn't have played it at all. That song..." He runs a hand through his silver hair. "That song was a ghost I thought I could bury by giving it one last breath. But instead... I ended up making you bleed."

Imagine you didn't speak. Not yet. He seems to need to say it all. "I looked at her because..." He looked ashamed, looking away from you. "I needed to see for myself that it was done. That whatever I thought I still carried was nothing but dust. And it was. It is. But by the time I realized that, I had already hurt the only person I ever wanted to sing for again."

Imagine he took a step closer and hold out something to you. Your pick. The one you gave him with his initials on it. The one that stayed behind when you left.

"You gave this to me like it meant something." He said. "And I threw it away with a song that wasn't ours. I betrayed your trust, and I don't deserve it back. But if you let me..." There was a pause. "If you still want me... I will never sing another note that doesn't have your name in it."

Imagine you take the pick from his hand slowly. His eyes search your face like he's memorizing it for the last time. "You sang like she still mattered." You say. "You looked at her like you forgot I existed."

"I didn't." He says. "Not for a second. I just got pulled back into a version of me I don’t ever want to be again. One that hides, one that lies, one that doesn't deserve the kind of love you gave me."

Imagine you look down at the pick in your hand. It's warm from his touch. He never stopped holding it.

"I'm not perfect." Sylus started, voice rough. "But I love you. More than anything. More than every song I’ve ever written, more than the stage, more than the past. I love you. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it if you let me."

Imagine the ache in your chest still lingering, but the edges beginning to soften. Maybe he didn’t choose the past. Maybe he just got caught in it. And maybe love isn't about never messing up. Maybe it's about choosing to stay even after the music stops. You look up at him. "Sit" You say quietly. And he does.

Imagine the two of you talking long after the bar begins to empty. No big declarations. No dramatic kisses. Just words. Honest, painful, healing words. You don't promise anything tonight. You don't have to. But for the first time since that song, Sylus looks at you like he found his rhythm again.

Imagine for the first time since you walked out, you believe it might be possible to stay. And maybe as selfish as it may sound. He was going to sing only just for you again.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: f*cking b*tch I knew I was forgetting something.

[theycallmecholemiri]

Headcanons about each Huntrix member

First up, our leader Rumi 💜

-She is the most followed member on all social media platforms

-barley post cause her phone overheats from all the likes

-Last time she tried to do a live on Insta it crashed the app and her phone

-Her hair routine is a government-level secret; Zoey still hasn't figured out what she uses

-keeps every fan letter she ever received(yes even the one from 2019 with sparkles)

-writes poems about Jinu in her notes app at 3AM and refuses for anyone to see them

-is no longer allowed to drive ANYWHERE for personal reasons

-Is actually the oldest (23), but no one ever guesses that—everyone assumes it’s Mira 😭

Next up is our choreographer Mira 💖

-Been dying to get a tattoo but hasn't because the record label said "absolutely not"

-is a world-renowned model and has been in too many fashion shows to count

-showing up to the Met Gala with a sleeping bag was planned, she just didn't expect for it to go viral though

-hates when people lie, she would much rather get mad at the truth instead

-Sometimes joins Zoey insta lives to cause more chaos(then pretends that she wasn't on live)

-has a burner account on insta that she swears no one knows about(both Rumi and Zoey follow her on there)

-somehow the best cook out of all of them

-Is the certified driver if they have to go anywhere

-She’s 21 and absolutely the “calm older sister”—until she isn’t.

Finally, our Maknae Zoeyyy!!💛

-she posts the most on her social media

-usually gets in trouble for going live at terrible moments like when mira and rumi argue

-does rap battles for fun with her fans

-has a drawer full of half-used notebooks, including:

Mira quotes that deserve an Oscar, and ‘Number of times Rumi cried over Jinu this week (updated daily)

-Does TikTok's dances with Bobby and somehow they usually go viral

-Also not allowed to touch the steering wheel, Mira usually just goes "zozo belt on now" in the coldest voice ever, which always works 98% of the time

-Hosted a fake "late night talk show" on her IG stories called “Zoey After Dark”

-She may be the youngest (19), but she has random moments of wisdom that hit like a truck

Group headcanons (cause I said so) 💅🏽

-The girls all have a self-care day that includes lots of face masks, gossip about other K-pop groups, and catching up on K-dramas

-Their group chat name changes every week: ➤ Zoey STOP Going Live → Huntrix Anonymous (We’re Not Okay) → Jinu Said WHAT Now??? → and most recently: Please No One Flirt During Dance Practice 😭

-If one of them cries, all of them cry. Once it happened on stage and they had to take a 5-minute intermission(blame a surprise fan project + Jinu smiling at Rumi in the VIP section)

-Rumi and Mira get weirdly competitive during photo shoots (Zoey records everything and adds TikTok music)

-There’s a “Who’s the Most Famous Today?” whiteboard in their penthouse. Mira wins when a Vogue article drops, Rumi when a quote goes viral, Zoey when she sneezes on TikTok.

-They once had a “no romance for a month” pact. Rumi broke it in 2 days when she blushed at a Jinu post. Zoey documented the downfall in a TikTok trilogy.

-Rumi leaves the group chat every time Mira and Zoey tease her about Jinu. They always add her back in. Every. Single. Time.

OKKKKK that's all I have for now. Keep streaming the movie and a03 writers, PLZ UPDATE UR FANFICS. I'm on my knees. OK BYEEEEEE(in Eda voice) 🩷💜💛.

[dragonsorceress22]

So, we *talked* about a lot of things but I haven't had a chance to try any of them yet, but here's some of what we talked about:

INCUP method:

I - Interest (if the thing in question isn't generating any interest in you, you're not gonna wanna do it - in the context of a hobby the interest is kinda already there I guess, but could also look like cutting a scene you're not excited to write - if it doesn't interest you maybe find a way to make it so the story doesn't need that scene so that you can write something you find more fun)

N - Novelty (if you're doing the same thing over and over, your brain might be like "I've already sucked all the good I can extract from this; I want something new and shiny" so you need to change something up to get yourself going again - maybe location, maybe you get yourself a scented candle and a fun beverage or a good soundtrack to make the action feel fresher)

C - Challenge (finding the right level of "this isn't so difficult as to be off-putting but it's difficult enough to hold my attention" which for writing could be like breaking a project down into smaller tasks or pieces and just focusing on one of those to start so you don't get overwhelmed)

U - Urgency (thissss is the one I KNOW always motivates me super well, but I don't know how to generate it outside of an official fandom event that has deadlines and an external Watcher keeping me in line. but damn I wish I did. I need to find a way to create a sense of urgency in me without an outside influence. I have not figured out how to do this.)

P - Play (I feel like this sort of circles back to interest. Make it fun! If you're not having fun (since this is in the context of a hobby) change it up!)

We did also identify something interesting - after analyzing the times that I was super productive creatively, we found that it was when I was under serious stress and generally miserable. Writing was literally keeping me afloat. But now I'm in a much kinder job, and none of my immediate family are actively dying, and I no longer have that dire need fueling me. WHICH IS GREAT. but like... dammit. lol

So we talked about needing to find other ways to generate that fuel WITHOUT being in dire straights. Which is when we started talking about the INCUP method and other stuff but then our session was over so 🤷

my homework is to try some stuff and circle back next time and see what worked and what didn't and blah blah it's a process lol

ANYWAY this has been your overshare for the day🙃

"just write a little every day" ok but what if i write nothing for 3 weeks and then suddenly type like i’m being hunted by god

[angel-writes-skz-here]

Do You Trust Me?

Bang Chan x F! Reader Synopsis: Your best friend tries to make your day better Warnings: SMUT, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v, praise, light bondage(?) A/N: I need to get finished with orders for Larie's Libations! So be expecting that! I'm also cooking up an event so y'all stay tunned for that! As usual, comment to be added to my tag list Xoxo💋

Your day had been rough. It started off when you bumped into someone at the coffee the shop and both of you spilled your daily caffeine, staining your white blouse and making you late to work.

Then you find out your boss transferred you to a different floor and expected you to move your desk that morning to make room for the replacement. After that, the printer screwed up right as you were printing an important document. Come lunch time you realized you forgot your lunch at home, causing you to eat only a bag of chips.

You shot Chris a message on your lunch break grumbling about how it was a shit day and you couldn’t wait to just chill at home.

After lunch, you go back to your desk only to find that the computer, that had said important documents and information on it, had shut down, not saving anything.

Needless to say, it was a shit day.

So when you walk into the shared apartment with Chris, you’re surprised to see dinner cooked and candles lighting the table.

“What the heck is this?”

“You said you had a bad day, I wanted to try to help.” He shrugs sheepishly. He comes over, slyly taking off your jacket and your purse and putting them away.

“Seriously, how has no woman snatched you up yet?” You ask as you hug him tightly. You and Chris have been friends for the last few years, living together for a year now. It had been working well, until you started to fall for him. It wasn’t hard; Chris is the epitome of a good boyfriend. Attentive, kind, genuinely listens when you talk about your day. He makes you laugh, helps distract you when you need it, and is always there to help when you ask. He’s someone you feel safe with, that you trust and know you can count on.

You both sit down to eat dinner, the silence a little awkward. You can see the wheels in his head turning as he chews a bite of his food.

“What cha thinkin about, roo?” you wink at him.

“Huh, oh,” his face turns a light shade of pink, “Nothin, I um,” he sighs.

“Y/n,” he asks and you look up over at him from the rim of your glass.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Do. You. Trust. Me?” he asks again.

“With my life,” you answer honestly. He takes a deep breath and stands up, holding out his hand to you. You look from his face to his hand back to his face before hesitantly taking his hand and standing up. He pulls you close to him, the height difference not much, just a few inches or so, and he softly presses his lips to yours. You stand there for a moment, eyes wide, lips frozen.

“You said you trust me,” he says, voice an octave deeper.

“Let me help you relax,” he mumbles against your lips, hands resting on your hips. Your eyes flutter closed, moving your lips against his as your hands rest on either side of his neck. The kiss quickly turns heated, passion exchanged in every movement, tongues daring to dance together in something that’s way over the line of friendship.

“Chris,” you whimper. You feel him smile against your lips. He pulls you to your bedroom.

“Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this,” he says as he gently pushes you down on the bed. His eyes are dark; lustful and hungry.

“How many nights I heard you moan because of your own hands.” He says as he hovers over you.

“How many nights my cock would throb and I’d have to get off, imagining it was you on top of me.” He groans in your ear, making you shiver. He slips off his shirt before leaning back down, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

Without even thinking you dip your head down, capturing his thumb in your mouth, lightly sucking on it, tongue swirling around the tip of it. His eyes widen, watching your mouth suck and his pants start to tent. He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, before raising your shirt over your head.

“Fuck,” he breathes as his eyes stare at your chest, “Look at you, so fucking perfect,” he groans as he places kisses down your neck. Your fingers thread into his hair, his teeth sinking into the flesh.

“God I wanna taste you so bad,” he almost whimpers in your ear. Your face flushes.

“Wanna feel you around my tongue,�� he says as you whine, hips involuntarily shifting toward him. He notices and chuckles.

“Don’t worry, baby girl, Daddy’s got you.” He says before trailing more kisses down to your chest. He kisses the top of each breast, tongue darting out over your skin. You sigh in satisfaction, watching him, cradling his head as he kisses just between them.

His hands reach behind you, slipping the bra off. He moans, mouth automatically going around your left nipple, flicking it with his tongue. You bite your lip to keep from moaning, eyes closing to concentrate and Chan bites down.

“Ah,” you jump.

“Let me hear you,” he smirks and goes back to flicking his tongue and you oblige, letting out the noise. His other hand comes up to pinch and lightly twists, causing your mouth to fall open, before he switches and gives the right one the same kind of attention.

“Chris,” you whimper feeling your panties grow damp. You figure he must know what you want because he kisses down your stomach.

“You know,” he says before kissing your stomach.

“I’ve dreamt,” he kisses your flesh again, “About having my head between your legs,” he says before nipping at the skin of your hip. Your walls clench around nothing at his words.

“Dreamt of how you taste. Dreamt of hearing you moan my name like it’s the only thing you know,” he says as he pulls down your pants.

“And tonight,” he says before planting a kiss to your clothed core, “I’m not stopping,” another kiss, “Until I hear it. M’gonna make you feel so good baby,” he says and kisses the inside of your thigh. He flattens his tongue and drags it up the damp cloth covering you.

He feels you squirm, watching as your hips roll involuntarily.

“Patience baby, we got all night.”

“Chris I have work tomorrow,” you whine.

“If you’re able to walk tomorrow, I didn’t do my job.” He smirks before hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling it down.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he says before diving in. His tongue is slow at first, teasing you with slight pressure to your clit, causing you to gasp and sit up, better watching him between your thighs. He chuckles against you, adding just a bit more pressure.

“Better enjoy this, I won’t be gentle all night,” he groans before lapping at your entrance, tasting you. He moans something sinful, eyes rolling back in his head.

“Knew you tasted good,” he says against you as he hooks his arms around your thighs, fully determined to make you see stars. His tongue applies forceful pressure, making you gasp as he curls it up and flicks it back and forth, the sensation causing your eyes to close, and body to go slack against the headboard. Chan flits his eyes up to you, smiling to himself when he sees the look of pleasure and relaxation on your face.

He teases your entrance with his finger, slowly inserting it and curling it upwards, hitting your sweet spot each time.

“Chris,” you moan out, hips once again moving against him as he continues his assault on your clit.

You whimper as he quickly adds another.

“Fuck,” you say as he moves them quickly, hitting the spot perfectly; tongue like lightening as your body tenses.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you mumble, hand in his hair pushing his face into you.

“Fall apart baby,” he mumbles against you. You gasp, body shaking as you feel the heat in your stomach dissipate and your body shake against him.

Your chest rises and falls as Chris works you through your orgasm, slowly pumping his fingers as your walls attempt to suck them in.

“Such a good girl for me,” he praises kissing his way back up to you. His hand comes around your throat, causing your heart to tick right back up before his lips slam onto yours, rough and needy.

You whimper against him, desperate to touch and feel more of him.

“Chris please,” you whimper against him. He chuckles before helping you flip onto your stomach.

“I didn’t even have tell you to beg,” he whispers in your ear, smirk evident in his voice.

“That needy, huh? My needy little slut?” you groan as your cheeks tint a shade of pink. You hear his belt come undone and your body rushes with excitement.

“Hands,” he says as he positions himself on your back. You put your hands behind your back and feel his belt come around them, securing your wrists together.

“I told you I wouldn’t go easy all night.” He mumbles in your ear. He drops his pants, positions your hips up and teases your folds by rubbing his head up and down them.

“Christopher,” you warn as you desperately try to move your hips back. He audibly laughs at you.

“You’re in no position to negotiate, love.” He says and you can only imagine the dimpled smile on his face on right now as your cheek is pressed into the mattress.

You groan again and roll your eyes as he pushes in hard and fast making you choke out a moan. Chan smirks, drawing himself out slowly, only to slam into you again, hitting that beautiful spot inside you.

“God,” you choke out, eyes screwing shut. Chan sets a brutal pace, causing your forehead to dig into the mattress, breathing becoming labored quickly. Chris can feel your walls squeezing him, signaling your close, he slams into you even faster, helping your orgasm along by rubbing your clit. Your mouth opens in a silent cry, walls sucking his cock in.

Chris moans at the pressure as you come undone, but he isn’t finished.

“Fuck,” he groans as his hand wraps around your throat, pulling you up against him, fucking into you, body limp in his arms, legs slightly shaking.

“You can give me one more, yeah? I know you’ve got it in you. You make yourself cum at least twice in a night, so let’s see if we can break that record. Think you can do that for me?” he grunts as he kisses up your shoulder to your neck; his breathing now becoming more labored.

“Yes, daddy,” you whimper as you feel him slow down just a little, teasing you, before pushing you down on the bed, his back hovering directly over yours with long deep thrusts.

“You take me so fucking well,” he says with a kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Make me feel so damn good,” he grunts.

“And to think, you let other guys do what I could’ve been doing this whole time,” he grits his teeth, his pace picking up little by little until its punishing.

“I’m better than them, though. I can make your body tick by simply looking at you the right way,” he taunts with a cocky attitude.

“Isn’t that right, baby?” He asks and his palm lands on your ass cheek. You whimper as he lands another.

“Yes,” you call out; the sting a stark contrast to the pleasure.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum,” you whimper out, eyes screwed tight. You feel Chan slow down once again, and the restraints come off your wrists. Your arms cheer with relief as you’re able to bring them down and you flip onto your back, Chan repositioning himself, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful underneath me,” he murmurs as he slides in, causing both of you to moan together in harmony.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispers as his pace is slow and deep once more.

“Wanted to feel you around me,” he sighs as your walls flutter.

“Wanted to call you mine so many times and tell those losers you’d bring over to fuck off,” he says before dipping his head down and connecting your lips, hips rocking faster, his hand going to play with your puffy clit. Your breath hitches, and your noses touch as you feel your body begin to stiffen quickly.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers in your ear as his cock throbs.

“I’ve got you, baby. Cum for me,” he drawls. Your arms go around his neck, back arching into him as your nails go down his muscular back, drawing red lines down it as your walls clamp around his cock.

Chan moans, hips stilling as he cums with you. The two of you stay frozen like that for a moment, the initial shock of what just happened weighting over you. The two of you look into each other’s eyes. For what feels like hours, you stare at each other, unsure of what to say or what’s ok to feel.

Chan is the first to move. He moves some hair away from your face as you settle against the mattress, the moment surreal.

“You ok?” he asks cautiously. The tone of his voice calms your fears. A lazy smile spreads across your face before you bring his face down to yours.

“Better than ok.” You smile just before kissing his lips. Chan smiles into the kiss and pulls himself out of you, both of you wincing slightly. He looks at you, dripping with his seed.

“That’s so hot,” he whispers to himself as he slowly forces himself away to grab a towel. He comes back a little bit later, longer than normal, helping you clean up, and helps you stand, legs wobbly and body sore.

“Lets get you cleaned up, yeah?” you nod lazily, your body spent.

You walk into the bathroom, candles are lit and a small tray filled with snacks and water in sitting across the tub with warm steamy water underneath it.

“Come on, it’ll soothe your muscles,” he whispers in your ear.

“You’re joining me, right?” you ask almost innocently.

“If you want me to,” he says, not making eyes contact with you.

“Of course I do,” you whisper turning around and placing your hand on his cheek. He smiles and leans into it, kissing your palm.

You both step into the water, the warmth enveloping your muscles. You sink down into the tub, Chan behind you, rubbing your arms trying to help them relax.

“So how about you call out tomorrow,” Chan says in your ear, “And you let me pamper you, hmm?” he asks.

“I have to go back to work eventually.”

“I mean, you could just let me take care of you,” he says with a kiss to your shoulder before reaching around and opening one of the snacks for you.

“You know I like having my own money.”

“You don’t even hardly pay for anything anyways.”

“Chris,” you begin, “That’s because you always beat me to it.”

“Just one day,” he says.

“A three-day weekend,” he encourages.

“We can do whatever you want.” He entices. You blush and rest against him.

“Fine, I doubt I’ll be able to walk properly anyway, considering I looked like a baby deer just getting to the bathroom,” you joke.

Tags: @breakmeoff @thelovelybireader @crystal005 @velvetmoonlght

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[nottivagos]

notti's nightly thoughts (18+)

an: going to be honest, i don't really know what this is. i'm sleepy 😔

it wasn't uncommon for lando to miss you whilst he was away racing. he knew he couldn't bring you to every race, and he respected that you had other aspirations and responsibilities away from supporting him at races. but god did he need you now.

it wasn't like a regular craving that he could shake away with a quick scroll through some pictures of you together, no, this was different. it was the kind of desire that he did prepare for, but never knew could actually happen. he needed to hear you. desperately too.

he'd been trying to get himself off to some odd voice notes here and there for a while that evening, but it wasn't enough. he needed to hear your voice again, and craved to even be told what to do by you.

in an act of desperation, he called you, not expecting you to answer. it was an ungodly hour for you at home, so he wasn't getting his hopes up for anything, but luckily he'd struck gold.

you stirred from your sleep, groggily turning over to your bedside table to see lando's name lit up on your phone. lethargically answering the phone, you croakily spoke into the microphone, wondering what your boyfriend's reasoning was for calling you at such an ungodly hour.

when lando answered, his voice was already a little breathless. his cock was half hard as he rested topless on his large bed in his hotel room, one hand just aimlessly tracing over his bulge whilst the other held his phone in his hand.

"you sound a little breathless," you asked out of concern. "you alright, lan?" you asked with a genuine concern, "you don't sound very well," you added with your eyebrow raised.

"me? oh, i'm alright babe," he laughed off, fisting himself through his boxers. "just got a little bit of a cold that's all," he mumbled, closing his eyes as he continued to rub up and down the now painfully straining cock in his boxers.

with a hum, you shrugged it off. you started to talk, rambling about things going on at home, blissfully unaware of lando pleasuring himself to your voice. lando's hands came to nearly rip his boxers from his body, letting his angry red cock bounce free onto his lower stomach, tip leaking with salty pre-cum.

lando continued to stroke his length as you continued rambling, thumb smearing the pre-cum down his length, whilst his curls fell on his pillow as he tilted his head upwards in pleasure. his mind was hazy, high on not only the adrenaline pumping through his veins, but the ecstasy of hearing your voice after so long apart.

losing any self awareness, lando let out a short whine, biting his lip to try and suppress it as much as possible, but failing miserably. your eyes widened in realisation, stopping what you were saying mid conversation to question what the hell lando just did.

"why did you just moan?" you asked bluntly and directly, adjusting yourself upwards on your bed.

"n-no!" lando exclaimed, grip hard on his twitching length as his froze, hot blood pumping through his veins. "why the hell would i moan?" he tried to laugh off, but you weren't having it.

"are you touching yourself to the sound of my voice?" you asked rather bluntly again, but lando could sense the smirk plastered on your face from his end of the line.

"why would i do that?!" he blurted out sheepishly, trying to lie through his teeth but failing miserably. "i'm not touching myself," he denied again, "i just-, i just missed your voice, okay?"

"aw, that's cute," you mumbled, "but i'd bet you'd need me to tell you what to do, wouldn't you? i bet you're so lost without the sound of my voice in your ear," you trailed off as lando grabbed his throbbing cock, thrusting the fleshlight around it so it fitted ever so snugly.

"please," he whined stupidly, phone now discarded to the corner of the mattress. "i need you," lando panted, pleading nearly as the breath was sucked out of his lungs in the breathless gasps escaping his lips.

"tell me what you want me to do, baby. i'm all yours," he added, biting his bottom lip at the feeling of the fleshlight fitted snugly around his throbbing length, making him a mess. but god did you revel off of that.

"yeah?" you asked, "you're all mine, are you?" you hummed with a devilish excitement flurrying in your insides. "why don't you let me hear those pretty little noises that you make whilst you tell me how you're feeling, hm?"

"fuck," he panted, fisting his cock with the toy. "it's just-," he stuttered, tears forming in his eyes as he continued to jerk himself off, "i just need to feel you- inside of me, and i can't-," he cut himself off as he whimpered, biting down on his hand to suppress a moan mixed with a sob.

"oh, it's that bad, huh?" you cooed, "you really miss me that much, lando? aren't you such a sweet thing," you murmured, voice laced with venomous sweetness as you felt your panties become wet from hearing lando's moans vibrate through your phone's speaker.

"if i cum please just promise me that you'll come to my next race," lando breathed as his hips rolled in a haste rhythm whilst thrusting the toy harder onto his cock. "that's all i ask," he added, before groaning, "fuck-, i'm close."

"oh you're close?" you hummed with a raised eyebrow. after a moment of pondering, listening to lando's moans grow louder and louder, you answered, "alright, i'll come to your next race," giggling before adding in a sultry mumble, "come for me, lando."

salty tears streamed down lando's face as he let out a guttural moan, hot spurts of come painting the inside of his fleshlight. the sticky white trailed down his length, painting the inside of his thighs as he panted, coming down from his high.

"good boy," you praised as lando whimpered, chest heaving. "that feel better, lando? i bet it does, doesn't it," you murmured into the phone with a sadistic smile on your face.

"now turn on your camera," you commanded, "i want to see what pathetic mess my stupid boyfriend made on his toy thinking about me." <3