#but I’m not touching them for like over a week until I hear back from the powers that be

[breezymichelle99]

Wheel Work 🛞 | LN

Summary: After a scary moment with a fan. You and Lando try to work past the tough reality of what he does for a living.

Warnings: driving over the speed limit, aggressive fans, some stalking, scared Lando, scared reader, feelings of having a heart attack, mentions of crashing, emotional damage, some sexual innuendo but all fluff.

As always if I missed something let me know.

Mostly pure Lando fluff. 🩷

It was rare during the season that Lando was home in Monaco with you. But this particular week he was home enjoying some alone time with you and some of his friends that he hadn’t seen in a while. He had gone to a boys day out with Max where they enjoyed the gym and a round of golf. He was on the way home from the golf course when he called you, frantic.

“Baby?” He asks. You hear the panic and fear in his voice and you immediately stand up off the couch. “Lando? What’s wrong baby?” You ask back, panic now setting into your voice. Silence filled the line but you could hear the sound of his Lambo engine working over time; the only time you had ever heard his car sound like that was when he was pushing the pedal to the floor racing late night through the streets of Monaco, making your eyes widen and thighs clench turning you on as he worked the wheel around the tight turns of the Monaco streets.

“Lando talk to me please, what is happening?” you hear the brakes squeal and then the roar of the engine revving once again. You were pacing the floor in your shared apartment ready to grab your keys and find him via his location on your phone. “There are fans following me, they have been following me since I left the golf course. I can’t lose them and we are currently zooming though the streets of Monaco. Baby I don’t know what to do, I’m literally driving like I’m in my formula one car right now. I don’t want them to follow me home so I’ve just been driving around hoping they give up and leave me be.” His breathing is erratic.

“Baby. Call the cops right now, please I’m begging you.“ you say begging him to hang up and call 911. “Baby please I don’t want to hang up with you.” He says. You try to hold back tears as you try to figure out what your next move is. “Okay, keep talking to me Lan, okay? I’m going to go next door and borrow Carlos’s phone to call, stay on the phone, keep talking please and please be careful. I love you.” You whisper as you run out the door leaving it wide open as you run across the hall full speed, Lan still on the phone trying to talk to you.

You bang furiously on Carlos’s door. “Carlos please open up.” You scream begging, as you continue to bang on the door until he finally opens up. “Y|N what’s wrong?” “I need to borrow your phone right now please, Lan is in trouble.” He hands the phone over immediately, you pull up Lando’s location and dial 911. “Lan? baby I’m with Carlos I’m calling the police right now.” You say as you dial. There is a long pause before he responds and you know he’s focusing. “Okay baby, please hurry.” You hear him say and you feel the heartbeat in your ears at the scared tone of his voice.

“Hello, yes I have an emergency. My boyfriend is Formula One driver Lando Norris, and he is currently (gives location). A fan is following him in his car and they are driving at a high rate of speed. They have been following him for about 25 minutes. He feels extremely unsafe and the situation is reaching dangerous speeds. Please send someone immediately he’s not wanting to drive home and let them know where he lives. He’s on the phone with me right now.” You give the dispatcher a description of the car Lando was driving and the car that was following him.

“Miss, it looks like we do have a unit in the area. Please ask Mr. Norris to continue on home. The unit will stop the car following him and then someone will be in touch with him later to file a report. Looks like the unit is currently in pursuit..” “Oh my God, thank you so much. I will tell him right away. God, thank you.” you hang up the phone with the dispatcher after a few more questions, giving it back to Carlos who was looking at you wanting details immediately. “Lando the dispatcher said there is a unit right behind you. They advise you to drive home safely and the PD will be in touch to file the report.” You hear his breathing even out as soon as he hears the sirens. “They are pulling the car over now. I’m on my way home to you..” You hear the sirens and you finally exhale. “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you Lan?” You ask. “ Please, baby.” he whispers. You can tell he’s still scared. “All right baby I’m here.” You say your heartbeat, racing in your chest. Carlos makes a joke about having sushi ready for him for lunch. Lando laughs and gags but appreciates the distraction. “pass.” he says, and you and Carlos both laugh. “ Alright baby. I’m on my way up to you, I just parked in the garage.” “Alright I’ll be waiting.” You say.. “I love you, baby, thank you.” his voice is an exhausted whisper. “ I love you, Lando.” You say hanging up.

“Thank you.” You whisper to Carlos. “Hey it’s nothing glad everything is OK..” he says hugging you tight, make sure my boy is OK. I’ll check on him later.” “you know I will..” you smile, leaving Carlos and heading back to your apartment that you shared with Lando. You were waiting for him in the living room, pacing the floor. You wouldn’t settle until he was in your arms. He was in your arms before the door even closed. You could feel his heart slamming in his chest. “ It's OK, baby. You’re home. You’re safe, I'm right here..” You hold him tightly letting him relax in your arms. “ I was so scared baby.” he whispers nuzzling into your neck. “ I know, baby I can only imagine, that was not OK and I hope when they ask, you press charges because that was very unsafe and incredibly dangerous for you and for them I can only imagine what might have happened” you had started to cry at the thought of this causing an accident. “Hey I’m OK. Everything is OK.” he says, wiping your tears away with his long fingers. You weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself. After a few moments, you both settle down.

Lando is lying in your arms, sound asleep, finally safe, finally relaxed. Your fingers running through his curly mullet. You were still crying, you couldn’t help it, the thought of losing him was never something you wanted to envision. You needed to make a statement. Not only were you scared, but you were furious. You snap a photo of him sleeping in your lap and you take to social media.

“Lando loves his fans more than anything, and the support of his fans means everything to him, but when you are literally stalking him in a car at a high rate of speed through the streets of Monaco. You have crossed a line. Following him for miles and you clearly can see he’s attempting to get away and feels unsafe, but yet you continue. The feeling I felt in my chest when he called me panic, clear in his voice. I will never forget it. Having access to him is a privilege that he allows his fans. And a few people can ruin it for the majority, I’m just asking that you please please please be respectful when you see Lando out and about or even at the track, he’s a human being regardless of his formula status and he should be allowed to go golfing with Max and come home safely to me without incident. I don’t want him to be unreachable to his fans because he feels unsafe. You wouldn’t want this to happen to your loved one so let’s please think logically and responsibly when interacting. He is pretty good about being fair to his fans. Let’s remember that he doesn’t have to be. I love you guys and I love watching Lan interacting with you all, but let’s respect his boundaries. Please I wouldn’t want any of you to feel the way he or I felt today. He is finally safe and relaxed, taking a nap in my arms.”

You put your phone down and snuggle into him. You hear him groan at the readjustment, but he’s still asleep. you sigh. Scared to close your eyes for the fear he may disappear, you continue watching him until your phone starts ringing. It was Max F. “Hello?” You whisper doing everything you can to be as quiet as you can so you don’t wake Lando. “I just saw your post, is he OK?” You sigh. “ Physically yes.” You look down at your sleeping boyfriend finally at peace. “I can’t even begin to explain to you the sound of fear in his voice, the way his heart was pounding in his chest when he got home, me on the phone literally not knowing what was happening. What if something had gone wrong?” You say crying again. You hear Max sigh. “ I know Y|N. It was such a scary situation and I can only imagine how you both were feeling at that moment. I’m glad everything is OK.” he says. You're not really sure what else to say right now. “I can have him call you when he wakes up.” You say.. “Yeah, that would be great. Thanks. Glad he’s OK.” Max says. You hang up. Putting your phone back down and snuggling back into Lando finally allowing yourself to fall asleep.

When you woke up, the weight of Lando’s body had gone from yours. You panicked getting up immediately. “Easy baby, I'm right here.” He says looking at you from the kitchen island. Your heart rate steadies as he wraps his arms around you tightly. “ I love you, you know that right?” he says, looking down at you with those gorgeous green eyes. “You saw my post, didn’t you?” You chuckle and blush. “ I did.” he says with a small smile, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. “ I couldn’t help it Lan, what happened was so unfair and unsafe and dangerous for you. That should never be OK, ever. All I can think about is what if something had happened? What would have happened if there was a crash? What if something happened to you? I would never be able to live without you.” His lips stop your words.

You know there are risks that he takes every single time he gets behind the wheel of his car on the track, but this wasn’t the Monaco Grand Prix. This was real life and he shouldn’t have to take those same risks because of a crazy fan. “I appreciate how much you love me, baby..” he says with a smile. “forever, Lan” you smile back as he touches your cheek with his fingers. You could tell he was still worried, you could see it in his eyes. “Are you OK?” You ask, running your fingers across his cheek. He melted into your touch.” I think so.” he whispers, his lips. “What is it?” You ask him, you could see the conflict in his eyes. “ I am damn near starving though,” he laughs. You laugh too. “Well then, let’s do something about that. Want to help me in the kitchen?” you ask him knowing he wouldn’t want to leave and get back in the car right now so you would be better off to just make him something at home.

“I would love nothing more” he says, following behind you to the kitchen. You grab a few things from the fridge; milk and eggs and then a large bowl with flour and vanilla. Instructing lando to mix here and stir there. Him tossing flour at you as you squeal his name. “Lando Norris, will you behave please.” you giggle as he wraps his arms around you as you stand in front of the stove, making the pancakes the two of you had somehow managed to put together. “Absolutely not.” he says, kissing your neck. “Lan..” you whine as he does his best to distract you from the task at hand. “If you want to eat something you better quit.” you warn, which earns a raised eyebrow from him and you know immediately where his mind went. “Seriously.” you laugh and roll your eyes at your silly boyfriend. He laughs as he sets the table. “Nutella?” you ask him. He grins and shakes his head yes. You knew him so well. “How bout ice cream?” you look back at him. “Spoiling me are you?” he chuckles. “Fine, no ice cream.” you say shoving it back in the freezer. He whines. “Babyyy no, I'm only kidding, I would love some.” he says the sad puppy dog eyes, doing you in. You never could resist those gorgeous eyes.

Thank you.” he says, kissing your cheek as you meet him at the table with a plate of pancakes with ice cream and nutella. He pulls you close for a moment looking up at you with those beautiful eyes once again. “I'm so grateful for you.” he whispers. And you know he is secretly trying to thank you for coming to his rescue this morning. You sigh, touching his face with your fingertips. “You know no matter where you are in the world, what time it is, or how long it would take me to get there, I would cross the entire fucking world for you Lando Norris, anytime, any day, all you have to do is say the word and I’ll be there.” you say kissing his lips gently, slowly. You pull your lips from his, trying to savor the moment but also not wanting his breakfast to get cold. “Come on now, time to eat.” you whisper, pulling yourself from his arms so you don’t get all emotional again. The two of you enjoy your pancakes with a few laughs before settling into a comfortable silence as you finish your breakfast.

He helps you clear the table and then stands beside you as you wash the dishes. Both singing some song he had put on to fill the silence. “Thank you for helping me.” you say with a kiss as he continues to help you. “Thanks for making my favorite.” he says leaning in to kiss your forehead as you lean back against the counter. “Anything for you, Lan.” you say with a smirk. “Anything?” he questions with that boyish grin you knew meant trouble, his eyebrow raised. You run your fingertips across his perfect pouty lips. “Anything.” you whisper. “Mmm.” he groaned and you knew instantly he was feeling better as he set you up on the counter, settling his muscled body between your thighs, kissing your neck. “Lan.” you moan his name in his ear. And he can't help the smirk that crosses his lips.

Lando’s phone rings, interrupting the moment. He saw it was Max and looked at you for the okay to take the call. You nod. “He called me earlier but you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.” you say. He nods, kissing your lips. “To be continued, my love.” he smirks. “Gunna hold you to that Norris.” you giggle. He takes the call with Max, knowing he probably needed his bestie right now. You hop off the counter and finish the dishes.

Later that day the police would come by and take a statement from Lando regarding the incident that morning, Lando doing as he promised and pressing charges against the fans in question, to not only let everyone know that this kind of behavior was not okay but as a warning to anyone who would think this was okay in the future, that this kind of behavior from his “fans.” would not be tolerated. He also released a statement on social media backing your earlier statement. At the end of the day everyone was safe and happy and you and Lando headed into another exciting race weekend ready for anything, as long as you could handle it together there wasn’t anything you couldn’t get through.

The end.

[clingylilhoneybee]

Did not expect something so small to be my breaking point but holy fuck I need out of this job

[nottsangel]

okay this is my first little idea that i’m sending in so don’t judge if it’s bad😭

but like imagine a love island au and you and theo are pared up and he’s touching you in bed and he’s like talking you thru it but at the same time tilling you to be quiet 😫

— love island au moodboard

“theo… we— we can’t” you whisper urgently, hoping not to wake the other islanders as theo’s hand roams over your body, squeezing your tits before slowly travelling to your aching core. you feel unbearably needy, after not having been touched by anyone else or even yourself in weeks since arriving at the villa. yet, it feels so wrong— mattheo is snoring loudly on the bed next to you, his arms wrapped tightly around his girl, and on the other side, you hear the soft, wet sounds of making out on lorenzo’s bed. but getting caught by your fellow islanders isn’t even the worst part— it’s the microphone you’re forced to wear 24/7 that makes you second-guess everything. it feels so… awkward to let everyone at home hear what you’re doing— to let them hear the filthy words theo’s whispering right into your ear.

“shhh, just let me take care of my girl. i know you’ve been craving for my touch, hm?” he teases, fully aware of how touch-deprived you’ve been, evident by all the little touches you’ve given him throughout the past few days, but too hesitant to take it further. you can’t help but feel yourself become wetter and wetter at theo’s touch, as you instinctively spread your legs a litter wider, inviting him in. “that’s a good girl. gonna make you feel so good.” he murmurs right into your ear, faces merely inches away from each other as you have your arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him while you try to relax.

“tell me what you want.” he demands, his hand cupping your aching cunt and not giving you what you want— no, need, just yet. “i want to feel you, please. need it so bad.” theo chuckles condescendingly, his soft lips attached to your neck as he hungrily sucks on the sensitive skin, marking it with dark hickeys as his body presses intimately close to yours. “you want me to finger you in the same room as the others? while everyone at home can hear your pretty moans? naughty girl.” he taunts, his fingers teasing your clothed pussy, already dripping with arousal as you can only nod eagerly in response, gazing up at him with desperate, pleading eyes.

“please, theo, just— stop with the teasing and make me feel good, please?” you beg desperately, unable to take it any longer as you can feel your pussy throb at his words. he gazes down at you with a mischievous smirk, clearly enjoying how desperate you are for him as he slips his hand into your tight shorts and soaked underwear. “really? it’s this easy to make you wet?” he whispers seductively into your ear, his fingers slick with your arousal as he gently gathers your wetness. “you’re fucking adorable.”

you moan softly at his words, desperation taking over as you place your hand over his, seperated by the thin fabric of your shorts and panties, and push his hand deeper into you. “so desperate, hm? poor thing. let me help you, baby.” he growls, rubbing slow, tantalising circles on your aching clit, causing your lips to part, but no sound escapes. his fingers then wander to your dripping hole, pushing two fingers in at once, causing you to throw your head back at the full feeling. “fuck! theo, just like that!”

he groans at the cute moans slipping from your lips— god, how he wishes it was just you and him here, so he could make you scream his name until your throat hurts. but this is what you’re both dealing with now, and he’ll take whatever he can get. “shhh. you gotta be quiet for me, amore. think you can do that?” you nod obediently, biting down hard on your swollen lip as he starts rhythmically pumping his digits in and out of your soaked hole, and you so desperately hope the others won’t hear the slick, wet sounds coming from your shared bed.

“god, you’re so fucking sexy. do you know how hard it is for me to control myself when you moan right into my ear like this? wish i could take you right here and now, until you cum all over my cock.” his words are only driving you closer to the edge as his fingers curl up so perfectly, rubbing against your sweet spot, making you dig your sharp nails into his arm. “oh my god, right there!” his skilful fingers quicken as his soft lips captures yours in a passionate kiss in an attempt to silence your moans, knowing you’re close to the your release.

his other hand moves towards your tits, squeezing them firmly and toying with your hardened nipples, and that’s when you lose it— your orgasm hits you unexpectedly as you moan right into his mouth and arch your back, all your muscles tensing as your legs tremble uncontrollably. “that’s it, baby. there you go.” theo whispers soothingly, talking you through your orgasm as you slowly come down from your intense high. your chest heaves up and down, heart pounding wildly, when suddenly draco’s stern voice from the other side of the room causes you to flinch, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “so, are you guys done now? people are trying to sleep.”

ੈ♡˳

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 1; ghoap x reader)

-

Johnny’s been bragging about a pretty bird lately.

Ghost listens because the periods between missions are long and colourless—he fills the time with paperwork, PT, exhausting his muscles in the gym, and dissociating in a booth at the only good pub on base when Johnny drags him along—and it’s better to tune out the thoughts in his head and replace them with something else. Besides, for as much as he gripes about poorly trained dogs barking too much, he enjoys the sound of Johnny’s voice. It quiets the faint ringing that follows him wherever he goes, an agitated humming that leaves him, on his best days, on the brink of rage.

“Tinnitus,” a doctor says when he brings it up during a routine check-up. Can you shut that fucking noise up?

“Best we can do is get you hearing aids.” Apologetic, sincere even. Stained, as always though, by a trembling, noxious unease. It emanates off the doctor in waves. 

Hard not to feel uneasy around a man in a mask, Ghost assumes. That’s all part of it though. He doesn’t cultivate comfort, doesn’t attempt to engender soft feelings or put the mind at ease. His body and persona are designed to put the body and mind on the knife’s edge of fear, and then tip it over. He leaves the sweet talking and charming to men like Johnny, who babbles red language in a tongue like larkspur. 

Ghost’s first language is oil slick. It stains and it covers and it darkens everything it touches. 

And now, Johnny’s talking about a bird.

A couple months after Las Almas, the first picture comes out. Not a folded up keepsake tucked away in the pocket of a bag or a wallet or the inside of his jacket, but right on Johnny’s lockscreen on his phone. He disapproves at first glance. Not of the girl, but at the thought of keeping something so valuable on display for anyone to see. It’s not how he functions. Everything sacred is burned, destroyed, or—if precious enough—buried so deep underground that salt miners might greet it on the way down.

“Pretty, eh?” Johnny goads, nudging Ghost with his shoulder. He’s all wide grin, eyes electric-blue like the flames of Kawah Ijen. 

She is pretty. Pretty as pie. Not a speck of grit or blood on her; if there’s any edge to her at all, it’s tempered by her smile in the photo on Johnny’s phone. A sugar sweet cunt, by the looks of it, sure it’d taste like candy if he got his mouth on it. He angles his eyes with Johnny’s lips and wonders how many times he’s eaten her out, if hers was the last cunt he ate. Likely. His boy’s the loyal kind, hard to shake off once he’s got his teeth in. Swapping spit or blood, he doesn’t leave once he’s got a taste. 

“Where’d you find her?” he asks instead of agreeing, and takes a swig from the bottle in front of him. The bar’s hardly filled out yet; the two of them come early because Ghost’s an old man—that’s what Johnny would say—and doesn’t like to be around people once the sun’s set. It’s a burnished gold now, sun hovering low in the sky when Ghost turns an eye to it. 

“Florist. Met her when I picked up flowers for mam’s birthday.”

Nearly a month then. “And I’m just hearin’ about this now?”

Not in this same pub three times a week since then. Not on the tarmac, suited up and sweating already beneath two layers of gear. Not in the shower beside Ghost’s, fingers reaching over the side for a bar of soap because Johnny can’t be arsed to get his own. Not with his head slumped to let Ghost shave the sides of his head nice and neat, thick fingers splayed over the delicate bone of his skull that Ghost knows would take nothing to break. 

It rankles him until he looks back down at the phone in his hands—the one he’d plucked from Johnny’s fingers even while he whined about Ghost always stealing his shit—and feels his heartbeat slow. It levels out like staring into the scope of a rifle, the molecules of his breath melding with the molecules of the air until even the sound of his heartbeat dulls to the insects around him. 

Johnny purses his lips. “…Wasn’t sure then. Am now.”

“Cunt’s a cunt. What’s there to be sure about?”

“No.” Johnny shakes his head vehemently. “She’s no’ like that. She’s special—I’m telling ye, Lt—” he stresses when Ghost snorts, the sound thick with scepticism, “—she’s a good egg. Smart one. Sweet as pie.”

Sweet as pie. Mutt half-shares his thoughts these days. They must have brought more home than just shellshock and keloids. 

Johnny squawks when Ghost unlocks his phone and thumbs through his photos, trying to wrench it out of Ghost’s hand to no avail. He’s easy to hold back. All he has to do is put down his beer for a second and get a handful of hair and jerk, and there it is. Peace and quiet. A wince bleeding into his peripheral vision while Johnny mumbles something under his breath about him being a mean bastard. 

He snorts again. Even from Johnny, he’s heard worse. 

There isn’t much left of him these days. A tired husk and a taste for Guinness. He bleeds and shaves and wipes it off, smells the viscera still staining his mask that he hardly ever washes, can’t bear to honestly. Waste of fucking time, as far as he’s concerned. Just going to get dirtied again, soaked in blood again within the week. Shaves his head too just to have less to deal with, less to distract him from the single-minded intensity he brings to the job. He’d dematerialize if he could, become a ghost in name and shape, if only the laws of physics allowed. 

Instead he’s saddled with a body that echoes back his age in creaking joints and low back pain. Scar tissue that aches when it gets cold. 

In the months he’s known Johnny, he’s never let himself think about the world outside their bubble. His rank demands a certain level of socialising, and while he doesn’t schmooze with the brass like other lieutenants might, Ghost hardly has the privilege of isolating himself all the time, but still he can count the people he considers close on one hand. 

Not family, but close. The thought of family is sheathed within him; he knows to leave the knife in lest he bleed. Still, Johnny’s fought his way onto the list and now he has to pay with his pound of flesh. 

There’s a switch that’s been off for years, closer to a couple decades, and it flips back on when he finds this man that trusts him without question, that follows his orders and looks up at him with these big, puppy blue eyes. It twists something in his chest. It turns him into a thing that says maybe it’s better to take than just covet. 

There are other photos of the girl in Johnny’s phone, some likely not meant for present company (Johnny flushes red when Ghost flips to a picture of his bird in a pretty little number, lace cupping her tits and ass, sitting on Johnny’s bed back home and looking back at him over her shoulder with a little grin). Still, it interests him to see this side of his boy; he’s maybe thought of it before in abstract terms. He knows that Johnny’s no stranger to a wandering eye, not with the way he’s built and his pretty boy face. He’s well acquainted with Johnny’s dick, hard not to be in such close quarters; it’s a nice, pretty thing, just like him, a good handful. Nothing like the ruddy battering ram in between Ghost’s legs. The one Johnny once got a glimpse of in the showers after a two week long stint in Kyrgyzstan and paled, mouth gaping open while he stared until he could finally laugh it off. 

Ghost remembers thinking detachedly about how lovely that little gaped open mouth would feel around his cock. 

Surprising that it took this long for him to cotton on to his own desires. 

“Bring ‘er around then. I’ll see for myself how sweet she is.”

Johnny scowls at the sudden uproar from a nearby table. “No’ a chance in hell. Dinnae trust any of these fuckers to behave around her.”

Ghost hums. He’s not wrong to be wary; under the table, Ghost runs a hand over his bulge and gives it a squeeze, lifting his thigh to readjust. She has a lovely mouth too. 

He’s been breathing fire and brimstone recently. Hungering to hear something break. It takes Johnny’s hand on his arm to hold him back, every cigarette puffed down to the filter. The pictures on Johnny’s phone make it seem easy though. 

Johnny’s been bragging about a pretty bird lately, preening at every opportunity to show her off. He doesn’t know that it takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost’s brain to file the girl in Johnny’s phone under mine, slotting her right under Johnny in that category and isn’t that just perfect because it also takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost to imagine what she might look like under Johnny. 

He hands Johnny back the phone, face down. “You get one week. Then I wanna meet your bird.”

[thehighladywrites]

ACOTAR MEN X READER, SITTING ON THEIR LAP

✩ summary: different scenarios where you find yourself sitting on them

✩ warnings: nsfw, 18+, mentions of sex, mentions of self-doubt, kissing, begging, gossiping, fluff, smut, crack, fun times and soft Eris😭💗

✩ amara’s note: the original cassian hc was so long that i had to stop myself bc i was thirsting and it turned into a regular oneshot lmaooo😭 anyways enjoy babes!!!!💗💗💗

reblogs are really appreciated! :D

RHYSAND

No matter how angry you and Rhys get or how petty the fight is, you two always end up holding hands, even while yelling at each other.

Sitting in his lap while you two argue about random, non important stuff is a standard

You guys just don’t do the whole “no touching” thing

Today, the argument was over who cooks better, both of you bickering pettily.

“Listen, I love you a lot, but the kitchen isn’t your best friend. It's crazy how you can burn an empty pot.”

“Maybe you’re crazy,” you retort, arms crossed over your chest as you step closer to him, leaning against his desk in his office.

He keeps arguing with you, going back and forth, while pushing his chair back from the desk to make room for you.

“Whatever, Rhys. I don’t even need to cook when I can summon anything. It’s stupid, and you’re being unfair,” you mutter as you put your hands on his shoulders and plop down in his lap, subconsciously warming at the way he holds your waist and places one hand on your back to keep you steady.

He suppresses a smile, scratching the back of his head as he looks up at your pouting self. “You’re absolutely right, sweetheart. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course, you’re an amazing chef,” he concedes, his tone laced with affection.

“Awww, come with me while I make you something,” you say, flashing him an oblivious smile.

“Oh! Um, you sure we shouldn't order something or..?” he asks nervously, his voice getting higher as he kisses you.

You slip out of his lap and hurry downstairs to plan his meal, assuring him not to worry about ordering anything and to just come down for his favorite meal.

“Dear Gods,” he whispers as he gets up, a mix of worry and fear in his voice.

ERIS

Eris had been stressed out for a few weeks now. Nothing you said seemed to make a difference.

He was dealing with his father’s death, ruling a new court as the heir, and inheriting the High Lord powers. Your heart ached for him. You wanted to be there for him, giving him hugs and words of encouragement, but you were not on that level yet

Today had been the most stressful day yet, resulting in him shutting down and locking himself up in his bedroom.

“Eris, are you okay? Can I please come in?” you knock gently on the wooden door, voice hushed and gentle.

After a few moments of silence, you hear him shuffling behind the door until he opens it very slightly.

He is shirtless, only in a pair of pants. You manage to catch a glimpse of his tired, amber eyes before he turns around to lie in his bed.

The room looks clinically clean, the only disturbance being Eris’s rugged appearance.

Without saying a word, you walk over to him and give him a hug. It’s a long, warm hug that tells him everything he doesn’t allow himself to hear: you’re there for him.

It takes a few moments for him to hug you back, but when he does, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist, bringing you into his lap.

Only after an hour of silence does he speak

“I feel like i’m stuck. These powers are killing me, the board is fucking annoying, the folk believe i’m wicked and cruel and i have no idea what to do about anything.”

He looks up at you with desperate eyes, “Do you believe I’m truly wicked?”

You shake your head in honesty. “No, honey. I have not met anyone as smart, kindhearted and brave as you. Others do not know you like I do but they should,” you whisper, hands going through his tussled hair. “You’ve been hiding behind your mask for too long, Eris. Let people see the real you.”

The room goes quiet, the only sound being the beating of your hearts.

Slowly his lips meet yours in a new and experimental kiss. He stares up at you with his pupils blown but before you can apologize and get off his lap, he kisses you again and locks his arm around you

“Thank you,” he whispers between heating kisses, “Thank you, beautiful.”

CASSIAN

“Hi there sugar, what can I do for you?” Cassian asks sweetly as he flicks your nose with his finger, happy that you ran into his office and immediately plopped down on his lap

“Can you fuck me?” you ask, frustrated with the lack of dick lately.

His eyes widen slightly at your words, then he slowly cracks a handsome smile. “Gods. How inappropriate of you,” he teases, the amusement clear in his voice.

His teasing almost makes you sob. This was totally NOT the time. You almost roll your eyes before realizing he will so not give in if you give him that

“Cassian, i’m begging you. I want, no- need to be fucked. Please, i’m losing hearing in my left ear,” you beg as you get closer and sit in his lap, rubbing your hands all over his chest

He looked incredibly good, almost unfairly so. Cassian’s jaw and chin had grown scruffy in a ruggedly masculine way that made him look older and even more attractive.

A week without seeing him had only heightened your weakness for his body, making you throb.

“Losing hearing? You must be really dying for me, huh? Alright then. I’ll let you ride,” he smirks at you while unbuckling his belt.

He finally fucking let’s you fuck, hitting spots that makes you go fuzzy brained.

You make him promise to never be gone again before going for another ride, satisfied when he breathlessly promises.

LUCIEN

There is not a bigger shit-talking couple in Prythian than you two

One look between you two is enough.

Someone’s being annoying? You share an annoyed glance. Someone’s being rude? You share a baffled glance. Something’s juicy’s happening? You share a glance that says you will so talk about it when you get home.

“— and he has the audacity to two-time her? He’s lucky to find even one person willing to date him,” you gossip, lounging in Lucien’s lap, your voice dripping with disbelief.

“You’re not going to believe this, but this isn’t his first time. He did that to Tamlin’s cousin too,” Lucien adds, his tone filled with incredulity.

“No way,” you gasp in disbelief, shaking your head as the gossip sinks in.

“Yeah, apparently this guy fucks around in all courts and cheats on anyone willing to stomach. What a fucking loser, honestly,” Lucien nods in agreement, disdain evident in his voice. “The sick bastard gets off on it.”

“That reminds me, guess what I heard about Rhys in Rita’s yeaterday,” Lucien prompts, leaning in with a sly grin, clearly ready to share some gossip.

“Some males and females were talking about Rhys, saying he's replaced Feyre with a clone,” Lucien whispers, his tone laced with disdain. “And get this— they think her transformation from human to fae is fake and that there is no way she could possibly be the mother of Nyx.”

“A clone? They’ll say anything these days,” you exclaim, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

“That's exactly what I'm saying! They're probably just making shit up out of thin air,” Lucien replies, nodding in agreement.

“I wouldn't put it past them,” you say, shaking your head as you reach for a biscuit, happy to be sitting and gossiping with your love.

AZRIEL

Azriel loves when you sit on his lap.

It makes him feel safe and relaxed knowing you're close to him.

It's something he does every day when he comes home - having you in his lap. Sometimes you both sit quietly, other times you talk or fuck or cuddle, depending on how you’re feeling.

Azriel especially likes the fuck part.

He loves the part where you sit on his lap while he works. If you’re good, he’ll bend you over his desk and fuck you. If not, he still fucks you but he does it with no mercy

He makes you sit on his dick and tells you not to move and inch or you will be edged for hours, not being allowed to cum once

Fucking torture is what it is honestly

“Stop moving around so much, i can’t focus.”

“Do you blame me? You’ve buried your dick in me, of course i’m moving. Maybe do something about that.”

He raises his eyebrows at your snarky comment. If it’s something he didn’t need today it was sass.

His day was quite shitty and all he needed was his sweet mate who would kiss away his problems and take his dick perfectly

Azriel smiled slightly as he put his pen down. He would take out his frustrations on you today.

“You want to be fucked? Let’s fuck,” he says in a low tone

In the end, all his papers are scattered, all pens on the floor.

He is relaxed and all smiley while you’re on death’s door💗

[peachesofteal]

Ghoap x female reader / 18+

Everything was fine.

Your phone was quiet, but that didn’t mean anything. You would wait. You’ve waited before.

Sometimes it took a while for them to ring. They had a life together, a home, things to take care of. They had lives to rebuild every time they touched down, got home, got out of their work clothes. Pieces to patch, blood to wash clean.

You weren’t their girlfriend. They aren’t beholden to you, there’s no sacred vow tethering the three of you, no promises or pledges. You don’t know Johnny’s middle name, or Simon’s, anything about their families, their private lives. You barely knew about their jobs, only holding the scraps tossed to questions lobbed back and forth across pillows. They leave little marks across your mind, little spots of scars, knowledge scratched into your skin, sunk into your body, but never too much.

You weren’t a part of their life, really.

You were a part of the dark hours. The soft ones. You were in the orange rays of sunlight cresting over the city, and the emerald abyss of pitch black night. You were the flickering yellow street light, the grey blue smoke of Simon’s cigarette. The in between. Here in the moment, gone with morning.

For months, you had spent their time home pressed between them, folded beneath them, balanced above them. They made you sing. Made you scream, made you cry.

But most of all, they made sure-

you understood the status quo.

“Say it.” Simon cradled your jaw, thumb and finger full of steel, like he was oblivious to Johnny beneath you, his cock sliding in and out of your body, his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, your back to his chest, eyes wide and mouth agape, Simon did not flinch.

“I- I’m not-“ a gasp, a groan, words bitten off when Johnny strokes faster, curved deep against the spot that makes you see stars. Sweat builds across your skin, slicking down your spine, and Johnny chases it, tongue sweeping salt clean. You swallow to try again. “I’m not- not yours.”

“Not ours.” Simon’s fingers wrapped around the engorged length of his cock, stroking leisurely, eyes half lidded. “You’re not ours, sweet girl. But we’ll take care of you, when you’re here.”

So, you fell into it. Fell into them. Got comfortable waiting for the phone to ring, going weeks or months at a time- holding your breath. You got into a rhythm, syncopated behind the swell of their voices, their bodies, their souls. Along for the ride. A passenger.

It was fine. You weren’t looking for anything serious anyway. Maybe someone to hang out with here and there, grab a drink, have some fun. All of these things, they gave you. All of these things were provided. Granted, you only went out with them to a dive around the corner, a dark, bottomless place with tar licked floors and worn away wooden bar. The kind with dusty stained glass pendants swinging over pool tables that have seen better days, wrought iron back patio furniture that squeaked when Simon would pull you onto his lap and hook the hem of your panties to the side to stare at your pussy, hungry and desperate glint in his gaze under the silver glow of moonlight. He’d flip up your dress and stroke you with the back of his knuckles, just the down the seam, cooing, telling you how lovely you look, asking how much you missed them.

They never took you out for meals, or dates, or anything like that. They kept you in bed, buried beneath them, wrung out, drained dry. They took and took and took until you had nothing left to give. They’d feed you, make you come, fill you up and put you to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

And it was all… fine.

Even tonight was fine. Johnny had emailed, said they were back in service range and they’d be around soon, if you weren’t busy. Typically, a phone call came later. Late, in small hours, when half the city slept.

So when you fell asleep to nothing, you weren’t surprised. They’d catch up with you.

They always did.

You didn’t hear from them the next day. You forced it away easily, didn’t let the unease nag at you, pasted a smile on your face for your friends when you agreed to meet them for dinner.

No strings. You’re not their girlfriend, you’re not theirs. You’re cool. It’s cool. You’re fine.

Besides, your friend had gotten a reservation at a very nice restaurant in one of those shiny new hotels that just went up.

You shoved the boys from your mind.

You were the cool girl. You were unaffected.

You’re fine.

“So how’s work?”

“Oh, it’s fine. You know, same shit different day.” You roll your eyes, touch light on the thin stem of a wine glass. The red is a shade darker than your nails, and your lips, and it tastes like sweet cherries soaked in acid. Stringent. Sweet. You’re about to reciprocate the question when the bulk of a man catches your eye, handsome width of a shoulder you’d know from a mile away.

Interest in your friend’s conversation evaporates, and your tongue turns tarnished, sticking in the back of your throat like an overgrown thorn.

It’s Simon. Your heart pounds, and you drink in the sight greedily, elated to see him outside of their flat, or in the bar. Thrilled to get a glimpse of him in the real world, in a restaurant, a real, tangible place, in a real, tangible moment.

“I’ll… be right back.” You manage, slipping from the both to the wall, openly gaping across a room full of diners. As he moves, you mirror it, coming closer and closer to a hallway, a lead off down to the bathrooms.

“Simon.” His name slips from your lips without permission, a build up of excitement and anxiety, all twisted into one heap that darts out in front of your intentions, your resolve. Not cool.

You expect him to be surprised, certainly. You expect to see that small spark, the little fire burning behind his irises, expect him sweep the length of your body.

You don’t expect the surprise to be blanketed with the white fog of indifference. The grey slab of a stone wall.

It confuses you. Startles you. And when you take a step-

Johnny turns the corner, an arm slung around the waist of a pretty, thin, blonde.

His lips part, brows knitting together in slow motion. The girl, their date, it seems, is oblivious. She only bats her eyelashes at Simon and then gazes up at Johnny, sweet and hopeful.

You turn cold. Your fingers go frigid, ice cracking through your veins and attacking your heart, slowing your pulse.

The room spins.

And you’re alone in it. Dining room chatter falls away, drowned out by the thrumming between your ears.

You’re alone. Alone, staring at them, trying to piece it all together, trying to breathe, trying to be-

Cool.

“I uh…” You teeter, precarious in your shoes that now feel like a mistake, like your dress is a mistake, being here is a mistake, getting up from the table-

You’re not their girlfriend. You’re not theirs.

“I’m just gonna… go.” You begin to backpedal. Johnny says your name, says it quietly, and takes a step, lurching forward, an animated corpse seeking its last meal.

“Bonnie, ye-“

“I’ll see you around.” You blurt, stepping back out of reach. Johnny’s fist clenches, and he casts a dubious glance towards Simon, who’s tense and focused on you. “See ya.” You croak, and then spin on your heel, trembling all the way out the door and into the cold, crisp air.

Very uncool.

[luveline]

Heyyyy can you do a Hotch x reader where readers just kinda been down all day but doesn’t wanna tell Hotch because she’s kinda used to being the badass with all her walls up? And hotch kinda pulls her to the side and forces it out of her 😊😊

thank you for requesting!! fem, 1.2k

Hotch has dark hair. He’s an older guy but he’s yet to grey, hair like the strands are soaked with coal pitch, even darker under the office lights. He braces his hand on the desk and ducks toward Spencer’s computer screen, pointing at a corner with patience. 

“This one,” Hotch says. 

“Why would they organise it like this?” Spencer asks, his voice bordering incredulous. 

“I’m not sure. You’ll remember where this is?” 

“Do you usually have to tell me more than once?” Spencer says lightly. 

“Ask your licence to carry.” 

You’d laugh, his wit quick and poor Spencer a good sport, but your head feels heavy with a forming upset. Like your mind has turned to thick porridge. You woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but you don’t feel angry, more magnificently empty. Nothing is touching beyond your surface level. 

“Thank you, sir,” Spencer says. 

You ignore the weight of a gaze on you while you click through your emails, prioritising what needs to be answered before the end of the day, the end of the week, and the end of the month as Hotch taught you to. You double click an email chain from a consult you’d been assigned from out of state and reread your response, nervous that your lack of confidence today might have shone through blunt wording. Hotch is looped into the chain —he can correct any glaring errors should you have made them. 

“Hey,” Hotch says when you don’t look up. He doesn’t use your name, and he doesn’t need to. “I’d like to talk to you. Let’s go up to my office.” 

“Can I have a half hour to work through my emails?” you ask apologetically.

“I’d prefer we talk now. Any overdue reply can be blamed on me,” he says. 

The way he talks is natural to him but perhaps strange if it were another person, with another disposition. You know Hotch to be both gentle and stern at once. His tone leaves little room for debate, but it reassures you to hear the measured cadence of each word without rush. The openness of his expression is similarly comforting, and though he doesn’t know it —you would never own up to feeling this way, verbally or physically— you’d quite like to be comforted by him. Even if he takes you to the office to reprimand you, you’ll at least have been near him for long enough to forget your odd aching. 

Hotch doesn’t walk until you do, taking each step by side until he gets to the office, where he opens the door to encourage you in. 

You drift a few feet inward, shoes soft on clean, crisp carpeting. Hotch closes the door, where he stands momentarily, silence held.

“Everything okay?” you ask. 

Hotch pulls out one of the two black chairs in front of his desk and gestures for you to sit. “Everything’s okay,” he says, standing back to give you space to sit, his hand moving to rest on the back of the chair as you sit. It whines as you shift to see him. “With me, everything’s okay. How about you?” 

“Everything’s fine with me.” 

You’d pad your explanation out if you didn’t think he was about to tell you what you’re in the brig for. No one likes a nervous Nelly. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

You glance at his hand behind you and he moves it swiftly. “Hotch?” you ask tentatively. 

“I’ve noticed you aren’t yourself today.” 

“I’m completely myself.” 

“It’s not like you to stare into space.” He frowns. “I want to sit down because I don’t like towering over you, but I don’t want you to internalise this as a meeting.” 

“You’re not towering over me, Hotch.

His frown doesn’t ebb. “…We each have our own unique levy to carry the weight of, I know that. But it’s not… nice, to see you like this. I’d like to know what’s wrong.” 

Again, no nonsense and reassuring at once. 

Maybe he is towering a little. You avert your gaze from his, feeling uncharacteristically meek for a weak moment. 

“I think I woke up mixed up,” you confess eventually, picking at a stray thread on your skirt until the tips of your fingers burn. “Like, nothing happened to upset me, but I…” 

“You do feel upset.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

“You’re not sure why?” 

“Not really. I think that–” You lick your lips nervously, not finding the right words, wanting to be vulnerable and simultaneously reluctant to show him anything he might not like. “I think it’s lots of smaller things and they’re layering on top of each other. Do you get that?” 

“All the time. Though usually my way of dealing with it is less pleasant for others.” He looks down at you steadily. “And yours,” —he aims enough fondness at you to stop your heart— “is self-contained. But I don't want you to think you’re walking through life unseen.” 

“Unseen,” you repeat. 

He stands very still. “Can I touch your face?” he asks quietly. 

You don’t know why he’d ask, but you say, “Yes, please.” 

“Please,” he says. You’re repeating each other. The air in the room feels thicker as he lifts his hand to your cheek and cups it gently. “When you’re upset, I notice. I can’t help but notice.” Your face lists into his palm slowly, worried he’ll move, but he holds you and he watches you with care. “Is there anything I can do to make it all feel better?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

He rubs your cheek with his thumb. “No?” 

You close your eyes. “No,” you say, matching his volume. 

“I don’t know what to do now,” he murmurs. 

“Sorry, I’m okay,” you say, asking yourself to move away from his touch, but unable to force it, “I’m gonna…” 

It’s a boundary crossed, but you and Hotch are good at that. He’s constantly treating you with more sweetness than a boss should show toward his employee, and you eat it up despite every instinct in you that says you shouldn’t. So you won’t tell him you’ve had a bad day until he asks, and even then, you have nothing permanent to offer him for fixing, and still he’ll hold your face and make it feel ordinary. Like he’s touched you a hundred times, something about it feels right, and real. Your cheek feels softer under his tracing thumb. You could fall asleep in his hands. 

“How can I make you feel better?” he asks again. 

“It’s not that bad.” 

“But what can I do?” 

You want to ask for a hug, but even the idea of it is too much to think about. Miss Independent admitting she needs more than this? When it’s already more than you should have? 

Profilers profile, and somehow you give yourself away. 

“Come on,” he says softly. 

He hugs you. His hand falls from your face to your shoulder, wrapping behind it, encompassing you in a strong arm as he bends down to embrace you fully. 

“I wish you’d ask for more,” he says, his free arm slinking between your arm and side, hand to your back, encouraging you to hug him back. 

You don’t know what to do with your arms. Each movement feels stilted, but Hotch makes up for it. He hugs you without inhibition, like he’s wanted to do it for a long, long time. 

[gloomwitchwrites]

They overhear you telling the team how much you like them and want to have their babies.

ANON! The way I screamed when I first read this prompt. I love shit like this because o-m-g. I had so much fun writing our boys in this scenario. Thank you so much for sending it in!

While there are some sweeter moments, these all lean toward the steamy side but don't cross over fully into spice. But, each is left open enough that you can make up your own mind about what happens! (hehe).

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): mild language, suggestive themes, pregnancy, fluff, feelings

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

John "Soap" MacTavish (wc: 651)

John is grinning like a bloody idiot. Has been for the last few days.

He’s caught your attention, and he’s downright smug about it. Every lingering glance and gentle upturn of your mouth has his skin singing with an intensity that can only be described as a tree burning from the inside out. He’s been after you for months, doing his best to gauge your interest in him.

He thinks he has an in because just yesterday, you touched him. Not a passing touch either but a firm grasp of his upper arm. A squeeze that shot heat straight to his toes and sent blood rushing quickly to an already throbbing need.

You looked him in the eye, brow all soft, mouth puckered slightly in the most gorgeous pout. John wanted to kiss you right then.

He turns the corner, heading into the training room, only to stop dead when he hears your voice. Pausing, he backtracks, pressing himself against the wall but leaning around the corner to listen in.

“Johnny’s been sweet on you,” comes Ghost’s voice. It’s slightly teasing, and John frowns slightly. Ghost would never overstep and steal you out from under him, but he would give him or even you a hard time.

“Has he?” you reply, and it’s breathy.

At this rate, his cheeks are gonna hurt for a week from how stupidly big his grin is.

“Don’t tell us you haven’t noticed,” laughs Gaz. “Soap’s been drooling all over the floor and himself.”

You remain silent, and John would give anything to know what you look like right now or what you’re thinking.

“Do you like him?” asks Ghost.

“What?” you exclaim.

“We won’t tell. Unless you want us to,” continues Gaz. “We can tell him to back off if—”

“No. I—” There is a stretch of silence. “I like him.”

When neither Gaz nor Ghost say anything, you keep talking. “I like him. I’m interested.”

“How interested?” asks Ghost, slowly.

“I’d have his babies if he asked,” you blurt so suddenly that it even takes John by surprise.

His grin momentarily slips away, and then it comes back, raging larger than before. He is going to bottle up those words and savor them. John runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the tips slightly as he comes to a decision.

Pushing off from the wall, he barrels around the corner, making enough noise to not startle anyone. You and Gaz both jump but Ghost remains utterly still, a passive brick of a man. But his dark eyes swivel from you to John, and he sees Ghost’s amusement behind the balaclava.

John approaches you, and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep his grin from seeming too eager. “Price is looking for you.”

“Oh,” is all you say, moving in the direction John just emerged from. He waits until you pass him to start following, but before he can, he catches Gaz’s grin and Ghost’s gentle shake of his head.

When the two of you disappear around the corner, John reaches out, grabbing your arm. He tugs you against him, then shoves open a nearby door, hauling you inside.

“Johnny,” you protest as he shuts the two of you inside.

Leaning against the door, John crosses his arms over his chest. “Heard what you said.”

“Did you?” you counter, placing your hands on your hips.

“Aye.”

“And what did I say?”

“That you wanted to have my babies.” Your face heats and John has to bite back a groan. He surges forward, trapping you against the wall. “Is that the truth? Do you want me?”

You soften in his arms, and he cannot help himself. His arms snake around your middle only to lift you onto a nearby table.

“I want you,” you whisper.

John dips his head and you greet him with your mouth. “Then let’s get to it, love.”

John Price (wc: 420)

Price reclines in his office chair.

His mind is a mess. All thoughts of work are utterly gone. Finished. The only thing in his head is you and what you said this morning. The thing is, you don’t know that Price heard every word, that he listened as you confessed your feelings for him to the rest of the team.

Price is your superior, which means anything between the two of you cannot happen. At least, not while you’re under his command. The rest of the team said as much, and you reluctantly agreed, knowing that nothing could be done unless you or he moved out of the unit.

And Price won’t leave. Not because he wouldn’t do it for you, but because Laswell would have his head if he tried.

But the two of you can still talk. The two of you can still figure something out.

Yet it wasn’t just your interest in him that has Price’s head in knots. It’s what you said, almost absently, like you were speaking to the air and not the rest of the team.

I’d have his babies.

Fuck, he was gone when he heard that. Price walked away immediately and went to his office. Which is where he’s been the entire fucking day. When his phone rings, he refuses to answer. Everyone who has come knocking leaves when Price ignores them. He just needs to get his head on straight but he can only do that once he talks to you first.

Sighing, Price leans forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the table. A knock comes, and everything in him tenses.

He swallows. Turns his nerves to steel. "Come in."

When you enter, Price loses all thought. It isn't until the silence becomes awkward that Price clears his throat and stands. "Shut the door."

You do and then take a few more steps inside. Price isn't one for stepping around a conversation. He just needs to get this shit off his chest.

"Heard what you said this morning."

"You did?"

"I did."

You take a shaky breath. "And?"

"Did you mean it?"

'Every word," you say automatically.

Fuck. He's done for.

Price slowly sinks into his chair. He leans back casually, legs spread. Resting both hands on his thighs, Price runs them up and then back down. He taps the inside of one thigh in open invitation.

Your legs obediently move, and Price's chest tightens. As you straddle him, Price's hands come to rest on your waist.

"Show me."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (wc: 309)

Kyle heard you wrong. He must have.

The words that just came out of your mouth simply aren’t true.

I want to have his babies.

He shakes his head, the middle of his brow furrowing slightly as he continues to listen. He hears Soap guffaw at your reply and then swear up a storm when you smack the back of his head.

“It’s not funny,” you snap.

“Oh, aye. But it is.”

“Cut her some slack, Johnny,” says Ghost teasingly. “Sergeant Garrick is a handsome man.”

You sigh in frustration. “You’re both terrible. I can’t tell you anything.”

“You just did.”

“Oh shove it, Soap,” you reply.

Kyle covers his mouth with his hand, smothering a laugh. You’ve always been feisty, and you don’t take shit from anyone, especially not from them. But this admission completely catches him off-guard.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t interested. What first began as mutual respect grew into genuine friendship. Now it’s…this. Whatever this is.

But Kyle is a private person, and he’s not going to shove himself into this conversation. He’ll wait until you’re alone and the two of you can talk this out without an audience. From there, he will have the truth directly from your mouth.

And if he's being honest with himself, Kyle is fucking ace to the idea of you giving him a kid or two. Or three.

His mind swirls outward with images of what he’d do to put a baby inside you. Everything in him ramps up, burns hot until he’s aching.

“Sergeant.”

Kyle’s eyes snap open, and he momentarily sways as he rights himself.

“Captain,” he replies, clearing his throat.

Captain Price smirks and then squeezes his shoulder. “Must have been a hell of a daydream.” Price releases Kyle’s shoulder and continues on.

Privacy. Privacy with you.

That’s what Kyle needs.

Simon "Ghost" Riley (wc: 375)

Ghost is a patient man.

But right now, there is a fire beneath his skin.

It itches, radiating outward, even making his bones ache. This is not a wound. Not an injury. He didn’t take a hit. There is nothing physically wrong with him. Ghost is healthy. A solid brick wall of muscle and scars.

This impatient insistence comes from a carnal place. All the blood is rushing to a singular point, and Ghost is going fucking insane with how badly he needs to relieve it. The worst part about it is that you don’t even know. You have no idea what you’ve done, or what he heard.

I’d have his babies.

Ghost is entirely aware that the conversation you had with Soap and Gaz was private. He wasn’t meant to hear it. But he did. He did, and now he can’t stop thinking about all the things you said to them.

Which is why he’s lurking in the shadows, watching your every step, assessing when he should slide on up to you. Ghost needs you alone. He needs to talk but he also needs you in his lap.

So, when you turn the corner, Ghost slips into his namesake, grabbing you by the waist to haul you through the nearest door. Instinct kicks in, and you lash out, but Ghost is so much bigger than you, easily restraining all resistance.

"Stop moving."

"Simon."

His real name on your tongue is perfect. Pressing his face into your neck, he inhales, and you melt into him.

"What are you doing?" you ask softly.

"I heard the conversation you had with Johnny and Gaz today."

"Did you?"

"Is it true?"

Your face shifts slightly in his direction and Ghost draws back a bit. "Yes."

"Mean it?"

"Yes."

Slowly, Ghost removes his arms from around your waist. He gently guides you forward and then spins you around so that you're fully facing him. There is silence and then Ghost reaches for the front of his belt buckle. Your gaze immediately drops and then pops back up as undoes and then removes the belt with one hand.

"Willing to show me?" he asks.

Your lips part, and then you're touching him.

The fire beneath his skin becomes an inferno.

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[0cta9on]

Lessons

Length: +7k words

Genre: Smut

IVE Gaeul x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Thank you to the buyer for purchasing this commission, and thank you to @msafterhours for beta reading! If you are interested in purchasing a commission from me or simply want to leave a little tip, head on over to my ko-fi page!)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

“Ugh, this is so fucking annoying!” Gaeul groans, slamming her fist against the table, the clattering of silverware echoing throughout the apartment. Wonyoung, used to her sudden bursts of anger, doesn’t even look up from her phone. “I already told that old guy from SBS that I’m not interested, yet he keeps spamming my messages!”

“Why did you give him your number in the first place if you’re not interested?” Wonyoung inquires.

Gaeul’s cheeks turn a bright red, her gaze falling nervously to the side. “...You know why.”

“Because you’re horny?” Wonyoung posits, raising her brow.

The older girl’s face falls into her hands in misery, emitting a deep guttural groan that carries the weight of her dissatisfaction. “This is so unfair, how did you guys find boyfriends and I have to slog through all these gross older men and obnoxious boy group members?” Gaeul glances at her with a pout on her lips. “Am I ugly or something?”

Wonyoung sighs, gently holding her groupmate’s hand from across the table. “Of course you’re not ugly, you’re just… unlucky.” Gaeul faceplants into the table, her muffled whimpers eliciting sympathy from the younger girl. “Look, why don’t you just ask out our manager already? I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Gaeul’s face shoots up, tomato red with panic. “W-what are you talking about!? That’s our manager, that’s w-weird!”

Wonyoung scoffs. “And you think touching yourself while moaning his name isn’t weird?”

“H-how did y-”

“These walls are paper thin, just because you play ocean noises in the background doesn’t mean we can’t hear you.”

Gaeul sinks into her chair, covering her face in embarrassment. With a sigh, Wonyoung pulls up a website on her phone and slides it across the table. “Here, a bunch of my friends used this website when they were in your position and they all managed to find a boyfriend within a week.”

The older girl scans the phone, immediately grimacing at the shoddy nature of the website. Aside from an embedded video in the middle of the site and a measly drop down menu titled “Lessons”, it’s essentially barebones. All the text is in Comic Sans for some god awful reason, and whatever moron made this sorry excuse for a website decided to use bright orange over pink. It’s like wrapping a terrible gift in even uglier wrapping paper.

“Wonyoung, this is… grim,” she mutters.

Wonyoung shrugs. “The results speak for themselves.” She takes her phone back and walks towards her room at the end of the hallway. “You better watch those videos. You’re already ruining my beauty sleep, I won’t let you ruin beaches for me too,” she calls out, her bedroom door slamming behind her.

Gaeul leans her head against her palm, contemplating her options. She could ignore Wonyoung’s advice and continue to foolishly look around for dick until her standards drop so low that she ends up sleeping with — God forbid — some washed up 2nd gen idol, or she could learn a thing or two from that hideous website and ask out her hot manager, potentially making things awkward between them for the rest of her career. 

She barely has to think about it before pulling out her phone, pulling up the website in mere seconds. With a deep breath, she presses play on the first video.

______________________________________________________________

LESSON 1: HOW TO GET A MAN

Being the manager of one of the biggest girl groups in the world leaves you with little energy and even less free time. At first, it was fun. When IVE first debuted, they were nervous yet excited about finally achieving the dreams they’ve worked so hard for, and you wanted to help them out anyway you could, becoming a strong pillar that they can rely on. 

However, after a couple years of idol experience under their belt combined with their very quick rise to stardom, the job that you once loved turned into a complete nightmare, which only worsened once the girls found partners. Just last week, you had to wrestle a camera away from a Dispatch worker after he took photos of Rei sucking off her boyfriend in the middle of a park—all of this at 3 fucking AM. To add salt to the wound, instead of being commended for preventing a potential PR disaster, you got chewed out by your supervisor for not managing them well enough. Sure, let’s ignore the million other times you’ve warned them about doing stupid things in public that they keep ignoring. 

At least not all of them are a handful to deal with since Gaeul doesn’t have a boyfr-

*Ring Ring*

Speak of the devil. You answer your phone.

“Hey Gaeul, what’s up?”

“H-hi, um…” She clears her throat, her nervousness putting you on edge.

“Is something wrong? Are you in trouble?”

“N-no, it’s nothing like that! It’s just, uh… Are you busy tomorrow?”

You scan your desk, cluttered with a messy pile of paperwork. Even at your most productive, it’ll take you the entire week to get through everything alongside the plethora of meetings you’ll have to attend. “Yeah, I’ll probably be busy tomorrow, why?”

“Oh, um… How about Saturday?”

“Gaeul, what is this about?”

“Just…!” She sighs audibly in frustration. “Yes or no?”

Rolling your eyes, you take a quick glance at your calendar. Aside from a note that says “buy groceries”, it seems like your entire weekend is free. “Yes, I’m free on Saturday. What is this-”

“Great! I’ll text you an address. Be there at 5pm sharp. Bye!”

“Wai-”

Gaeul hangs up before you can utter another word, leaving you to wonder what all of this is about and why she sounded so nervous over the phone. Your mind runs through all the potential scenarios this could be. As far as you know, there aren’t any events Ive are performing at and filming for their YouTube show doesn’t start until next week. Could this be a prank the girls are pulling on you?

Even as you look up the address she sent you, all you're left with is more questions than answers.

______________________________________________________________

LESSON 2: HOW TO ACT PROPER ON A DATE

Saturday rolls around after another particularly difficult week of running around protecting IVE’s image. If you’re being honest, you fully expected to pass away from stress alone after Yujin and Liz nearly got caught having a foursome in someone’s pool by Dispatch yet again. At the very least, this photographer didn’t put up nearly as much of a fight as the last one.

As you travel to the far side of the city and stroll up to the fancy restaurant Gaeul all but forced you to come to, you silently pray that this isn’t some weird way of her announcing her new relationship to you. You enter the restaurant, almost immediately receiving a glare of disdain from the host as he scans your casual outfit of a T-shirt and jeans, unbefitting of the atmosphere.

“I’m sorry sir, but we have a strict dress code and we unfortunately cannot seat you with your current outfit,” he says, flashing a condescending smile.

“Actually, sorry if this is weird, but is a woman named Gaeul here?” you ask, ignoring his poor attitude.

He looks down at his podium, scanning through some papers before his expression suddenly shifts into something more genial. “Ah, of course! Right this way, sir.” He leads you down a side hallway that’s hidden away from the main seating area, and brings you to one of many doors. “Ms. Gaeul is right in this room, sir.”

You open the door, your jaw hitting the floor in awe as you scan the intricate decorations that adorn the room. A golden chandelier hangs overhead, illuminating everything in a warm glow, while beautifully realistic paintings of fruit bowls and flower vases hang on the walls. In the center of the room sits a table, draped with a red silk cloth and topped with lit candles that set a sort of romantic mood. Gaeul sits on one end, sporting a black strapless dress that shows off her milky skin and thin figure.

“Hi!” She says, walking to you with outstretched arms. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Hey— o-oh.” You flinch in surprise as she pulls you into a warm embrace, instinctually slotting your arm around her delicate waist. It’s the first hug you’ve shared with one of the members, and your discomfort quickly fades as you sink into her. 

“Have a seat, make yourself comfortable,” she says. You sit across from her, your eyes darting around the room, overwhelmed by the ambience. “You like the view?”

“Yeah, this place is pretty cool, but why did you want me to come here?”

“To surprise you of course!” 

Just then, a procession of servers files through the door, carrying silver platters full of food. With each dish they place, you salivate more and more, your stomach rumbling intensely. By the time the last dish is set, the entire table is filled with various dishes of different smells, colors, and textures, none of it discernible but all of it delicious. The final cherry on top is the bottle of expensive wine that the server pours into your glass. This is it. This is Heaven.

“Since you work so hard for us, I thought it would be fitting to treat you to a nice meal,” Gaeul explains, smiling at you. “You deserve it.

“W-wow, this is just… thank you so much, Gaeul,” You say, still scanning the food in front of you. “I wish you would’ve told me to wear something nicer though. That guy at the front side-eyed me the second I walked in.”

“It’s okay, I think you look sexy in anything you wear,” she giggles, cutting her laughter short with a bite of her lip. For a split second, you swear your heart skips a beat.

Blush grows on your cheeks, taken aback by her sudden compliment. “O-oh, uh, thanks. You look, um, very nice too.”

“Just nice?” She pouts cutely. “I got all dressed up for you and that’s all you’re gonna say?”

The heat in your face deepens as you nervously avert your gaze. You compliment the girls all the time, why do you suddenly feel weird about it now? “You look… very pretty, Gaeul.”

She grins warmly, satisfied by your answer. “Thank you. Now eat up! It’s all for you.”

You spend the next few minutes in pure bliss trying out every single dish, each bite better than the last. Sweet, savory, bitter, earthy, flavor combinations you never even knew existed dance around on your taste buds; pair that with the rich taste of the wine and suddenly, you’re floating on cloud nine.

“How’s the food?” She asks. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Of course I am,” you say, grinning at her. “I’m eating delicious food and drinking expensive wine with a beautiful girl.”

“Oh?” Her brow raises with intrigue, a smirk playing on her glossy lips. “Beautiful? I thought you said I was just pretty?”

“I-I mean yeah, the entire world thinks you’re beautiful,” you stutter, trying to keep your inhibitions in check, a task that’s becoming increasingly difficult with the amount of alcohol you’ve consumed.

“Okay, but what do you think?” Gaeul leans in like a predator backing up its prey into a corner, her light-hearted tone dropping to reveal something more sultry.

You gulp, beads of sweat forming on your head. “W-well, I think you’re a great performer and-”

“That’s not what I meant,” she states, staring intently at you. “Have you ever thought about me? Imagining what you would do to me if we were all alone with no one to bother us, just me and you?” She brings her spoon to her lips, giving it a slow, sensuous lick without ever breaking eye contact.

You shiver as her tongue dances across the silver, desperately wishing it was you instead of the damn spoon. You shouldn’t be having these impure thoughts—though you’d be lying if you said this is the first time you’ve looked at Gaeul this way. You’re her manager, Starship will toss you out in an instant if they suspect that you took the job just to get with the idols. But it’s so hard to think properly with the alcohol flowing through your system and the tightening in your pants.

 Tell her no. Stop her advances immediately before things get out of hand. Yet, you don’t object as Gaeul takes your hand, leading you out of the restaurant. The words start to meld together like goo, all you can make out is an utterance of a “good time” and how you’ve been such a “good boy”. You say a lot of things to her, probably—it’s hard to talk with her tongue shoved in your mouth—but as the taxi takes you to the familiar route towards her apartment, the only clear thought running through your head is how impossible it is to tell this girl “no”. 

______________________________________________________________

LESSON 3: HOW TO PLEASURE A MAN

Gaeul tosses her phone on her bed, scoffing in disgust. After her conversation with Wonyoung last night, she binge watched the first two lessons, even jotting down notes to remember for later. As much as she would hate to admit it, the questionable looking website is an information goldmine for a desperate soul like hers, it’s a wonder how she hasn’t stumbled upon it before. However, her view of it immediately soured again after watching the third lesson.

“Act submissive? Let him do whatever he wants?” Gaeul questions, reiterating the points made in the video. “What kind of bullshit advice is this? If I’m gonna sleep with someone, I’m not trying to be their little fuck doll or whatever!”

She paces around her room, hands running through her hair over and over again as the thoughts bounce around her frustrated mind. What’s the point in doing all this work trying to get a boyfriend if it only amounts to his pleasure? What about her needs? Is she supposed to be happy being reduced to a glorified cum rag?

Fuck no. A sudden realization hits her like a bolt from the blue — She’s Gaeul from IVE. An icon in one of if not the most popular girl group in the world. Any man should feel lucky that she even gave them the time of day.

With a newfound determination, Gaeul picks up her phone, her finger hovering tentatively over the “Call” button on her manager’s contract. She’ll use what she learned in the first two videos for sure; she’s not dumb enough to completely disregard their teachings. But if—no, when things get to the bedroom, she’ll do things her own way.

______________________________________________________________

You and Gaeul stumble through the door of the dorm, lips, limbs, and fingers intertwined in a needy ball of lust. Don’t even bother making it to her room, half of your clothes are already off by the time you reach the living room. Palm her toned stomach, savor the taste of her lewd moans dancing off her tongue and onto yours, shiver as her nails graze against your skin. Do all the dirty things you’ve kept hidden in the back of your mind.

Gaeul breaks away, sitting back on the couch as she strips away the rest of her dress, leaving her in a matching set of black undergarments. She spreads her legs, inviting you to fill the space in between.

“Eat me out,” she commands, words unwavering even as the sheen of arousal coating her thighs tells you exactly how badly she needs this. You quickly oblige, practically diving face first into her sweet heat. Discard her soaked panties; to you, they’re just another obstacle keeping you from what you really want.

“Good boy~,” Gaeul moans as you attack her slit with your tongue. You alternate between long, slow licks to flicking your tongue furiously against her clit. She yanks at your hair, forcing you to take a whiff of her sex. Her scent is intoxicating. You don’t even feel the pain anymore, all you can think about is about pleasuring her gorgeous pussy.

“F-fuck yes, lick my pussy, you fucking perv!” she goads you on and you follow her every command like the dog that you are. Her slim thighs wrap around your head, forcing you deeper and deeper into her until it’s physically impossible for you to get any closer. Forget the alcohol, you’re getting drunker on the sweet nectar dripping from her hole.

Fuck her with your fingers as you lap at her clit with a hunger you’ve never felt before. Her guttural moans are like a siren song, drawing you into her. The way her face contorts with pleasure is so alluring. You thought she was attractive already, but fuck this is the kind of beauty that only you are lucky enough to see. No hounding fans, no Dispatch, just you and Gaeul.

She grabs your hair, pulling you away from her heat, much to your dismay. “Take your fucking cock out,” she commands before pushing you back onto the floor. You make quick work of your boxers, but before you can ask for a condom, Gaeul’s already climbing all over you, lining up your painfully erect cock with her slit.

“W-wait, Gaeul-”

She clasps her hand over your mouth, leering at you with a ravenous glare. “I’ve waited too long for this to use a damn condom. You’re just gonna have to pull out or I’m kicking your ass out into the streets, got it?”

You nod, both terrified and turned on by this new side of Gaeul. With her hand still covering your mouth, she slowly impales herself on your rod, her face silently contorting with each inch of you she takes. You move to grab her hips, but she swats your hand away.

“Absolutely fucking not, we’re doing this my way,” she growls at you. All you can do is submit as she fucks herself onto you at a selfishly slow pace like you’re nothing more than her personal dildo. Your hot breath flows through the miniscule gaps in between her fingers, not even giving you the luxury of a deep breath. You want to get angry, you want to show her who’s boss, but each time she slams her hips down onto you, it’s like she sucks away your will to fight little by little until you're completely left at her mercy.

“Fuck, this is so much better than using my fingers,” she groans, throwing her head back in ecstasy. “I bet you’ve imagined this before, huh? Filling my pussy with your disgusting cock?”

You nod sheepishly. Her words aren’t entirely false; you’ve imagined what it would be like to sleep with some of the girls, but never did you think you would actually get the chance to. Gaeul rocks her hips back and forth, relishing in the way your breath quickens and your eyes twitch with each slam of her petite hips. You feel yourself begin to reach the apex of your climax and urgently tap her thighs to warn her, but all she does is laugh in your face.

“You wanna dump your cum deep into my cunt, don’t you? Impregnate me with your disgusting seed?” she teases. “I’m not on the pill. What are you gonna do?”

Your eyes clamp shut, trying desperately to ignore the building sensation in the pit of your stomach. But with her warm walls making you lose all sense of control, it’s only a matter of time before you inevitably burst inside of her. Right at the last second, you grab Gaeul’s hips and lift her off of you, shooting your cum onto your stomach. Gaeul’s body shakes violently as she reaches her own orgasm, furiously rubbing at her clit as her juices spray all over your torso. Once her messy climax subsides, she scoops a dollop of your semen off of your stomach and licks it, swirling your combined juices in her mouth with a smirk.

“Mmm, tasty,” she says, cupping your chin while her other hand strokes your semi-hard shaft. “You better get it up soon, I’m not done using you.”

“Y-yes…” you mutter, still basking in the high of your orgasm.

Her grip on your face deepens, digging her nails into your cheek. “Yes, who?”

“Yes… mistress,” you utter like the word is commonplace on your tongue. With an amused smirk, Gaeul plants a kiss on your lips, much gentler than you had anticipated.

“You learn quickly. Good boy~” Hearing her say that makes your skin shiver in delight, craving the sensual lilt in her voice. You want her approval. You need her approval. With her, you’re not her manager anymore, you’re her plaything that lives to serve her.

Gaeul bites her lip as she looks down at your cock, already at full mast once again. “Carry me to my room.”

“Yes, mistress,” you answer promptly, scooping her up into your arms. Gaeul nips at your ear as you carry her to her room, trapping yourself inside with the little beast that you’ve worked with for years. The line of morality blurs to the point of disappearing, almost as if it was never there in the first place. It doesn’t matter anymore. All you care about is serving your mistress until she’s completely satisfied.

______________________________________________________________

Your eyes blink open to sunlight peeking through the window. The mattress feels oddly soft, more so than usual. Maybe it’s finally time to bite the bullet and get a new mattress. A blinding headache keeps you glued to your back, unable to make any sudden movements. Your ceiling fan looks odd too. Has it always been this big?

The door clicks open followed by a few light footsteps. “Good morning!” That’s Gaeul’s voice. Why is that Gaeul’s voice?

Panic begins to ensue as you finally look around the room. This isn’t your room. This isn’t your mattress. That’s not your ceiling fan. And where the hell are your clothes?

“W-what the-”

“Here.” Gaeul hands you a water bottle. “I bet your hangover is killing you right now.”

You quickly cover yourself with a blanket, blushing sheepishly. “G-Gaeul… Why am I here? A-and where are my cloth-” Your jaw drops in shock as you scan her outfit — She’s wearing your t-shirt paired with nothing but black panties.

“W-why are you wearing my shirt!?”

She pouts at you, placing the water bottle on her nightstand. “Do you not remember what happened last night?” She leans in with a smirk. “Because I definitely do.”

Her warmth tickles your ear. It’s an oddly… pleasant feeling, but that’s not important right now. “D-did we…?”

“Have sex?” Gaeul finishes your sentence, sitting down next to you. “Yes, we did. And it was amazing.”

Your face falls into your hands. You could lose your job for this. Hell, you could get blacklisted from the entire industry. No one’s going to want to hire a manager that fucked an idol they were supposed to be managing. This is it. You’re gonna have to flee the country, maybe even change your name. You’ll become a beet farmer on some remote island where your only friend is a seagull and-

“Hey,” Gaeul soothes you, rubbing your back. “You look worried. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I-I should’ve never let this happen, I could lose my job, my apartment, my-”

“You’re not gonna lose your job,” she assures you. “If they fire you, I’ll threaten to leave the group.” You turn to her, confused. “W-what, why?”

“Because…” A light blush grows on her cheeks. “I like you. And you made me feel sooo good last night.”

“U-um…”

“Do you still not remember what happened?” she sighs. You shake your head no. “Hmm… maybe this will help jog your memory.”

With a smirk, Gaeul cups your chin, forcing you to look at her. Her hair is still messy and her face is barren without makeup, yet she still looks so beautiful in front of you. She leans in, giving you that same pleasant feeling as her breath dances on your earlobe.

“Good boy.”

Like a movie, the scenes of last night’s misdeeds play vividly in your mind, reminding you exactly what transpired: The dinner. The taxi ride. The sex. Holy fuck, the sex. You’ve dated submissive girls before, but the way Gaeul dominated you was a whole different experience, nothing you’ve ever felt before. She took away your ability to breathe properly, completely leaving you at her mercy, and you enjoyed it. It felt dirty, but it felt good.

Gaeul chuckles as she notices your erection poking through the blanket. “Did that turn you on?”

“N-no, uh…”

“You’re really gonna be shy about it now? It looked like you were enjoying yourself more than I was last night,” she teases.

The blush on your cheeks deepen. “L-look, I… I’ve never done that kind of thing before. Hell, I’ve never had sex with an idol before. This is all kinda new to me,” you admit.

Gaeul sighs, gazing at the wall in contemplation. “I’ve never done anything like that before either. But I liked it.” She turns to you. “Did you like it?”

“Uh… Yeah. I did.”

“Would you want to keep doing it?”

The threat of losing your job still lingers in your mind. This is all new and potentially dangerous territory, and you have no idea what the future could possibly hold for either of you. But you would be the biggest idiot in the world if you lied to yourself and declined her offer.

“Yeah. I want to keep doing this with you,” you say. With a smile, Gaeul tears away the blanket and excitedly jumps into your lap, her crotch resting on your exposed erection. The thin fabric of her panties is the only thing keeping you separated from her sweet pussy.

“So does that mean you’ll be my boyfriend?” She asks, now grinding her hips against you. Your breath gets thinner as the heat of ecstasy fills up your entire body.

“Y-yes, I would love to be your boyfriend.”

Gaeul grabs your chin, her nails sinking into the flesh of your cheeks. “Yes, who?”

A moan escapes your lips as the pleasure mixes with the pain, leaving you in a state of bliss. “Yes, mistress.”

She smirks at you before taking off your shirt, revealing her perky tits and her petite waist to you. “Good boy. I can’t wait to play with you some more~”

______________________________________________________________

LESSON 4: HOW TO MAKE IT LAST

The last few weeks have been the most exciting weeks of your life. All the previous stress of working as IVE’s manager practically disappeared now that you were with Gaeul. No more wrestling with Dispatch after one of the members gets caught anymore, all she has to do is assert her dominance as the oldest and the rest of the members will listen to her. If you knew that a cheat sheet was underneath your nose this whole time, you would’ve dated her sooner.

Of course, to avoid any controversy and damage to the group, your relationship was kept a secret from everyone, including the members. However, that didn’t stop her from constantly calling you to fulfill her needs. It doesn’t matter where, when, or how many people are around, if she’s in need of release, you’re on your knees, lapping at her pussy like it’s your last meal. Gaeul is absolutely crazy, but you would be downright insane to tell your mistress “no”.

After a couple of close calls, both of you decided that it would be best to come clean to her members about your relationship. It’s already hard enough trying to keep your hands off of each other; you wouldn't want any of them to walk in on the two of you while your tongue is deep inside your girlfriend. At first, you assumed that Gaeul would simply send a quick text to the girls to alert them, but it seems like she has some other plans in mind as the two of you wait for them in one of Starship’s meeting rooms.

Gaeul moans in delight as you suck on her neck while she grinds against your leg. “Fuck, that feels good, baby,” she coos.

“Not that I’m complaining, but don’t you think it’ll be awkward if they walk in on us like this?” You ask, nipping at her ear.

“I locked the door, so they’ll have to knock before they can come in.” Of course she accounted for that. God, you fucking love her. “Now shut up and get back to sucking.”

“Yes, mistress,” you oblige, sinking your fingers into her ass as you ravage her neck. However, your playtime is cut short as a knock at the door signals the presence of the other girls.

“God dammit,” you groan. “Can we make this quick, babe? I need you so badly.”

Gaeul flashes you a mischievous smirk, giving you a soft parting kiss before climbing out of your lap. “Don’t worry, cutie, we’ll get to have some fun sooner than you think.” You ogle at her hips as she sashays over to the door, unlocking it and smiling brightly at Wonyoung, Yujin, Liz, and Rei as they file through. You try to offer a similar smile, but with the aching in your jeans, you’re barely coherent enough to breathe properly.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it!” Gaeul exclaims, locking the door behind them.

“Of course!” Yujin replies. “You said you had an important announcement, so that means it’s important to us too!”

“Couldn’t you just text us though? And why is our manager here?” Rei asks, eyeing the two of you suspiciously. You nervously avert your gaze, looking towards Gaeul for support.

“Because he’s part of this and I wanted to show you guys something in person,” Gaeul explains. She takes a quick breath before continuing. “So, I’m sure you’re all aware of how much I’ve been complaining about not having a boyfriend, and-”

“Wah! You got a boyfriend!?” Liz exclaims, connecting the dots fairly quickly. “Who is it? Is it that one rookie that was staring at you during recording last week?”

“Ew, no,” she grimaces. “It’s actually someone all of you know very well.” Gaeul suddenly climbs onto your lap, planting a delicate kiss on your cheek. Normally, you would feel pretty nervous about doing something this vulgar in front of others, but her body heat combined with your raging hormones from your interrupted makeout session makes you completely forget about everyone else. A billion people could be watching and you would still let this gorgeous beauty do anything she wants to your body.

The girls applaud at Gaeul’s announcement, except for Wonyoung, who overdramatically rolls her eyes at the news. “You called us in to tell us this? It was so obvious you two were dating, you were practically attached at the hip for the past couple weeks.”

Gaeul chuckles, eyes darkening as she captures you with her gaze. “Actually, there’s something else I wanted to show you guys too.” Much to your dismay, she gets off of you and drags a chair some distance away from you, sitting down. “You see, our manager here is actually a bit of a freak.”

The girls stifle their laughter as they glance at you, causing your cheeks to burn with embarrassment and confusion. “U-um, babe? W-what are you-”

“I could’ve acted like some ‘ditzy little fuck doll’ and let him have his way with me,” Gaeul scoffs, disdain dripping in her tone. “But then I thought ‘Why should I let him have all the fun? Our dear manager is always bossing us around, so why don’t I take charge for once?’ Granted, it was a gamble, but it paid off sooo fucking well. Don’t you agree, baby?”

Your cheeks grow redder by the second as they all look at you expectantly. “I-I mean, yeah, I-I liked it-” Suddenly, a piece of fabric hits you in the face. You examine it in your hands, your eyes growing wide with shock as you realize what it is — Gaeul’s shirt.

The rest of her members cheer at her boldness while your heart pounds against your chest, tracing her silhouette with your hungry gaze. “Crawl,” she commands.

Your eyes dart nervously between her and the rest of the girls, desire and judgment warring in your mind. “B-b-but-”

“I didn’t say you could speak,” she spits, her eyes narrowing. “Now, be a good boy and fucking crawl.”

A flip switches in your brain as desire wins the war by a landslide. Any hint of embarrassment you once held is now gone, replaced by an overwhelming amount of lust. You fall to your hands and knees, ignoring the hollering from the other girls. To you, they don’t exist anymore. All that matters is satisfying your mistress in any way you can. 

Gaeul harshly grips your hair once you reach her, forcing you to stare into her eyes. The heat from her breath hits your face, driving you mad with want. You swear a glob of drool falls from your lip at the thought of getting to taste her sweet pussy again. 

She drags her thumb over your lips, smirking. “Tell them what you are,” she orders, turning your head towards her members. Wonyoung rests her head against her palm like she’d rather be somewhere else, while Yujin starts recording you with her phone, no doubt to hold it over your head if you inconvenience her later on. Liz stares at you, deeply flustered, yet a hint of jealousy in her eyes, and you notice Rei sneakily trying to touch herself, her face beet red with pent up arousal.

“I am mistress’s plaything. I live to satisfy her and her alone, no matter where or when she asks me to,” you state. Wonyoung mouths an impressed “Oh wow” at Gaeul before glancing at you with a hint of disgust in her eyes.

Your hair is yanked back towards your girlfriend. “Mmm, it’s cute just how pathetic you fucking look. I bet you want your reward now, don’t you?” She teases the hem of her shorts with her other hand, flashing a glimpse of her panties at you. You nod enthusiastically, ignoring the pain in your scalp while you pant like a dog with desperation.

“Y-yes, please. I want you so badly, mistress. I crave the taste of your sweetness,” you beg. She smirks at you before standing up and removing her shorts, leaving just the fabric of her panties to block you from the true prize within like a wrapper on a candy bar. Hastily, you move your hands to the hem of her panties, but she quickly swats them away.

“Use your teeth, you fucking dog,” she spits.

“Yes, mistress.” As you get closer to her heat, her scent wafts through your nose, sending your mind deeper into a frenzy. You bite down onto the hem and jerk your head downwards, quickly uncovering the object of your desire hiding underneath. With her panties hanging from your teeth, you look up at her in search of her approval.

“Damn, I wish my boyfriend was that obedient…” Liz mutters under her breath.

Gaeul gently cups your chin, smiling at you with a palpable desire in her eyes. You love that look. You want her to look at you like that all the time, even if it means humiliating yourself in front of the girl group that you are paid to take care of. You are her pet, her plaything, her good boy that does anything she wants.

“Lick my pussy, baby,” she whispers, commanding yet soft. She bites her lip as she watches your face inch closer and closer to her dripping core, glistening and beautiful. You run your tongue along her slit, gratefully lapping at her juices while your hands caress her slender thighs. Gaeul grinds her hips against your face, pulling at your hair every time you make contact with her clit.

“F-fuck yes!” she moans, forgetting about the audience that she brought along. “J-just like that… Such a good boy… K-keep fucking me with that tongue, oh fuck!”

The sound of her pleasure is your favorite song, but it gets harder to hear as her thighs clamp around your ears. No matter; you’re doing this for her and not for you, after all. Double your efforts to please her, work your fingers into her hole while you flick your tongue against her clit. Don’t worry about the cramping in your tongue or the lack of oxygen in your lungs. All the pain is worth it for your mistress.

You feel her entire body contract as her orgasm overtakes, nearly collapsing on top of you in the process. You do your best to support her body, all while drinking up her nectar like it’s the first drop of rainfall during a long drought. The familiar tanginess hits your tongue, a flavor that you crave more than the fancy dinner she treated you on your first night together.

“H-holy shit…” Gaeul stutters, holding onto your shoulders for support as she catches her breath. “Get on the chair… I-I wanna ride you…”

You notice her legs are still shaking underneath her. “A-are you sur-”

“I said get on the fucking chair!”

You quickly jump to your feet and do as you're told, subtly making sure Gaeul doesn’t fall over before moving from underneath her. She silently scorns you with a furious glare for not immediately following her orders. The rest of the girls watch with bated breath, not used to this side of her.

Gaeul makes quick work of your jeans and your boxers, roughly squeezing your shaft in between her fingers. “Are you gonna keep fucking disobeying me, or are you gonna follow my instructions like a good boy?” she whispers harshly into your ear.

You squirm underneath her grasp, the pain only turning you on even more. “I-I’ll be a good boy, mistress. I s-swear.”

“U-um…” Wonyoung nervously interjects. “Isn’t this a bit much, Gaeul? He looks like he’s in pain.”

Gaeul wraps her other hand around your neck, her palm pushing against your Adam's apple. You moan against her touch, enjoying the lightheadedness. “Don’t you like this, baby? Don’t you love being a good little dog for me?” She teases, slowly stroking your cock.

“Y-yes, I love it so much. I love being my mistress’s dog,” you say, your breath shivering.

Gaeul turns back to Wonyoung. “See? He likes it,” she states simply. Wonyoung concedes and sinks into her chair, continuing to watch the sick and twisted display of affection in front of her with faint but growing interest.

With that out of the way, Gaeul turns back to you and hops into your lap, teasing your tip by dragging it along her wet slit. “Do you want this pussy, baby? Do you want to fill it with your disgusting cock?” 

“Y-yes, mistress. I want you so badly.” Your skin crawls as jolts of electricity shoot through you with each slow drag of her lips. Any ounce of sanity you had left has completely turned into mush at this point. Despite your basest desires, you know better than to thrust into her without her permission. She has you right under her thumb, and any mistake could mean getting squashed without warning.

Her grip on your neck tightens. “Beg for it, bitch.”

“P-please… I-I need it… N-need you…” you manage to choke out, writhing under her grasp. She grins at you, shoving a messy kiss on your lips as she slams her hips down onto you. She rips a moan from deep within your chest as you grant her tongue free reign over yours, earning a hum of satisfaction in response. Her velvety walls grip onto your cock, squeezing any remaining energy you had left. You’re nothing more than a glorified dildo to be used by your merciful mistress.

Gaeul suddenly breaks the kiss, slapping you across the face. Blood rushes to your cheek, now marked red by her hand.

“Gaeul…!” Yujin gasps in shock. “Th-that’s-”

“Do it again!” you plead, silencing her concern. “P-please, mistress. Hit me again.”

Your mistress bites her lip at you, intensifying the gyration of her hips while blessing your cheeks with a frenzy of slaps. You grow dizzy with pain and pleasure, higher than any drug could ever take you. 

“T-take it, you fucking dog!” she moans, continuing her assault on your face as her second orgasm rapidly approaches. You feel your own quickly following suit and tap her thigh to warn her, but Gaeul instead wraps her arms around you, showing no signs of slowing down her hips.

“I-I’m safe today, b-baby,” she whispers into your ear, much more gentle than she usually is. “Y-you can c-cum in me if you want… I f-fucking love you…”

The walls of her gorgeous pussy squeeze your shaft as she squirts onto your cock. You follow her soon after, covering her insides with your cum for the first time ever, clinging onto Gaeul’s delicate body. Your mind floats around in pure ecstasy, a feeling you never want to let go of. Gaeul lazily kisses on your neck as she recovers from her high.

“I… love you… too,” you breathlessly mutter before falling victim to exhaustion and collapsing against the chair. Gaeul climbs off of your lap and collects her discarded clothing off the ground, stumbling with each step.

“Well… that was interesting to say the least,” Yujin says after a long silence, finishing the recording on her phone.

“Send me that video later, that was really hot…” Rei whispers to her.

“Um, is he gonna be okay?” Liz asks. “I’m pretty sure we have a schedule tomorrow.”

Gaeul looks over to your now sleeping form and smiles with adoration. She kisses your reddened cheek, careful not to wake you. “He’ll be fine, I’m pretty sure,” she assures them.

Wonyoung stands up from her seat. “I’m glad you found a good… boytoy, or whatever you call him,” she says, patting Gaeul’s shoulder before leaving the meeting room. The rest of the girls follow suit, leaving Gaeul alone with you as she waits for you to wake up.

She slides a chair next to you and plants another gentle kiss on your cheek before sitting. “Good boy~” she whispers delicately, resting her head on your shoulder.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 8 ] || [ Chapter 10 ]

Pairing: Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: i think Ghost always steals Soap's hygiene products bc he cannot be arsed to buy some for himself.

Chapter 9: Drinks?

The moment the helo touched down, the soldiers descended, each of them parting ways as they went about their regular business, returning their gear to the armory, debriefing, showering, eating…

Almost a whole hour after their arrival, Simon threw himself down onto his bed, his skin dewy from the shower, his hair combed to the front and dripping over his face.

He popped open the top drawer of his nightstand and fished out his phone and charger. He set the charger up and turned on the phone as it charged up.

Simon didn’t often use his iPhone. Sometimes he forgot he even had it. The only times he did was to check Soap’s and Gaz’s insta/snap stories (because he liked being up to date on what they were doing) and when they were all on leave and had parted ways, so he could check the groupchat. 

Once the phone turned on, he immediately beelined for Tinder and opened the app. The app lagged a bit at first but, open loading up, he saw it.

99+ likes, 99+ messages.

The big majority of them were girls, too young for him, thirsting for him, even with his face being hidden. He always knew he could attract people, so it didn’t exactly surprise him.

Rolling his eyes, he flicked his finger over the screen until he found your chat and clicked on it.

Simon: I’m back and in one piece. Simon: I think you need to wish me luck more often.

He didn’t expect you to answer him immediately, even if it was only 6 P.M. on a Tuesday and you’d likely be at home and free, considering the job you listed on your profile.

However, the Read notification popped up under his text almost immediately and your dm came right after without the app even announcing you were typing.

you: omg i was literally JUST checking to see if you had said anything you: welcome back!

The text made a smirk take over his scarred lips before he bit the bottom one and typed out a reply.

Simon: Have you been waiting to hear from me for 3 weeks? you: noooo Simon: That’s frankly adorable. Simon: Didn’t think I’d have gotten in your head that strongly. you: oh piss off simon. you: ur not that great. Simon: You’re still texting me. you: sooo???? Simon: So, I can’t be that terrible. Simon: Got your attention, didn’t I? you: oh piss off you: ur so cocky and for what Simon: Not cocky. Just sure of myself. you: no Simon. No? you: no 😤 Simon: Okay then. Simon: Suddenly not sure of myself because you deemed it so. Simon: I’m very insecure now. Simon: Is that better? you: stop being such a bloody smartass 🙄🙄🙄 Simon: You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Simon: I can’t take this. Simon: Going to go hug my pillow and cry some more. you: oh no you: i’m making the giant cry? 😱 Simon: Is that a dig at my height? you: YES Simon: My God, I’m going to cry even more. Simon: I’m being bullied. you: good!!! 😤 Simon: I’m making you pay for my therapy. you: pay for it yourself!!!! 🙄 Simon: How about I pay for dinner for the two of us one of these days instead?

You didn’t answer immediately after that. You always did that whenever he flirted with you and spoke about taking you out.

Simon had a shit-eating grin on his face, imagining that you were all annoyed at him behind the screen. He was right in guessing you were shy about going out, he assumed.

you: no. you: but you can buy me a drink tonight.

His jaw dropped and his eyebrows raised just a bit.

Simon: It’s a Tuesday night, are you sure? Simon: You know going out for drinks on a Tuesday is usually a sign of alcoholism? you: ur backing out now? you: wheres all that bravado of yours? Simon: Oh no, sweetheart. I’m not backing out, I’m asking if you’re sure. you: if i wasnt i wouldnt have invited you. Simon: Fair enough. Simon: Where? you: the same pub i met up with john at maybe? Simon: Rog. Simon: 30 minutes. you: i need longer to get ready. Simon: That’s fine. I’ll still be there in 30. you: are you going to be wearing the mask? Simon: 🤷‍♂️ you: SIMON you: YOU CAN’T BE PULLING OUT THE EMOJIS LIKE THIS you: YOU STARTLE ME EVERY TIME. Simon: Good. Simon: See you soon.

Setting the phone down on the mattress, Simon got up from bed and took off his towel, tossing it over the back of his desk chair before opening the top drawer of his tall dresser, grabbing a pair of black boxer briefs and putting them on.

Then, he rummaged through the other drawers looking for his one ‘going out shirt’™️ (which was actually a black long-sleeve compression shirt) which he put on along with a pair of dark jeans. It was a simple outfit. 

Then he slipped on some black boots. He threw on a leather jacket over that and tucked a black neck gaiter into the neckline of the t-shirt, hiking it up to cover his mouth and nose.

Barely a minute later, he was making his way into Soap’s room and across the small space that separated him from the bathroom. 

“Going somewhere, L.T.?” Soap probed from his spot at his desk, eyebrows raised and his eyes locked on the older man’s with intrigue. He rarely saw Ghost in civvies and even more rarely did he see him without a hoodie.

Unlike Ghost, Soap had made his officer’s quarters into his own living space, having brought in a gaming computer and chair, a small beanbag, and had plenty of knick-knacks around.

“Going out.” Ghost said simply as he grabbed Soap’s hair gel and squirted a glob of it into his hand before lathering them and using them to run through his blond locks which were exposed without the hoodie or signature balaclava.

“Out? On a date?” Soap asked Ghost as he quickly jogged up to the bathroom door, watching as Ghost fiddled with his hair.

“No. Just drinks.” Ghost replied as he tugged a bit as his hair to make it stand up straight. 

“Is this someone you found on Tinder…?” Soap probed as he leaned his shoulder on the bathroom door, a boyish grin on his lips.

Ghost looked over at Soap out of the corner of his eye as he finished fiddling with his hair and rinsed his hands under ice cold water in the sink.

Soap took Ghost’s silence as an affirmative response. “Pro’lly a shag too, hm?” He joked, earning him another glance out of the corner of his eye. “Bloody hell, L.T. tell me all about it later, yea?” He laughed.

“Fuck no.” Ghost added as he grabbed one of Soap’s cologne bottles and raised it up for a sniff before scowling at the scent and setting it down again.

“Aw, c’mon L.T.!” He pleaded. 

“Get your own date, MacTavish.” Then, he just made his way right out the door, forcing Soap to move out of the way, looking a bit like a wounded puppy. 

“I’m not getting anything interesting on there!” Soap lamented with a sigh.

“No? Well, I’m sorry for you, then, Johnny.” Ghost quipped as he opened the door again and stepped out into the hall, leaving Soap behind.

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[natstulip]

Good girl ♡ ︎𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

I’ve never really written smut before so I hope it’s okay!🤍

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Imagine agreeing to let Wanda and Nat use you however and whenever they wish. No you’re not in a relationship, but you help to keep their own relationship interesting- as they like to say.

Both women had been out on a mission for a few weeks, with a lot of the team. You, not being an avenger, of course missed the company, the compound being fairly empty and so as a result really quiet. In fact, the team were due back yesterday from the mission, but fury let us know they’d been delayed so would likely get back soon.

——-

I was laying in bed, mindlessly scrolling on my phone as I watched whatever happened to be on the television. Although that didn’t take me long to get bored, it’s how I’d spent basically all my time since being left all alone. I pick up my phone deciding to listen some music, and I grab my headphones because come on, music is way better when it feels like it’s taking over your brain.

I’m dancing away and singing too, with my eyes closed getting really into it. I only stop when I feel a tap on my back. “AGHH” I can’t help the scream I let out, as I rip my headphones off and spin around with a fighting stance ready.

When I realise it’s in fact Wanda and Nat and they’re back from their mission, I feel my face burn in embarrassment. The massive smirk on Nat’s face speaks for itself, as she mumbles “I wasn’t expecting a welcome back show but I have to say I really enjoyed it.”

I blush a deep shade of red at her teasing, only giving a little smile of my own when I see Wanda smack Nat’s arm saying “Hey, leave her alone.”

Nat huffs “Why should I? Look at her cute red face.”

I’m avoiding all eye contact whatsoever right now, not wanting to make a fool of myself any more than I clearly already have.

Wanda chuckles in response to Nat’s words “She’s totally adorable, you’re right about that.”

I don’t even know what to do with myself when they’re practically talking about me as if I’m not standing right here.

Wanda interrupts my inner battle, “Come here baby, I want a hug.” I look up excited, I’ve really missed her touch, and I see her arms opened wide. I rush into her, making her laugh, as she wraps her arms tight around me. I nuzzle my face into her neck, always feeling more at ease from her comforting smell. She rubs my back and mumbles against my head “I’ve missed you so much my sweet girl.” I move my head so I can reach her face, giving her a quick peck on the lips, with a shy look on my face “I missed you lots mommy.”

I hear a cough behind us, “What about daddy, huh?” I’m spun around rather quickly, and Nat’s finger is under my chin. I murmur “I missed you too daddy, a lot.” She hums what seems to be an approval to my words, seemingly waiting for something. I’m not as bold with anything when it comes to Natasha. I’ll kiss Wanda sometimes by me initiating because she’s so comforting but Nat scares me a little. She stares at me until I cave, and hesitantly lean towards her, with a burning face, and kiss her lips quickly.

After an anxious pause, I get a “good girl” from her making me give a goofy smile, and I feel Wanda stroking my hair softly. “Our good good little girl, you going to let us take care of you tonight?” I look at her with wide eyes, causing them both to give each other a smile.

Natasha set herself down on the desk chair in my room, patting her lap while uttering “Sit baby.” I know better than to argue with her so I instantly walk over and make a move to straddle her lap. I don’t get very far because she places a hand on my chest and then does a ‘spin motion’ with her finger, telling me to turn around. Even though I’m a little confused, I turn and face Wanda. I feel Nat grab my hips from behind and pull me to sit, facing away from her. She rests her head on my shoulder, and Wanda crouched down in front of us.

I feel her hands on my legs, and Nat start to kiss my neck, making me instantly feel hot and flustered. I feel like my body stiffens since it’s been so long since I let them have all control.

“Baby, hey, look at mommy.” I move my gaze slowly to Wanda. “We’re here now, you don’t have to let your thoughts take over.” Natasha interrupts her to say “We’ll fuck the thoughts out of you baby, until all you can think about is mommy and daddy, yeah?”

Before I even have time to think about responding, Nat has spread my legs open wide, keeping her legs locked with mine- so I can’t move. It takes my breath away, not expecting her to be so upfront about it, as usually Wanda starts off more gentle, “What daddy let me go..”

Wanda cups my face to direct my eyes to hers, “shhh shhh, you’re okay, let daddy do what she pleases.” She makes no move to let go of my face, and I hope she doesn’t because her comforting touch really helps me through everything.

When I feel more kisses on my neck, and a rougher hand move down my stomach, I let out a gasp and grip onto Wanda’s arm. “Mommy’s staying right here baby, daddy’s gonna make you feel good, hm?”

At the same time as Wanda pulls me in for a kiss, Nat’s hand moves into my shorts, making me gasp. She cups me for a moment, not moving her hand, seemingly waiting for me to start squirming. Eventually she slowly runs the tip of her finger over my folds, just teasingly stroking there for what feels like a very long time, making me shiver.

I feel the soft breath of a chuckle on my neck, “You’re so sensitive huh my baby? I wonder if you could cum from just daddy barely touching you, and mommy kissing those pretty lips. We’ll have to try it sometime, because right now.. we’re trying something new” She raises her eyebrows at Wanda, who swiftly grabs something I assume with her magic, and holds it behind her back.

She moves back to stand in front of me, kissing my forehead, as she hands whatever she grabbed to Nat. I can’t see Nat’s face but I can picture her smirk while Wanda gives her a kiss, before returning to her position earlier, cupping my cheeks.

“Look at mommy.” I listen and look up at her. “We haven’t done what we’re gonna do now before. I’m sure you’ll like it darling but remember call ‘red’ if it’s too much or you want to stop at any point, okay?” I give her a nod, “Okay mommy, I understand.” I watch a smile arise on her face as she strokes my cheek, “My good girl.”

I feel a rush of cold air as Nat pulls the front of my shorts and underwear open for a brief moment, as she shoves something in there, to rest against my clit. “What’s that daddy?” Just as I ask the question it starts vibrating against me, making me let out a breath. She whispers against my ear, “It’s a vibrator baby, it’s gonna make you feel all better while daddy holds you open; and because you’ve been our good little girl we’re going to let you cum as much as you want.”

The first time she pushed me over the edge was nice, with Wanda stroking my face and a pleasurable vibration against me. Though it didn’t take long to get uncomfortable, when Nat said they were going to let me cum as much as I want, she definitely meant as much as they want, never seeming to let me stop and breathe. Every time I reach that point she just ups the vibrations and makes me go again.

I’ve lost count by this point how many times she’s made me cum, resorting to wriggling and kicking my legs and trying to pry her off with my hands; but that was silly as they’re much stronger than me. Nat simply shut me down by grabbing hold of my thighs with her hands and legs now- keeping me pinned to her lap. “Please daddy.. dadddy ‘s too much please…”

She presses a kiss to my shoulder mumbling “Just one more baby, one more, and then we’re done.” With Wanda gently wiping my tears, I can’t help the loud moan I let out as I reach my last climax. My legs are uncontrollably shaking, as Nat carefully removes the vibrator.

Wanda makes a move to pick me up into her arms, “I’ve got you my sweet girl,” as Nat makes her way to the bathroom to get a towel to clean me up with.

I’m laying down, on top of Wanda, while Nat gently cleans me up, and after only a few minutes I’m falling asleep against her chest, with only mommy and daddy on my mind.

[luvyeni]

❛MR. VAMPIRE❜ ( p. sunghoon )

p. vampireceo!sunghoon x fem!reader w. 1.5k

warnings? oral ( f. receiving ), uprotected sex, biting, mentions of blood

— 𖦹 ( finding out you're your boss is a vampire ) !

authors note. i listened to mr. vampire by itzy and i was inspired✨

“Did you hear the rumors about Mr. park?”

You perk your ears up, listening to your coworkers gossip. “which ones?” it had only been your first week at your new job, and you haven’t had the chance to meet your boss yet — but you’ve heard many things about the man.

“that’s he was a vampire.” Your other coworker laughed, standing around the table of the table in the break room. “a vampire? Come on I’ve heard everything but that’s first.” They laughed as sipped on your water. “Y/n what do you think of Mr. park?” one of them asked. “You think he’s a vampire?”

“we-well I-i don’t believe in vampires so I don’t think he's one.” You fiddled with your lanyard around your neck. “But I did hear he’s is kind of mysterious, maybe he just likes to live a quiet life — b-but I don’t know him so.” You quickly said. “I’m sure he’s great.”

“Yeah?” you heard a voice from behind you — your coworkers gasping before you turned around; the tall man stood in front of you, his skin pale — you can see where the rumor came from; even the pointy teeth; his alluring eyes — you didn’t even notice you were staring until he let out a cough. “your friends left.” You quickly grabbed your trash, throwing it away ready to leave, but he stopped you. “you’re the new employee aren’t you?” he asked. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“m-me? Y-You’ve heard a lot about me?” you pushed your glasses on your face; he smiled, eyeing your figure up and down, making you feel small. “Yeah.” You didn’t notice him getting him getting close. “Not often we get someone as sweet as you.” You were now looking up at him. “I-I’m not sure what you mean sir?”

“don’t worry, many people just said you’re hard working.” He said. “keep up the good work, okay?” you nodded, the walls feeling like they were closing in; you could barely speak, his scent was so intoxicating. “o-okay.” You managed to get out. “I’ll get back to work sir.” He nodded, you squeezed past — you swore his skin was cold to the touch when you accidentally came in touch with his hand. “have a good day sir.” You bowed walking quickly back to your seat able to breathe.

Sunghoon watched you scrambled back to your seat, your friends whispering — “what was that?” “you both looked like you needed a moment alone.” He smiled hearing your shaky voice. “I don’t know; and I must be going crazy because his hand was cold.” You said. “you don’t believe that stupid rumor?” your coworkers laughed. “of course not, it was probably all in my head, vampires aren’t real.” You said, he shook his head, walking back to his office — you could not have been more wrong.

“Hey, you going home?” you saw your coworker putting her coat on. “I have a few more things do.” You pouted. “well good night, don’t try and get home soon.” You hummed, going back to tapping at your computer.

About an hour later, you stretched letting all the tension away, checking the time — you should get home now. You grab all your things ready to; but you see that Mr. parks light is still on. Why was he still here? Most of your old bosses left early. You walked over to his door, ready to knock but the door was slightly open and he was inside, his chair turned — was he talking to someone. “sir?”

He didn’t answer you, but he wasn’t talking on the phone— so maybe he was sleep. “M-mr. park?” you open the door, walking into the room. “Are you okay?” He stood to his feet making you jump a little. “I’m fine.” He turned around — your heart dropping; his eyes red, lips red. “M-mr. park.” You stepped back ready to leave out the door in fear, but he was quicker than you. “why are you so scared?” he heard your heart beating. “yo-you’re a v-vamp” you could barely say anything. “a vampire.” He finished your sentence. “go a head, say it.”

His hand was above your head, your back pressed against the now closed door. “you’re a vampire.” You said. “I wont hurt a pretty thing like you.” He finally got a good whiff of your scent. “a special girl like you.” His hand coming down to your cup your face. “my precious mate.”

“m-mate?” you stuttered, his hand coming down, traveling from to your cheek to your neck, his nail scratching where your neck and shoulder meet. “So sweet I knew it the moment I stepped into the break room this morning.” He whispered. “S-sir, t-this is too much.” You said breathless, your legs feeling weak, his voice and the look he was giving you made a shiver run your spine, down to your core. “you feel it don’t you.” He took a deep inhale. “I can smell you darling.”

He took it upon himself to close the inch gap you placed by your hand — grabbing your wrist, kissing your lips, the metallic taste of blood on your tongue, you moaned into the kiss, he let your hand go, picking you up by your thighs, carrying over to his desk — the blood bag on his desk. “I got some much sweeter baby.” He pushed your skirt up to your waist. “so sweet baby.” He sunk down to his knees, smelling your sweet scent. “fuck baby you’re soaked.” His teeth scrapped your thighs. “s-sir.” You whined.

“sunghoon.” He kissed your clothed cunt. “say my name sweetheart.” You moaned out. “Su-sunghoon.” He smiled. “good girl.” He pulled your panties to the side. “fu-fuck you taste so good.” He dove into your cunt, licking and slurping at your folds, his tongue moving in and out of your sopping hole. “su-sunghoon, m’gonna cum.” You throw your head back. “fu-fuck!” you yelped, praying that office was empty, sunghoon couldn’t care less about that as long as he could feel you cumming on his tongue.

He pulled himself away from you, his urges taking over fully — the need to feed again creeping up on him once again — the need to mate you even stronger. “that’s okay.” You unbuttoned your shirt, revealing your pale pink bra, and you’re waiting neck — you had no idea if it would hurt or not, you were completely sure on what he even meant when he said you were his mate, but right now you wanted him in everyway — you want him to bite you.

“you don’t have to.” He said. “this must be all new to you.” you bared your neck to him, he could see your veins — the sound of your blood being pumped through your body. “I want to.”

He couldn’t fight it anymore; and he didn’t want to, you were his mate and wanted to claim it as such, he knew about the other vampires lurking around in the office and he didn’t want them to even think they had a chance. “please bite me.” Your voice sounding so sweet and so desperate — it made his cock twitch in his suit pants.

“since you’re begging for it.” He was sitting in between your legs, unbuckling his pants, letting them fall to his ankles. “but we’re gonna do it my way.” He pulled your panties down, freeing his cock from his underwear. “gonna fuck you first.” He rubbed his cock along your folds, pushing himself inside of you. “oh fuck!” you screamed as he bullied his thick cock into your tiny hole. “fuck you’re so small down there.” He cursed. “so fucking tiny.”

He began to move his hips, fucking into you.fucking into you. “you’re pussy is magic.” He groaned. “g-getting -fuck- getting addicted already. You were a moaning mess. “made for me — made for me to fuck.” He groan. “for me to breed.”

That made you made you clench around his cock. “is that what you want -shit- for me to breed you?”

You nodded. “pl-please.” You moaned. “gonna do what I wanted to do since you walked in here.” He finally bared his pointy fangs, you felt your heart speeding up. “calm down.” He slowly grinded his hips, bringing his teeth to your neck. “not gonna hurt you.” He whispered, biting down.

“sh-shit.”

You gasped feeling the blood leaving your body — his hips now moving at a brutal pace as he drained your body. “su-sunghoon.” You slurred. “g-gonna — oh fuck!” you screamed unable to speak as your mouth hung open, cumming harshly around his cock; your head feeling dizzy due to blood loss.

He finally pulled away, licking up the rest of your blood. “sh-shit m’not gonna last.” He groaned. “fuck” his hips stilled, you felt his load shooting into you. “s-so full.” You sighed, as he finished licking at your neck, two puncture wounds adorning your neck. “pretty baby.”

He pulled out of you — you whined at the sudden lost. “so greedy already.” He watched his cum leak out of you. “don’t worry princess we got forever.” He pulled your panties up. “keep it inside for me.” He kissed your lips. “you’re mine now.”

“mines forever.”

©️LUVYENI

[rosesareredrosa]

There's a Difference

Mattheo Riddle x fem reader

Summary: Mattheo thinks he is not worth it and thinks he will hurt y/n because of his past but y/n doesn't think so shes ready to take a risk

w/c: 924

You shouldn’t love me.

Mattheo’s voice was laced with a mix of defiance and resignation as he spoke the words that had been haunting him for weeks. The dim light from the torches cast flickering shadows across his face, accentuating the hard edges of his jaw and the turmoil in his dark eyes. He stood just a few feet away from you, his usual confidence faltering as he forced himself to look away.

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him slip away so easily. “Well, why not?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder as if he could find an escape route hidden in the stone walls of the Hogwarts corridor. The silence stretched, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, before he finally turned his attention back to you. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, one that he rarely let anyone see.

“I’m not worth it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “All I’m going to end up doing is hurting you.”

You could hear the sincerity in his words, the fear that drove them. But you weren’t one to be easily scared off, especially not by Mattheo Riddle. The boy who was always so confident, so untouchable, now stood before you with all his walls down. You took a step closer, refusing to let him push you away.

“Is that a promise,” you challenged, “or are you just afraid?”

The question hung in the air between you, daring him to confront the truth he was trying so hard to deny. Mattheo’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides as he struggled with the emotions he usually kept locked away. No one had ever called him out like this before. He was used to people either fearing him or idolizing him, but you… you were different. You saw right through his carefully constructed facade, and that terrified him more than anything.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “But that’s all I know how to do. It’s in my blood, Y/N. It’s who I am.”

You shook your head, refusing to accept that as the end of the conversation. “That’s not who you are, Mattheo. It’s who you think you have to be. There’s a difference.”

His eyes searched yours, looking for some sign that you understood the darkness he carried, that you knew what you were getting yourself into. “You don’t know what you’re saying. My father… the things I’ve seen… the things I’ve done…”

You took another step closer, until you were standing directly in front of him, your eyes locked onto his. “I know who you are, Mattheo. I see the way you fight against what you think you have to be. I see the good in you, even if you don’t.”

His breath hitched, the walls he had spent years building up around his heart beginning to crumble under the intensity of your gaze. For a moment, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, you were right. But then the fear crept back in, reminding him of all the reasons why he had to keep you at arm’s length.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice shaking, “I can’t let you get close. If something happened to you because of me…”

You reached up, gently cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I’m not afraid of you, Mattheo. I’m not afraid of what could happen. What scares me is the thought of you shutting me out, of you letting your fear dictate your life.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if drawing strength from your words. “You’re crazy,” he muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Maybe,” you replied softly, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Or maybe I just see something worth fighting for.”

Mattheo’s eyes fluttered open, and in that moment, the battle within him finally reached its peak. He could keep fighting against his feelings, pushing you away until you had no choice but to give up on him, or he could take the risk and let himself be vulnerable, let himself love you the way he so desperately wanted to.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Mattheo closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, as if he was pouring all of his fear, his hope, his love into that single moment. You responded immediately, your hands sliding to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as if you could hold him together by sheer force of will.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, but the tension that had been hanging over you was gone, replaced by a sense of calm that neither of you had expected.

“I can’t promise I won’t hurt you,” Mattheo said quietly, his forehead resting against yours.

You smiled, your heart swelling with a fierce determination. “Then we’ll hurt each other. But we’ll also heal together.”

He let out a shaky breath, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close as if afraid you might disappear if he let go. “You’re too good for me,” he whispered.

“Maybe,” you teased, a smile playing on your lips. “But you’re stuck with me now.”

Mattheo chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was worth it after all.

[ellecdc]

Elle have you ever felt the urge to write more swim lessons with the marauders? I’m not usually much of a “part 2??” person but when I read that one I thought it was begging for a continuation. No pressure though!! Only if you feel like it, thanks for writing the first one at all :)

wellllllllll, since you asked so nicely (no but I'd literally do anything for you, just name the price - also, this feels like a full circle moment since the first part was absolutely not heavily influence by my love for your EMT!marauders...........)

swim instructor!marauders x fem!reader who learns that praise kinks are a transferrable skill

find part one here!

CW: joking about drowning each other, nerves surrounding learning how to swim, inappropriate jokes because.....well.....you know.

You had left last week's swim lesson (which you had dubbed your latest near death experience) quite certain you would rather just enjoy the white-sand beaches of the Maldives by the waterline.

That is until perhaps the third time someone joked about bringing you a set of water wings, and the second time someone pointed out the horrid tan lines those would leave on your skin. 

So here you were, sitting on a bench in the posh dressing room of the posh country club that your friend’s fiance’s posh family owned as you waited for the rest of the patron’s to clear out of the pool for your private swim lessons.

Oh God, what if you were expected to compensate them for this too?! 

You were so consumed in your spiralling - wondering if you could manage to take out a line of credit simply to attend your best friend's wedding - when you heard your name being called into the change room. 

“You in there?” You could hear Remus call.

“Yup!” You called back; horrified when your voice cracked. “I’m coming.” You added after clearing your throat.

You reluctantly grabbed your towel and hugged it to your chest as you headed towards the pool.

“There she is!” Sirius called as he spotted you. “Our favourite swimmer!”

“I’ve not actually done any swimming yet.” You corrected quietly. Not quietly enough, unfortunately, as the acoustics in this room seemed to carry your words to the black haired swimmer and his bespectacled counterpart across the entire pool.

“You won’t be able to say that for much longer!” James countered.

Remus apparently noticed the panic look form on your face as he let out a low chuckle. “We’re staying in the shallow end today, love. There’s no need to worry.” 

You wanted to be annoyed with him at his incessant use of pet names and endearments, but any ire that may have bubbled in your chest simply vanished when he flashed you a soft, crooked smile. 

You watched then as James and Sirius launched themselves into the pool without a second thought whilst Remus gently lowered himself into it from the edge. 

You weren’t proud that you had to force yourself to look away from the muscles in his shoulders as they flexed under his weight. 

“How tall are you?” Sirius asked then, causing James to gasp dramatically.

“You’re not supposed to ask a lady that, Pads.” He scolded. 

“No.” Sirius countered slowly. “You’re not supposed to ask them how much they weigh.” 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to ask them anything to do with numbers; weight, age, height.” James continued.

“Age!? What can you ask them?” Sirius beseeched.

“Would you sods shut up?” Remus grumbled. 

“Right.” Sirius said then, apparently remembering himself. “I only ask because you should be able to touch the bottom here; why don’t you try getting in like Moony did?”

You felt your brows furrow as you looked at Sirius in bemusement. “Moony?”

“That’s me.” Remus clarified as he let out a sigh of exasperation; you couldn’t help but notice the shy blush that took over his face and threatened to spread to his chest at the moniker, however. “He’s Pads, and James is Prongs. Sometimes. Right now, they’re sod 1 and sod 2.”

His insult was met with one indignant ‘oi!’ and a retaliatory splash. “But what Sirius was trying to say was that it would be good practice getting in and out without a gradient; you said the wedding was in the Maldives?”

You nodded in response. 

“You may at times only have the edge of a dock or perhaps a small staircase to get into the water; doing this in the shallow end will help train your body not to go into fight or flight mode each time.”

And while that all sounded well and good, you couldn’t help but look at the water warily. 

“Come on.” Sirius encouraged you as he situated himself below you and patted the edge of the pool. “Have a seat, doll.”

You bit back a grumble and did as you were told, sitting on the edge of the pool where Sirius stood between your legs and set his hands on either side of you. “Then you just slide in, and I’ll be here to catch you; got it?” 

“Is there gonna be a tattooed bloke in the Maldives to catch me too?” You grumbled to yourself, horrified when Sirius’ bark of laughter alerted you to the fact that you had said that out loud.

“Why, you looking for a date, doll?”

You have got to stop blurting out every thought that enters your mind, especially around these men.

Instead of dealing with your embarrassment, you figured you may as well just try drowning.

Unfortunately for you, the water was shallow and you were tall enough to touch the bottom and Sirius had caught you, so it looked as though you would just have to deal with your embarrassment like a mature adult.

But fuck that.

So instead, you splashed him. 

“Oh she’s feisty today.” James commented as Sirius squawked something or other about his hair.

Humour danced behind Remus’ whiskey eyes as he considered you. “Thank you for splashing him so I wouldn’t have to.”

“We should invest in some of those spray bottles for when he’s being a pest.” James called over with a smirk.

Whatever qualms Sirius may have had about his hair seemed to dissipate at the prospect of dunking his mate as he lunged for James and forced them both under the water.

You were mortified to realise you had leaned into Remus’ side to avoid getting tangled up in whatever underwater brawl was taking place; only realising your proximity to the tall swim instructor when he placed a placating hand on your back. 

“This is actually what we’re going to be practising today.” He explained as his two counterparts emerged from the water with gasping breaths.

“Drowning each other?” 

“Holding our breath.” Remus corrected you with a smirk. “The hope is that you will feel more comfortable in practising if you’re not so worried about what will happen when you’re underwater.”

“We’re gonna have a cheeky seat at the bottom of the pool!” James explained.

You looked to Remus with what you were sure was a ‘you’re kidding me, yeah?’ face who simply smiled at you encouragingly. 

“I thought the purpose of swim lessons was to not end up at the bottom of a pool.” You deadpanned. 

“The purpose of swim lessons is to avoid ending up at the bottom of a pool, and knowing how to get back up to the surface when you do.” Sirius offered.

“We’ll just lower ourselves to our knees and-”

“My favourite position.” Sirius interrupted Remus’ instructions.

“James?” Remus deadpanned.

“On it.” James answered quickly as he put Sirius in a headlock and dunked them under the water again. 

“As I was saying,” Remus continued without the distraction of the other two, “we’ll lower ourselves to our knees, try to count to 10, and then we’ll come back up.”

The other two instructors reemerged at the end of Remus’ sentence and you let out a heavy breath. “I don’t think I can do this.” You admitted quietly. 

Any humour and levity seeped from the three men as they circled you protectively.

“No, hey, of course you can!” James offered, trying to imbue some of his eagerness and enthusiasm onto you as he swiped water away from his eyes. 

“Why would she trust you, James? You look like nothing but trouble.” Sirius said haughtily as he tried to re-restrain his hair into an elastic. 

You were expecting James to squawk in offence, but his face lit up brilliantly as if Sirius had just solved world hunger.

“That’s it!”

“What’s it?” Remus asked warily.

“She doesn’t trust us!” James clarified, which clarified nothing for you at all. 

“What! I- no, that’s not true. I…I do trust you, I just-”

“No, no. Not like that angel.” James offered. “I’m sure you trust us enough as employees here, but not necessarily enough to willingly put yourself at risk, right?”

You tried to think of an argument.

You couldn’t. 

“Okay, let’s see…oh!” James started as he lowered himself into the water enough that it lapped against his chin. “I was completely broken when my marriage ended, and these two were the only ones who could convince me I wasn’t a complete failure.” He offered casually as if he hadn’t just dropped a significant amount of lore on a near stranger. 

“I ran away from home at 16 and James’ family took me in, no questions asked, and have treated me as their own ever since.” Sirius added quickly. 

Remus let out a sigh as he looked to the other two in faux exasperation. “And I was a poor scholarship kid attending an elite and posh prep school, and these two did everything they could to make sure no one made me feel insecure about it.” 

“All this to say, angel; I’d trust these two with my life, and I think you should too.” James finished. 

You let out a steadying breath and nodded your head. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Sirius smiled. 

“Yeah, yes; I can do this.” You decided, mostly speaking to yourself.

“Hell yeah, you can!” James cheered as he splashed the water, Remus muttering something about him being a giant toddler. 

“So, you can plug your nose if you’d like; but try to take a deep breath in, and then whilst you’re under water try letting that air out slowly, okay?” Remus instructed then. You felt more than a little discombobulated with all of his attention focused on you.

Sirius demonstrated and you mimicked his actions which earned you a dramatic round of applause.

“Brilliant! You’re gonna rock this.” James assured you quickly.

“‘Course she is.” Sirius scoffed as if James had said something rather outlandish. “She’s been brilliant at everything so far.”

You felt your cheeks heat up near painfully and looked down to the water in hopes that no one noticed you fluster.

Unfortunately for you, it seemed Remus was more observant than you gave him credit for. “You going to be brilliant for us again today, love?” 

You felt like it was your turn to scoff. “‘Course I am.” your inner voice echoed Sirius. 

“‘Course she is.” James echoed for you; a knowing smirk gracing his lips.

“Ready?” Sirius started as he lowered himself to his shoulders.

You nodded and he started to count down. 

At one, you sucked in a deep breath and plugged your nose before plunging yourself into the pool.

You were too buoyant; your body trying to return to the surface immediately after submerging yourself which left you feeling rather panicky, but you saw Sirius blow out dramatic bubbles and decided to do the same, feeling your body slowly sink to allow you to settle onto your knees. 

James beamed a smile at you as Remus looked at a stopwatch counting down your seconds.

You realised it wasn’t so bad down here - letting the air out of your lungs left you not feeling as if your body was going to burst from the pressure, and it was beautifully quiet. It reminded you how peaceful you found floating to be just the week before.

You felt a gentle tap on your wrist, noticing Remus pointing upwards.

You stood and suddenly, you were horribly aware of how loud an empty pool could be; the sound of water filtering, the large fans in charge of the humidity levels, and the echoing of the great cavernous space left you feeling slightly homesick for the bottom of the pool.

“That was brilliant!” James cheered as he pulled you roughly into his side. 

“You say that as if you’re surprised, Prongs.” Sirius teased gently. 

“Of course I’m not surprised, she’s our brilliant student.”

And instead of an embarrassed flush of your cheeks, you felt a simmering pride settle within your chest.

It appeared that having a praise kink was, indeed, a transferable skill.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

body language

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel shows up at your place in the middle of the night with a camcorder and an idea

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, soft-dom!joel, soft!joel, sex tape, established relationship, smut, unprotected piv, size kink, praise kink, overstimulation, fingering, rough sex, mild camera anxiety, moodboard for aesthetics only

word count: 7.4k

“Joel? It’s two o’clock in the morning, you alright?”

He never calls this late. He’s never even up this late. Joel’s a creature of habit—asleep by midnight and up, bright and early, at seven. Yet, it’s still his name lighting up your phone and illuminating the pitch black of your bedroom, waking you out of a near-dead sleep. 

It takes him a moment to reply and, for a second, you think maybe he’s been out drinking with his contractor buddies. But that’s not like him, especially on a weeknight. 

When his voice finally filters through the speaker, he sounds…off. His deep drawl is lower than usual, thick with something syrupy and heady that you’d probably be able to place if you weren’t teetering on the cusp of consciousness.

“Be better if I was there with ya.”

Oh.

Now, you’re awake. The barely concealed intention in his tone and words is unmistakable, and now you know exactly why he’s calling you at two in the morning on a weeknight. Because he hasn’t seen you in weeks, and he’s horny. 

Heat licks at the base of your spine, and you get it. It's been a while since he’s been in your bed, and you're horny, too. You lean over to retrieve your phone from the nightstand, and your pilling flannel sheets slip down to your bare thighs, exposing your feverish skin to the brisk autumn air drifting in through a cracked window. It feels like the sweetest relief—you usually run hot when you sleep, but it’s nothing like this.

Switching the call off speaker, you unconsciously lean into the small screen as if it were him. A photo of Joel, soaked and covered in sand at the beach last year, flashes up at you and your lips brush against it as you murmur into the mic.

"If you wanted it bad enough, then you would be," you tease, your voice sultry and still heavy with sleep. You settle onto your back, kicking the sheets further down the bed so you can splay your fingers low on your stomach. They dip just slightly under the waistband of your underwear, closer to where you hope you'll need them soon. "So? Tell me how bad you want it."

You've never done the phone sex thing with Joel before, but if that's what he's looking for, then you're more than happy to play along. Every hushed sigh and bit-back groan, you want to hear it all. To let the gentle vibration of it in your ear reverberate through your body, feeding your arousal until it’s humming between your legs.

It’s been way too long. This might hold you over for now, but after tonight, you're going to need the real thing. Your boyfriend, close enough to touch, instead of a crackling, disembodied voice.

But, before you can even begin, your call is abruptly halted by a hard knock at the door. You shoot up, ripping your hand out of your underwear to rest over your racing heart. 

No one’s ever at your door at this hour, and the fact that someone is either spells trouble or a mistake. Part of you is relieved that you’re on the phone with Joel in case there’s actual danger out there, but another nagging part really wants to ignore the interruption. You’ve got better things to do. 

But you investigate, anyway. Better safe than sorry, right? Then, you can enjoy whatever Joel’s got planned for you to the fullest.

"Jesus, what...hold on, I think there’s someone outside," you whisper harshly into the phone as you slide out of bed, creeping as quietly as you can to the front door. "I'll be right back, I’m gonna go—“

To your surprise, Joel continues on anyway, undeterred by the commotion and the obvious alarm in your voice. But he sounds strange again, almost like he’s echoing. 

“Want it real bad."

You grip your phone tighter as you struggle to hear what he's saying, but you’re too distracted by the chaos unfolding around you to focus. He’s acting so out of character. Seriously, what the hell is going on? You have no idea why this night’s been so out of wack, but it's starting to get a little too weird for your liking.

“Uh, say that again?"

The call drops and you're left staring at your home screen, feeling confused as hell. That is, until you hear those same words in that familiar, deep drawl coming from the other side of the door. 

There's no way. 

You unlock it without bothering to look through the peephole, opening it to find a very disheveled Joel leaning against the doorframe. His face is already so close to yours like he’s been waiting for you to come to him, eagerly. Impatiently. 

The scent of his favorite spearmint gum fans over your face, and you subconsciously drag your tongue along your bottom lip in anticipation. His eyes follow the action, captivated by every minute movement you make, and you can tell how much just being in your presence is affecting him. The intensity in his gaze would make you feel nervous if it wasn’t for the obvious want simmering below the surface. 

God, why does all of this feel so potent? You’re panting...when did that even start? It’s suddenly hotter than the stifling warmth under your sheets, despite being half-naked in your open doorway, but it feels good. Right. Because he’s breathing as heavily as you are.

There’s no traces of beer or whiskey on his breath. So, he's completely sober, then. Whatever you were hearing in his voice, that wild look in his eyes, completely overtaken by his blown pupils—he’s not drunk on any of that. Only on thoughts of you. Your breath hitches when he speaks again, in person this time.

"Don't think I need to repeat myself, do I?"

Your eyes drop to the intimidating tent in his sweatpants before darting up to meet his.

"No, I believe you," you breathe out.

And, god, do you.

Adrenaline floods your veins as he lurches forward to kiss you, and, finally, you get to taste that dizzying combination of mint and Joel. The coolness of it on your tongue does little to quell the heat spreading from your lips down to where you need him most.

His hands immediately find purchase where yours were just moments before, sliding up your sides under your oversized sleep shirt—his shirt. He cups the soft skin of your breasts, and you moan wantonly into his mouth, suddenly desperate to be bare in front of him.

But he ignores the bunched-up fabric shielding you from his view. He actually seems pleased by the sight of it on your body and the scent of himself still lingering on your skin. You haven't washed it since he left it here, and you can tell it’s stoking something primal in him. Something he's left unchecked since the last time he was with you that threatens to consume him. Shit, you can hear it in his voice.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about ya,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy lines marring his brow as if the thought of not being able to have you for so long physically pained him. “Been up all damn night…haven’t been able to think about anything else all goddamn night.”

He thumbs over a nipple while he tweaks the other, hard enough to startle a gasp out of you, and, oh, he likes that. The blunt outline of his hardening cock is insistent against your hip, but he holds himself back from grinding into you. Even as his body reacts without his permission, he’s still choosing to prioritize your pleasure first.

“You got no idea, the things m’gonna do to you tonight. Gonna treat you right, pretty girl, give ya everything you deserve.”

Your heart stutters, and you practically preen at his praise. This fucking man. You swallow his words greedily, pressing your lips into his hard enough to bruise, and the kiss descends into desperation and an unexpected need to hear more. You want more of those sweet, filthy words, to see what they really mean when he finally delivers on them. And all you have to do is ask.

“Then, give it to me.”

He parts from you with a lewd smack, a string of saliva hanging between you. You use the brief respite to take him in, your eyes roving over his tousled curls and the flush that’s quickly traveling down his neck and spreading across his chest. 

He’s so fucking beautiful, and…and why aren’t your hands on him right now? He’s been standing there for minutes, or hours, you can’t even tell anymore. Yet, when you reach out to touch him, he catches your hand in midair. His grip is gentle yet firm, the side of his mouth quirking down as he raises an eyebrow, and you feel like you’re being scolded.

"Oh, honey. I know you can ask nicer than that,” he mutters, lifting it to his lips and softly kissing your palm. 

There's a sense of authority in the way he says it, contradictory to the saccharine nature of his words. You're starting to realize you're not in control—that, tonight, what he says goes—but it feels safe. You know he'll take good care of you.

He gives your breast an encouraging squeeze as his other hand snakes further down to palm your ass, pulling your hips into his so you can feel all of him. This is what you'll get if you're a good girl, he's telling you. 

You bite back a whine, gazing up at him through your lashes, wetting your lips before you try again. His way.

"Please." 

Your voice quivers around the singular syllable that guarantees you’ll get what you need. 

“There's my sweet girl. Just need’ta be reminded sometimes, don’t ya?” 

He nods his head slowly, commandingly, while he asks the question, and you mimic him. You can feel yourself slipping, drowning in him and this feeling of security. You can’t help it, and you don’t want to.

He leans in to press his lips against yours again, devouring you in a way that feels less hungry and more exploratory, like he’s mapping you out. Filing away everything that makes your breath hitch and your eyelids flutter. He’s not immune to you, though. That much is obvious.

There's a growing wet patch on the front of his sweatpants, and you belatedly realize he didn’t bother putting on boxers before he left his house. He rubs damply against your stomach, just below your belly button, but he’s still not nearly close enough to where you need him. You don’t even know why his pants are still on. They really shouldn’t be.

Then, that same cool breeze and the delicate sound of crunchy, autumn leaves blowing along the sidewalk reminds you why. The front door is still wide open, leaving you standing in your underwear, and Joel with his hand up your shirt, in full view of anyone passing by. Not that they would at this time of night, but the thought is still a little thrilling. But not enough for Joel to leave it open any longer.

He pushes you further into your apartment, kicking the door shut behind him, and leads you backward to your bedroom. God, you can’t wait to see him—his tanned, sun-weathered skin and sparse smattering of freckles. 

There’s too many layers between you and if your body isn’t pressed against his soon, you might actually lose your mind. You’ve never been this desperate for him before, but there’s something about the way he’s acting tonight. 

This unfamiliar headspace you’re in…fuck, it feels good. You’re trusting him to make up for those weeks apart and, even more so, to dictate your pleasure in ways that are totally new to your relationship. You’ll do what he tells you, you’ll moan for him, you’ll cum for him. He knows what’s best for you.

Your clothes come off first. Your shirt is pulled up and over your head, and then he bends to tug down your underwear, letting it drop soundlessly to the floor. Next go his shoes, then his socks, leaving a trail of fabric from the living room, all the way to your bed. 

It’s so sensual—surprisingly so—even though it’s something you do all the time. But tonight, he’s handling you with such rapt attention. His eyes never leave yours as each article of clothing falls to the plush, blue-patterned carpet beneath your feet.

You’re so naked. Compared to him, still clad in his jacket, t-shirt, and pants, you feel…exposed. Vulnerable. Maybe that’s the point. You approach him carefully, waiting for his permission to touch him, and he smiles softly.

“C’mere, baby. Could use a little help here,” he reassures you, reaching out to take your hand. But instead of letting you undress him, he guides it over the thick bulge in his sweatpants. 

His fingers close around yours and, together, you squeeze him. Your eyes shoot up to gauge his reaction, but other than a nearly inaudible sigh and pinched brows, he’s not showing any other signs of being affected at all. 

Craving more, you grind the palm of your hand into him, relishing the warmth of his cock as it pulses the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat in your grasp. He hisses out a breath, his hand tensing over yours, and a flash of pride lances through you. 

Yes. Gotcha.

But your satisfaction is short-lived. To your disappointment, he tugs your hand away, but he doesn't separate from you completely. Instead, he slides it up past the softness of his stomach to rest on his chest. It rumbles softly under your touch as he speaks, except, they’re not necessarily the words you want to hear.

“No more of that. S’about you right now,” he drops his forehead to yours, fixing you with a stern look. “Later, alright? When I’m fuckin’ ya, you can touch me as much as you want.”

Shit. You clench down hard, suddenly hyperaware of the wetness between your legs and the feeling of devastating emptiness. You want it now, but you still have no idea what his plans are. 

If you’re a brat about it, he’ll probably make you wait even longer, and, anyway, that’s not what you want to be tonight. You want to be good for him. 

His broad hands spread across your waist as he tilts his head to kiss your cheek, then the underside of your jaw. Without warning, he sucks hard, likely leaving a mark you’ll have to cover up tomorrow before work. You hope he leaves more.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble remorsefully, shivering in his arms as his thumbs begin to rub soothing circles into your skin. “I can wait—I…I’ll be better.”

“S’okay, baby, I know ya will,“ he replies, dragging his lips down to your shoulder. “Just keep goin’. You’re doin’ so good.”

Finally, you push his jacket off his shoulders and it joins the rest of your clothes, hitting the floor with a solid thunk. The noise startles you enough to clear some of that comfortable haze, and you slowly pull back, eyeing him curiously. 

That’s…way louder than it should’ve been. It’s his fall coat so it barely weighs a thing, even with his phone and wallet in his pockets. 

But he doesn’t seem surprised at all. His face is unreadable except for the hint of a smirk, and he doesn’t look like he’s about to talk anytime soon. 

You bend down to pick it up, your eyes still on his, and you were right. It’s heavier than it should be by a long shot, and you’re honestly a little taken aback that you didn’t notice it earlier. But, in all fairness, you weren’t noticing much of anything earlier, save for Joel’s hands and lips on your body.

Reaching into his pocket, your fingers brush against something clunky and metallic. It’s not his phone. There’s too many moving pieces, and it’s at least three times its size. 

When the mystery item is finally revealed, your jaw drops. Joel can be a pretty spontaneous guy when he wants to be, but this? You never saw this coming.

In your hand sits a goddamn camcorder. An honest-to-god video camera that was just sitting in his pocket with no discernible reason for being there. 

While you wait for him to explain, the gadget begins to feel heavier by the second, just the idea of it burning a hole right through your palm. But you know you don’t need him to. You’re not a child, and, in the back of your mind, you already know exactly why it’s there. This is the reason he came here.

That pretty, hazy brain fog halts briefly, just long enough for you to get some answers. You want to hear him say it.

“You said you’d give me everything I deserve, right? I think I deserve an explanation,” you say, forgoing the pleasantries he asked of you earlier. 

You’re fighting not to sound weak, to emulate his authoritative tone, but your heart is pounding and you already sound out of breath. Fucking hell, this man. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life, and he knew this would happen. 

Judging by the way his eyes darken and rove over your naked curves, he’s painfully aware of it. You watch dumbfounded as his patience runs out, and he discards his shirt and sweatpants. Now that his secret’s out, he doesn’t want to wait anymore, either.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, and your hands clench into fists at your sides to keep yourself from reaching out and touching him, but it feels impossible. It’s right there—his cock, leaking and flushed red at the tip from neglect. 

It jerks under your heated gaze, and he exhales sharply through his nose, wrapping his hand tightly around the base. He's clearly struggling as much as you are. Then, he moves closer, all but crowding you into the edge of the bed, and you can feel it pulsing against your bare skin. 

“Here’s the deal, pretty girl—you’re gonna cum s’many times as I want you to, and this here’s gonna record it all,” he drawls, holding out his hand for the camera. You acquiesce without any more questions. “Waited too damn long to see you like this and that ain’t happenin’ again.”

His other hand cups your cheek to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, and your lips part around an almost imperceptible gasp. To anyone else but him, at least. 

“You gonna let me?”

You nod quickly, praying your eyes convey all of the want you’re feeling and none of the nerves. 

“Yeah,” you answer, breathlessly. “I’ll let you.”

But he sees right through you. The apprehension in your voice is too apparent, and he clocks it on the spot. His eyes instantly soften. He tugs you into his arms and holds you close, nosing into the hair just above your ear. Relieved, you sag into his familiar embrace. 

“If this ain’t okay with you, we stop right here. Alright? We don’t do anythin’ you're not a hundred percent sure you want,” and he sounds attentive and so earnest. 

His bare skin feels so warm against yours, and you allow it to remind you of everything he promised you. Of all of the things he’s about to do to you, for you, and the tape that’ll capture it all. For yours and Joel’s eyes only, whenever you need it. And you know you will eventually. 

Rubbing your cheek into his chest, you close your eyes and take a minute to let the calming beat of his heart make you feel less nervous. This is an entirely different kind of reminder, one that reassures you that you trust this man with everything you’ve got. You’re sure of your answer.

“I want this, Joel,” you murmur, slowly opening your eyes to meet his, commanding his full attention. “I promise you, I want this so fucking badly.”

That flips the switch. He swaps your positions in the blink of an eye, looping his arm around your middle to drag you up the bed until his back is against the headboard with you between his legs. 

“Don't need'ta be shy. You’re beautiful, baby, that’s all it’s gonna see,” he breathes out, his voice thick with affection and want.

He bends you both forward, his chest solid against your back, to set the camcorder onto the sheets, and tosses a few pillows behind it to prop it up. Something intimidating clicks just as Joel tilts the preview screen toward you. 

It’s on. Brightly lit and reflecting back a depraved mirror image of you and Joel, naked and panting and needy. 

Okay. Okay, here we go. Another click, and then a red light blips next to the lens. 

It’s recording. 

The light flashes steadily, and you can feel your body tensing with every strobe. Come on, loosen up. It’s just a piece of metal. A very…scary piece of metal that’s watching your every move. Your thighs tremble from a confusing mix of arousal and nerves, and you start to feel embarrassed. 

You can see yourself on the little screen, feeling small yet secure in Joel’s arms, but you’re too focused on the camera’s attention on you to relax. As if he can tell you’re about to shrink into yourself, Joel distracts you. You haven’t told him to stop or asked him to turn it off, and he knows you would if this became too much.

"See what I mean?" He smoothes his hands down your thighs, carefully parting your legs. He gives you every chance to close them, but you don’t. "Fuckin' perfect, just like I told ya."

You try harder to see what he sees, what you're praying the camera sees. He's so free with his compliments and praise, you want to believe you deserve them.

"Prettiest pussy I've ever seen," he mutters tightly under his breath, his fingers massaging the tense muscles in your thighs. "From now on, m'gonna get to see this whenever I want. See myself fuckin' you whenever I can't."

Once you catch sight of your glistening heat reflected back at you, you help him spread your legs even further, watching as your cunt visibly clenches in response. 

Oh. Oh...look at you.

You get it now, why he wants this on film. You’re captivated by yourself, by the way Joel bites back a groan and his body seizes up as he fights not to rut into you. You’d love to be able to see that again. 

But then his fingers finally press deliciously into your clit and any lingering anxiety completely fades away. You barely even register his lips brushing against your ear, checking in before he continues with everything he’s about to put you through.

“Doin’ alright?” he murmurs between damp kisses against your neck. That tranquil haze begins to settle in again as he mouths wetly at your skin, the coarse drag of his beard a familiar comfort.

“Mhm,” you hum before your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and you slip completely. “S'good...feels good.”

“That's my girl,” he breathes tenderly, rewarding you with more pressure, pressing down harder on your clit.

The slick friction is heady and so effective that all you can do is give in as your hips swivel into his touch of their own accord. He's taking such good care of you, attuned to every gasp, the quickening rise and fall of your breasts.

You tilt your head to observe his expression. It's your only indication of what he’s feeling since he’s still refusing to allow himself to react to you physically.

He's breathtaking, looking like a man starved with his parted lips and pitch-black eyes, locked on where his fingers are slipping through the mess he’s making of your pussy. He must feel you watching him because he suddenly smirks, snaking a hand up your body to cup your breast. 

Your eyes squeeze shut and you mewl, pretty and perfect for the camera, your hips bucking clear off his lap when he begins to languidly massage the soft curve. You're getting so close already and your entire body quakes with it, your thighs trembling violently against his as he swirls tighter, faster circles into your swollen clit.

“Joel…ngh—Joel, I’m...fuck, m’gonna cum,” you whimper into his neck, grabbing his thighs to anchor yourself. "C-can I? Please."

“I know, baby, I can feel it. C’mon, give it to me,” he rasps, your demand from earlier falling raggedly from his lips. "Show the camera how hard ya cum for me."

Then, he pinches your nipple hard between his thumb and calloused middle finger, and you’re gone. Your orgasm crashes over you in a blissful wave, your stomach tensing intermittently with every gushing pulse of your cunt, and he doesn’t let up. Not until you’ve ridden his hand through your aftershocks, and slump into his chest, completely spent.

“That’s one, pretty girl.”

That’s…one? He’s counting them? You’re struggling to understand, to even focus on what he’s saying, but he doesn’t leave you wondering for long.

"You're gonna give me four, alright?” His fingers shift from your chest to your chin, tilting your head up to face him. The look in his eyes tells you to listen because he means this. “Want ya to cum on my fingers three times before you cum on my cock. Can ya do that for me?"

Christ. Your eyes dart from the attentive device, still recording every move and reaction you make, back to his. Can you? You’re not even sure if that’s possible, and your bottom lip trembles as you start to overthink it. 

You’ve never orgasmed that many times in a row, not with him or by yourself, and yet, he sounds so sure that you can. That he can make you. His thumb gently strokes your chin, and you believe him. You will.

"Yes, Joel," you find yourself nodding obediently, and you're thrilled at how pleased he looks. 

He leans down to kiss away your worries, swallowing your surprised squeal as his fingers waste no time starting up those insistent swirls on your clit again. Your hips jerk away from his hand, but he only smiles against your lips, his strong arms holding you in place.

It’s way too much, nearly overwhelming you, and you whimper into his mouth at the oversensitivity. Your floor muscles clench painfully as you continue to try and recover from your last one, but you don’t stop him. You give into him so easily, letting his adoration and sheer desire fuel you.

“That's it. You can take it, I know ya can,” he encourages, pulling away from your lips to gaze down at you in awe. "Look at my girl...so damn responsive tonight. Listenin' so well."

You can’t help the satisfaction blooming in your chest, gasping in relief as the sensitivity begins to subside into intense pleasure. His eyes drop between your legs as your hips start to chase his touch, and yours quickly follow.

“Shit,” he mutters, his voice tighter than it has been all night. “You get so fuckin’ wet when ya cum. Makin' the prettiest mess.”

His middle and ring fingers abruptly slip from rubbing merciless circles into your clit down to your entrance, plunging inside you, and god, it's exactly what you need. His fingertips drag against your sensitive walls, stroking something repeatedly that steals your breath away, and your pussy flutters around him. 

He mimics the soft sound but it trails off, dropping to something deeper that rumbles in his chest, and his slow, purposeful thrusts turn aggressive. His fingers hook inside you, and your eyes roll back, lips parting around desperate, choked-out words he'll watch back and probably cum to.

"...t-there, there. Please...don't stop—," you keen, your voice catching every time your hips buck to meet his hand. "—n-need more. Please, Joel, I...c-can you...?"

That gorgeous smirk returns, his face alight with pride. He's so proud of you.

“Beautiful and polite, Christ. Whatever you want,” his fingers don’t let up, and he looks mesmerized by how slick and easy he slides in and out. “Keep askin’ nice like that and I’ll give ya anything.”

Adding a third finger, he starts to fuck into you in earnest, ramming against something deep inside you as his palm slaps repeatedly against your clit. You see stars. Your vision begins to blur, and you’re positive you’re moaning louder than you should be this late at night, but you can’t focus on anything else but the wet squelching of your pussy around him. 

You should probably feel at least a little ashamed, but your warming cheeks have nothing to do with the noise and everything to do with the wrecked, stuttered moans in your ear, and Joel’s cock rutting into your ass in time with his fingers.

He's finally losing his composure. That careful self-restraint he's tried so hard to maintain, slowly but surely being dismantled. He clearly doesn’t care anymore, and he wants you to know it.

"Feel that? S'what ya do to me,” he grits through his teeth, his head dropping to your shoulder to watch as he smears precum messily across your skin. You unintentionally squeeze his fingers at his words, and he groans raggedly. "Fuckin'...tight—Christ, ya just keep gettin' tighter. Think m’gonna fit?"

You shake your head furiously, already feeling too full around his fingers, but your body betrays you, grinding down onto his cock before you can stop yourself. He exhales sharply at your reaction, bucking into you a little harder than he means to, and for a moment, you think maybe he likes the idea that he's too big for you. That your pussy's just too tight to take him right now.

That little red light still gleaming next to the ever-observant mechanical eye in front of you would probably love to witness that. A filthy, intimate image of you caught between intense pleasure and pain, forever preserved.

"No?” he murmurs, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “S'okay, baby, we'll make it fit. Don't'chu worry."

It hits you like a freight train, your second orgasm catching both of you by surprise and knocking the wind completely out of you. He wrenches his fingers out of your heat so he can wrap his arms tightly around you, keeping you from knocking over the camera as you writhe in his lap. It's overwhelming, somehow even more intense than the first, but the sensitivity sets in quicker.

Your nails dig sharply into his arms, and he hisses in a breath behind you. You're scared you might be hurting him, but you're having trouble controlling your limbs as immense amounts of dopamine flood your system, so you scrabble against the damp sheets instead.

Fuck, you can’t. It's too much. He’s still moving beneath you, the slide of his cock against your skin made easier by the slick dripping between your legs, and you’re not even sure he realizes he’s doing it. You want to do this for him so badly, but you're not sure how much more you can take. 

One more. You can take one more. Then, he's yours.

Sensing your discomfort, he holds you through it, lets you ride it out until you’re whimpering softly in his arms. But all he offers is a brief, sweet moment of respite before his fingers return to your cunt. He mindfully avoids your clit as he slowly sinks two fingers back inside you, and, now, even you can feel how tight you are. Each one of his knuckles catches on your entrance and rubs you purposefully, if not a little painfully.

"How's that feel, baby? Talk to me.”

It aches. It’s so much. It’s not enough. The warring sensations between your legs intensify the deeper he plunges into you, but, this time, the sensitivity doesn’t ebb. Instead, it amplifies everything. You can feel him keenly, sweat and oppressive heat pooling everywhere your bodies connect, and you melt into it. Into him. 

"S'good...keep—," you accidentally clench around him, and your breath hitches at the dull throb that wracks your lower half, "—k-keep going. Want more.”

“Fuck. Such a good girl...so fuckin' good,” he breathes heavily behind you, grunting his pleasure into your shoulder every time your hips try to escape insistent strokes. It's not just the steady grind of his cock between your ass cheeks that’s getting him off. You can see the playful sparkle in his eyes on the screen, regardless of how small his image is. He's enjoying the chase. 

You think he could even cum like this, playing this dangerous game with you. It's then that you realize you like it, too. You both know how close you are to earning your reward, so agonizingly near, you can taste it. And he can feel you around his fingers, tensing and relaxing, beginning to adapt to the unbearable soreness as your orgasm quickly approaches.

"Almost there, baby. S'a lot, I know, but you're takin' it so well,” he groans encouragingly. You can hear the subtle anticipation in his voice. He’s a wreck behind you, all but fucking into your skin as he adds a third finger and increases his speed. You let out a pained moan together at the resistance. "Hurts, huh? Lemme make it better, pretty girl. Tell me what ya need."

“M-my clit, please…please,” you beg him. Politely, nicely, kindly, whatever he wants. It’s still swollen and rubbed raw despite how wet you’ve been all night, but, fuck, you need it. Just a gentle touch would be enough to send you over the edge. That’s all it’ll take.

And that’s exactly what he gives you. Three barely-there swirls with his thumb, and you’re screaming, cumming around him so hard, you’re almost worried you’ll break his fingers. Your spasming floor muscles are unforgiving, convulsing violently as you cream into the palm of his hand, but this time he doesn’t wait for it to subside. 

The internal pressure suddenly disappears and everything tilts on its axis. You’re being shifted, lifted higher by two strong arms encircling your waist, and something big—god, it feels huge—nudges at your abused hole. Joel’s speaking, but whatever he’s saying is too difficult to make out over the blood roaring in your ears. It sounds urgent. Impatient. He sounds needy.

He lowers you just a hair, and the stretch around his tip feels impossible. You were right. He's not going to fit, and the thought makes you want to cry. He has to. You need him to.

"...baby...baby," his voice finally cuts through the fog. He's shaking, trembling like a leaf all around you, but refusing to move until you can hear him. You realize he's been asking you a question, and he needs your answer now. "Need'ta be inside you. Christ, I—m'not gonna be gentle. I...can't, I can't anymore. Gonna fuck you hard, s'that okay? Can ya take me?"

He gives you a little more, a preview of what's to come before you make your decision, and it fucking hurts. It's also the most incredible thing you've ever felt. 

More. You said you wanted more, and you meant it. You nod frantically, whining your assent, but it's not enough. He needs you to say it.

"Need'ya to use your words, baby. Yes?"

"Yes," you choke out around a sob, wriggling in his arms to get him to move faster. He exhales sharply through his nose, the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat pulsing in his chest and cock.

"Yes."

It's the last warning you get before he drives into you in a single, earth-shattering thrust, burying himself to the hilt. It feels like he's splitting you in half, tearing you right down the middle, and replacing every part of you with Joel, Joel, Joel. 

And he doesn't stop there, or give either of you time to adjust. He pistons into you, a wet thock-thock-thock of drenched skin against skin, and you accept it gratefully. You're delirious with the feeling of him stretching you past your limit. So full, you're so fucking full of him. It's the only thing grounding you to the present, your unyielding walls fighting to mold around him.

After hours of giving, he finally takes. He's all but snarling into your ear like a starved apex predator feasting on his prey, biting and sucking and bruising every inch of skin he can reach. Yet, he's still so full of praise for his girl. 

"Look at us, baby. Y'see that?" he growls, just loud enough for the mic to pick up the wrecked reverence in his voice. He takes your hand and guides it down until both sets of fingers are wrapped around where he's breaching your swollen cunt. You cry out at the thickness of him, the unimaginable sight of you stretched around him, gripping him. "Takin' me so well. Knew you could. Goddamn perfect woman, s'like you were made for it."

You're starting to believe it. That you were shaped in his image, created just for him. You want to return his affection, even a fraction of the praise he's given you this entire night, but you're past the capacity for speech.

The tension in your chest is making it hard to breathe, and every attempted reply is forced from your body as an incoherent string of stuttered moans and broken sobs. Nearly every other thrust punches your cervix, and you can already feel that telltale heat flooding between your legs.

You can't tell him all of the things you want to. So, you show him, instead. Your entire body goes lax in his arms except your hips and hands, and you rock forward on every upstroke, caressing his inner thighs with your thumbs. 

His lips press against the underside of your jaw as he whines desperately into your skin, subtle groans rising in frequency and volume the longer you continue your ministrations. You can feel his stomach tensing behind you, and his grip tightens like he's either trying to stave off his release or anchor himself for when he inevitably erupts. He's so fucking close to the edge, now, you can tell.

He can, too. But he needs you to get there first. 

Your hips are already starting to buck into his, and he takes that as the go-ahead to give you more. A sign that your body can handle everything he has left. His arms unravel from around you, and he slows his pace to a deep, heady grind that sets your body ablaze. 

He snakes one hand up your stomach to cup a breast while the other drops to rub sloppy circles into your overstimulated bundle of nerves, and you cry out at the sudden onslaught of sensations. Your eyes dart to the camcorder as it builds and builds, in your chest, at the base of your spine, and against that spot deep inside you that has you fluttering around him. You promised one more, and you're ready to put on a show it'll never forget.

But that's the opposite of what Joel wants. He delivers a sharp slap to your clit to get your attention.

"Look at me, baby. Don't look at the camera," he grits out. You whine, turning your head to face him, your expression pleading with him to keep doing that. He acquiesces with a smirk, slapping it again, purposefully and repeatedly to punctuate his demands. 

"Ya look at me when you cum, alright?" 

Slap. 

"Nowhere." 

Slap. 

"Else." 

His hand collides with your cunt a little harder, and even he moans at the contact. 

Slap.

"Ya don't close your eyes, ya don't look away. Wanna see those pretty eyes when I fill you up."

He releases your breast to grip your chin between his thumb and index finger, holding you in place.

"C'mon, pretty girl. Cum for me."

Then, his assault really begins. He jerks into motion, his hips slamming into yours frantically, matching the sweet, torturous pace of his fingers' rough touch. 

Everything goes fuzzy. You feel its steady approach, a surprisingly gentle wave that trickles from where the head of his cock meets your depths, past every sensitive pressure point to where you're gushing onto his coarse curls. But, as it peaks, you barely feel anything at all. A beat of numbness that makes you believe maybe that was all you had left in you.

A moment later, there's euphoria. You're cumming so hard, your vision blacks out, and all you can sense is your bottom half locking down and Joel sobbing into your shoulder while he empties into you, just like he promised.

He fucks you through it, quiet whimpers and murmured praise flowing uncontrollably from his lips. He tells you how tight you are, how your pussy's choking his cock and milking him dry. How good you've been and how perfect you are. He says all of it just for you, but the camera hears it, too.

For a while, he thrusts into you lazily, savoring his sensitivity and sighing through your final aftershocks. Maybe it's punishment for everything he put you through. Or maybe he just likes the syrupy pain of it. Either way, his girth nestled inside you is comforting now that you're both loose-limbed and pleasantly sticky with each other's release. 

He lets out a disappointed grunt when he eventually softens and slips out, right around the time your vision returns and the brain fog starts to clear. The flashing red light at the foot of the bed catches your attention again, and you're struck with a sudden idea. One last thing you want him to have on tape. 

Sliding haphazardly off his lap, you position yourself on your hands and knees, the camera situated with the perfect view of your core. You peek behind you, shooting a sly smile at the lens before you part your folds, allowing a thick glob of cum to leak out of your swollen cunt and drip down to your clit. Before it can fall to the sheets below, you gather up the mess with your fingers and shove it right back inside you, where it belongs.

Joel groans heavily in response, and his body finally gives out, collapsing against the headboard. You can't help but laugh, exhausted and sated, close to collapsing, yourself. Crawling back on top of him, you wrap your limbs around his neck and waist, and crash your lips messily into his.

As he returns your kiss with sleepy enthusiasm, he tugs you down flush against his chest. His hands slide down your sides to teasingly squeeze your ass, and you pull away with a gasp, intent on teasing him right back, but the bright grin on his face gives you pause. 

Now that your head is clear and you're starting to recover, you remember everything that led to this. That, after too many agonizing weeks, you finally got to have him again, in the flesh and in ways you never have before or thought you ever could. And you'll get to relive it over and over, as many times as you need on those lonely nights when he's not there to take care of you.

"I'm glad you came over," you smile softly, unwinding an arm from around his shoulders to brush back his messy curls. "I really missed you."

His grin widens, and he melts into your touch. God, he's...baffling. A total enigma. You wonder how you'll ever reconcile this man with the one on film, but, then, his eyes soften and it becomes clear. Both men love you. Both are Joel.

"Missed you, too, baby. Y'got no idea how much," he says earnestly and with so much tenderness.

"I think I got the picture," you snort affectionately, leaning down to brush your lips against his.

You kiss him again, and your tangling bodies knock over the camera just as the dead battery indicator flashes twice on the screen, then cuts to black.

thanks for reading!

[luveline]

hii hope youre doing well! could i request coworker!james where r comes in to work sick and he gets worried?

fem!reader, 1.3k

It’s getting old, the whole charade. James didn’t like you and now he does. You used to piss him off, now you don’t. Somehow, someway, he’s seen parts of you he couldn’t help but love, in your voice, how you talk; in your hands, your touch; in your emails worst of all. Who ever thought that James could fall in love on Outlook? 

Dearest desk mate,

Where are you? It’s 9.45 and you aren’t here. You realise work starts at 8.30? Besides my worry, I need the invoice for Lang and Co. and Remus doesn’t have them either.

You’re my only hope, 

James

You email back a stringy fifteen minutes later. 

James, 

I’ll be there soon. I can’t attach the file from my phone but I will send it to you the second second I get there, I know you asked meyesterday. I’m sorry for holding you up .

James reads your email with a frown. Your typos are unlike you. He wonders if perhaps you’re texting and driving, which is abhorrent, but you walk into the office a minute later, so you must’ve been responding to him as you walked. 

You duck straight into the manager’s office. James can hear you say sorry before the door is fully closed, craning his neck for a good look at you. 

Remus laughs shamelessly. “Worried about her?” 

“About who?” he asks, even as his chair creaks and threatens to snap under his weight, leaning back to see you through the frosted glass. 

“She’s not going anywhere now she’s here, James. Nobody stops by for social visits.” 

James relents when he realises you may be in there for a little while. The rain today is aggressive against the window, condensation dripping down the windows to pool atop the radiators. You hate it; you love the radiators when they’re working in the winter, but sad summer days with rubbish weather bog you down. Either way, the condensation wets your elbows or gathers on your desk —it’s not nice. James grabs a wad of tissues from the box on his desk and begins his quick mission. 

“Oh, my god. Jamie, you can’t be serious.” 

“I'm avoiding electrocution.” 

“You’re cleaning up for her,” Remus says, putting his face in his hand to watch him with a softer smile, “it’s nice of you, really, but you can’t expect me to pretend I believe you when you say you don’t like her for much longer if you’re going to do stuff like this.” 

“Now say that five times fast.” 

His heart drops when you clear your throat, caught, sodden tissue in hand. You don’t eyeball him, there’s no scorn, you clear your throat again and all but collapse into your seat. 

“Hey,” James says. 

You tip your head back. “Hi, James.” Your eyes are bloodshot, and, to James’ surprise, you aren’t wearing a lick of makeup. You look very pretty but very tired, too. 

“You okay?” 

Remus bends around the desktop. “Yeah, are you okay? 

“I’m fine,” you drop your head back with some vertigo, and press your hands to your eyes. “I’m not very well, is all.” 

“What’s wrong?” Remus asks. 

“Just poorly. Um, I have a bad headache, and my ears are ringing, but it’s not unmanageable. I’m full of sudafed.” 

“Can’t you go home? We can manage without you until you’re better,” Remus says.

“I had all that time off a few weeks ago,” you say. You’d been ill not so long ago. 

“You can have some of my sick days,” James says immediately. 

You rub your eyes hard enough to make James’ ache in sympathy. “Doesn’t work like that.” 

“You really shouldn’t be here if you’re sick,” James says. 

“I won’t get you sick, I promise. I brought hand sanitizer, I’m not sneezing or coughing, I’m just aching.” Your movements are lethargic as you lean back in your chair, the slow roll of your shoulders and the limp cross of your arms over your stomach hard to ignore. 

James rounds the desk to chuck his tissues in the little bin beneath it. “I don’t think either of us are worried about you getting us sick, lovely.” 

Your face crumples quickly and neatens up again just as fast. “My head just hurts,” you say, rubbing your forehead. You manage to summon a wobbly smile despite your pinched brows. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” 

If it were Sirius, James would thrust a bottle of water and a pack of ibuprofen at him and tell him to chill out. It it were Remus, the expression would turn his heart, and he’d give his friend a good pat on the back. You aren’t Sirius nor Remus, you’re not so close to him that James knows what to do, but what use is he if he doesn’t try?

“Can I make you a cup of tea?” James asks. 

“That’s cruel,” Remus says, “your tea is like milky disappointment.” He stands with a smile James hates, some playful conniving mixture with good intentions deep, deep down. “I’ll make it. James, why don’t you turn the radiator?” 

“Is that okay?” James asks. 

“What?” 

“Do you think that’ll make you feel better, the radiator?” James asks. 

“I can do it.”

“No, it’s okay, it hurts your hand. I’ll turn it up.” He weaves back in between your chair and the radiator. Your desk is close enough to be faced with your thighs, but James doesn’t get half as distracted by them as he does your twitchy face. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks. 

“You and Remus worry too much.” You give him the side eye. “Why do you care?” 

“I think we’re a little bit past pretending we don’t like each other, aren’t we?” 

He turns the radiator on with less struggle than he’s anticipating and holds his hand to the bottom until he feels the metal warming. “Tell me if that gets too hot for you,” he says, standing. 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” 

“No, really,” you say, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “thanks for worrying about me. I’ll feel better in an hour.” 

“Did you eat breakfast?” He brings his hand up to wipe a stray fibre from your cheek, “Why were you late?” 

“I…” Your eyes follow his hand as he lowers it. Emboldened, James raises it again, wiping at a phantom fibre. “What is it?” 

“Little hair on your cheek.” 

“I slept late, and I felt strange in the car so I parked for a bit, and… I don’t know. I should’ve stayed home, but you know what he’s like about sick days.” 

“You feel alright now, other than the headache?” 

“Just heavy.” 

James spots Remus coming back and steps away. “You’ll be alright, okay? Don’t worry too much. Do some of the top spreadsheets and we can manage the rest.” 

“You don’t have to do that for me.” 

James does, really. Remus gives you your mug of tea and one of the plastic wrapped muffins from the kitchen, both boys keeping watch over you like a vigil. If you were well enough to notice you’d complain, but you spend the next few hours sipping at your tea as it turns cold, and nibbling at little bits of muffin, clearly tired. 

You email James the Lang and Co. invoices four hours after he’s asked for them with a sorry and a frowny face emoticon. James wants to kiss you on the forehead, feels it so strongly it becomes a different kind of wanting, to look after you and for you to want him to do that. He’s in way too deep. There’s not much he can do. 

“You want some more tea?” he asks, leaning over to grab your discarded mug.

“Yeah, please, Jamie.” 

James’ fingers wobble around the mug. 

Remus glances up from his phone. 

“Of course,” James says, smiling, “coming right up.” 

Jamie, he thinks. Friends call him Jamie. He can be your friend, he’d love to be your friend, but Jamie. Even sick, you say it sweetly. He trips over himself trying to get what you asked.