#flipped the script there a little didn't I?

[en-bitch]

Oh to present a sub with a present and tell them they can have it, but they need to open it with their mouth. It takes them a few tries to undo the knots and you have to stop their hand from instinctively moving towards it "ah ah, no paws"

They unwrap it to find a shiny collar with their name. "It's for you, for being such a good pup" you tell them as you put it around their neck. "Now can puppy say thank you like we practiced"

"Than-"

"Ah, use your puppy words"

"Bark"

"Good puppy"

You move on to the bed, beckoning them to crawl to you on all fours, smiling as they hesitate to get on the furniture. "Up," you say, patting the bed and stroking their hair as they manage to jump up. Your hand moves to the back of their neck, ready to guide them.

"You know what we're doing today, why I got you all puppy like?"

They shake their head

"I know you've not been sleeping puppy, you've been struggling to relax haven't you?"

They let out a small whine of affirmation

"Well we're going to fix that, rest your head on my lap" slowly guiding their head with your hand. They pout a little as they were expecting something more, but they accept nevertheless and do as they are told.

"I know you wanted to have some fun, but don't worry, I've got you collared and barking like a good puppy, you're mine and I'm going to take my time enjoying you." As you finish that thought your hand which was moving slowly down their spine reaches the end and gently teases them, moving back up before they get too excited.

"But for now, your health is my priority and I need you to rest up ok. Let all the thoughts that have been keeping you up wash away, they're human thoughts, not puppy thoughts. They're too complicated for you to understand right now, so they don't matter." You continue stroking their head until all the exhaustion of being up for so long finally hits them, drifting them off to sleep. You pull the blankets over them to keep them warm and continue to lie there, you'll join them in sleep too, once you know they are in a deep enough sleep. Your cute little puppy is going to be ok

[hoshigray]

Pleasurable Practice

Here's what I got: when you're left in headquarters to study for an upcoming language skit, your boss and work crush, Miguel O'Hara, does what he can to help his subordinate. And he does, in more ways than one...

A/n: It's been a week since I saw the film in theaters, and my brain hasn't been the same. I tried very hard not to write for this man, but here we are. Sighhhh, I swear I wasn't this bad when playing EoT (curse you Oscar Issac, and the ATSV art department!!!). And it doesn't help that my social feeds are full of him...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece! It's WAY longer than I wanted, but I guess that's meant to show how much fun I had writing, hehehe~. Also, ty so so much for 600+ followers!!

Cw: Miguel x fem!reader - some ATSV spoilers so tread carefully - sexual context so minors DNI - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - clitoral play (Miguel's fangs lightly brush your clit, but doesn't bite it) - praise - kisses on the stomach - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love; vida/my life) - sexual acts in public - outside intrusions, but you two don't get caught.

Wc: 2.8k

"Hey, Lyla. You sure you wanna leave me here?"

"Aww, you scared something would happen without me?" She chuckles when you shrug. "You'll be fine; everything's been taken care of for today. If something pops outta nowhere, you know where to find Miguel or give me a call. Alright, I'm outta here. Cya tomorrow~."

"Bye, Lyla~" With that, the pixelated woman signs off from your line of sight, and you slump into your chair with a sigh.

It's late at night in Nueva York. The Spider Society headquarters is still active, but fewer people occupy the halls and sectors in these late hours, you being one of them. You're sitting at a conference table by the teleportation room, taking in Margo's shift. But since things are quiet around here, you use this time to work on your homework.

Well, you would've if a pair of hands didn't suddenly come from behind and blocked your vision. "Guess who?"

You shake your head with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be at Earth-50101 hanging with Gwen and Pav?"

The hands are removed, giving your shoulders a quick rub. "Can't say a quick bye before I'm off?" Hobie Brown walks from behind to sit on the table, avoiding the scattered papers on the surface. "What's all this? School?"

"Yeah," You pick up a paper with color-coordinated dialogues. " I got a reflection to finish and need to read this script for a skit in my modern language class on Wednesday."

"What language?"

"Spanish." You flip the script for him to look at. A giggle slips from you. "Suppose you can't help me, huh?"

Hobie grins. "Yo lo haría si pudiera." Your eyes go big. Of course, the guy who "doesn't believe in consistency" would know a thing or two about other languages.

".....Please stay and help me."

"Can't, perhaps next time." Another heavy sigh as the tall other gets up from the table and opens a portal to Pavitr's universe. "We'll save some snacks to bring back tomorrow. See ya then."

"Bye, Hobie." You groan with your head meeting the table surface as the portal vanishes with Hobie's dismissal. In despair, you lift your head up and proceed with your work.

It's about 11 p.m., and you were able to finish your paper in about two hours. It's now time to work on your Spanish script. Unfortunately, your class partner can't be here (obviously) to say his lines with you, but you two promised to highlight your lines and recite on your own downtime. So you follow through with the blue lines — your lines — avoiding the red lines and announcing all the words to the best you can.

After the third time around, you start to get to the rhythm of it. So in tune with what you're doing, you don't mind your surroundings as you circle around the table with your face glued to your script.

"What're you doing?"

However, it all comes to a halt when a voice startles you. So used to the silence and your own tone that you didn't notice a familiar man creep from behind you. Your eyes widen at the tall and well-built figure before you.

Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099 and the leader of the Spider Society — your boss who you have a major crush on and is still waiting for you to reply after nearly scaring you to death.

"O-Oh, Miguel, umm," you quickly straighten yourself up, but the heat in your face encroaches. "Sorry, didn't see ya there. I was just looking at this script."

"A script?" He slightly tilts his head, surveying your moves as you sit back at the table. He follows and peers behind your shoulder to see what you're working on. "For what?"

"It's for a skit in my Spanish class. I'm reciting my lines for Wednesday." He nods at your answer, glancing around to see you're alone. "Lyla signed off for a while, but she told me to tell you that if you 'need anyone to put a leash on you,' Jessica would answer the call."

The man narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth, "of course she said that..." was all he murmured under his breath from his pixelated peer's words. With a heavy sigh, he turns back to the paper in your hand and extends out his. His silent request is answered when you pass him the sheet to skim. A brow is lifted. "Is the skit like some kind of married couple or—"

You confirm. "Yes. Our unit is on relationships, and my partner and I wanted to do a skit where the husband — my partner — comes home and surprises his wife with their favorite flower and then gives a nice speech on how much he loves her." Miguel still reads the script, but you continue on. "Luckily, our instructor said it's not our final where it's required to talk entirely in Spanish. So, we can say some English phrases or words if our brains go blank."

Miguel finally stops examining the script and eyes at you. "I can help."

Huh? "Excuse me?"

"You're the blue lines, right?" Correct. "Then I can be the red lines and help you practice."

Wait, no! "Oh no, there's no need for that, Miguel! I'm sure you're busy looking at the screens on your station and—"

"No pasa nada, Y/n," You gulp when he grabs a chair and sits close to you. "I'll say your partner's parts, and you reply with yours." There's no use in arguing with him out of this, so you just follow suit.

For the past thirty minutes, you and Miguel have been practicing. Sometimes he'll call you out on words you forget or mispronounce, which hurts your little heart being scolded like a child. But then there are times when he praises you for saying something correctly without second-guessing, or he'll ask for a pen to scratch off something and write a better phrase for you to say. And you can tell that your memorization's been improving thanks to his help. Maybe there was no need to be nervous.

The time is now 11:46, and you feel way more confident about this skit than before. Miguel can also tell by how much you've performed that you'll do fine on Wednesday. Guess that should do it. He puts the script down and gets up, heading back to his original post.

"Hey, wanna do the actual skit with me?"

Huh? "What?"

"Well, I was thinking," You squeak. "Maybe we can try acting out the skit without the paper now that I'm kinda getting the hang of it? But, I mean, that's only if you're okay with it, ya know..."

His brows trench down. Miguel knows he shouldn't do it; there are many universes in his post that he needs to keep an eye on in case anything pops off. He can't afford to just act out a scenario for some class. However, when he glances back at you, he faces mixed feelings. Your eyes look at his, nibbling on your bottom lip, and your fingers fidget with each other as you wait for his answer.

Miguel knows he shouldn't...but it won't hurt to comply this one time.

"Fine," your heart skips when he turns back to face you fully. "But don't mention it to Lyla or Jess. I'll never hear the end of it from those two."

"Of course!" You reassure him as you ready yourself, mentally calming the happiness brewing inside down. "You go."

He nods and plays the scene. He acts like he opens a door and holds an imaginary object. "Estoy en casa, cariño."

"Oh, bienvenido a casa, bebé!" You rush to Miguel and give him a hug. You feel him go rigid, and you freeze. Wait, he's still my boss and not my actual partner! Oh, God, I bet he regrets doing this now...Ughhh!! Commit now, cry later!

You quickly improvise and pull him by his spider suit to come close, placing pretend kisses on his cheeks. "Llegas pronto a casa, mi guapo muñeco. Is something wrong?"

Miguel stares at you for a few seconds before he blinks and coughs. "Ahem, Querida, vine temprano porque es tu cumpleaños. Y quería darte esto." The hand with the invisible object comes up, and you take it.

"Dios mío, ¿mi flor favorita en mi día especial?" You give the man a warm smile and place a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin lovingly. Miguel hitches his breath. "Eres demasiado buena conmigo, muñeco. Pero no tenías que regalarme nada."

It takes Miguel a moment, but he coughs once more and returns to the task. "Puede que la flor no fuera necesaria, pero tenía que conseguirla para ti, mi amor." He puts a hand on yours that's still on his cheek, now it's your turn to slow your breathing. "Cada vez que veo esta flor, sólo puedo pensar en ti. No sólo hoy, sino todos los días. Veo todo lo que haces por mí y nunca lo doy por sentado. You are my everything, Y/n. Tú eres mi mundo. Mi luz. Mi corazón. Mi… Mi…"

He stops, noticing your expression and shallow breaths. Your eyes never leave his, mouth agape, and your attention entirely on his words— no, on him. Even in this little act, you dare not move or say something out of turn. Listening to the man before you intently, your hand still in his.

He knows he shouldn't, but Miguel leans into you, and a small gasp leaves you before his lips press onto your soft ones. "....Mi alma."

Your brain short-circuits, the feel of his lips overtaking you. You awkwardly kiss him back, resulting in a moan from Miguel. He grabs your waist while pushing himself forward, making you walk backwards until you hit the table. The bump has you two break the kiss, forcing you back to reality.

Miguel says nothing, and so do you, your eyes honing in on his deep red orbs. Your thoughts go too fast that your head pounds. What? What was that? Did he mean to do that??

"Túmbate."

He captures your attention. "What?"

"Lie down, mi amor." He commands in a stern voice. Hesitance restrains you, yet you still follow orders and sit on the table with your back to the surface. A small smile creeps up on Miguel, and he leans down to plant more kisses on your sweet lips. "Good. Now, say your part."

Slow smooches from your chin to your neck leave you breathless. Although the heat in your face is unbearable, you play along and stick to the script. "My wonderful husband...Y...You are so thought—"

"Se supone que está en español, Y/n." He corrects you. Lifting your shirt to reveal your abdomen. Miguel kisses your exposed tummy while his hand snakes past your bottoms, pressing a finger down on the wet spot of your clothed vulva. Your toes curl as your first moan leaves puffy lips. "Try again."

You intake a deep breath. "Ere...Eres muy considerado con—Mmmm....conmigo." Your bottoms and undergarments are now off, your bare cunt out for Miguel to see. The older man props your legs upward with both hands as he brings his face close to your pussy. He lightly blows on it, and you bite your lip from the cold air. "Keep going, mi vida."

"Cuando....no haya luz en mi—Oooh!!" Miguel flicks your clitoris with his tongue before nestling it between your soaked folds, sucking and laving your essence. "Nnnmp! Mi-Miguel, I can't do thisss...Your tongue, it feels so, so—Oh Christ..."

His ruby eyes peek at your face. "But you were doing just fine, Y/n." The way he says your name feels so sinful, so forbidden. But so pleasing to the ears. "Repeat it."

His tongue goes back to torment your slit. The risque noises the wet muscle makes with your slick-covered chasm ring your eardrums. Ecstatic whimpers fill the space around you, and you grab tufts of Miguel's brown hair when his tongue flicks your clit again. He's impatient, so you concede.

"Cuando no haya luz en mi vida....Haaaahhh, sé que estarás ahí para protegerme." Miguel pushes your tender bud against his teeth. His canine brushing on your pearl, causing you to jerk. "Eres mi sombra...Mi—Ahhhh!....escudo....Mi rey."

He chortles, "Good job, mi alma."

Satisfied with your cooperation, the man sucks on your precious sex as his forefinger nestles between your folds, your slick providing lubricant to naturally push his digit through your entrance. You jolt with a sharp cry, tears falling from your beautiful face.

His tongue and fingers go faster, and your release climbs higher with every lick. The stimulation of your poor cunt and clitoris is hardcore that you come in a few seconds, the walls of your chasm fluttering around Miguel's fingers coated with your personal fluids.

Your heavy pants slow down to steady your body that subsides from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Miguel withdraws his mouth and fingers from you, standing upright to take in your figure.

He scoffs with a tiny grin, licking his lips. "Amorcito."

You open your mouth to say something, but a flash of colors and shapes captures the attention of both of you. Your eyes go wide. Oh no, someone's coming!

With haste, you immediately grab for your bottoms and underwear before taking cover under the conference table, using it to quickly put your clothes back on before someone enters through the portal. That someone was Jessica Drew, making her arrival known by revving her motorbike.

"Jess," Miguel puts on his usually serious face. But on the inside, he's almost as nervous as you. Because he swiftly pulls a chair out to cover his erection lower regions.

"Hey, Miguel! I thought I'd find you here." The woman addresses him when she's done a lap around the table. Her portal vanishes from the scene. "I've been trying to call you through your watch. You not wearing it?"

He looks down at his wrist where it was supposed to be. "...I was using the restroom, so I left it on my station."

"Mmm, I figured." Jessica then notices the paper and backpack on the table. "This is Y/n's stuff, right? Where are they?"

"R-Right here, Jess!" To her surprise, you come out from the table with your bottoms fully secured. "Sorry, I was looking for my pen before packing up." You smile to ease the awkward tension and your racing heart.

"Oh, okay then." Jessica nods to your words and turns to Miguel. "Anyway, I was calling you up because I need backup. The guy I was dealing with somehow switched places with another villain. Took care of the other one, but my guy's elsewhere."

He hums. "Lyla."

"That's me." The yellow-pixelated woman with pink heart-shaped glasses appears once more.

"Where are the coordinates of the anomaly Jess was handling?"

"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"

"...."

"What's the magic word?" The tiny woman teases him while you and Jessica hold in your laughs.

Miguel's brows furrow with a slight pout. "....Canyoupleasesend—"

"Woah, woah, woah," Lyla gets closer to his face with each word, raising his irritation as she does so. "Little too fast there."

"Can you please give us the co—"

"Already gave it to Jess."

"Then what was the point—"

"You know how much I love to pester ya," her smile doesn't help squander his frustration, not when he also hears the exchanged giggles between you and Jessica. "And call that payback for not having your watch on you."

To avoid their eyes seeing Miguel's situation, he leaves and fetches his watch quickly after being repeatedly teased by the two women. He returns ready with his mask on and the device on his wrist. Lyla and Jess are waiting for him, same with you and all your stuff packed up. It's 12 in the morning now, you have to get home. "Ready?"

"Yup, see ya there." The woman on her bike starts it up. Lyla disappears when the dimension is opened. "Bye, Y/n!"

"Bye, Jess!" You wave goodbye to the woman, who does one final lap before entering the portal to her new destination. And now you're back to being alone with Miguel, who you find looking at you. You gulp and say your thoughts. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them! And, sorry that it happened. I was being a little too close to you in the first—"

"Hey." Miguel lifts a hand to stop you from rambling on further, and you listen. "Your skit. When is it again?"

It takes you aback that he asks, but you still reply. "Wednesday?"

"Hm. Alright then." And with that, he walks to the portal to his next mission. But before he exits, he peers from his shoulder and proclaims something.

"Tell me how you did on Wednesday, then we'll continue with this talk."

[junkissed]

bedroom exclusive

member — actor bf!jun x f reader  genre — smut, (playful) angst, fluff word count — 3.9k  synopsis — seeing your boyfriend on tv kissing another girl definitely doesn't feel good, but he's got plenty of time to make it up to you. and he plans on letting you know that you're the only one on his mind.  smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, kissing, fingering, jun likes to be a tease, reader likes to be a brat, some jealousy but it's (mostly) pretend, all my fics have disgustingly happy endings i can't help it sorry notes — requested by @miwayu v this idea has been sitting in my inbox for 783 years but i have finally finished it !! big thanks to @onlymingyus for proofreading. i hope you enjoy!  

"well, how come you never kiss me on the couch like that?"

jun crosses his arms with a huff. "first of all, yes i do, and second of all, it's not like the scene was my idea! i didn't write the script!"

he's right about everything, but you still can't help but feel upset. no, not upset: you have to admit to yourself that you're a little... jealous. jealous that everybody gets to see how your jun kisses someone, how he holds someone, how he closes his eyes and wraps his hands around and how he touches someone. it's exactly what he looks like when he's doing all of that with you, so watching your boyfriend do all of those things with someone who isn't you is jarring, to say the least. but at the end of the day you know it's acting, and that after the cameras are turned off and the staff goes home for the night, he's doing all of that for real with you and only you. but even though you're not really angry with him, you still feel like pouting.

you stay quiet, trying to think of something to say, but jun speaks. "baby, if it really has you so worked up, then why don't i just show you?"

his question catches you off guard, and you look over at him in suspicion. "show me what?"

but as soon as the question leaves your lips, jun is putting his arms around you and flipping you down onto the couch. everything happens so fast that you barely comprehend what's happening until your back is flat against the cushions and he's positioning himself on top of you, caging you in with his arms and his legs straddling either side of your hips. your heart races when you look up and see the familiar look in his eyes as he holds himself above you. 

you don't try to hide the whine that escapes you, and jun grins in satisfaction as he leans down, his face hovering just centimeters above yours. "show you what it's like to be under me, darling. no cameras, just you and me."

your eyebrows knit into a frown and you turn your cheek to the side, away from him.

he sighs, but your refusal just makes him even more determined to convince you otherwise. "come on, baby, don't act like that. it isn't real. this is real, and i know you know the difference."

he presses his lips against your neck, feeling the way your pulse jumps beneath your skin as he gently leaves a trail of kisses down your throat. your curiosity gets the better of you and you turn your head back to look at him, only to find him staring into your eyes, his fixed gaze never leaving you as he works his way across your neck. 

the familiar feeling of his large hands roaming your body makes your skin warm, and you do your best to ignore the traitorous rush of slick between your legs. you can only pretend to be mad for so long before you give in, and it's beginning to seem easier and easier with every move he makes, working you up in ways only he knows how. he knows your body like the back of his hand, knows exactly which buttons to press, knows exactly what to do to get you begging and pleading for more. 

but still you have the urge to fight him, not wanting to let him have the satisfaction of your pleasure just yet. "i don't know. it looked pretty real to me," you tease him.

he kisses a sensitive spot on your neck and sucks on it a little, gentle enough not to leave any marks but still more than enough to make you stifle a gasp. 

"are you being a brat on purpose, or are you really mad?" he asks, his voice a touch softer than before. he hopes you're not seriously upset, and he knows you like to make jokes, but if you're really hurt then maybe he needs to switch gears.

"both," you reply with a pout, but you lift one hand to run your fingers through his hair, a quiet reassurance that you're alright. "i'm really mad that you're not inside me yet."

his eyes light up, and he begins to suck at the spot on your neck harder, this time enough to bruise. "well, brats don't always get what they want right away," he says, and you shiver as his teeth graze over your skin. "right now i wanna take my time with you. so are you going to behave and let me do that, or are you going to keep acting like a brat and make me leave you with nothing?"

"i think you'll fuck me no matter what i act like," you say, and your hand trails down his stomach to feel where his cock strains against his pants, just as you suspected. he may know all your body's secrets, but you know just as much, if not more, about his. "because you love me too much. and you like this too much."

"but this isn't about me, baby," he hums, and the vibrations against your skin almost make you moan. "what i like doesn't matter right now. what matters is you deciding whether you're gonna keep playing these games, or if you're gonna let me fuck all those doubts out of your pretty head once and for all. it's your choice, sweetheart."

his trail of kisses moves back up your neck, but his lips stop short at your chin, clearly waiting for you to answer.

you pretend to think it over, narrowing your eyes in pretend thought, still refusing to give him the response he wants.

"why are you making this harder for yourself, baby? you know i love you," he whispers, his eyes darting back and forth between yours. "you have nothing to be mad about, because look where i am right now. i'm not with anybody else but you, and i don't want to be with anybody else but you. so drop the act, honey. i dropped mine."

you sigh out, both your hands finally coming to rest on the back of his neck. your fingers weave into his hair, twirling his locks between your fingertips until you can't take it anymore, breaking out into a smile that gives him the cue he was waiting for.

he leans down and finally pushes his mouth against yours, and your eyes flutter shut, your entire body relaxing at the familiar feeling. his nose presses against your cheek, his lips parted slightly as his hands hold the back of your neck, tangling in your hair splayed out across the couch. you let out a shaky breath and he swallows it, pushing his lips deeper into yours. 

his mouth moves slowly but his kisses are anything but gentle. his tongue prods at your upper lip and you welcome him, matching his pace and pulling him down towards you so you can wrap your arms around him to hold him tighter against your chest. 

he shifts above you, his knees straddling either side of you, and you can feel how hard he is. the image of him doing exactly this for millions of viewers flashes in your head, but any doubt is pushed out of your mind when he starts grinding his hips against your leg, groaning into your kiss. he might even be needier than you are right now, but you can't help teasing him just once more.

"is this bringing back fond memories?" you break away from his mouth to say, breathing heavily.

"shut up," he bites back, then exhales sharply. his voice is low when he speaks again. "the day we filmed that scene, all i could think about was you. it was the day we were supposed to have dinner at your parents' house, but i made you lie about being sick so we could stay home and i could fuck you in every room in the house instead. i didn't mention it at the time because i thought it'd kill the mood, but trust me when i say the only memories i have of that day are about you."

air catches in your throat and you glance up at him, but the look in his eyes is serious. he didn't tell you much about his schedules and  exactly which scenes he was filming on which day, so there was no way to tell what was happening on set unless you were there personally. you remember this particular day well— more accurately, you remember the days afterward that you'd walked with a limp.

"i thought you did it because you didn't want to have to eat my mom's overcooked chicken again," you respond, trying to cover your surprise with a breathless laugh.

"i did it because i wouldn't have been able to sit at that table and not think about fucking you on top of it," he says, and you can feel the heat creeping into your cheeks at the thought. "now, stop bringing it up, or i'll have to fuck that bratty attitude out of you."

"what if i want you to, though?" you retort. "maybe i need more convincing."

his nostrils flare, and he pushes his mouth against yours once more, drinking in the desperate sounds that leave your lips. "we both know you're a liar, but i'd still be happy to change your mind."

one of his hands trails down your chest, then your stomach, before finally stopping just below your belly button. you're sure he must be able to feel the heat radiating from between your legs, but he doesn't move, just rests his hand on top of your pants.

he stays still for a moment, and the way his hand hovers unpredictably makes your heart race, waiting for him to do something. suddenly he cups your clothed pussy without warning, and you moan out his name, the sound muffled by his lips as he kisses you harder. he relishes in the way your hips buck up against his hand.

he's in love with how you're already so desperate after just a few kisses, but he isn't faring any better himself; the weight of his cock aches, straining against his pants and against the side of your leg. it's almost embarrassing how you're both so needy for each other, yet he couldn't even begin to imagine anything hotter than this moment here with you.

maybe the directors had been onto something with those scenes. if anything, it just gives him more material to do with you. his mind wanders, running through each scene in his head and picturing it differently. kissing you on the kitchen counter, kissing you on the table, kissing you against the wall, kissing you on the bed, kissing you in the park, kissing you in the rain… so many possibilities, and he can't wait to try every single one with you.

it's not until you break apart from him, whimpered words tumbling out of your mouth as you plead with him to touch you, that he comes back to reality. those kisses can wait for another time. 

he plants a quick kiss on your upper lip before slipping his hand underneath the waistband of your pants. you exhale a sigh of relief at the feeling of his fingers on you, pushing your pants down your hips and kicking them away to give him better access.

"you're so wet already, baby," jun hums, swiping his finger over your dripping entrance and grinning when you shiver. "you like kissing me this much, huh?"

you manage to shake your head. "i like knowing you think about me when you're supposed to be kissing someone else," you breathe.

"i'm always thinking about you, sweetheart."

just like his mouth, his fingers start out gentle, running up and down through your folds and rubbing tiny circles around your clit. the warmth of his hand mixes with the warmth between your legs, and a shiver runs down your spine, already feeling the tension building in your stomach.

but soon it becomes not enough and you're just about to start begging him for more, but without you even having to ask he pushes the tip of his index finger into your pussy.

"fuck…" you moan against his lips, struggling to catch your breath. "i could cum just from that, jun, please—"

"mm, should i let you? or should i make you wait, from all this attitude you've been giving me?" he asks, pushing his finger deeper into you.

you can't even give him an answer, but he must decide to let you off easy this time, because he slides another finger into you. you moan, pulling his head closer to kiss him as his fingers start to move faster.

your eyes are squeezed so tightly shut it makes you dizzy, and you can feel your teeth knocking against jun's, but you're so lost you barely notice it.

he adds a third finger and instantly you feel yourself falling into the pleasure, clenching around him.

you frantically tear your lips from his, moaning and panting and gasping for breath as your high overtakes every part of your body. a rush of wetness pours from you, gushing out over his fingers as he continues to thrust them in and out of you, the added pressure of his thumb on your clit prolonging your orgasm. 

it takes a few moments but finally you come back down to earth, the feeling of the couch cushions under your back reminding you where you are and what you're doing. jun lays on top of you, his fingers still buried in your cunt and his mouth leaving kisses all over your face as you wait for your breath to return to you.

with a content sigh you push on his shoulder to make him sit up, and he kisses you once more before he leans away.

"are you comfortable?" he asks, and you look up at him in confusion at the question.

"very comfortable after that," you tell him with a giggle, propping yourself up on your elbows. "but otherwise yes. why?"

he smiles. "just wondering if you wanted to move to the bed. or the floor, if you feel like."

you purse your lips, giving him a pout. "i thought you said you were gonna fuck me on the couch?"

"clearly you still have the energy to be a brat, so my work here isn't done yet," he grins. "couch it is, then."

he pulls his shirt off in one quick motion before reaching down for your clothes, but you barely even notice him lifting your arms to slide you out of your shirt.

you've seen him shirtless hundreds of times by now, but he never fails to take your breath away. it's been too long since you've had a moment to stare like this anyway so you take full advantage of the opportunity, your gaze fixated on the sight of his bare chest and the way his muscles flex with movement. have his arms gotten bigger? they've definitely gotten bigger.

"like what you see?" he laughs when he notices you watching him, and you smack his arm playfully. he's corny, but you couldn't love him more.

"i do. and i'm not afraid to admit it."

"still mad you're not the only one who gets to see it?" he teases.

"mm, a little," you exhale. "but i'm the only one who can see it every day, in person, whenever i want. so at the end of the day it doesn't really matter what they see, does it?"

he stands up and pushes his pants down, a smile playing on his lips. "that's my good girl."

you can't help but continue to ogle him as he strips, the outline of his cock against his briefs so defined you can practically taste it.

"do you want to be on top, or me?" he asks, and your eyes belatedly move back up to his face.

"i thought you were gonna fuck the brat out of me, junnie," you tease him playfully. "how can you do that if i'm on top?"

he scoffs. "last time i ever offer you a choice, then. maybe i should just fuck your mouth instead, since you seem to think you're getting your way here."

"you say that like it's a bad thing," you laugh. "like i don't beg you to let me suck you off, like, twice a day."

"well, unlucky for you, that's not happening today," he says, and finally pushes his underwear down. his cock springs free and you groan, any argument you had instantly dying on your lips at the sight.

you know the look of lust on your face is blatantly obvious, but you couldn't care less. not when your boyfriend's gorgeous cock is mere inches away, yours and yours alone to see. it finally sinks in that all the scenes from his drama were just pretend sex, while you're having real sex. and boy, does it make your stomach flutter.

jun knows you all too well, knows how you get when you're around him and how you lose all control at just the sight of him naked. and he adores it. being naked in front of cameras and crew members made him shy, but being naked in front of you made him the proudest man in the world. the way you look at him as if he's the only person you've ever seen; he can practically see the stars in your eyes, and that alone is worth more than billions of strangers seeing him on a screen.

he drinks in every second of your reactions. the way your breath stutters when he leans over to wrap one of your legs around his waist, the way you shiver when he runs his hand along your thigh and the way your hands immediately find their way to his head as you try to pull him down towards you.

he can tell in the way your attitude has changed that you aren't mad (or even pretend-mad) at him anymore, and he takes this as his sign to bend down and kiss you again. 

"do you believe me now?" he whispers, his warm cheek pressed against yours. you close your eyes and feel the vibrations from his voice against your face, your grip on his hair tightening as you hold him as close as you possibly can.

"believe what?" you ask softly, though you already know what he's referring to.

jun hums. "that you're the only one i love."

"i never doubted that for a second."

he pushes his lips against yours and you swallow him, the both of you growing more desperate and more restless as he grinds his hips against yours.

you kiss him until you can't anymore, leaning your neck back against the couch seat with a breathless moan.

he moves his lips downwards, momentarily stopping between your breasts before he quickly sits back on his heels, angling his cock between your legs with practiced ease. 

it takes seconds for him to slide into you, a whine stuck in your throat at the pulsing feeling inside you. he pulls his hips back slowly, nearly slipping out before he pounds back into you. 

your hands yank him down again and he falls flat against your chest, quickly finding the best position to hold you as he continues to thrust into you.

his hands sit beside your head, cupping your cheeks as he pants and gasps and groans your name.

sweat-drenched pieces of jun's hair dangle above your face, but the only thing you see is the way he looks at you, his intense gaze communicating things far beyond words.

"jun…" you manage, everything else failing you as you melt into his touch. your body is on fire, there's so much you want to say and do but your head is spinning.

jun pulls you into another deep kiss and you let your eyes fall shut, letting him take over, mouths moving together so you can't tell where he ends and you begin.

"fuck, you're so perfect," he curses, his thrusts growing faster. "so beautiful."

"all mine, junnie," you moan, the only words you can remember. you're barely thinking about what leaves your mouth but you know exactly what you want to say, 

"i know, baby. i'm all yours," he pants, desperately kissing you anywhere his lips will reach. "nobody else's. yours."

it doesn't take much longer for the knot in your stomach to tighten until you can't hold back anymore. "so close, jun, please, 'm gonna cum," you choke out.

"just wait for me baby, just hold on," he pleads, and he shifts his hips just slightly to fuck into you at a different angle.

all it takes is just the way you say his name, the way you look up at him with lips swollen from his kisses, the way your brows knit together in concentration as you try your best to hold back your orgasm for him. the way he's so fervently yours, and he doesn't have to act or pretend or be anything less than a hundred percent genuine about the way he loves you and you love him.

your whole body shudders as you cum, spasming around him until it triggers his own orgasm and he lets go with a groan. his hips jerk as warmth floods your abdomen, and it seems like it goes on forever as he shivers in sensitivity.

he exhales, and you kiss his cheek gently as you feel him breathe against your chest.

after a minute he shifts his arms around you, still holding you as he sits upright and pulls you onto his lap, his cock still inside of you.

your head falls into the crook of his neck with a sigh, thoroughly spent. there's plenty of things you probably should be doing now, but it feels so nice to just sit and rest, feeling full and satisfied.

"i would say that was much more fun than filming for the show," jun says finally with a little giggle.

you hum, cheek still resting against his shoulder. "enough about the show. i have the real thing right here."

he grins. "so you admit you're not mad at me."

"how could i ever be mad at you, when you fuck me like that?"

"i know," he says proudly. "i just wanted to hear you say it. i'm a really good actor, aren't i?"

collecting the last of your strength, you sit back and pretend to glare at him, to which he responds with another giggle and a kiss to your nose.

"whatever," you tell him as he tucks a piece of your hair out of your face. "take me to shower and show me more of those scenes, and then i'll believe you."

but he's already standing up, keeping hold of your legs wrapped around his waist as he carries you down the hall. "oh, with pleasure."

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[fraugwinska]

Since @chefskjssart's artwork that I commissioned was such a BANGER, I felt like I needed to do something to show my gratitude. So, I messaged her and gave her free choice over a little One-Shot I'd gift her. And that's how we ended up here :D Where are my little TV Sluts at? You can thank Chef - and I hope you all have fun ;>

NSFW - Explicit Sexual Content - Minors DNI - 5.7k words

"Gotta say, Val, the revenue of your movies really skyrocketed this quarter, fuck me."

Vox flipped through the quarterly reports, eyebrows raised and a grin on his face while Valentino, very pleased with himself, lounged on the chaise next to Vox's desk, smoking.

"I told you I've made a good investment." He grinned and blew out a puff of smoke. "All the horny bitches out there are eating my movies up."

"It's more than that, you're even making headway into other rings, holy shit! We've even got a foot in the Lust Ring market, which is almost impossible with that kind of competition..."

Valentino hummed approvingly.

"And the best part: I didn't have to do much." He added and let the tip of his cigarette rest against his lips, his grin widening. "My newest author is a kinky little genius."

Vox turned his attention to the papers again, his smile slowly turning into a frown as he scanned the declining sales in Voyeurscopes.

"What are you talking about? All of your authors write pretty much the same shit, what could be so special about-"

Valentino laughed and shook his head. "That one is - believe me, carino. Poor bitch has the mind of a succubus on crack but she can't get off."

Vox looked up, an eyebrow raised in skeptic questioning.

"Can't get off?"

"Can't feel anything. Can't cum for the life of her." He replied, leaning back and spreading his arms. "Numb like a fucking dead fish."

"Or maybe she just hasn't found a good dick." Vox mumbled, returning back to the reports, skimming over the numbers.

"Mh, you be the judge amorcito. Because I tried." Valentino growled, taking a drag from his cigarette. 

Now that got Vox's full attention. The TV demon stared at his partner for a few seconds of silence, then laughed maniacally, almost falling off his chair while Val rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Fucking weird little thing, she is. She can write the craziest shit, the hornier the better. Writes like a damn porn beast, but has no clue what good sex actually feels like."

Vox heaved, wiping his screen as if in tears.

"Ohoho, Christ on a Cracker Val, maybe you've been out of the business too long… are you maybe losing that golden touch?"

Valentino sneered. "Ay, and you think you would've been able to get that bitch to cum? Be my guest, I'll gladly watch you fail."

Vox grinned at the moth, his eyes dangerously teasing. The reports were long forgotten - this was too entertaining, and Vox loved to be challenged, because he loved the feeling of superiority he felt when he succeeded. And that feeling would be so much more satisfying when he'd beat his long time partner and porn prince of pride at his own expertise.

"Wanna up the ante? Make a little wager out of it?"

Valentino scoffed, then chuckled deviously. He took another drag from his long cigarette, his cerise teeth glistening with red saliva as he began to drool in anticipation.

"You know I like to play, Voxxy. Especially if the odds are so much in my favor."

Another script done.

Your best one yet, if anyone asked you. But you knew no one asked ever, so why bother?

You stood up from your desk in your private office - being Val's favorite pen pet had it's perks afterall.

You skipped the stage of employment where you'd be cramped in one of these horrible cubicles together with the other overworked, caffeinated and tired writers, typing another outdated secretary-fuck-fest-plot while the other employees complained about their last bad lay and the shitty pay.

At least you didn't have to deal with any of that. Your room was quiet and peaceful, the door able to be locked shut and the walls soundproof. No distractions, no chit chat, no loud coworkers or malfunctioning printer noises. Just the humming sound of your computer, and the whirring of the A/C Val had granted you - a luxury that most of your colleagues bitched about behind your back.

You stretched, your tired bones popping into place and you sighed. You were done for the day. Finally.

With the deadline looming over you, you had been a bit late with the last part, and the thought of being late with your work made you sick. But Val pressed for another banger (pun intended) like your last one, 'Dante's Infern-Hoe' and you didn't want to risk the benefits you were offered so temptingly by being sloppy.

But the script for 'The Devil wears Nada' sat now, freshly printed, next to your laptop, the file saved locally and in the cloud, with about an hour to spare still. You smiled, content and relieved. An hour of paid slacking off was nice, and you checked with a glance that the electric door still was set on LOCKED before you flopped down at the two-seater by the window, grabbing the remote from the small side table and turned on the TV.

A familiar voice spoke through the speakers, and you relaxed into the pillows with a small sigh, eyes closed.

As shitty as the program in Hell was, one thing it had going for it was Vox. That smooth, hypnotizing voice of the overlord that held pride's media empire in his claws was a delight to your ears, and even the mindless, overplayed commercial jingles were pleasant enough if he was the one narrating them.

For the millionth time, it seemed, your hand wandered under the hem of your pants, fingers rubbing lazily at your cunt, as you listened to him talk, advertising the latest angelic protection device that didn't do what he promised it to do.

It was insanity at this point, doing something over and over again expecting a different outcome. Every night your fingers were cold and wet with your slick and your clit bloody and raw while you felt nothing of even your most violent and feverish touches, trying for minutes to hours to experience a sensation you wrote daily about without the satisfaction of any remarkable buildup or release.

It was no use, you knew it was a fruitless attempt, just like all the others. The most you got out of your endless tries was a slight tingle one time where you were so desperate you fucked yourself with an electric rod on its highest setting, resulting in a power outage in your apartment and a big fat fine from your landlord a few days later.

Still, you craved it. Craved to one day feel at least something. After the disappointing One-Night-cannot-Stand-the-thought-of-it with your boss, the literal porn mogul you were ready to just give up. If the face of pride’s sexdrive couldn’t get you over the edge, was there any chance at all?

Valentino had been the last in a long line of desperate attempts, paartners ranging from incubi, paid whores, porn actors to even sexbots made by Asmodeus, costing you a pretty penny just for the hassle of trying to get through the return hotline to get your money back, explaining No, you don’t know how it was possible that the cock of the ‘Fuckboy 3.0 XXL’ broke into pieces after one time usage. 

You chuckled humorlessly at the memory - It was truly a pathetic time in your eternal existence, filled with you masturbating alone in bed like a sad porn star, yearning to experience sex like you wrote about in your scripts. Maybe this was hells way to punish you for your sins, your personal plan of torture - To never experience the very thing that possessed you on the daily.

The television droned on in the background, Vox advertising his latest technological developments; new features on your phone that you really could not care less about. Despite his unusual appearance, Vox was one of your absolute go-to Stand-in's for your plot protagonists. Charming, suave, depraved when called for and a dominating, thorough lover that took what he wanted, but with so much skill that his partner would cum threefold before he'd even begin to think about finishing. Cocky and yet sensual. Aftercare included. All the things your colleagues were too dumb to include, no wonder their scripts were a bust.

Yes, it was hell and therefore tastes were more... depraved than in the living world, but that didn't mean the populus secret wishes for some sort of common sexual decency was out the window, goddamn.

Your mind wandered away from your depressive ruminations, your hand never stopping its circular pattern around your swollen clit as your thoughts started to wander to its usual place, the only way that came close to what you longed for and what was the source for all of your best-selling porn scripts. Your boundless realm of fantasy.

'Come out, come out, wherever you are...'

Vox is standing in your doorway, his silhouette prominent against the bright white neon light coming from the corridor of the empty floor. His suit, neatly fitted to every curve of his slender body, is showing just how thin his waist really is, but that does not come even remotely close to describe his broad shoulders and firm, wide chest, contrasting it deliciously. His navy blue skin reflects the harsh lighting in the hallway, his screen sharp and clear, digital eyes never leaving you as he closes the door behind him, dipping the room you're in in darkness, the only source of light his brightly illuminated screen where his digital, mismatched eyes are solely fixated on you, hiding behind the long backrest of your couch.

'Found you, babydoll.' he says with that god forsaken sultry voice of his as he reaches for your throat, long fingers wrapping themselves around your neck as your breath hitches and he pulls you up from your crouched position, his long tongue running over your collarbones, the wet trails feeling as cold on your skin as his appendage feels hot. 'Now remember what I said? Ready or not...'

He presses you into a wall, his big, hard erection rubbing teasingly through the layers of fabric on your already wet core as you whimper with want. '... here I cum.'

You moan his name, the imagined feeling so painfully surreal, and you wished once more that your working fingers would elicit some sort of real, bodily response.

A cough makes you freeze in your movements. Your fantasy shatters like a mirror shot with a bullet and your eyes fly open, expecting to see maybe a dumb segment of a rerun of 'Vox2Nite'. Instead, you see the actual, real TV demon overlord, standing live and in color just a few strides away with an expression that was a mixture of confusion, curiosity and slight annoyance.

"I'd ask if I am interrupting, but it seems you already had me on your mind, huh, doll?"

Realizing that you weren't - in fact - hallucinating, you immediately whipped your hand out from under your panties, sitting up, flustered like a child caught with their hands in the cookie jar. How did he get in? Did you forget to lock the door? No. Did he unlock it?! You must have missed his opening and closing of the door over the voice in your fantasy. The same voice that is now echoing in reality. Oh what a shameful ending for a perfectly good fantasy orgasm.

"Um... shit, sorry, Mr. Vox, sir. I was just, you know..." you scrambled, getting nervous under the actual gaze of him as he folded his arms, waiting for you to end that sentence with a pitiful smirk. Jesus Christ, those arms are slender and muscular…

"Thinking! Just thinking, making script... scenarios..."

"Uh-Huh. And how is that coming along?" He asked, seemingly unfazed by the display before him as he took a few steps towards you.

"Oh, uh, haha, I didn't really... finish..."

He stopped directly in front of you, shutting you up with a low chuckle and his hand around your wrist, the one attached to the hand that had been in between your folds just literal seconds ago, lifting them up to look at the still shimmering wet residue on your fingers with a sneer.

"Mhm. Yeah, I've heard you have some problems with that."

Now that was embarrassing as it was alarming, and you ripped your hand out of his grip. Or better, you tried to do so anyway. It was a pointless exercise, his hand had an iron-tight grasp around your wrist as he pulled you up with one swift motion, so fast you stumbled into him, face to chest, breath caught in your throat as you were made suddenly aware how huge he really was compared to you.

"W-wow, my kinda pathetic reputation precedes me it seems. That's..." just great is what you wanted to say, but all words failed you when he lifted the hand in his grasp to his face, his thick, long tongue slithering out of his mouth just to wrap itself around your digits, lapping up the sticky residue of your arousal, watching you as your pupils widen and you squirm in his grip, mortified and turned on at the same time.

"Eh. Not as pathetic as my business partner's failure to provide something he's built his reputation on, sweetheart. Unusually smart of him to get you under contract before you shout it from the rooftops." He hummed as he tasted you, sucking in the pads of your finger hungrily and without hesitation, and all you could think of, frozen stiff like a deer in headlights, was: What the fuck is happening?

"But Val never had the kind of mindset I have... I don't do failure... or better said: I always finish what I start." His low rasp vibrated in the air around him, echoing in your head, and the heat his voice had brought to your skin left your mind racing. You asked yourself panicking if you had written too many dumb porn plots or if he was really implicating what you thought he was implicating.

"So, whaddaya say, doll..." His breath tickled your cheek as he leaned in closer, pulling you flush against him, a soft grunt of content as his hard dick pressed into your soft belly, his mouth right next to your ear, one of his hands running teasingly down your sides as he licked your ear shell. "...care to see if I can end your unlucky streak?"

'Fuck, yeah.' You thought, and almost moaned out loud as you let your head fall back to make room for his waiting mouth, when suddenly you stopped in your tracks. His hands were already groping over you greedily, squeezing your ass, your thighs, your breasts as he looked down on you, surprised to see your conflicted face.

"W...Wait. What's in it... for you?"

"Mh, you're clever. That's a new one." Vox laughed, his hand running up to the side of your face to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing small circles on the corner of your lip. "Me and Val made a little bet, you see, and well... Let's just say: I want this to work out just as much as you do, since my success depends on yours."

"Oh.." So Val was talking about you, that bastard. He had you sign an NDA when he hired you, given that you had been unwilling to make a soul contract with him, but you guessed that that had been naively one-sided. Asshole.

Vox stroked your bottom lip, parting them before you opened them slightly on your own accord, his dark blue tongue languidly tracing the edges, waiting for your decision, coaxing you to decide in his favor. And even though you were kind of pissed at Valentino for running around telling people about your... situation - you couldn't deny it was tempting, turning fantasy into reality. And what was another overlord trying to do the impossible? Worst case - he'd try and fail, just as all the others did before, like the stupid moth pimp. At least you'd have some leverage for maybe another good deal for your silence on it. And in the highly unlikely best case…

With your decision made, you flicked your own tongue against his, humming at the unfamiliar taste and the sizzling static electricity on your tongue. Vox grinned, his sharp teeth pressing onto your lips, nipping at the sensitive flesh and growling with approval when your lips parted.

"Ohoho, baby, this is gonna be fun."

Vox ran his claws through your hair, loosening your already messy bun until your hair fell free with his playful pulls as he explored your mouth, deepening the kiss with every lick, until he could push his whole tongue into your mouth, moaning and grabbing the back of your head tightly as you let him fill you without the slightest hint of protest, fighting a desperate losing battle for air.

"Fuck, don't you need to... breathe?" you whispered after he finally pulled back, a wet trail connecting his tongue to yours, grinning down on you while your lungs burned for oxygen.

"Perks of being state of the art, sweetheart." he watched your swollen, drool covered lips - parted to catch your breath - for a few seconds longer before he inquisitively tilted his head. "Did you feel any of that?"

You contemplated lying, but figured honesty would probably be the best in this situation, shaking your head and giving him your most pitiful attempt at an apologetic smile, already bracing yourself for him to give up or get mad. "My lips tingle a little."

"Mh." He huffed as he pushed you back into the two-seater, your back hitting the cushions with a soft thump, and unceremoniously pulled on your very not-sexy-at-all sweatpants and slightly-more-sexy-but-not-quite panties until they slipped over your legs.

"How about this then?" He pressed his knee in between your legs to nudge them apart. "Can you feel any of this?" He spread your already wet slit open to run a cold claw over your hole, softly dipping first one, then two and lastly three of his fingers inside to stretch you further open and push it back in, repeating the movement slowly while keeping his eye contact trained on your face.

You hummed non-commitally, closing your eyes and pressing yourself into the cushions, trying to feel for any sensation that should come with every slow drag of his digits pumping inside of you, and not finding any of it was so fucking frustrating. You felt like you were not only disappointing yourself, but him, as stupid as that sounded. But with every added finger and still a lack of response, you saw the progression of frustrations in his face that you knew all too well - eyebrows furrowed, irritated twitches of the corners of his lips that turned into a snarl with the third added digit. You frowned, sighing and bit your lip - nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, and fucking nothing again, just another wet hole, the clenching of your walls a habit and reflex only, no pleasure whatsoever.

"It's no fucking use..." you whined, pressing your hands to your face in frustration and fear of looking back into his eyes, "I can't feel anything at a-aaAAH...!"

Your back arched at this strange jolt running down your spine, forcing you to grind down on his hand as a strong electric current buzzed from his claw tips right through your cunt, curling in your stomach in a hot wave of wanton need and knocking the wind out of you. Your eyes flew open just in time to see the flash of victorious satisfaction on his screen before his face turned fuzzy as you began to tear up.

"There's some reaction. There we go, sweetheart." He cooed and curled his fingers in that deliciously sinful way again, making your breath catch in your throat. For the first time since you can remember, you FELT. You dropped your hands from your flushed, hot face onto the plush of the couch, fingers desperately digging into the fabric, and stared at Vox with wide eyes. He winked, nudging his head to his buried fingers, and with a shattering gasp you could see neon blue bolts of electric sparks traveling down his slender arm, crackling around the soft flesh inside of your pussy that had never felt so sensitive.

"How are y-aaaa.... aaa-AAah...." he silenced any questions you might have had or possible retort with another shock wave traveling through his hand as he dragged his fingers in and out in an agonizingly slow pace, it had your ears ringing with white noise and your eyes water with unknown, strange pleasure.

You were shaking, and though it should have frightened you a lot more than it did to be electrocuted while doing something that could be considered borderline treason to Valentino (And it still had your cunt dripping on a whim), but there was nothing left for you to think of other than the sharp shocks making every nerve inside of you buzz, your thighs already trembling in anticipation of the possibility of an unknown, but oh-so-wanted climax. Yet it was somehow still out of your reach, out of your range of senses.

"I feel like we are getting closer, babydoll." The TV demon chuckled darkly, his voice over amplified, the electrical buzz reverberating loudly in the soundless room. "How 'bout we kick it up a notch, huh?"

He pulled out his fingers in a quick, cruel movement, making your pussy clench around nothing as you already mourned the feeling. Before you had the time to voice your loss however, he had your thighs already in his hands, pushing them back to almost fold you in half and spread them apart as wide as he could get them without hurting you. With a smirk he stuck out his tongue, inhumanely long, thick on its base and pointed at the end - and let his electric energy visibly spark around it. Holy Shit.

The moment his head dipped down and his appendage swiped through your puffed, red folds, you could feel your insides buzz in sync to his delighted moan. He began eating you out feverously and obscenely, not holding anything back, just like you wrote your most popular protagonists to do - NO, this was so much better than anything you've ever written or fantasized about, his tongue twisting in patterns that felt like nothing you've ever even came close to imagine before. It was like he powered your whole nervous system, overriding every strand of nerve with his own electricity, amplifying any touch, any lick and any suction that would normally not even register a thousand-fold.

"O-Oh my g... F-fffuuuuhhh-ck.. meeee..." you moaned in confusion and amazement, your legs shaking helplessly on either side of Vox's rectangle head as he fucked his tongue into you, switching between the deep, long, thorough thrusts and fast, small, teasing flicks into the wet heat of your cunt, coating his screen in a shining mix of your natural juices and his blue neon saliva. He sucked at the protruding of your swollen bundle of nerves, your sensitive clit twitching under his attention - it was maddeningly unreal. You felt like a complete, utter sham - if this was sex, you've never written it anywhere correctly.

"I'm working on that, sweetheart."

Vox smirked against your pulsing core, humming with satisfaction at your wet, gaping slit begging for him to push back in and fill you up again, making you ache for his tongue deeper and deeper, forcing every shred of sense you had to leave your mind as you bucked into his grip in desperation, chasing another intense jolt he held just out of your reach as he laughed deviously at your hungry reaction to his teasing antics.

You didn't care how pathetic you looked, how undignified or desperate you sounded. This was nothing short of fucking fantastic, this all new, unknown sensation that you deemed impossible to ever experience and an real, tangible orgasm so close you could almost grab it. You felt a violent greed, you needed more of this, more more more, you needed to cum and you knew exactly that only Vox was able to do it - but you needed him inside of you, pushing you into oversensitivity, no matter what was required to get you over the edge. Fuck all dignity, that ship had sailed the moment your back hit the couch.

You shook your head vigorously, choking down sobs of grateful pleasure that racked your body with every curl of his tongue inside of you and a guttural moan, high pitched and broken.

"P-Please... ah, Pl..please..." you panted and Vox felt for your thighs to hold you steady. His claws sank in with such force into the soft meat of your legs he drew blood. "F... Fu..Fuck me.. please." you stammered and he smirked, a look of pure joy in his digital eyes as he stared you down.

"Oh, I will, baby." He smiled against your core, curling the tip of his tongue around your clit with just the right amount of pressure that your entire vision went blank with a broken cry and the strongest wave of static he'd managed to work you up to so far. "Don't worry about that, I'm not nearly done with you."

He fucked his long, slippery tongue back into your quivering pussy, his thumb taking the place on the sensitive bundle of nerves where his pointy tip had been and you cried out again as he found that one spot you've always read (and written) about. You had questioned it's actual existence, believing it to be one of those wishful myths girls dreamt and you by proxy wrote about - Until Vox and his fucking talented mouth and miraculous tongue brushed right up against it with expert accuracy. It made your eyes roll to the back of your skull, mouth open to cry out as your back arched like a bow string.

"Yeah, there? F-Fuuuck..." The overlord growled, watching your blissful face twist with a new kind of overwhelming pleasure. "You gonna cum for me baby? Come on, let go, good girl..."

You knew the reader-pleasing phrase by heart. You used it a hundred times and fantasized about it even more - It shouldn't have that effect on you, but yet it was that comment of his, spoken in a raspy low rumble directly into your cunt that finally pushed you over the edge, leaving you panting helplessly and cumming.

Hard. Harder than you've ever dreamed about. Every nerve ending on overdrive, every hair standing on edge - it felt like getting struck by lightning, the static electricity sizzling through your blood vessels like a thunderstorm as he was still thrusting that goddamn magic tongue into your spasming hole through the clamping of your muscles, taking you through it with small, measured licks to keep you on the edge a little longer, whines and hiccups mixed with breathless laughs leaving your raw throat as you slowly returned to reality.

This was it, what you've always longed for, you realized after your vision came back to you, staring down at the smug looking TV demon who was still settled between your legs, his glowing screen painted with the remains of your climax. You managed to give him an exhausted smile, blowing a stray strand of wild hair from your face with a quick puff before dropping your head back in the pillow, absolutely spent. Vox pressed a toothy kiss on your thigh and pushed himself back to his feet.

"You've got quite the gushy orgasm, doll, damn..." he wiped a thick blotch of your arousal from the corner of his screen, the neon blue stained fingertip disappearing in his mouth as he hummed appreciatively and licked it away. Then he looked over you, slumped lazily on the sofa, your face flushed, your hair all tangled and the exposed pieces of skin covered with a shiny layer of sweat.

"Shit, sweetheart, you look goddamn good when you're all messed up like that..." He eyed you intently and leaned down, his heavy frame caging you in underneath him, one hand trailing a line from your still heaving chest, between your breasts and up to your throat.

"T-That was.. wow. Just... wow." Clearly illiterate and 50 IQ-points dumber post-orgasm, you cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself. While you were a little disappointed that you still hadn't really fucked, he did what he promised to do. Got you off - and how. You were grateful.

Sad that it was over, maybe even sadder that the chances of a repetition were likely zero - Vox was a goddamn overlord, and who were you other than a nobody with a hard-to-please cunt?- but grateful nonetheless. And you felt the need to let him know that.

"I don't know how to than... w-what are you doing?"

You sat yourself up on the elbows with a dumbfounded expression as Vox began to undress himself, his jacket, bow tie and undershirt discarded within seconds onto the ground and he practically pounced you as he began to undo the belt of his slacks, trapping you in between his legs and under the very prominent hard-on he sported.

"What, you really thought that was it? Make you cum once, win my bet and ding-dong-ditch like a fucking amateur?" Vox laughed as he pulled his massive length out of his pants - Words were your bread and butter but they would ever fail you to describe the gloriousness that was his cock.

Almost as thick as your underarm, smooth and almost shiny, glowing with built-in LED lights along the underside of his shaft and practically weeping with precum. He knelt down on the sofa, taking your hand to run it over its full length, smearing the sticky residue along your fingers, his almost bioluminescent cum dripping thick and slowly from the angry swollen tip. "Fuck no, sweetheart. In case you forgot, let me remind you..."

He leaned down to your ear, a violent electric bold jolting from his cock through your hand right into your overwhelmed, disbelieving brain as he guided you to line him up with your still throbbing entrance.

"I always finish what I start."

Vox had never been in a better mood.

His phone - finally surviving for more than just a few days, since his win against Valentino prevented the moth pimp from smashing it, even in one of his many temper tantrums - buzzed again. A notification of another upload into the cloud. He smirked when he saw the name of the user.

The whole conversation after he fucked Val's writing savant into Limbo and back had been a fucking blast for Vox - he reveled in the morbid joy of cashing in his stake while teasing Val that he'd have to wait another eternity for the chance to make Vox star in a double length porn with him - a fantasy of the moth Vox has been always against. Not to mention that Vox had accomplished what Valentino with all his 'mighty dicks and porn mastery'-aura couldn't. Which (rightfully) sent him into his biggest hissy fit yet, so enraged that, in lieu of Vox's phone to throw against the wall, he threw his newest Robo-Assistant Kitty out the window.

Although Vox had been certain he wouldn't lose the little bet against his partner, he still felt a little relief that his ass wasn't on the next new load of crappy porn DVDs. Granted, that would've surely caused sales to skyrocket - but with his revived and improved little star author that was more than just unnecessary.

Val's fears that a good dicking with a Happy End would sort of break the little writers 'Sex-Spell' and her scripts turn into shite like the rest of Val's useless crew produced proved to be the exact opposite. Ever since Vox made her cum - on his fingers, mouth and cock for multiple times that fateful night - her scripts improved even more, resulting in stellar sales reports, a major spike in cashflow and a personal inquiry letter for a meeting from Asmodeus himself (which Vox contemplated to frame and hang over his fucking bed like a medal of honor).

And since Valentino, in his hurt pride and childish, stubborn pettiness refused to speak or fuck with him, Vox had no qualms of paying his little writer a few more visits. Every time he found impish joy in finding new ways to make her cum, and after one shag-date where he actually stayed long enough for an after-sex-cigarette and some smalltalk, he discovered that she wasn't just a kinky, but also an interesting bitch with great taste in whiskey and a crude sense of humor that was just up his alley.

"I'm curious doll." Vox said as he took another drag from the cigarette before he handed her the bud, throwing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her onto his bare chest as he lounged on the new, bigger sofa he got for her office (more space and much more versatility) "What the fuck did you do to end up in hell? You don't seem like the ax-murder type."

She chuckled mischievously. "I was a pretty popular crime author back upstairs. I hit a pretty bad writer's block, and decided to get in some field work to inspire me for more creative ways of murder. No axes, but I did have a fable for knives." She grinned, inhaling the thick smoke as he laughed and the way her tits pressed into his skin had him almost hard again. "You know what's the most ironic part?" She asked, putting the bud out in the ashtray on her side table and glanced back over her naked shoulder to him, a devious glint in her eyes. "I got the electric chair for that." That woke his cock fully up again, and he couldn't help but take her for another round.

His assistant babbled something about his schedule, but Vox didn't listen. Instead, he planned on visiting her office again, maybe he'd even stay after and order sushi for two, who knew? The media Overlord smiled smugly as he opened the database and looked over the newest script you had uploaded to the cloud. It was when he read the title that he burst into ringing laughter.

'Electrocutie - One Big Cock Shock'

[inkskinned]

there's this video you've probably seen already where a woman is shaking in front of a microphone and delicately tries to ask - how can i make my husband listen to me, i've tried everything, i don't want to seem ungrateful and the other man laughs - the problem is that you married a man, we're only listening 25% of the time and we only understand 5% of that! and the audience laughs and the woman laughs and you just sat there, phone in your hand, letting the sound of it echo

and the thing is that people make think-pieces about it (isn't this one of them) and satire versions and "flipping the script" which is good and fun but at the end of the day, there's some truth in that man's response about men-not-listening. and you have tried to language that feeling for years, this sense that you can only take up 33% of a conversation before others view it as being "dominating".

it's not that they aren't listening, it's that the action they're taking is purposefully silencing. it's different. you accidentally-don't-listen a lot; just because the world is loud and you're distracted. you don't mean anything by it. and the truth is that the man who spoke is relying on that to be true of you; the way it's true of everyone. but there is a different undertone to his kind of not-listening. what he means is they don't respect you and you shouldn't expect them to. there is a difference between oh shit i forgot to take the trash out and why didn't you remind me to do it, just like there is a difference between i didn't realize you wanted to go out this weekend and why do you expect me to plan things why can't you just tell me where we're going.

and the thing is that it isn't just him, and it's actually not just because of your gender - your skin, your class status, your weight, their ableism - it happens often. so often it feels like a tightness around your throat and a weight in your stomach. you're not even "really" allowed to be upset about it, because to them it's a joke. and they laugh. and you know exactly the amount of work that goes into every conversation. how you have to work to condense down your thoughts into intelligent, crisp soundbites; worried someone will try to swoop in and cut you off. and there's this sense from everyone else - oh stop being so sensitive, are you really upset just because they weren't listening and you don't know how to say the way that feels when it happens constantly.

there's that video of the science summit where a woman in the audience finally says let her speak please! and the whole crowd bursts into applause and the man leading the summit holds up his hands and bows his head and says oops, sorry! like what he did was awkward and embarrassing, a little social gaffe that happens easily. later in your meetings, you're asked to take notes, and you don't say anything, you just hear let her speak please! ringing in your head and know that you'll never be brave enough for that kind of thing. and besides. think of all the people who agree this was a one-off, he just got excited and all of the people who say one man is not indicative of all of society

at the dinner table you're talking about someone you don't like and how he's not good to his girlfriend and how she always has to remind him to put the effort in and before him, she was glowing with curiosity and passion but now she just seems... tired, unhappy. that he likes the way she burns out; she stays home and takes care of him and their 2 kids. and your father sniffs and says that men take a while to learn those kinds of things. and you just stare at him and think about your childhood and are like - no wonder i turned out like this

and you want to say - there's no fucking secret school or mystic form of communication. i was not sent to Rearing a Child University. i did not graduate from Getting Chores Done College. i ask questions and i listen and i pay attention, because that's basic fucking human decency. it stems from respect, and how i respect others and their agency. i clean the house because someone should clean. not because it comes "naturally".

hell, you had to google "how to boil an egg" the other day, just because you usually make them scrambled. you can never remember which of the 2 bathroom cleaners make chlorine gas, only that two of them definitely do. you've accidentally bleached your clothes. it took you like 3 years of self-teaching before you figured out how to actually cook things correctly - for that whole time, you burnt or undercooked everything. but you did teach yourself; just like you taught yourself how to listen with empathy. just like how you taught yourself to think before you speak. to be kind first, to be better at communicating. it seemed like a good thing, an adult thing.

the joke the man in the video makes is that women say i'm fine! when they are not fine. and you think about the 150 conversations that happened around that; about how she probably has had so many arguments with her husband. how she said i'm upset you don't take me anywhere and he got mad at her because of course i do, you made me go to that stupid restaurant like last week and she probably said that's not what i'm saying and he said now i'm supposed to be psychic or something and she said no of course not and he said how am i supposed to know what to do when you don't even like everything and she said i do like things and he said well how am i supposed to win? and her pastor probably told her to be more grateful because they do things at all, even if she has to plan them and her mom probably told her that's just how men are honey and she probably cried over her journal, trying to figure out why the fuck she "has everything" and is still so bitterly, horribly unhappy

and how, in your life, for so many reasons, you looked down the barrel of another argument; of explaining yourself and being vulnerable and begging for help again. how many times you just said i'm fine because it was better than doing that again; it was better than wringing yourself out when it's literally easier to just pretend. because he wasn't going to listen. your father wasn't going to be better and your boyfriend wasn't going to be better and your boss wasn't going to be more respectful.

and you sit in front of a video of a woman shaking, looking horrible and guilt-wrought that she's even asking this question. and you know; deep in your heart - that's you. in a different life, you are her. you've stood in her spot. and you had to listen while someone else cackled - why would we bother to notice when you talk?

[gubsbuubs]

MASKED

(18+)

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 5K

Warnings: smut; mask.k!nk (kinda), creampie

Summary: When tasked with directing a new episode focused on y/c/n, Matthew and Y/N unexpectedly uncover a shared affinity for masks

A/N: Hey my loves! I know I promised an MGG director smut, but after giving it some thought, I realized the story I have in mind needs more development so it´s going to be a multi-part fic. Stay tuned for that! In the meantime, here's a little taste of a MGG smut.

Please let me know if you guys enjoyed the visuals. I love to see them in works so I wanted to try it out.

English is not my first language. I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

Friday 11pm - Quixote Studios Trailer Park - West Hollywood.

Being an actress on the set of Criminal Minds meant that a time would eventually come when she'd receive a script with her character´s name in the title.

"Y/C/N – Directed by Matthew Gray Gubler" She read it out loud as she stared at the cover page of the script.

Y/N knew, she didn't even need to flip through the pages to know that Y/C/N was clearly about to go through some traumatic event in her story development as the youngst and newest member of the BAU.

She was thankful; yes, don't get it wrong, she´d been waiting for an opportunity to take her own storyline even further since she joined the show almost a two years ago, but she didn't expect a 'Y/C/N" episode, especially not one directed by Matthew.

With his knack for blending spine-chilling suspense with heart-wrenching drama, it was bound to be a wild ride - equal parts terrifying and captivating.

With a laugh, she muttered to herself, "Well, this calls for a glass of wine,". She made her way to the small refrigerator tucked into the corner, it was late, everyone was already wrapped for the week, and a sip wouldn't hurt.

After pouring herself a generous portion of red, she returned to her seat on the couch.

The script lay before her, gently resting on her legs, feeling its weight against her skin. With a delicate touch, she let her fingers skim the cover, tracing the intricate patterns and feeling the slight texture beneath her fingertips.

As she opened the script, her eyes were immediately drawn to a sketch that covered the opening page. Unmistakably one of Gubler’s stills. Matthew had a very particular way of bringing his visions to life—through meticulously drawn storyboards.

And there, in stark contrast to the white of the page, was the figure that would probably haunt her dreams for nights to come.

No expression adorned its featureless face; the black mask it wore was void of emotion and intent. It seemed to leer at her from the page, its presence ominous and foreboding. Her eyes then drifted to the bottom right corner of the picture, where the word "Phlegethon" was written in bold letters.

Intrigued, she skimmed through the pages, scanning the lines of dialogue in search of any clues that might offer insight into the enigmatic masked figure and the direction of the episode.

And then, she found it—a classic Spencer Reid rambling session. A familiar warmth spread through her as she encountered the distinctive style of the beloved character. "Perfect," she thought, a soft smile gracing her lips as she sipped on her wine before delving deeper into the script.

(BAU CONFERENCE ROOM - LATE NIGHT) The team is gathered around the meeting table, discussing the details of the new case. David Rossi: "I've just never seen this type of burning technique before, how the victims are left with only their heads burnt to a crisp, leaving behind blackened, charred skin." (Pauses) "Guess the unsub has a flair for the dramatic." Spencer Reid: "I know how he's killing them." (Rises from his seat) "It's right there, he's giving us a clue." (Approaches the board and rearranges the crime scene pictures - depicting black letters on walls behind the victims) "P" "H" "L" "E" (Looks back at the table again) "He's spelling his name." (Pauses again) "Phlegethon." JJ: "Reid, English, please."

Spencer Reid: "Phlegethon... In Greek mythology, Phlegethon is one of the five rivers of the Underworld, known for its fiery nature and its association with punishment and destruction. It's often described as a river of fire, a torrent of burning flames that consumes everything in its path." (Motions at the pictures again) "He's achieving this burning technique by painting the victims' faces with Greek fire. Greek fire, also known as 'sea fire' or 'liquid fire,' was a devastating incendiary weapon used by the Byzantine Empire during naval battles. It's said to have been composed of a mixture of various substances, including petroleum, sulfur, and quicklime, which probably explains the smell the firefighters reported." (Sits back down) "By painting the victims' faces with Greek fire, the unsub is ensuring that the fire burns with intense heat in those specific areas, consuming the skin with a ferocity unmatched by conventional flames, leaving behind only blackened, charred remnants." Emily Prentiss: (Confused) "But that doesn't explain the sheer brutality of the wounds found in the victims' bodies." Y/C/N: "Or the masks he reportedly wears, as mentioned by Marianne Smith, the almost third victim who managed to escape." Spencer Reid: "It's possible that the masks serve a dual purpose. Firstly, they could serve as a grim reminder of his handiwork, a twisted reflection of the charred, disfigured faces left behind by his method of killing." (Pounders for a second) "Secondly, the masks could also provide a layer of anonymity, allowing him to operate without fear of being identified. By concealing his face, he's able to move freely without leaving behind any recognizable features, making it harder for law enforcement to track him down." Luke Alvez: "The beatings could serve as a means of subduing or torturing his victims. The physical violence may not only serve to incapacitate them but also to instill fear and control, further amplifying their suffering."

Y/N lifted her eyes from the paper, bringing the glass to her lips. The smooth taste of the wine coated her tongue as she pondered the words she had just read. Eventually, she came to realize that kidnapping was what connected Y/C/N to that creppy man. As the BAU delved deeper into their investigation to catch Phlegethon, Y/C/N's would fall victim to his clutches.

Reading through the script, she couldn't help but flinch at the vivid descriptions of the torture scenes her character would endure. Well … there it was - the trauma.

Each page turned brought forth mounting tension, yet, amidst the fear and apprehension, there was also a strange sense of excitement. As an actress, she relished the opportunity to delve into the depths of her character's psyche, and portray the resilience and strength needed to survive such harrowing circumstances.

The quiet of her trailer is suddenly shattered by the creak of the door, causing her to jump in her seat. Before she could react, the door swung open, revealing a person standing in the doorway, their face obscured by a dark, featureless mask.

She let out a piercing scream, panic setting in as she scrambled backwards with her eyes wide with terror.

Then a sound cuts through the air: laughter, the unknown person in the mask reaches up, removing it and revealing a familiar face.

"GUBLER! You son of a bitch, you scared the shit out of me!" she exclaimed as she stood up to smack him in the arm.

“Sorry, I couldn't resist," he said between laughs. "But you have to admit, it was pretty good."

Shaking her head in disapproval, she sat back down, "Yeah, yeah, good one."

With a soft click of the door behind him, Matthew fully entered the room and threw the mask into Y/N’s lap. She glanced down at it, then back up at at her co-star as he took a seat beside her on the sofa.

"Soooo…. What did you think?" He asked as he picked up the script.

"Well… It's intense, to say the least." She let out a shaky laugh. "I mean, the storyline is gripping, but those torture scenes... They're pretty chilling."

"Yeah, it's definitely going to push some boundaries," he commented, glancing down at the mask. "Speaking of which, what did you think of him? Does the mask capture the essence of Phlegethon?"

"It's... haunting," she murmured softly. "Definitely adds to the creep factor, gives me chills just to look at it."

A playful smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.“Did you see who I cast for the role?"

She looked up at him, curiosity evident in her expression as her eyebrows rose slightly. "Who did you cast?"

“You didn't even look at the casting?" he teased, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I was too caught up in the story," she admitted with a sheepish grin as she took the script out of his hands and flipped to the last pages.

STARRING: David Rossi - Joe Mantegna Emily Prentiss - Paget Brewster Dr. Spencer Reid - Matthew Gray Gubler Phlegethon - Matthew Gray Gubler Y/C/N Y/C/LN - Y/N Y/L/N Jennifer Jareau - A.J. Cook Penelope Garcia - Kirsten Vangsness Dr. Tara Lewis - Aisha Tyler Luke Alvez - Adam Rodriguez Matt Simmons - Daniel Henney

She stared in disbelief, her eyes widening with surprise. "What? No way”

"Oh, way, my sweet Y/N," he murmurs as he swiftly snatched the mask from her right leg. His fingers accidentally touching her exposed skin. Goosebumps immediately rose on her legs involuntarily.

With a wide smile he places the mask on "I'm gonna be haunting your dreams tonight," he whispered in a spooky voice.

As Matthew waved his hands in a ghostly manner in front of her face, she stood still, analyzing his barely noticeable features under the mask. In the dimly lit trailer, only accompanied by the small hum of her mini-fridge, she found it weird how into it she was getting by seeing Matthew with a mask on.

It wasn't that he needed to cover his face to look good, I mean, have you seen the man? He looks good all the damn time. But there was something strangely appealing about the way he looked in that eerie disguise. Creepy, but good.

Her heart was beating a little faster as she caught herself admiring the contours of his jawline, the way his nose perked up under the mask, and how his slender neck appeared from the gap between the mask and his slightly unbuttoned oversized patterned shirt.

Now silently standing before her, there was something undeniably hot about the mysterious aura he exuded.

Suddenly he reached out, his hand lightly resting on her arm. "I'm sorry, did I actually scare you?"

She cleared her throat nervously. "No, no," she waved her hand dismissively, trying to brush off the effect he was having on her.

"You're sure?" he pressed, adding reassuring pressure to her skin.

Her skin was warm, soft, so couldn’t help but notice how goosebumps formed on her skin under his fingers.

"Yeah, it was just..." She sighed, not wanting to give away the fact that she actually felt turned on by this. "It was weird seeing you like this."

Unconsciously she let her hand meet his cheek, analyzing the way the black fabric hugged his features without giving his identity away. “You look, I don’t know... different."

Now it was his turn to get goosebumps. He could feel his face getting hotter as her hand caressed the shape of his jawline. The fluster creeping up his neck was probably visible to her as she studied his masked face attentively.

He locked his eyes on hers and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was witnessing something beyond the ordinary. Was he seeing things, or was that a glimmer of lust? Desire? Her cheeks flushed with a warmth that mirrored his own, her delicate touch tracing the contours of the mask with an intimacy that set his pulse racing. Her breathing unstable, coming out in small quickened breaths.

It couldn't be... could it? Was the mask somehow affecting her, stirring something she wouldn’t dare to acknowledge?

The mere thought made his heart pound faster in his chest and he swallowed hard when he noticed the unmistakable tightness in his pants.

"Different how?" His voice was low as their proximity increased, so close now that if either dared the only thing separating them was the black fabric.

She took a deep breath,"You look... mysterious,".

He chuckled slightly “Is that a good thing?”

“Humm… yeah” her tongue darted out to wet her lips before she caused her bottom lip in between her teeth. “a very good thing.”

He was definitely not seeing things, if he ever did need a confirmation that was it. As she flashed them a smile with her bottom lip caught up in between her teeth his mind was racing at 1000 mph. She looks so innocent before him, so soft and fragile, but the look on her eyes was that of darkness and desire and he couldn’t ignore it even if he tried.

"Do you like that?" His voice was a low, teasing murmur, and although concealed by the mask, she could sense the mischievous lift of his eyebrows. “Do you like how mysterious I look”

She swallowed hard as her pulse quickening at the playful challenge in his voice. "I do," she confessed.

"You know… I’ve got to be very honest Y/N" the pressure he applied on her arm raised as he carefully knead the skin under his finger tips. "I could get used to you looking at me like that."

A small, innocent smile adorned her lips “And how exactly am I looking at you?"

He chuckled softly, his smirk growing wider "You really want me to describe what I see in your eyes?"

She simply nodded in confirmation.

He gently took her chin in his hand, tilting her head up "Okay," he murmured, his thumb traced the contour of her jawline. "Let's see... I’m sensing …a mixture of desire and curiosity. It's like you've just discovered something new about yourself… something exciting and a little dangerous.”

She felt her cheeks flush gently looked away.

“No, eyes on me!” He commanded holding her face in place “You’re scared but also excited…. I would even dare to say, turned on…”

Her eyes widened in surprised as she came to realize she wasn’t being a subtle as she planned. “I.. I… don’t … what?”

He chuckled as she struggled to find the right words. “It’s okay I feel the same… I’m actually pretty worked up to”

Her expression lit up “You are?”

He nodded his head in confirmation “You have no idea how much you’re driving me crazy right now”

She looked unsure, confused even like she could never believe the undeniable and pretty noticeable effect she was having on him.

“Do you want me to show you Sweetheart?” His left hand met hers.

Without being able to form a proper answer, she uttered a simple, “Please.”

Matthew took her hand and placed it on the visible bulge that imprinted his pants. Her eyes momentarily left his covered face to glance down, trying her best to not start moaning at how good his cock felt under her touch.

She began to caress him, feeling the heat and firmness through the fabric. Her fingers traced the outline of his erection, eliciting a throaty groan from him as he threw his head back.

Her strokes grew more deliberate, fingers gliding over the hard ridge and pressing lightly, teasing him and feeling the way his cock throbbed under her hand. As she continued to caress him, she felt the tension in his body build, his hips subtly rocking forward, seeking more of the pleasure she was giving.

Unable to resist any longer he moved up his mask just enough before he reached forward, tangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her close. He pressed his lips to her neck, kissing a trail along her sensitive skin, earning a sweet moan.

His other hand slid down to her chest, gently caressing her breast through the fabric of her dress.

His other hand slid down to her chest, gently caressing her breast through the fabric of her dress. “Is this okay?” Matthew whispered

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. “Yes,” she breathed, her voice tinged with longing, reveling in the sensation of his hands on her body.

He kissed right below her ear before he spoke “Tell me what are you thinking right now?”

Her eyes fluttering closed. “You’re making it hard to think,” she admitted.

“Good,” he murmured, “Then I’m doing something right”

He leaned down to meet her lips, his tongue lightly sweeping over her bottom lip. She surrendered to the kiss, her body shuddering as his tongue danced with hers. Her fingers found their way to the back of his neck, gently tangling in the curls that peeked out from under the mask.

With a soft moan, she deepened the kiss, tugging on the collar of his shirt to bring him closer. He followed her lead, pressing against her as she laid back.

His fingers trailed along her exposed thigh, the fabric of her dress riding up as she wrapped herself around him.

He melted into her, his breath mingling with hers as a quiet, involuntary moan escaped his lips, intensifying the throb of his cock against the fabric of his pants.

His teeth grazed the delicate skin of her neck, and with a sigh, she tilted her head to the side, granting him access as he began to suckle gently on her skin, leaving a trail of warm kisses in his wake.

"Fuck," she moaned as she pressed herself closer to him, his breath hitched as he rocked his hips against her, the friction growing intense between them. Their bodies moved together, and it was becoming almost unbearable as they both craved more.

Her hands tugged at his shirt, desperate for more contact, and he let out a low groan, his fingers gripping her hips tighter, holding her close and increasing the pressure against her core.

“Matthew” She panted, her voice filled with urgency, "we shouldn't be doing this here."

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his breath hot against her skin.

"Please no!” she sounded desperate, her body betraying her protests as she grownd her hips against his croch. "It´s just.. we're at work," she pleaded, torn between desire and reason.

He chuckled softly, his lips still trailing kisses along her neck. "You're right," he murmured, his hand gently moving the strap of her dress down, exposing more of her soft skin. "We really shouldn't be doing this."

His hand skimmed over her breast, his touch gentle yet possessive as he caressed her through her bra. She shuddered, her skin breaking out in goosebumps at his touch. "But I don't think I can stop now," he whispered, his voice husky with desire, as he pulled the straps down, exposing her breasts to his hungry gaze.

"Some… Someone…” she stumbled her words, her voice tinged with urgency. "Someone could walk in any minute."

But her protests were met with the delicious sensation of his lips circling around her left nipple, lightly grazing it with his teeth. A whine escaped her lips as his hand kneaded her right breast, alternating between a gentle caresses and rougher grabs.

"Then tell me to stop, Y/N" he challenged, his hands moving to the hem of her dress, slowly raising it up as he positioned himself between her legs. His touch was firm as his lips brushed against the skin of her hip, teasing her with their proximity.

She moaned, her voice a desperate plea as she pushed his head down, craving more of his touch. He responded eagerly, leaving an open-mouthed kiss on the skin of her stomach.

"What if someone hears?" Her eyes searched for some type of reassurance as he settled his head between her thighs.

"What if?" he asked as he placed a kiss inside her thigh "Just let them hear how good I'm making you feel."

She let out a moan, her breath hitching with desire before she quipped "Wait!"

"Yes, sweetheart?" He raised his head to look at her, his hands rested on her thighs where his fingers traced small circles, teasing and tempting her further.

With a swift movement, she reached up and pulled the mask off his face. "This was fun but I want to see your face when you eat me out,".

That earned a wholeheartedly laugh, his eyes sparkling in the dim light now that the mask was gone. "You've got it," he replied.

His fingers gently moved her panties to the side, and as soon as she was bare before him, he couldn't help but let out a groan at the sight of her, so wet and inviting, begging for his touch.

"I've been dying to taste you," he murmured, his eyes locked on hers as he lowered himself between her legs. Then, without breaking eye contact, his tongue made contact with her slit, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from her lips.

Her back arched in response, and her hand flew to his hair as he explored her with his tongue. The room was filled with the sounds of wetness, and hums of pleasure.

His tongue drew circles on her clit before taking a long stripe from bottom to top, catching her bud between his lips once again. "You taste better than I've ever imagined,".

His fingers traced a path from her hip to her lips, and she eagerly welcomed them into her mouth, coating them with her saliva. A moan escaped him, sending vibrations against her clit and intensifying the pleasure coursing through her body.

As she threw her head back in ecstasy, he took his fingers and lightly breached her entrance, initiating a slow, pumping motion. Her grip on his hair tightened, seeking steadiness. He continued to explore her with his fingers, feeling her walls clench around him in response to his movements. With each thrust, she felt herself edging closer, unable to contain the building tension within her body.

"You look so pretty," he whispered.

"Matthew," she moaned, her voice barely above a whisper, "don't stop."

"Can you please cum on my tongue," he pleaded. "You taste so good, baby."

Her legs trembled as her cunt dripped and he hungrily lapped up every essence, savoring the taste of her pleasure.

Her legs trembled as she ran her hands through her hair, trying to steady her breathing.

He sat up in front of her, a satisfied smile playing on his moist lips. "You're incredible," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration "I could do that all day."

"Me too," she chuckled as she sat up, meeting his lips in a desperate kiss. She undid the buttons on his shirt, each one revealing more of his chest.

"Arms up," he instructed as he rose in his feet, with ease he swiftly removed her dress and bra, revealing her soft skin, adorned only in her panties.

His hand met her cheek, his touch gentle yet possessive, as he stood before her.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as she leaned forward, letting her fingers trace the outline of his bulge. With delicate movements, she unbuttoned his pants, and they fell to the floor with a soft thud. Carefully, she wrapped her fingers around him, lightly pumping his cock before taking his pink tip into her mouth. His head flew back, a guttural moan escaping his lips as she took him deeper, her tongue swirling around him with precision.

"You're going to have to stop," he gasped, his fingers entangled in her hair as she looked up at him, her mouth still working wonders on him.

“Please," he pleaded, his voice thick with desire, "I need to be inside of you."

She released him with a soft pop, and he felt like he could have cum right then and there, especially with that smile she just flashed him. God, she looked so pretty kneeling before him like that.

He reached forward, wrapping his fingers around her neck gently, and she followed his lead, sinking back onto the sofa. He lowered himself on top of her, his weight pressing into her as he settled between her legs.

With a hungry look in his eyes, he reached between them to grab his thick and throbbing cock. Slowly, he guided it to her entrance, teasing her with the tip as he felt her wetness coating him. With a slow motion against her slick folds he finally sank into her.

She was a moaning mess against his lips as he fully bottomed out, her walls stretching deliciously around him, welcoming him deeper.

He began to move, savoring the feeling of her warmth enveloping him. His movements increased in speed and intensity as her moans grew louder, filling the room with the sound of their bodies coming together.

He glanced down, watching as her wet cunt hungrily swallowed his cock, now glistening with her juices. The sight of himself disappearing inside her, inch by inch, was almost too much to bear.

"Fuck, you look so good taking all of me," he growled, his voice thick with lust. His hips moved with primal intensity, driving into her with a fierce, unrelenting rhythm.

Her moans grew louder and more desperate as he filled her completely. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

"I won't," he promised, his breath hot against her ear. "Not until you cum on my cock."

He reached down, his thumb finding her clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure. She cried out, her body arching into him as the added stimulation pushed her closer to the edge.

“Oh my God," she panted, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"I can feel you squeezing me." He groaned, his thrusts becoming progressively urgent and demanding. "You're going to cum for me, sweethart?"

"Yes," she whimpered, her nails digging into his back as she clung to him. "Yes, I'm so close."

A final, powerful thrust was all it took for her walls to clench around him as she reached her peak, her body trembling with the force of her release. He groaned in satisfaction, feeling her shudder beneath him.

The sensation of her pulsing around him was his undoing, he had to cum. He was about to pull out, but she circled her legs around him, holding him in place.

"Keep going," she gasped, her voice barely coarse.

"Oh, please don't," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I'm not going to last."

"Please, come inside of me."

"Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.

"Yes, please," she pleaded. "Fill me up."

With a guttural moan, he couldn't hold back any longer. His body trembled fast against hers as he released inside, filling her with his warmth. "Fuck," he muttered, his climax hitting him hard.

He collapsed on top of her, both of them breathing heavily as they layed intertwined.

She smiled up at him, a satisfied look in her eyes. "That was amazing," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair.

He kissed her forehead gently and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You're incredible," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her swollen lips.

Matthew reached for the tissue box on the counter, gently cleaning her up. He got up, and she adjusted her panties back into place.

Extending his hand, he helped her to her feet. He found her bra first and handed it to her with a soft smile.

“Here you go,” he said, his voice warm. She slipped her arms through the straps, and he stepped closer, clasping it at the back with ease. His fingers brushed lightly against her skin, and he placed a kiss on her shoulder. Next, he picked up her dress and held it out for her. As she got dressed, he turned to find his pants, pulling them on.

"Let me help you with that," she said, stepping closer to him as he got his shirt on. Her fingers deftly worked on the buttons fastening them with care.

After they were both dressed, they stood in silence for a moment, the air felt heavy with the remnants of their intimacy.

Matthew's gaze wandered to the floor, where the black mask lay discarded. Bending down, he picked it up, the smooth surface cool against his fingertips. A small grin tugged at the corners of his lips.

"So, we accidentally discovered we're into masks, huh?" he chuckled, holding up the mask between them.

Y/N burst into laughter. "Seriously, how the hell are we supposed to film the episode after this?" she exclaimed between giggles.

Matthew laughed along “Yeah, it's going to be really difficult to not get hard in front of the whole production team"

"I'll never look at masks the same way again," she admitted "Thankfully, I do not l come across a lot of them."

"Well, I have to admit, I do have quite the collection of masks back home," he continued, raising his eyebrows "I don't know if you know this, but Halloween is kind of my thing."

"Oh, really? I had no idea" Y/N said in an ironic way, a playful grin spreading across her lips. "Is this your way of inviting me back to your place?"

"Maybe," Matthew's lips curved into a smirk, “But.. humm… actually" he began, his voice sincere. "I want to know if you would you like to go out to dinner with me? Like, a proper date?"

Y/N's eyebrows shot up in surprise "Matthew, we just had sex. Shouldn't we be doing things the other way around?"

"I know it might seem backward, but... I really like you, Y/N and I want to do things the right way. So, what do you say?"

"I'd love to go on a proper date with you," she replied with a smile.

[fallenneziah]

Sharing is caring.

Summary: Teasing your husband John while he's busy with work was already a risky move, but coming to see him while he's with his lieutenant... Even riskier.

Cw: spit roasting, oral (m! And f! receiving), teasing, dirty talk, Price sharing his beautiful wife. Afab reader, reader uses she/her. Multiple orgasms, pet names, overstimulation.

Nearly 4k, another thing I guess that could count for kinktober. Enjoy?

Admittedly, you shouldn't have been texting John while you knew he would be at work. But you were feeling yourself and wanted to send him the necessary photos to include him. John knew you were not above teasing him, no matter what the workday would be like.

So when his phone went off again, he had to do his best to ignore it, swishing his shallow glass of whiskey while thumbing through a record report with Ghost.

Although it did get his mind wandering, thinking about what it could be this time. If you were in that new lingerie, or if you'd ditched your clothes altogether to show him what he wanted.

He huffed to push away the thought, taking another sip of whiskey and placing the glass down gently.

"They made it to the waypoint before they had to turn back." Ghost said, finding photos from the back folder and pulling them out. "That rock perch we had was completely blown. I guess they were spotted and not spared…"

Price didn't have the option to reply before the second of silence was cut by the sound of his phone. He hummed, finally picking up his phone and seeing the photo you had sent him. For the love of… You're going to send him crazy. And he didn't know if it was good yet.

He placed his phone back down and shook his head softly, naughty girl.

"Sorry, I should've turned that off." He murmured, looking down at the report once more. "Did they find anything?"

"A couple of guns." Ghost answered, flipping over the paper and placing it down for the two to share.

Price nods, clicking his tongue thoughtfully as he reads.

The two continued to talk, unaware that just down the hall, you were cooking up ideas in your head. Looking at your tight military uniform. Oh, you could wear it. Not as if seeing you fully clothed didn't get John hard anyway.

You'd been teasing him all morning, and now you were planning to head to his office for a little mid-work quickie.

You slipped out of the room, looking down the hall before heading for the office. Your hips had a particular sway, knowing John had to be tensely waiting for you.

You made it to his door and listened, hearing him talking. If he was on the phone, then you had the double advantage.

Without a second thought, you entered. "John~ baby-" you managed to cut your script off when you saw Ghost sitting in the chair across the desk, looking at you expectantly.

Price leaned forward in his chair and cleared his throat. "Love, I'm a little busy right now."

You blushed softly, nodding and attempting to back away, but John's familiar whistle kept you.

He motioned you over to his side, keeping his eyes on you, even though Ghost would burn his gaze through you.

You closed the door and came to his side, his hand resting on your hip, running smooth circles over it.

Your hand gently combed through John's hair, his hand moving from your hip up against your belt, slipping it inside the fabric. You gasped softly, biting your lip in anticipation as his fingers pulled your panties and slipped past.

Ghost's body language didn't give away that he knew. He didn't give away anything, actually.

They just continued to mutter and mull over their paperwork again, John making a 2% effort to give you the attention you sought.

It made your cunt clench, shifting back into his hand as his wrist made it into your pants, middle finger slowly circling over your slit, feeling the juices building up between your labia from your excitement.

Your grip on his hair tightened as his finger finally pressed over your clit, making you moan. You knew Ghost wasn't stupid. And he knew you two well enough to know something was happening.

But it didn't make you feel guilty for being so open about your pleasure.

Ghost remained, not saying a word about it, however. Even as you felt yourself melting into John's side, hips shifting to help get his fingers where you wanted them to go.

Your eyelids fluttered when he pressed his finger against your clit, circling briefly and pulling back to run his fingers through your slick mess.

And yet you felt annoyed you weren't getting even half the attention you wanted. You knew he was busy, but now he was teasing you back. As if telling you to be patient or be bold enough to do something about it.

And oh, how you wished you could have stood there and taken his teasing back like a champ. But you couldn't, not like this. You hadn't spent all morning for his attention, only to get off on his hand subconsciously. No, no, no.

You shifted your body, leaning into his ear and nuzzling his cheek. "John…"

He chuckled lowly, his middle finger rubbing your clit softly and making you sigh.

"Yes, my love?" He murmured back, looking down at his paperwork and writing a few notes.

You groaned softly, feeling your legs shake. "John…please, baby."

"You'll have to be specific, my darling."

Ghost grunts over the paperwork, looking up from the photos to you two. John, he wasn't ashamed. He was protective, but the idea of sharing his wife with a close man. When being such a slut for his attention. It didn't bother him.

John looked at Ghost, who shifted his gaze away.

"Why don't we take a little break, Ghost. We'll come back to this later."

Ghost nodded understandingly. "Yes, sir." He moved to stand, but Price stopped him. "That won't be necessary."

Ghost raised an eyebrow, and you as well, feeling your breath hitch to suppress your whine.

Price smirked a little, working his finger across your slit, dipping his fingers into your cunt to tease your sloppy, needy hole.

"Always so needy… It's like she wants the attention two of me could give her…"

He looked at Ghost, who returned his gaze. When Ghost made no move to leave or dismiss himself to give them privacy, John took it as acceptance. And Ghost knew he wouldn't get pushed away.

Your cheeks feel a bit warmer, hips squirming when John's finger makes it to your warm insides, but pull away all too soon.

He hums, looking at his slick fingers. "Pants off, love." Your face flushes a little warmer, looking between them.

"John-"

"Pants off, princess, be nice and good for me."

You shudder under his voice, finding yourself resigning and unbuckling your belt in seconds, tearing down the zipper and stepping out of them, leaving you in your panties and top.

John hums, moving the files and papers away, clearing his laptop and nodding toward the desk, to which you comply.

John stands, pushing you back against the cold wood, his lips finding yours as his hands mess with the buttons of your shirt, groaning and pulling them open. The ends hanging over your shoulders, falling across your wrists.

"So pretty…" he hummed, moving to undo his own pants.

Ghost watched, the growing bulge in his pants giving him away.

John noticed, smiled at him and held a hand out for him, offering him his spot.

Ghost preferred to stay seated, feeling his pants straining with you pushed under Price like that. And John continued, kissing you and taking your bra off, strong hands massaging and cupping your soft breasts. Pushing them together and pulling away so he could suck one of your nipples.

You moan softly, gasping out his name happily.

Ghost's eyes bore into your back, palming his crotch, watching you two mingle.

Price wouldn't force Ghost, but just the extra pair of eyes got his cock a lot harder than he first expected.

You looked gorgeous and needy like this, and Price could tell Ghost agreed.

You inhaled deeply, feeling John pushing you back, his hands firmly spreading your legs wide as he pulled your panties down.

Your hands gripped the edge of the desk as Price kneeled down in front of you, pulling your hips forward again so you were just perfect.

Your eyes focused on him, watching him lean in, his beard making you shiver as his tongue flicked and curled up and down, reaching your slit. Your eyelids fluttered as he cared for you, mouth working away the slick puddling from your core.

You whimpered, gripping the desk tighter. A shadow fell over you, and you looked up, moaning when you saw Ghost. He shuffled forward, forcing your back straight as his chest pressed against you, his gloves off so he could feel your soft breasts.

His hands were larger and rougher, his touch feeling different than John's. Groping and pinching at the supple flesh, tugging at your nipple while John licked away.

You could barely contain yourself, panting and moaning from their combined touch on your skin. Ghost's eyes glued to you, playing with you as if this was the first time he'd touched someone. And yet his hands moved skillfully against the hard buds of your breasts, squeezing and pinching in a way that makes your cunt ache.

John's hands held your thighs, pulling your legs wider as his mouth worked you. Your toes curling from the sensation.

"Oh please, oh god…" you gasped, feeling yourself reaching the peak.

You looked down at your husband between your legs, his mouth working its magic blissfully and effortlessly. He knew your ins and outs, the spots that made you tick.

Combined, they were making short work of you.

The only noises in the room were John's muffled grunts and your moans of desperation for where they were taking you.

You moaned louder, trying to buck your hips to get yourself to the finish line, but their combined weight held you in place, Ghost's hands pinning your shoulders and holding you steady, John's hands holding your thighs open wide.

You were at their mercy, trying to wiggle out in vain, strong hands keeping you down.

Ghost's warm breath hit your neck, the fabric of his mask pressing against it, whispering just out of reach of your ear.

"Bein' such a good slut, sweetheart."

You shivered, exhaling harshly, your eyes moving from John to try and look at Ghost. His hand took your chin, thumb pressing to your bottom lip, and he turned your face away, back to John.

"Focus on what Price is doin', love."

His voice made your stomach drop, his words hitting your ears like honey.

John's tongue circled over your clit, pressing his nose against your mound, his eyes fluttering closed, taking a deep breath.

You couldn't help but whimper.

Ghost chuckles softly, his hand still holding your jaw, his other moving down your body and groping your breast once more.

"John…" You whimpered, squirming. Price looked up at you, kissing your clit and pulling away briefly, his lips warm with your juices.

"You're doing so good, Princess, so good."

"She's a fuckin' whore ain't she Price?"

John smiles, humming his agreement and turning his gaze to Ghost.

"She'll take any attention she can get. Ain't that right, love?"

You look into his eyes, wanting him, to be near him. You'd take attention, only if he would give it. You admit you were a slut for any attention he'd offer you.

Ghost chuckles, his hands moving up and down your sides, his breath hot.

"I'd say she's a good little slut."

"Good little slut." John echoes, leaning back down and sucking your clit, his teeth brushing the sensitive nerves, tongue flicking through your labia.

You continue to squirm, lips parting from your orgasm being so close. Feeling Ghost's breaths, his hands dragging over your breasts and flicking your nipples. Whispering words in your ears that make your stomach twist like a knot.

"John, please…" You pant breathlessly.

"Please?" He asks, pulling away, his beard dripping with your slick. "What does my girl need? You want to cum?"

You nod frantically.

"Use your words, my love."

"Please- please, John, make me cum, I need to." You whine. "Please… Please." Your eyes fill with pleasured tears, welling you just shy of spilling. His fingers tease your slit, circling just enough to give you friction before pushing in.

"There's my girl." He rubs your clit with his thumb, slipping his fingers deep into your slit, making you arch and whine.

"C'mon, princess. Be a good little whore for me and cum on my hand."

"Fuck!"

Ghost holds your wrists down, watching you buck and writhe, feeling yourself reach the edge.

You cum on Price's fingers, feeling him tight inside you, warm cum spilling down over him. He hums in satisfaction, rubbing your slit gently. "That's it…"

You shiver and shake, breathing heavily. And still not feeling satisfied. John sits back in his chair, undoing his belt and pants, pulling out his cock and stroking it firmly.

Ghost continued to keep you still, his chest pressed to you while you watched John. His cock was leaking pre-cum, swollen from anticipation.

"On your knees, sweetheart. Why don't we let the lieutenant have some fun of his own."

You whimper, attempting to look up at Ghost, but his hand pushes your head away gently, nudging and urging you across the desk to a new position, stomach flat across the hardwood.

Ghost looked down at your dripping pussy, running his fingers over your labia. He plays with your wetness a moment, slapping your ass gentler than you would have expected.

Price hummed, stepping forward, smacking his hard cock against your cheek gently. "You look so good like this, love…"

You look up at him with that precious look in your eyes, opening your mouth when he cupped your jaw, pressing his cock in against your tongue.

"Atta girl- there it is." He grunts, sliding into your mouth.

Ghost rubs your ass, squeezing the soft flesh between his hands. Finally, undoing his belt and his zipper, freeing his cock from his jeans.

His eyes remain locked on your body, stroking his cock and rubbing the length against your ass. Cock drooling in need, salty pre-cum leaking across your plump ass.

He takes his chance, pushing his fat tip against your dripping slit, teasingly rubbing his cock between your wet lips, gathering up your slick.

You moan around John, his hips thrusting shallowly. You look up at him, keeping your eyes on your husband, one hand gripping the desk, the other on his hip. John's hand resting under your chin, his cock sliding into you. "Look at you, my good girl… Always my good girl."

Ghost groans, feeling himself slip in easier. Feeling his cock get soaked by your tight cunt, his grip on your hips tightening.

"Shit."

John looked at Ghost, watching him, his hips thrusting slowly. "Feel how good she is? How wet?"

"Fuck…" Ghost's head tilted back, his hands moving up your waist, his hips snapping harder, making you moan louder, vibrating around John's cock.

They work in tandem, soon finding a rhythm, Ghost's hips slowly riding in and out of your tight, wet cunt. John slid his cock further down your throat, helping you relax and take him, seeing your helpless expression.

"Fuckin' hell…" Ghost groans, exhaling softly, smacking your ass and squeezing the flesh between his fingers again.

You whine around John, looking up at him with teary eyes and seeing his lustful gaze.

"You're doing so good, my love. Fuck." He groaned, his head tilting back as you sucked his cock, working your tongue along the underside of his cock, swallowing spit and pre-cum. Choking along his length and trying to relax again as he pushes deeper, hitting the back of your throat and sliding you along.

Your back arches, feeling Ghost's hips pick up a little, cock driving into your tight cunt, watching his length disappear into your dripping, desperate cunt.

He was getting to fuck his Captains wife… Fuck, you'd think it only happens in porn, and yet here he is. With your tight cunt wrapped around him. A cunt claimed by Price shared with him. Such a good cunt at that. Hearing you choking down Price's cock makes him harder, his hands wrapping tightly around your quivering hips.

Your thighs trembled, your cunt squeezing him, begging him for more.

"Christ."

John pulls away, stroking his cock as you whine and whimper, his cock throbbing, watching Ghost fuck you.

Pre-cum and saliva still connecting your mouth to his cock, more of it dripping down your face as he strokes himself, seeing Ghost starting to pick up his pace. His hand comes down across your ass, making you whine again.

It felt so good. In a way, it felt sinful and yet, seeing how much John enjoyed watching you get fucked made it all worthwhile.

Ghost's grunts are getting louder, his breath hitching. "Fuckin' hell.."

"You gonna cum, Lieutenant?"

Ghost's hand moves down between your thighs, fingers working against your clit, feeling you clench around him.

He grunts in acknowledgement, spanking your ass. Admittedly it had been a bit, but the idea of cumming in your cunt made him bristle in utter arousal. Especially of a woman who doesn't belong to him. His cock throbbing inside your pussy, eyelids fluttering as he fucks his hips into you.

You gasp when he forces you onto the desk, grabbing your hair and forcing your gaze up. You moan, Price stroking his cock against your cheek.

Ghost's thrusts grow more and more erratic, his breathing laboured. "Fuck…" he hissed, pushing you down harder, fucking his hips into yours.

"Fuck fuck-" his grip on your hair tightens, making you moan loudly, gasping out John's name. Ghost grits his teeth, slamming balls deep into you before pulling out, shooting his cum across your back, splattering along your spine.

"Fuck…" He pulls away, slowly stroking his cock, watching you pant and whimper.

Price's smile only grows. "Good girl, love." He caresses your cheek, grabbing your underarms and pulling you off the desk. You pant, your pussy dripping, feeling fucked out just from that, but you aren't done.

Price sits on his chair, pulls his pants down and urges you onto his lap. He turns you, your back to his chest, and he lines his cock up with your cunt, pressing his length into you.

You shudder and whine, arching into him as he grips your hips, helping lift you up and down along his cock.

You rest your head against his shoulder, his hands groping your breasts as you bounce along his cock.

"Look at him, Princess. Look at how well you took him." He hummed, his breath fanning over your face, feeling his warm touch against your skin.

You pant, trying to hold your head up as you slide along John's cock. Your eyelids flutter, and your breathing is heavy. "John…."

"You've always been a good little girl." He groaned, his teeth grazing your ear lobe, nipping at it and hearing you whimper.

"You like this, don't you, love?"

You nod, swallowing thickly and trying to relax around his cock. Ghost finally approaches as his cock recovers, stroking it and getting down on his knees before you, sucking your breasts as Price fucks you.

You moaned louder, feeling overwhelmed by the attention, having both of them and loving it.

John's hand wraps around your throat, not squeezing, not choking, just holding. Your hands move, one to his hand, the other to Ghost's mask, tugging the fabric gently.

He sucks your breasts, stroking his cock as well. Price continued to bounce you on his cock steadily, hearing your moans and groans. Panting and whimpering.

"Fuck, Princess. You're so good." John groans, squeezing your throat a bit, feeling your body shiver.

Ghost's cock twitches, a few drops of precum dripping down to his hand.

"Oh god…" you whimpered, jerking away from Ghost's mouth.

Ghost leans up, watching you.

"You like it…" Price hums, his hand moving to your ass. "You like it, Princess? Having both of us fucking you…"

"Fuck you're tight, princess." He grunts.

"Go ahead, love. Cum."

His cock throbbing, feeling you clench around him, and God, you just whimper and mewl, feeling him slide in so deep and cumming, coating his cock with your cum.

"Mm, fuck…"

"That's my girl." He continues to thrust, his hips snapping up, cock throbbing, cumming into your tight cunt.

You whimper again, just having his cock inside you, making you feel full.

"Such a good girl." John hums, kissing your neck, sucking softly, making you shudder.

Price lifts your leg, pulling you off his cock and stroking it across your ass. You gasp, breath hitching. "John-"

His cock presses against your asshole, grunting and forcing you down. "Shh, easy baby, Easy, love." He cooes to you.

"Fuck!" You yelp, feeling John's hand squeezing your neck a little as he grips your hips tight to his own.

"Fuck, Princess…" he groans.

You groan, arching into him, your body shivering.

Ghost strokes his cock, watching you get fucked in the ass and hearing your whimpers.

"You can take it, love."

You whimper, but you feel his cock spreading you open a little, the head of his cock sliding through your walls. It feels so good. So full. So dirty. Ghost jerks his cock faster, watching your trembling frame as his Captain's cock slides into your ass.

"You like it, Princess?"

"I can feel you're excited, my love." He chuckles, Ghost groaning at the sight of her. "Look at him. Look at how much he likes watching me fuck you."

You gasp, your eyes fluttering. The feeling is intense, so much so that you can't think of much else. You feel like you could cum again it feels that good.

Ghost leans in, pushing your thighs apart more, hooking them over Price's and sinks his mouth onto your abused cunt. You jerk and cry when he licks and sucks on your clit. Price chuckles softly, kissing your throat. "Easy, princess. Taking it so well…"

You whined, tears stinging your eyes from the overstimulation. It felt so good, being between them, having them treating you like this.

"I-I can't!" You cry, but John gently silences you, stroking your throat. His cock continues to ram into you, stretching you nicely around him.

Ghost's tongue lapped through your labia, flicking your clit and swirling around your slit. You jerked your hips again, convulsing and cumming again, what little you had left in you sloppily dripping from your fluttering slit.

John's hips settled, rubbing your thigh slowly. "There…"

Ghost leaned back, wiping his lip with his thumb. Having cum a second time, seed dripped down his cock and onto the floor.

John had one hand keeping you firmly still in his lap. You panted and squirmed, but didn't fight. He grabbed some tissues from his desk and handed them to Ghost, who did his best to clean himself and the floor.

Price then grabbed the file and his computer again. Ghost zipped up his pants, fixed his mask and sat back down across from you both, legs parted, watching Price.

Your cunt clenched, having just been utterly railed, and now they were back to business.

Price poured another whiskey into their cups and swallowed his back, sighing softly. You leaned into John's neck, and they continued with their work.

[heartfullofleeches]

What iffff HEAR ME OUT what if sammy had a taller male darling who was just soo sweet except when having sex

When darlings fucking, theyre a hardcore sadist with no limits except sammy's limits

And then back to sweetheart during aftercare

That's like Sammy's ideal partner- Personality wise anyway- Sammy's not picking with gender or the height of his darling, but them being bigger than him definitely messes with his head in the best way possible.

Someone with a sadistic streak wrapped under a sweet, caring bow. Darling's kinder side outside of the bedroom makes Sam itch with anticipation for when Darling decides to flip the script. His height is the icing on the cake- It's not like Sammy's never met guys as big as ot bigger hivlm before, but it's not every day. Darling hugging Sammy from behind or pinning him to the mattress with nothing but his body weight leaves Sammy hanging onto his fragile senses by a thread.

He just wants to be manhandled and used by his boyfriend, but then Darling blindsides him with gentle praise and a nice bath after everything he put Sam and as delirious it makes him Sammy's never felt more loved and wanted by someone.

-

"You look so small beneath me, Sam...I'd be more concerned, if I didn't know you this is what you wanted."

Stars paint Sam's vision as your fingers part, knuckles sliping through the wetness of his lips as your fingertips enter his throat. You've trained him better than this... What good have all your lessons done when he falls apart the second you toy with him without fail? Your crueler nature longs to punish Sammy for his behavior, but he's had enough of that side of you for one night.

"You know what I think? I think you're just the right size to join me in the shower. Might be a little cramped though.... We'll have to snuggle up together for space... You like the sound of that, Sammy?"

A whimper crawls from Sammy's throat as you sneak kisses along its bruised skin. A tired hand detached from the sheets, perching atop your shoulder as Sam blinks tears and exhaustion from his eyes.

"Do you think you carry me there?"

Biting back a laugh, you kiss his stained cheek.

"Anything for you, Sam."

[icallhimjoey]

Not sure if you've done this but it fits the general mood of the fandom lately: I want grovel-y Joe. Knows he really fucked up but he's a guy so he doesn't know how to fix it so he just throws anything at the wall to see what sticks. And honestly we're not sure if we'll forgive him but we're definitely sticking around to see how far he's willing to go.

(yes I am in therapy 🤣)

okay im using this request to fix whatever that bullshit was that i wrote before this - hope you enjoy! Wordcount: 3.8K

---

I'll Let The Sun Decide

Joe realises it in the morning. Feels like the biggest fucking idiot in the world.

Correction: the biggest fucking idiot on the moon.

He watches you walk out of his bedroom after leaving a perfect cup of coffee, exactly how he likes it, on his bedside table and everything about that makes his heart ache.

After the way he behaved last night, he knows he doesn't deserve a sweet gesture from the girl who looks like she only managed to sleep for about two hours.

You look exhausted.

He only catches a glimpse of you, and a few seconds later he can hear the coffee machine go again. You're making a coffee for yourself after making him one, and Joe can't help but groan his face into his pillow.

Fuck.

He didn't reach out for you in the night.

Your one fucking rule.

He vaguely remembers going, "Hmm?" after he raised his head off his pillow in a jolt.

"Just me." You'd whispered, nothing malicious hidden in your voice, because it was after midnight and it wasn't the time to continue whatever you'd started earlier that evening.

He should've reached over then.

He hadn't. Not even a knee to your thigh, or a toe to your foot.

Nothing.

He should've been happy you'd come back to his flat instead of going to your own. You could've so easily decided to avoid him for a bit, but you didn't. You said you'd come back, and then you did, and, fuck.

He hadn't reached out.

He hadn't even read the texts you'd sent. Left you with a bunch of grey ticks.

Well.

He had read them, but only in the notification bar.

He'd seen the messages about you making it to the office safely. Of how Charlotte was there too - you'd do the work together and you'd be done much faster that way. A little later of how you'd just be another hour, and of how you'd let him know when you'd leave.

He wanted you to feel bad about choosing your work over him, so he withheld the coloured ticks and had felt real fucking smug over it. It was sickening how right he'd felt about his actions in the moment. Every petty little thing justified, just because you'd hurt his feelings.

You'd climbed into bed after he had already fallen asleep, and the feeling of movement next to him pulled him from his slumber. And then, instead of reaching over like he should have done, he had sighed all heavily, like he was really fucking annoyed that you'd woken him up as you got comfortable under his covers. He'd rolled over and ignored you. Turned his back and festered in his own anger like a moody teenager because he truly believed you deserved it.

What a fucking loser.

Didn't touch you all night.

The realisation slaps him in the face unexpectedly, and your early-morning kind gesture is what flips the entire script. What a fucking loser of a boyfriend.

You've made the deadline.

Joe sees it when he opens his messages after taking a perfect sip of hot coffee, and it's weird how he feels awful about himself and proud of you at the same time.

He didn't need to let the world burn over such a tiny inconvenience.

Joe hates the moon.

Longs for the sun.

The moon is cold and dark and he's all alone up there, only warmed by the light the sun will bring him.

The sun. Or, the messy-haired girl with tired eyes in soft clothes too big for her body who brought him a hot cup of coffee before she even made one for herself. Either or. Same thing.

Joe stares at your messages in silence, gives you the coloured ticks he should've given you last night, and feels heavy guilt find home in the pit of his stomach.

You finished all the work in time. Probably have done a real good job at it too. Did it at the office, away from Joe's bad temper, and managed to actually focus and forget about how he told you to fuck off when you were already on your way out anyway.

What a dick-move.

Fragile ego syndrome, you'd guessed then.

That dick-move is what had you second-guessing going back over to Joe's for a while. Maybe going back to your own flat was the smarter idea. Avoid the confrontation and just text him the next day, after he'd cooled off a bit.

Maybe he'd actually read those then.

Another dick-move.

Joe could be so annoying sometimes, but it was easy to read him and you knew that just a little consideration of your time would fix whatever this silly issue was. With that in mind, you'd made your way back over to his.

You knew his dick-moves only meant he was going to feel bad about himself come tomorrow morning.

And you were right.

Besides an annoyed sigh and a soft grumble, you didn't get much else from him when you got into bed.

That was fine.

Again, you didn't think it was the right time to continue a fight anyway.

But the morning brought something new.

You woke up before Joe did and it took a few seconds for you to remember. To realise your prediction was right. Joe hasn't reached out in the night. No silent I still love you touch under the covers for you.

And it stings.

Could make you cry if you thought about it long enough.

Joe's stayed on his side of the bed, facing away from you, and you tell yourself that at least you've come back to his flat like you said you would. You finished the work you had to finish, and did the right thing by returning.

But then, you concluded, you also haven't reached out to him at all, and immediately felt bad.

Joe can be so annoying sometimes, but you do still love him, and a warm palm to a shoulder blade could've at least let him know.

It would've made you the bigger person.

Which, you still were. You came back, didn't you? But Joe was being an absolute child and you didn't want to sink down to his level.

You should've reached over. Should've touched him. You have no good excuse for not following the one rule you came up with after your first real argument, and now you feel bad.

Shit.

The coffee is to make up for it. At least a little. To say, I'm sorry I didn't reach out, here's me doing that now.

"Morning," you whispered when you saw him stir and open a squinty, confused eye.

You didn't wait for a reply. Just left the coffee there and walked back to go and make yourself one too.

Joe watched you leave and the moon came crashing down.

He knows what the coffee means.

He's read your messages, can hear you make breakfast in his kitchen and decides he needs to reach out too. With his coffee in hand, he gets up and makes his way over to his living area where he finds you rubbing your fist into an eye through a yawn, with a carton of eggs in the other hand.

"Morning," he croaks, and sees how it's only just starting to get light outside, it's so early still.

It feels a little weird and embarrassing to speak to you right now. To remember how you'd been in this same room just a few hours ago, and he'd told you to fuck off.

Fuck off, he'd said. To his girlfriend. Had meant it with his whole chest too. What a fucking idiot.

You turn your head to give him a small smile that doesn't reach your eyes, and ask, "Do you want some eggs?"

The moon can die.

He doesn't want the moon.

The moon is too far from the sun. He wants you closer and happy and well-rested and for your smile to overtake your whole lovely beautiful face when you see him and he hasn't got the faintest clue where to even start to fix it.

He doesn't know how to turn all the feelings in his chest into words to convey how sorry he feels. Has no idea what to say. Has no idea how you'll react to a verbal apology either.

But you look so soft, shoulders slouched, the scrunched up bit of fabric that held your hair up and out of your face as you slept about to slip out. And, even though he can tell it's not a real smile, you're still giving him a kind face. You're being civil.

You've made him a coffee how he likes it and just offered to make him some eggs and, Jesus, he's just the most awful person ever, isn't he?

The overwhelming need to wrap himself around all of you takes over.

Joe leaves his coffee on the side and steps closer to attach himself to your back. You accept it, and he can feel how you let your head rest against the side of his as he hugs you, arms tight around your waist.

He's glad that you let him.

But he also feels the defeat there.

The, Joe what the fuck, that's waiting to slip out of your mouth. Maybe it's why you're keeping things surface level. No time or energy to get into an actual conversation right now. Just breakfast eggs and perfect coffee.

That's okay.

Joe doesn't know what to say anyway, and he'd love some eggs, actually.

"I'd love some, but," Joe kisses the side of your face, does it quick so he doesn't have to feel you pull away from it, and then gently moves you aside. "Let me."

A first attempt at fixing it.

Joe finishes breakfast whilst you go for the quickest shower of your life. When you turn the water off he asks what time you need to leave from the kitchen. His eyes find your coffee that's going cold, and he thinks it's so stupid that you have to be back at work so soon.

This time he doesn't feel sorry for himself, though. This time he feels sorry for you.

It's a big difference.

You've only just left the office, Joe thinks. And sure, sometimes he makes long hours and feels like he lives on set, but you're in an office.

He knows that's different.

Worse.

You've got to go and present all the things you've finished and he knows you like it just as much as he does. That being: not at all. There's no use in getting angry at you.

He sees that now.

You're just as much at fault for not being able to go out with him last night as he is. That being: not at all.

Joe watches you take a few hurried mouthfuls of egg on toast, and he wants to tell you sorry before you leave.

He doesn't.

Isn't sure how, and feels like a literal child because, Jesus Christ, they're just words.

But you smile at him, even though it's only small. And you let him kiss your cheek on your way out. And when you've left, it's not even eight o'clock, which is too fucking early, and he decides he needs to give you more quiet I love yous that he didn't give you under the covers in the night the way he should've done.

You get flowers delivered to the office that afternoon.

It's a large bunch, beautiful colours, and you can't lie; it absolutely makes you smile. You can tell it's expensive, and you know he's paid extra for the same day delivery, but... he didn't reach for you last night, and you didn't reach for him either, and whenever you think of Joe, that's all that comes to mind.

You'd seen him turn to stone.

So cold and careless.

Had seen in his face how he didn't give a single shit about how inconsiderate he was being.

A bunch of flowers isn't going to magically make that visual go away, but it's nice that he' tried's trying, and you try to hold onto that.

When you leave the office that day, you text Joe that you're headed to your own flat because there's food in your fridge that needs eating before it goes off, and your dishwasher is half filled with dirty dishes that have been in there for about a week already, so you kind of need to go turn it on, and there's probably also a load of laundry you could do, plus a quick pass of your floors with a vacuum, maybe.

Joe doesn't get to read it for a few hours. Busy day on set. When he eventually does, sort of annoyed that you had to wait for his coloured ticks again, he texts back, "Yours?"

And you text back so quickly, it makes his guilt grow.

"don't forget your key, im gonna lie down "

Perfect, Joe thinks. He'll sneak in and maybe get some of your shit sorted whilst you kip on your sofa.

But when he walks in, you're not on the sofa. You're already in bed, and that's sort of heartbreaking, because it's so early, and Joe finds the food that's about to go off uneaten in your fridge still. Finds the dishwasher still half filled, smelling rank, dirty dishes growing mould in there. He also sees the full hamper that needs sorting and washing, and, how had he even had the gall to assume that you could just make time for him at a moment's notice when you hadn't even been able to take care of any of this?

Joe starts the dishwasher.

Sorts your dirty laundry and starts a dark wash.

Cooks the food that's about to go off and places it in plastic tubs to have at another time.

Notices you've not taken the flowers that he had express delivered home and tries not let that affect him, but fails.

You're not sure what it is that wakes you. The beeping of the dishwasher, or the clanging of plates as Joe places the clean ones back into their cupboards. When Joe comes to find you, you're on your side, facing away from the door, but Joe can see you're awake by the light from your phone that silhouettes you.

"You're awake," Joe says, voice surprised, and it makes you turn to look over your shoulder.

"Hey," you say softly, and Joe's eyebrows knit together automatically at how sad you sound.

"Thanks for the flowers," you turn in bed to let Joe kiss you as he bends over to place a small one to your forehead. "They got delivered during my presentation."

"Was it embarrassing?" Joe asks, sitting down next to you, one arm either side of you as he leans over. Kisses you again, but on your mouth this time.

"Very. Vanessa just barged in with them."

"Did you like them?"

"Hmm," you nod and give a little smile. Joe's glad for it, but he feels there's a distance there still. You're keeping your hands to yourself, even though his bare arms are right there.

"I um," Joe starts, and wants to start listing all the things he's done. Wants to tell you how he's been sweet, and kind, like you were with him this morning, and he wants those things to be the silent I love yous he should've given you last night.

But then he changes his mind and says, "Did the, um... did the presentation go okay?"

You nod, because it did go really well, actually. Thank fuck. But Joe doesn't ask any more questions about it, and he seems to hesitate to even speak at all. Seems to want to say something that he's clearly not saying. Afraid to say the wrong thing, maybe. You wonder if there's a sincere I'm sorry hiding in there somewhere.

"You seem tired..." he skirts around the issue, and it's disappointing, but not surprising.

"I am tired."

Then Joe looks at the empty space in your bed for a moment and gets up. Starts undressing. Leaves his clothes in a neat pile on your dresser and goes to brush his teeth.

When Joe looks at himself in the mirror, he frowns.

Fucking idiot.

Look at that coward.

He rests both hands on the sink, hangs into his shoulders, breathes through flared nostrils, and feels like a failure. You must think he is one too.

He didn't reach over last night.

With his toothbrush still in his mouth, he steps back into your bedroom and inhales a deep breath through his nose before he mumbles a barely audible and a very foamy, "I shouldn't have..."

He hears himself, grumbles low in this throat and turns on his heel, spits the toothpaste out and comes back.

Starts again.

"I shouldn't have said those things. Last night. I was being a dick, I shouldn't have done– well, anything, really. I was being mean just to be mean, I'm–"

"Joe," you interrupt, your voice soft.

You didn't reach out either.

"No," Joe argues, moves to sit back down next to you, arms back either side of you, hands pressing into the mattress. "You have nothing to be sorry for, I just," Joe sighs. Frowns. Doesn't know what to say.

What can he say to make you run a hand up one of his forearms?

"I didn't..." he tries once more, but falters again. Drops his head and knows he can't cry because he is not the person he's hurt.

He didn't reach over last night.

"Hey. I didn't either."

You read between the lines, even though your vision goes blurry with tears. You can hear the words Joe isn't saying and can read the thoughts he's not communicating. Joe's face always tells you a million things. You wonder if he's aware how easy he is to read.

You also wonder if he's aware that it's not going to be enough.

Joe swipes a thumb across your temple, close to your eye, and catches a tear that was about to slide into your hair.

He swallows thickly. Tries to swallow down whatever's hurting his throat.

"I don't want to live on the moon..." he then mutters, regretting how he set the world on fire. He wants to live on planet earth, even though it's all grey and black ashes now. He'll plant flowers there. Will feed them water, and will politely ask the sun let them grow.

Will ask you.

You're the sun.

You get to decide.

You don't fully understand what Joe means, because it sounds ridiculous, actors and their theatrics, but you tell him you don't want to live on the moon either and he huffs a laugh at how absurd that sounds coming from your straight face that's pretending it's not actively crying.

You're the sun.

Of course you don't want to live on the moon, silly.

"Your priority–" you start, breath hitching, but Joe is quick to interrupt.

"You. You. Us. I'm... it's us. I promise, it's us..." Joe sighs again, seemingly upset at remembering his own behaviour.

"Saying that is easy, though," you start, finally letting your fingers slowly wrap around one of his arms.

A touch.

It's enough to make Joe's whole face crumble.

He ducks down. Lets his arms find your shoulders to pull you up a little so he can hug you properly, both arms wrapped tightly around your frame, his face hidden into your neck, and you know Joe's only crying because of your fingertips touching his wrist. The smallest things can get him sometimes – so dramatic.

But you continue, "I believe that you believe that your priority is us, but when you're stomping around your kitchen, blaming me for shit I have no controll over, telling me that it's my fault that I–"

"No," Joe mumbles into your skin, and pulls back just enough to press his forehead against yours. "No."

And you give his forehead a slight push with yours and you want to say, yes.

Yes that's what you were doing.

Yes that's what happened.

Yes you got caught up in all of your own feelings and forgot that I have a whole set of my own.

But then Joe whispers, "I'm sorry." and you can't help but go absolutely lax in his hold.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. I love you, I'm sorry." he whispers his apologies against your mouth through heavy breaths because he's doing his best to not cry, but he's failing, because then he feels you shake with a sob, and, fuck that, he'll banish himself to the moon, actually.

He'll live up there no matter how miserable it is, and he'll take whatever sunlight he can get, and he'll be thankful for the rays you'll allow to even reach him at all.

"You didn't t-touch–" you stutter, and immediately feel Joe squeeze you tighter.

"I'm sorry, I love you. I'm so sorry." Joe whispers right into your ear. Keeps repeating it, over and over and over.

Your one rule.

He should've never broken it.

It's good to hear the words, the I'm sorrys tumbling over his lips, and you'll accept them for now. But actions speak louder than words, and you know that there will probably be a time where the way the world treats Joe will make his head grow to twice its size again. He'll do and say similar shit. Won't want to meet you halfway, but will demand that you make the trek all the way over to him, won't care what the ground will look like, and won't care if you're wearing shoes for it or not.

Joe doesn't know it right now, but you can see into the future and know it will happen again.

And when it does, you'll grow a little colder.

Let some of your rays die out.

"Here. Lay back." Joe says after holding you for a while, and when your head finds your pillow again, Joe curls around and uses every body part of his to touch yours under the covers.

Every inch of skin touching yours is a big fat quiet I love you that he'll repeatedly tell you all night. He's not gonna let go.

He knows he's on the moon still. Up there, all alone. Cold. In the dark.

He said he's sorry, but knows it's not enough.

Wants off, but is smart enough to not set foot somewhere he's not allowed yet.

He has said that he's sorry, and now he needs to wait for the sun.

Wait for you.

And he'll touch you under the covers until you're ready.

Whispers the promises into your hair as you fall asleep.

You get to decide.

He'll let the sun decide.

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[save-the-villainous-cat]

What about a sub!villain who tries to play the part of the suave, dominant villain cause they’re afraid of vulnerability… and an actually dominant hero who sees through it and flips the script. Could it also be spicy please?

Also, your writing is amazing and it makes my day better! Thank you so much for sharing it! I send you hugs!

"You may think you're deceptive. But you are not." The end of the villain's dagger nearly buried its way into their own skin. Although the villain couldn't recall when the hero had gotten a hold of it during the fight, they were quite pleased with the result. (The result being the hero on top of them, still panting from the fight.) "Your effort is quite delightful, though."

The villain cracked a smile.

"Oh, you want to ravage me so bad..."

"Your imagination doesn't even come close to how bad I truly want that," the hero answered.

There was something in their presence that stirred the villain in an exciting way. Was it their body? Their personality? Their morals and their desires? Usually, the villain considered themselves to be talented when it came to reading people and analyzing the relationships they had with them.

For better or worse, it was different with the hero. More confusing. More dangerous.

At this point, the villain was playing with fire - they didn't know exactly what their relationship with the hero was nor where they stood.

"I loathe you for being my only weakness." The hero let the blade dig into the villain's chin until they looked up. "And destroying you would probably bring me some peace."

"Oh." The villain had never heard such a blunt statement coming from the hero. At least not something this personal and...open. It nearly made the villain sick to their stomach how casually the hero had mentioned it.

Slowly, the hand which wasn't holding onto the dagger travelled up the villain's arm until those cursed fingertips found a shaking wrist and grabbed it.

"But what am I without you? What is Orpheus without his muse?"

"You're so charming today..." The villain tried to sound as flirty as they could but their voice was inexplicably trembling.

When had the hero decided to be so horrible and seduce the villain? And why on earth was it working?

"How does that make you feel?" the hero asked, their voice nothing more than a whisper. They freed their index finger from their grip around the villain's wrist and slowly, agonizingly, let it travel upwards. The villain took in a sharp breath, surprised by the hero's actions.

It felt a little too intimate. Nearly immoral.

The villain felt quite stupid for blushing, after all, it was just the hero's finger rubbing against their palm and their breath on the villain's neck.

"I'm..." The villain tried to concentrate but it wasn't that easy anymore. They closed their eyes, close to defeat already. "Sorry, what do you mean?"

Did the hero have to level their weight on the villain's hips? Did they have to say these things? Startle the villain like that? Couldn't they just flirt, try to kill each other and go home after?

Did the hero have to whisper something this close to a confession into the villain's ear?

"How does it feel to be my only weakness?" the hero murmured. Their grip loosened and slowly, their hand began their conquest towards the villain's fingers. "How does it feel to mean so much to me? To occupy my thoughts during the day? And my dreams during the night?"

Hell, the hero was dreaming about them?

"What are you doing...?" Suddenly, the hero let their fingers entwine, squeezing gently and for whatever reason, the villain took in a quick breath.

"I believe we both know you crave a superficial relationship. Something that makes you feel superior and secure. But I can tell you from personal experience that those relationships don't work out in the long run. They will make you feel miserable. They will make you feel worthless. If I want you, I will want you bare. And there is nothing I desire more." Their lips were close to the villain's. "In your own time, of course. You strip. Figuratively and literally, obviously."

"I- You-"

"I am always willing to help, though." The hero smirked lazily and squeezed the villain's hand. "There is no reason to feel ashamed. Or to feel weak. After all, you have me in your hand."

The villain couldn't say anything.

It had started as a normal fight. With the usual flirting.

And now, the villain was actually thinking about opening up to someone. To talk about all their horrible fears and the self-doubt. About all their mistakes and regrets.

This had to be some new weapon or master plan to turn the villain into a good person. Whatever it was, the villain feared they would think about this encounter for the months to come.

"I will keep this, though," the hero announced. They held up the villain's dagger and pushed themselves off the villain. "Everyone needs a memento of their beloved, don't they?"

All the villain could do was stare as the hero blew them a kiss and vanished into the night.

[somewhere-at-the-burrow]

𝐚 𝐃𝐑 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 !

(( what happened last night in my new Weasley reality ))

hello loves !

something unexpected happened with my weasley reality when I shifted last night, and I thought I would update this blog about it!

when I began my shifting attempt, I ended up having this crazy dream where I was still living at the Burrow and everything was the same as my original Weasley reality, except I was a siren.

sirens and the sea have been my hyperfixation since I was a little child, so I have no idea why I didn't think to make myself one in the beginning! especially in a magical desired reality WHAT A COOL IDEA!!

I woke up in the middle of the night and immediately knew that I had to try and shift to a reality like that. I didn't really think about the logistics (as the Weasleys aren't sirens and I didn't know how to relate that??) but I knew I had to experience it once in my life!!

so, I tried to shift again while filled with motivation for this completely random DR. I feel like only shifters will understand that sentiment—— just being completely obsessed with a random idea and knowing you have to shift there

I tried a new subliminal (by slade.) AND OH MY GOODNESS I SHIFTED SO FAST. usually it takes me two hours to successfully shift, but I think I got to my new siren/weasley reality in 20 minutes! i've never found something so powerful for me and i am obsessed!!

anyway, I woke up in my bedroom in the Burrow and was kind of disoriented because I didn't script ANYTHING about this reality (as I usually do to help me organize thoughts) but I noticed some new things in my room?

there were a lot of different bottles of perfumes and oils, which I later learned were important to sirens in the wizarding world. i also had a sea altar, and there was a line of sea shells along the windowsill.

I stared at everything for so long, and I was filled with these memories of living at Shell Cottage when I was younger and the weasley children helping me pick all of the shells.

I also looked at my photo book, and it was completely different from my original Weasley reality. there were a lot of photos of shell cottage, but there was also a photo of young me being held by Molly. I flipped further and found a photo of my mum from this reality.

I'll skip all the emotional stuff, but I found out that she was a full siren that married Arthur Weasley's brother, making me a half siren and the cousin to the Weasley children. apparently my siren mum, Jina, also was mysteriously taken by deatheaters and my other dad, William Weasley was sent into a panic trying to find her.

piecing together everything, I was taken in by the Weasleys when I was around five (I think??) and raised as one of their own. I also had memories of visiting my siren mum's home with the other sirens and it was so idyllic being next to the sea and all.

so yeah! that is what happened in my shift last night!

I ended up liking it so much that I stayed until school started (which was still a week away). everything was the same—— all of the relationships, the memories, everything !

IM SO IMPULSIVE and I can't pick a reality for the life of me-- so I hope this isn't too confusing for anyone who is following my blog :,)

I am probably going to make this my main Hogwarts reality, so I think siren daphne is here to stayyy

HOGWARTS STORIES AND INFORMATION WILL BE OUT SOON!

((thank you for reading if you've made it this far!))

[livhowlett]

So, there's that theory that SOMETHING happened in 1941. Something that caused Crowley and Aziraphale to be awkward to each other in the 60s and make Aziraphale say:

What if in 1941, when they're in the bookshop after The Bullet Catch and after their little talk we seen in S2, Crowley asks Aziraphale to run away with him to Alpha Centauri for the first time????

Crowley may of suggest they run away together so they don't have another close call. Next time someone more competent than Furfur may show up or someone from Heaven might catch them.

At this point in their story, Aziraphale would not be down to run away and abandoned The Bookshop and his Angelic duties. They'd probably end up fighting and Crowley would storm off and then they'd barley talk.

Hence, why they're so awkward in the Holy Water hand off

It also explains Aziraphale's reaction to the other times Crowley asks to run away together.

In S1, at the band stand, Crowley mentions going off together. To me Aziraphale's first reaction always seemed weird to me, but not if he's heard this before.

It could also explain why Crowley was so quick to apologize to Aziraphale after the fight. Last time this happened they didn't talk for years and being on a tight deadline, Crowley apologize immediately to get Aziraphale to run away

And in S2, when Crowley brings up Alpha Centauri, I think Aziraphale probably would consider going off together at that point.

Because, being asked to 'go off together' by the demon you JUST realized you're in love with, would be to fast for Aziraphale. It's why when they talk in the 60s, Aziraphale suggests:

Aziraphale is literally saying "Maybe take me to dinner first before asking me to run away with you" !!!!

And they were probably "dating" after S1, so Aziraphale would be more willing to accept Crowley's offer at tge end of S2 if The Metaron hadn't offered him the Archangel position. Hell, Aziraphale kinda flips the script and asks Crowley to go off with him, but to Heaven.

I'm pretty sure we'll get another 1941 flashback in S3 and I hope I'm right. Thoughts???

[covetyou]

performance enhancement

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader rating: Teen (18+ only blog!) warnings: anxiety/stress, Dieter Bravo being a stubborn asshole, cute baby animals, vaguely fluffy word count: 1k summary: I couldn't stop thinking about that baby pygmy hippo and what Dieter would do if he saw it, so this fic was born. you're welcome.

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"I can't work in these fuckin' conditions!"

You hear him before you see him, sat scrolling through your phone as you wait the few hours still left until you have to pick him up. You'd got here early - as you usually did - even though Dieter was frustratingly late more often than not.

The door to the trailer is wrenched open a moment later, and you're raising your eyebrows in disapproval at the grumpy actor as he flings himself inside the trailer, slamming the door behind him.

"I can't do it," he huffs, turning anxiously in a circle, hands on his hips, running through his hair, balling into fists. "I can't fuckin' do it."

"Do what, Dee?" you say from your position curled up on the small bench seat in the trailer.

"This!" he yells, turning to face you gesturing in the vague direction of his face.

You make a face at him, still clueless as to what he's talking about. In a long line of things Dieter Bravo could be frustrated with "this" didn't really help to narrow it down.

"They want me to," he begins, fannining his eyes. "They want me to leak, and I can't."

"Cry?," you laugh. "Dee, it's in the script, of course they want you to. Have you tried the tear -"

The actor rounds on you, shaking his finger in your direction before you can even reach for your bag to see what you have to hand to help.

"No! I do not need performance aides."

"Dieter, it's just to help yo-"

"No!"

Dieter yanks off the thick knit sweater that makes part of his costume and dumps it uncermoniously onto a chair, shaking his arm in frustration as the sleeve just won't give up its hold on his wrist, growling at the garment when he's finally free. He rounds on you again when he's a little more bare, a little less claustrophobic, and flops down next to you.

"I'm not doing it," he says simply, as he tucks himself in beside you on the bench, and that's that, discussion over. You know better than to argue when he's like this so, with a roll of your eyes, you flip your phone back over and continue your aimless scrolling as Dieter's head finds its place on your shoulder.

He fidgets for a little while, the bench not really big enough for the two of you to curl up, until he's slumped down and half turned toward you, legs splayed out in front of him where yours are tucked beneath you.

"Can I watch?" he murmurs sadly a moment later, his face pressed into your arm and eyes screwed tight.

"Dieter, that's up to you. They're your rules, not mine."

Dieter didn't have a phone of his own. Not right now, anyway. That was locked away back at his house, awaiting the day it could be reunited with its owner. For now, all he had was an old send-texts-and-make-calls-only brick of a phone for emergencies, that he mostly used to bug you at all hours of the day. It was a rare day you weren't greeted with a "u up x" text in the morning, or a garbled jumble of letters as he forgot how to text with a number pad.

"I wanna watch," he mumbles into your arm, face pressed so tightly to you now you can feel his lips move against your skin.

"Then go ahead."

You watch then as he slowly opens one eye, peeking out shyly before opening the other and staring wide-eyed at your phone screen. You're only scrolling mindlessly, not really paying much attention to whatever the algorithm is throwing your way. Some stupid ads, spoilers for a show you're not even watching, the red carpet looks of a movie premiere Dieter was invited to, but couldn't make it, and endless shitty takes from random internet strangers. Just a normal day for the internet, but amazing for the man next to you who had kept himself away from the world of unsolicited advice and badly shot paparazzi pictures for weeks.

"Wait," he says suddenly, sitting up and scooting closer to you. "Go back, what was that?"

You scroll a little slower as you move back through the endless monotony on your phone, until Dieter goes stiff by your side and grips your arm.

"That," he says. "What's that? Is it fake?"

Something in you swells, oddly proud at the man for knowing to question something he'd never seen before rather than taking it at face value. More than once he'd come to you gushing over an image only for you to take one look, see the 8 fingers, and have to break the disappointing news to your employer.

"She's real," you say, opening the video for Dieter to take a look. "She's been everywhere the last few days."

"She's beautiful," he murmurs, transfixed on your phone screen. "Look at her. Get that girl an Oscar. Is there more?"

"Yeah, Dee, there's more."

"Can I see?"

You move to hand him your phone, but he refuses to take it, instead choosing to snuggle into your side as you search for the baby hippo that had taken his attention. A few minutes in you almost expect him to be sleeping by your side, but a small sniffle and the swipe of his hand tells you otherwise. Crying over baby animals wasn't new for Dieter, and each time he did it, you found it unbearably sweet. Eventually, he shifts by your side and squares off his shoulders, before standing, grabbing up his ugly sweater, and pulls open his trailer door with a determination to rival his earlier resignation.

"I think I can go back now."

You don't look up at him, transfixed on the tiny hippo staring back at you from your hands. A 180 flip like this wasn't unusual for Dieter. It probably wasn't even his first for today. Either way, you'd still be here when he got back from filming the last scenes of the day, ready to cart him back to the apartment he insisted you stay with him in.

"Do you need the tear stick? Drops? I've got some in-"

"No," he says with certainty. "No, I've got this. Just... just gonna think of that fuckin' hippo."

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Drabble with Charlie attempting to be dominant and Casper flipping the script on him-

Let's flip roles, shall we?

Ngl had fun w this also think I got lost in through while writing-

Casper groaned as Charlie rolled his hips down on them. The blonde chuckled lightly as he dipped down and kissed on their neck. Their boyfriend really liked teasing them when he was on top.

"Awe, Caaasss....you sound so cute~" Mumbling into their neck Charlie sucked on it. Slowly going down a trail of hickies followed, Charlie smirked at his work.

"Would sound cuter if you fucked-MMHH!" A witty comment was blocked by Charlie smashing his lips against Casper. Moaning a bit into the kiss, as the blonde started slowly humping them.

Arching their back Casper moaned as they felt their climax start. Gripping the sheets as Charlie moved his hips rhythmically, focusing on Casper. His partner lifted a hand and yanked his head down.

"Come on~ Fuck meee.....what are you waiting fooorrr?" Whining Casper connected their lips to Charlie's. He moaned as Casper's hands went to his back and gently scratched him. Charlie ignored their pleas and let his head fall slightly.

The blonde's eyelids lowered as he focused on his hips moving. Causing Casper to make a noise of frustrations, Charlie laughed at this.

"Casper~ I'm in charge remember? Now be goo-WOAH?!" The dominant demeanor Charlie made vanished as Casper's legs locked around him. With little effort they shoved him to the side and rolled on top of him.

Charlie had a look of fear and excitement, the boner he had becoming more harder showed it. Looking up his cock twitched seeing Casper glaring down at him, face flushed with lust. Their eyes looked predator like as they looked at him, Casper then smirked seeing his reaction.

"Oh? And I though you were in control?" Mocking him. Casper grinded down roughly. Ripping a moan from Charlie, his hands shot to their waist. Casper didn't react to them they simply continued rocking against him.

"Oh!-What Cas? Gonna-fuck!....Just gonna just rock against me? Not gonna take me?" Poking the bear, Charlie saw Casper get a mischievous smile. Simply batting their lashes at him as they picked up their pace.

"Whhaatt?......Does Charlie want me to ride him? Fuck that cock of his till I'm only saying his name? Hhmm? Where you can only feel my walls clenching around you?...." Whispering Casper slowed their rocking hips. Causing their boyfriend to whine at the lost but stopped as Casper gave him a look.

Giving them big doe eyes, Charlie nodded but that wasn't good enough for them. Casper agonizingly slowly rocked their hips, Charlie closed his eyes trying to focus on that to get some type of friction.

"Charlie, baby boy?" The nickname made his cock twitch again and he looked up, "Use. Your. Words." Leaning down and Whispering lowly in his ear.

Chaire was getting a bit light headed how hot his body and face felt. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he looked at his lover. Clearing his throat a bit, Charlie's voice squeaked when he spoke.

"Please.....Ride me?" Shyly saying Charlie looked at Casper. Who chuckled and started tearing his cloths off, first with his shirt. The blonde moaned as Casper attacked his neck with kisses again, and to help he tugged on his lovers shirt.

Breaking away from his neck Casper quickly took their shirt off and smiled as Charlie's hands went to their chest. Groaning as his hands groped them, but they still needed those pants off of him. So gently taking his wrists they pushed his hands down and got up.

"Lift your hips." Telling their boyfriend, who followed. Casper was able to get the pants off quickly in a quick motion, then started on their's. Charlie began stroking himself as he watched his partner finish stripping for him.

"Your so hot....you know? Also a bit mean for taking my mojo away...." Huffing a bit, Charlie smiled as Casper got comfy back on his lap. They gave him a small frown before kissing him, slipping their tongue in as a apology. Even letting one hand slip down to pump his leaking cock, making his moans muffled as Casper continued to kiss him.

Breaking away Casper giggled seeing how their boyfriend whined and tried to grab them. Then standing on their knees began to prep themselves for him, smiling wider as Charlie focused on that.

"How can I not? You were taking too long....Also...." Pausing in their sentence to moan as they stretched themselves. "You like it when I just take control from you~ I'll behave next time okay?.....or next round if your up to it~" Giggling Casper leaned down and kissed Charlie who was wide eyed looking at them.

"Your going to be the death of me Cas..." Sighing Charlie looked back at them and smiled. Oh well, he's not complaining as long as they get their freak on. His thought's were cut off by him feeling warmth wrap around his cock slowly.

The blonde threw his head back as Casper slowly sinked down, moaning as they opened up more for him. Charlie's hands shot to their waist, gripping it tight and moaning loudly. Breathy giggles were heard as Casper looked down at him, then lifted themselves up and slammed back down.

"Ah! Fuck- Cas!- Oh god your so fucking-" Rambling form the blonde started but Casper locked onto his lips again. Kissing him as they continued to ride him roughly, Charlie's hands wondered their body as he looked at them through his lashes.

"Yeah? I know baby- Fuck!" Panting Casper threw their head up a bit breaking the kiss again. A string of saliva connecting their mouths as they both got lost in pleasure. Slaps of skin echoed through the room as Casper picked up the past the best they could.

Charlie, to get a bit even, thrusted up into Casper causing them to gasp and grip his chest. His partner glared down at him but moaned as he met their hips again.

"You- Fuck!" Trying to scold him, Casper couldn't focus as their orgasm got closer. Charlie was moaning loudly as he bucked into their hole chasing his high. With one more thrust both cummed together, Casper flopping down gently on Charlie's chest.

Light panting filled the room now as the couple tried to catch their breath. Casper looked up at Charlie and giggled, causing him to look at them too.

"That was so hot-" Blurting out caused Casper to snort at those words. The blonde joined giving sleepy chuckles as he realized how tired he was now. Casper closed their eyes as Charlie began stroking their hair gently, a nap wouldn't hurt right now.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Just Like Powder - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

"Why?" Vi whispers. "Why'd you bother?"

"Because—" Jinx's shadow doesn't slip, but something in those eyes does. It's like a layer of film coming undone. Behind it, raw optical nerves are exposed. The pupils burn dark as bullet holes. "Because I owed you."

"Owed me?"

"That's how we started, right? When we were kids. Me, a little pipsqueak. And you, the big hero. Always keepin' me safe. Giving me what I needed." Her breath husks in her throat. "This isn't home. Not like the Last Drop. But it's your room. It's where you sleep. Where you bathe. Where you... y'know. I couldn't just leave you to them. They have no right to our business. Our Safe Spot."

The anger bleeds out, and all that's left is the blown-apart ache of memory. Powder, nestled into the crook of Vi's shoulder. The threadbare blankets a cozy cocoon.  The curve of their bodies, a snug fit where there'd been no space for heartbreak.

No room for anything, but the two of them.

Their Safe Spot.

"You used to call me your Little Star," Jinx says quietly. "Do you remember?"

Something in Vi's chest caves in, the way the Bridge had done during the Siege. A deep, shuddering crack that splits Vi at the seams, and swallows all her defenses. In their place, there's only the soft, bruised pulp of her heart.

"Yeah," she rasps. "Of course I do."

"You used to tell me stories," Jinx goes on, "before I went to sleep. And you'd sing me songs."

"I—I did."

"You had such a nice voice. Like Mom's. At least, I think so." An introspective pause. "I don't really remember hers. It's a little fuzzy now. Like her face. Except for the smile. That's still there. Right on your stupid mug."

"My—?"

"When you're dreaming. You look just like her."  The rafters creak. A single arm drops, fingers starfishing. Mapping out, almost, the shape of a lost compass.  "Sometimes I stick around. Just a little while. Just to watch."

Tears sting the rims of Vi's eyes. She eases closer. Without being aware of it, she's reaching up. Her fingertips touch her sister's. Slowly, slowly, their hands meet, and interlace. Vi feels the film of new calluses overlaying the old ones The ones from Powder's girlhood, when her hands had been a blur, her brain a spool, her tongue a flippant fount. When the world had been theirs, and they'd belonged to each other.

When nothing, not even their worst fears, could rip them apart.

"I'm sorry," she breathes. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"For not being there. For leaving you." Thick tears threaten to spill. "If I'd stayed—"

"Don't." The small hand in hers quivers. "It was always gonna end like that. Maybe it's better that it did. You know, in a way."

"How's that?"

"Cause if you'd stayed, he'd have killed you. Killed us both. And there'd have been five bodies in that sinkhole. Not three." The quivering deepens into a full-body tremor. "He'd have done it, too. I could tell by the look in his eye. The way he looked when he stabbed Vander in the back.  When his knife went in and out."

Silco. A blade, flashing in the flames. A splatter of blood, Vander's scream, and a lifetime of pain.

Vi remembers, too.

"But you'd left me, and I was alone. That changed something. Flipped the script. Suddenly, he couldn't look at me... and not see himself. The night Vander turned on him, and left him for dead. I was hurting so bad, and the only person who could make it better was gone. You were gone. So I made do with the next best thing."

"With Silco," Vi croaks.

"He saved me." Jinx's thumb smooths the curve of Vi's lifeline. "Stole me, but saved me, too. He taught me the same lessons you did. To be strong. To let nobody knock me down. To keep fighting no matter what. Only difference was, his lessons came with teeth. Lots of teeth, and lots of hurt. But I didn't mind. Hurting was better than dying. Better than letting the hole you left swallow me up."

"Powder—"

"Jinx." The hand jerks, and the touch recedes. "Quit calling me that."

"It's your name."

"Not anymore. I've picked another one. A better one."

"You—or Silco?"

Silence.

The shadow ripples in the rafters. An eyeblink later, Jinx is crouched on the ledge. Her body's all the colors of a stormfront: the bruise-hued blue clouds; the livid, bloody lightning; the deep, drowning midnight. The space surrounding her seems to warp somehow: a displacement of hundreds of vibrating atoms.

Vi is staring into a force of nature. And it's staring right back.

"You," Jinx says flatly, "are obsessed."

"I'm not obsessed."

"Yes, you are. With who I was, and what you lost.  Always—you, you, you. That's why you're still running around in circles. Trying to save a world that doesn't exist. One that you've made up so you won't have to deal with the real thing. The real me. Because, guess what, sis? Jinx has been there the whole time. Even before Silco met me. Even before—before. She was always there, and you were totally fucking blind."

"Don't say that," Vi protests. "You were never—"

"But I was. You want Powder. Your Little Star. And, y'know, maybe I did, too. Once. But Powder's gone, Vi. She doesn’t exist anymore. Because the truth is, her days were numbered. Her own loneliness was killing her.  The kind that twists you out of shape, and makes you a sad, sorry excuse of a human being. Powder knew that, deep down. It's why she was so scared. Why she always shrunk herself. So she'd fit in your big dumb hero fantasy. Always be the girl who needed rescuing. Who needed you. 'Cause then, you'd never leave her."

There are wan shafts of sunlight piercing the rafters. In the brightness, the maze has chipped away. Vi stares, and her sister is no longer a comet or a phantom or a poltergeist.

She's a girl: flesh and blood. 

And tears.

Vi can't see them, but she senses their dangerous proximity. Not the crocodile kind from before, but the real deal. The ones that hide deep in the atmosphere, and only fall when the heartache is too heavy to carry.

Vi's own threatens to rupture into a storm. She's felt its foreboding pressure pounding behind her ribs all night.

If it breaks, it'll drown them both.

"I never meant to leave you," Vi forces out. "If I'd known what he'd do to you—"

"Oh, gods, would you shut up about that!"

All at once, Jinx has poured herself from the rafters. It's a fluid motion: nearly frictionless. Her boots collide squarely with the floorboards, and she unfolds to her full height. In the petaling brightness, Vi can see her fully. Her sister is dressed almost entirely in black: leather cut-off shorts, fishnet tights, and a tank-top with a long-sleeved mesh jacket. A pistol—PuffPuff, she calls it—is strapped to one hip, and a fistful of grenades hangs from the other. The blue of her hair is a neon flame.

She is armed to the teeth.

Dressed to kill.

"Silco didn't twist me," Jinx says. "He just saw me as I was. He let me be, and helped me become."

"Become what? A killer?"

"Psssh." Her chin juts in challenge. "Killers are like fleas: a dime a dozen. They don't change the game. Not like we did."

"We?" Vi is all volition, and yet there is no control. No recourse. Only her body, advancing with fists locked and jaw steeled to close the gap between them. They square off eye-to-eye. "Are you really going to keep pretending? After everything he's done? Everything he's taken from us?"

"Puh-lease. Spare me the sanctimony. You think Zaun would be real if he hadn't cut Topside down to size with his bare teeth? If he hadn't put the gangs in line and the chem-barons in their place?"

"With what? Shimmer? Chem-fiends in the alleys and corpses in the canals? D'you have any clue how many lives he's wrecked?"

"It's called 'collateral damage,' Vi. It's the cost of business. What, did you expect him to just wait around while Topside ran us into the ground? While the Council kept bleeding us dry?"

"He could have done something different!"

"Oh, yeah? Like what? Take a page outta Vander's book?" Jinx's eyes are two red, glistening wounds. But fury sizzles the tears in their sockets. "Newsflash, genius: his way didn't work. He thought making nice and playing along was the answer, and where'd that get him? A knife in the back. Literally."

"Because of Silco!"

"You think someone else wouldn't have done the same? Especially once word got out that he was in cahoots with the Enforcers? Please." Jinx's jaw juts. They're both inches apart now. Breathing heavily, two boxers braced for the starting bell. "Guess what, sis. There's a hundred would-be Vanders out there. And one thousand would-be Boy Saviors. Big, strong bozos who want to do the right thing. Who wanna save the little guy. But they don't have the balls—or the brains—to make a difference. Not like Silco did."

"Not like he did, by killing his brother?" Vi erupts. "By stealing a girl, and using her to kill his enemies? By blinding her until she forgot who she is?"

"The only blind one's you!" The girlhood mottle is back in Jinx's face. It's the same flush she'd gotten whenever a fight got too real, and the hurt burrowed too deep. "You, and Ekko, all those suckers who stuck their heads in the sand! That's why you're so mad. Because you wanted Powder to stay the same. Be the girl who needed saving. The one who'd never make it without you. Well, guess what? She has. And if you think I'll let your sorry ass wreck everything, you've got another thing comin'!"

"If you think," Vi shoots back, "I'll stand by and let Silco's craziness infect you a second longer, you've got another thing comin'!"

"Craziness, is it? Crazier than you going from Superbitch to Bootlicker? Twisting yourself up into knots over a Topside twat who's already tossed you over for the next skirt who comes her way? Plotting a hit against Silco with nothing but a rustbucket revolver and no bullets, no back-up, and a head full of hot air?" Jinx laughs. Not her usual manic cackle. Her real, honest-to-gods guffaw. "Oh, you got me beat, Vi. You got me beat good."

"It's not a hit," Vi grits out.

"Really? What else d'you call a plan to gun a man down in cold blood?"

"I'm not—"

"Don't even try it. I know you, remember? A punch, a prayer, and hey! Presto! Problem solved."

"Jinx, listen to me—"

But Jinx is laughing again. Laughter with a cutting edge of hysteria.

"Gods," she says, "I shoulda known. This is how you always handle things. If you can't be the big dumb hero—be the big dumb martyr.  Nevermind that the minute you pull that trigger, it's him who'll go down in history. Him and his legacy. While yours goes straight down the gutter. Just like Vander. Just like Mom. Just like..."

She swallows. The laughter dies, and the tears begin to fall.

"...just like Powder."

[eoieopda]

blindsided (myg)

After years of dating, you thought you had Min Yoongi all figured out - you didn't. And when he flipped the script on you, you never saw it coming.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader | Darksided AU Type: Sequel to darksided. Word Count: 6K Content: SMUT (18+ - Minors DNI,) established relationship au, POV switch, softbf!yoongi turned dom!yoongi, sub!reader, sex tape, oral sex (f receiving,) v fingering, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, squirting, multiple orgams, over-stimulation, spanking, biting, blindfold, praise kink, pussy slapping, general depravity, aftercare, fried chicken. A/N: Seriously, go read darksided (linked above) if you haven't yet. This takes place approx. two weeks later, and while the context isn't necessary, things will make more sense! Check out the playlist while you’re here. Tags: @exhibitachol @sstarryoong @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @miraculous-disaster @wakeupinahaze

For the first time in his life, Yoongi was avoiding his studio.

He had a mountain of work left to do on his mixtape – and, importantly, the drive to finish it – but that was precisely why he’d stayed away. Anytime he stepped foot inside over the past two weeks, his mind wandered far, far away from the task at hand. His previously unyielding discipline fell by the wayside the second he crossed the threshold.

Instead of focusing on the tracks he had yet to write, or perfecting the ones he'd already recorded, his eyes would roam over the surface of his desk on the other side of the room. It'd since been returned to its usual state, covered in various notebooks, and recording equipment. But it looked so much better with your bare, sweat-slicked body writhing on top of it.

And when he'd finally muster the willpower to look back at his computer, his gaze would pass over - and then jerk back to - the wall he’d pinned you against as his fingers fucked a river out of you. His blood pressure would spike as he pictured you there, relying on him to hold you upright, and any hope of accomplishing anything would drop dead on the floor.

The very same floor you’d fastidiously scrubbed to erase the mess he’d made of you, no less.

And then he’d think to himself: This isn’t a workspace anymore - it’s holy ground. 

Yoongi was running out of time, though, and he had to do his best to keep his mind on his work, off of you. Catching himself once again rewinding through recent memories, he let out a groan and forced his wandering eyes back to the screen in front of him.

He realized as he scrolled through his editing software that he’d done a piss-poor job of labeling his masters lately. This, of course, made it impossible for him to remember which track was which. On a whim, he chose the file in the middle of the folder and brought it up.

If he’d paid attention to the size of the file, he could’ve prepared himself for the consequences of pressing ‘play' - but he didn’t and he wasn't. 

“I really couldn’t love you more if I tried.” "Should I shut it off now until you're ready to start?" "I can cut it down. I do need you to cue the track, though - when I signal you."

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, he secured his headphones over his ears. He’d never been less interested in hearing his own music; so, without a second thought, he skipped over the next three minutes. As he did, his hand dropped down to palm his hardening dick through his jeans.

“Is it me, baby? Have I got you dizzy?”

Your little whimpers were barely audible in the recording, but they still managed to ignite a fire in the pit of his stomach. The blaze spread throughout his body when he pictured the way you looked below him then - so soft and shy, but with such carnal desire sparking in the dark of your eyes.

“I can’t give you what you want if you can’t tell me what that is.”

Anticipating your next line, his hand tensed around his cock. It was a pale imitation of that vice grip he found between your thighs, but it was something; and he would've taken anything.

“I don’t want you to be gentle with me. I - I know that you -”

Even caged between the walls of unimaginable heat, the irony of it all wasn't lost on him. The best recording he'd ever produced was created purely by accident -

“Stupid girl. You know nothing.”

- and it wasn't music at all.

“Get up.”

With Yoongi working hard on his creative pursuits, you begrudgingly committed to addressing your own. Like him, you had a to-do list long enough to circle the globe; but unlike him, you weren't buried in projects because you wanted to be. 

When Yoongi crossed off a task, he scribbled five more in its place. His mind never idled because he found inspiration everywhere. A half-remembered vignette from childhood that shook itself loose to become something beautiful. A word he encountered in passing that he’d transform into some modern-day epic. He generated this much work solely because his passion - like his potential - was limitless. 

To the contrary, you generated this much work because you were easily distracted. You’d start one project, and before you could finish it, your attention would flutter off on the wind like dandelion seeds. All those half-starts would stockpile until you eventually boxed yourself into a corner - and then, somehow, you'd keep stacking. 

Today's task was simple: you needed to transfer your recent photos from your camera's memory card to your laptop. Easy. Drag files from one folder to another, and then your contribution to this month's magazine spread would be finished. It should've only taken an hour - at most - for the upload to complete. 

Instead of doing what you intended, you ended up where you always did: happily lost in the weeds. This particular distraction was a folder from four years ago, when Yoongi took you on an anniversary trip to Paris. If you really had to defend this tangent, your scattered brain's game of word association wasn't far off - the photos you were supposed to tend to were from Paris Fashion Week. 

That counts for something, right? 

You snorted as you toggled through your archive. Had you taken a single photo of the stunning architecture, or countless historical sites you’d visited? Of course not. But you had snapped approximately one-hundred shots of an unaware Min Yoongi - buying you macarons; befriending a stray cat by an ATM; grimacing as he sipped wine you both hated but spent too many Euros on to waste. 

Wait, what were you supposed to be doing? 

Whatever it was, you’d swear up and down that you really did intend to finish it, but then you heard familiar, muffled footsteps. And then you felt the mattress dip slightly under the tops of your thighs and the elbows you’d propped yourself up on.  

And then the same Min Yoongi whose face beamed on your screen - slightly older, and even more adored - slid over the backs of your outstretched legs until his knees came to rest at either side of your ass. His body was warm as it loomed over you, but you shivered, nonetheless. 

Leaning in, he pushed your hair over your right shoulder and pressed a warm kiss into your left. Though he'd targeted an area several centimeters away from your spine, the aftershocks of this chaste contact rippled down its length. From there, the current divested and shot through each of your limbs, paralyzing you. 

You hummed and let your eyelids flutter shut. He ascended the arc of your shoulder, then your neck, leaving a smattering of kisses in his wake until the trail went cold. His quiet exhale tickled the skin below your ear, but he hovered in place - too far away. 

Reflexively, you whined and tilted your head to look at him. Effectively pinned, all you could do was survey his profile in your peripheral vision. “Baby?” You nudged. 

The hand he wasn’t using to hold his weight snuck under the hem of your tank-top and caressed the bare curve of your waist. His hypnotic ministrations on your side might’ve lulled you to sleep if you weren’t so intrigued by his so-far wordless affection. 

Thoroughly spellbound, your lids closed again while your lips remained parted. There was a moan building slowly in your chest, taking its time, but it was a gasp that tore out of you when his teeth nicked your lobe. His tongue was quick to soothe the pinch, and even quicker to solicit a mewl. 

You had no idea where this was coming from. Moreover, you didn't know what additional surprises this man was capable of. Though Yoongi had always been affectionate with you, he'd only recently unearthed some rare, raw sensuality that you never expected. In the time since this discovery, his touches became more frequent. You felt more of him underscoring each one, no matter how brief. 

The fingers skimming over your waist disappeared and left you cold, but before you could process the loss, they reappeared - lower now, pushing up the bottom of your underwear, and gripping the doughy cheek of your ass. Hard. Instantaneously, your hazy eyes re-opened. 

Min Yoongi truly contained multitudes. 

"Have I told you that you're my muse?" He purred into the shell of your ear as his hand massaged the skin he'd likely bruised.  

Enchanted once again, your sole response was a breathy moan. Only after his hand raised and smacked back against your ass did you realize he'd lulled you into a false sense of security. 

"When I ask you a question, I want an answer. Do you understand, baby?" 

Your shuttered breaths and accompanying nod weren't sufficient replies. His palm collided with your delicate cheek a second time, and it stayed there. The sting was muted by his fingers digging in and pinching; but it wasn't the pain that stole your attention. 

Instead, it was the wetness gushing between your clenched thighs when he whispered, "Use your words, angel." 

"I do," You muttered urgently, "I understand." 

The grip on your ass dissolved. You knew better now than to trust the warm hand kneading your cheek, but you couldn't resist moaning. Fuck - his touch was perfect. 

He contradicted the gentle caress below with a nip at your neck; and the kiss placed at that same spot preceded the true kill-shot. He hummed against your skin and your soul threatened to leave your body: 

"Good girl." 

The noise that escaped your mouth was stranded between a gasp and a cry. Oh, this man would be the death of you. 

"You inspired my next project today," He murmured between kisses to your neck. The tip of his nose was cold as it brushed across your skin and that disparity in temperature left you in shambles. "Not something I've done before -" He paused to suckle at your neck, no doubt leaving a mark when he released you, "And I need your help, baby." 

Another whimper escaped when his index finger snapped the elastic waistband of your boy-shorts; and you felt his mouth curve into a smirk. "I'll do anything -" You meant it. "Just - please, Yoongi, I need to feel you." 

"You will," His mirth left him in a breathy chuckle. It vibrated through your body and formed goosebumps as it went. "But not yet, angel. I want to savor this." 

Confused, you pouted - another exhaled laugh against your neck - and then, in a tiny voice, you asked, "What do you mean?" 

His hand slid up the back of your neck. With the base of your skull held gently captive between his thumb and middle finger, he guided you to turn your head to the left, then down. 

It didn't click right away. Silently, you blinked down at your camera. Is this what he wanted you to see? Why did - "Oh, no," you groaned as your head drooped forward. 

"Oh no?" He repeated, and though he tried, he couldn't hide the surprise in his tone. You quickly realized that he mistook your reaction for disinterest. He couldn't have been more wrong.  

Your sudden, complete deflation was simply your body buckling under the weight of unspeakable arousal. It anticipated the world-endingly perfect way he was about to fuck you; and it couldn't process the fact that it would all be memorialized. He really would be the end of you. 

Your head tilted until it rested against the side of his. "The memory card inside it is full, but there's a new one in my bag." 

Although you couldn't see it, you knew the corner of his mouth would twitch excitedly upwards at your words. At his, your mouth dropped open: 

"Any clothes you're still wearing when I come back to this bed will be ripped off. Got it?" 

It was difficult to tell which part of this exchange made your legs quiver the most: the stern warning itself; the contradictory soft, husky tone in which he said it; or the kiss the top of your head received when you responded - out loud - in the affirmative. He was gone before you could figure it out, making his way to the camera bag in the corner of your bedroom. 

He'd barely taken two steps when you frantically pulled your oversized tank-top over your head. It landed somewhere out of sight, and it was swiftly joined by your underwear - grey fabric soaked black. Your laptop was more carefully dismissed, tucked gently under the nightstand to avoid being ruined the way you were sure to be. 

When your head hit the pillow, your heart was already racing. Suddenly, you felt shy as you lay naked in your own bed, like you hadn't been in this position so many times before. There was a long-forgotten anticipation turning flips in your stomach. It bent your knees and brought your arms up to rest over your bare chest - you hadn't felt it since the very first time Yoongi saw you like this. 

As if he'd been summoned by your thoughts, Yoongi walked towards you with his focus trained on the camera in his hands. The tip of his tongue poked out through pursed lips as he carefully slotted the new memory card into the bottom, but it disappeared when the compartment clicked shut again.

He froze when he looked up at you, and your hammering heart threatened to make a break for it. 

"Baby," He was frowning. You raced to figure out which of his directions you failed to follow; but he interrupted the frenzy in your brain with that maddeningly soft, stern voice, "Why are you hiding?" 

Mouth open and poised to respond - with what, you weren't sure - you were cut off by the extended finger he raised to silence you. You clamped your jaw shut; his mouth curved ever-so-slightly at your quick compliance. 

See? You wanted to say, I'm learning! 

He removed the lens cap before his eyes flitted back up to you. "Hands above your head -" You did as he asked, though you didn't know where this was going. "- Close your eyes -" Again, you obeyed. "Don't move." 

And you didn't.  

You laid there with your eyes closed and listened for any sign of what was coming next. You could hear the muffled tread of his bare feet on the rug; and you expected further instructions - none came. Then you waited for any familiar noise from your camera - there was silence. But you smelled his cologne as he came closer, and the warmth you suddenly felt at your side told you that he’d reached you. 

“Lift your head up – but keep your eyes closed.” 

The eyebrow you raised in question was covered with some cool, silky fabric before Yoongi could have registered it. You received your answer in his actions. Gentle fingers adjusted the way the blindfold fell over your eyes, and then – even more gently – they tied a knot at the back of your head. Not too tight, but firm enough to keep it from slipping. It was no surprise to you that he’d handled this without disturbing a single hair on your head. 

His hands, once behind your head, now cupped your face. “You listen so well, angel,” He murmured before plush lips brushed against your forehead. “Lay back down the way you were.” 

Your head returned to the pillow and your elbows bent to allow your hands to meet above it. And you waited like that, trying to sense what his next move would be.

His footsteps padded off, and you figured he was seeking the best place to set up the camera. He paused, though, after only taking a few steps. The camera whirred – the auto-focus, you recognized immediately – and then it clicked. 

“So beautiful – you know that, don’t you? How stunning you are?”  

Click. 

“Perfect -” 

Click. 

“Mine” 

You couldn't help wondering how his photos would turn out. If your cheeks weren’t red under the blanket of his praise, it’d only be because you’d turned into a puddle. Your arousal had strayed far enough to slick the insides of your thighs, and if he didn’t touch you soon, you might liquify entirely and seep through the mattress to the floor. 

In the distance, plastic settled on wood. The strap affixed to your camera slithered over whatever surface he’d chosen; you could hear it slip over an edge, then it was silent. The bookshelf, you decided, third row from the top. Maybe second, if he liked the angle better? 

Without speaking first, he crawled up onto the foot of the bed. He paused there, likely kneeling in front of you. His hands slipped under your bent knees, and the only warning you got was him purring, “Come here,” mere seconds before you were pulled forward. You imagined that your gasp was still hanging in the air when you slipped out from under it. 

As soon as he was satisfied with your proximity, his hands found the insides of your knees and encouraged your legs to spread. “Now, baby -” He started, the heat of his breath indicating just how close his mouth was to your weeping cunt. “You’ll make sure the camera can hear you, won’t you?” 

The word was caught in your throat, suddenly bashful, but it eventually slipped out, “Yes.” 

You knew you’d failed as soon as you heard it, and you didn’t need to wait long to face the consequences. You jolted when his flattened fingers collided with your cunt - the sensation was a surprise, but the sound was what shocked you. Fuck! You could hear how wet he had you already.

Sodden, pooling, dripping. 

“Don’t be selfish, angel,” He tutted after withdrawing his touch from you, “Those sounds might come out of your mouth, but they don't belong to you, do they?” 

“No -” Your desperation was palpable when you responded with your whole chest. “They don’t. I – I won’t be selfish, I promise -” 

You cried out when he slapped your cunt a second time, an obscene chord formed by surprise, torment, and unbearable need.

“Whose are they?”

“Yours!” You choked, “They’re yours. I’m yours.” 

His arms hooked under your thighs and your pulse skyrocketed. “See? You are learning.” 

And then he lurched forward, flat tongue dragging upwards over your core with a pressure so perfect, your entire body tensed. He squeezed your legs harder when your back arched, and it prevented you from inadvertently slipping away from him.  

That devilish tongue swirled over your clit, and all you could manage was a whisper of a moan. He corrected you wordlessly, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. The groan he pulled from you ricocheted off each one of your ribs on the way out. Satisfied, he hummed in approval against your cunt before he proceeded to flick dizzying circles over your increasingly sensitive bud; alternating paces in the way he knew would drive you mad.  

Both of your arms reached out, and your hands carded through his hair. You pulled him ever closer, which prompted him to shake his head furiously with the flat of his tongue pressed against your heat.  

“Oh, fuck!” you wailed. As much as you wanted to watch him, you knew that – even without the blindfold - the way his mouth moved so expertly against you would have made it too difficult to keep your eyes open. They were already covered, but you squeezed them tight enough to see stars as he suckled your clit. “Shit, baby – ah – feels so good.”  

The thread holding you together frayed further and further with every brush of his tongue against your most sensitive spot. The sound of his breathing, ragged and muffled with your thighs pressed harshly against the sides of his head, would have done unspeakable things to you - if your mindless gasping didn't threaten to drown him out completely.  

He shifted without removing his mouth from you, and he unhooked his right arm from under your leg. The heel of his hand glided up over your pelvis, your navel, and your breasts before stopping at the underside of your jaw. Two fingers tapped at your chin; you took the hint and took them into your mouth.

His tongue never let up on your clit as you slicked his fingers, suckling on them the way he did you. Once he was satisfied with the work you’d done, he pulled his hand back down to your cunt.   

Tongue still relentless at your clit, his middle finger swung the focus to your entrance, which was drenched by his saliva and your own slick. Meticulous and slow, he slid his finger inside of you. He moaned at the way you constricted around him; you melted. 

He never struggled to find that secret spot hidden behind your pubic bone. He'd proven time and time again that he was more in tune with your body than you were. Every curve, dip, and line had been committed to muscle memory.  

He could anticipate your reaction to every touch, even when those reactions varied based upon your mood or your energy level - and it was automatic. Unthinking but knowing. He teased this spot without mercy, and as he likely expected, you began to shake under his touch.  

The growing feeling in the pit of your stomach was one you knew he strived for. His favorite trick, once he knew the secret. And whenever you tried to resist – still uncomfortable with the way your body reacted to him – he gave you no choice. 

No poet could adequately describe how completely your orgasm consumed you. With the way you jolted against his mouth, he could’ve electrocuted you. You wriggled and writhed in his arms as you came, but he didn’t stop, even as your walls clenched around his fingers and your thighs pressed even more tightly against the sides of his head.

Your familiar moans devolved into some desperate sounds you’d never made before, curse words spilling out over your lips as you just kept cumming – but he still held tight to you as you bucked wildly in his arms.  

There was unbelievable pressure until there wasn’t.  

“Fuck, I love it when you do that,” He growled with his face nestled into your quivering, dripping inner thigh. His teeth nicked the skin but were swiftly replaced with a kiss from his ravenous, open mouth. “That’s my good girl.” 

He let you collapse back onto the bed, but he denied you any time to recover.  

“I think you can do it again, baby. What do you think?” He teased, alternating words and quick kisses along the interior of your thigh. “Should we see how much more you can take?”  

You babbled something in response, but neither of you could’ve interpreted what you meant. Your limp neck rolled to the side while you tried to catch your breath; there wasn’t time. You felt him coat his fingers in the remnants of your orgasm moments before he slid them inside of you and curled them upward.  

The combination of relentless pressure and a feverish pace dotted stars across the insides of your eyelids. Breathless, dangling at the edge of a precipice, you stammered, “Yoo-Yoongi -” 

Despite the obscene squelch of his ministrations, his voice rang through, clear as a bell. “What, angel? Do you want to come again?” Stupidly, you nodded, but he didn’t scold you. Given your fucked-out state, he seemed to forgive your mistake. “Then come.” 

The blindfold covering your eyes was black, but your vision went white. As you spasmed and gushed uncontrollably around his fingers, there was a moment where you could’ve sworn your soul ejected itself from your body. If it was floating above you now, it would’ve seen how thoroughly you’d drenched your boyfriend; and how perfect he still looked with your juices dripping off his chin. 

His weight was shifting at your feet when you returned to your body. It took everything you had, but you lifted one, limp arm out in his general direction. No words, just an outstretched hand begging to find him. When it did, he slotted his fingers perpendicularly under yours, rubbed the pad of his thumb over your knuckles, and kissed the top of your hand. 

“What color?” he murmured against your skin. 

You sighed softly, exhausted but not yet entirely spent, “Green.” You paused and chewed on your bottom lip. After a moment of quiet, you asked, “Yoongi?” 

“Yes, baby?” 

It was pitiful how your request barely rolled off of your tongue, but the answer would surely be no if you didn’t ask. “Can I see you?” 

He was silent for a moment – so, the answer would be no even though you did ask – but then you heard his soft chuckle. Even after he pulled the blindfold off, your eyes were useless. Somewhere in the bright white haze was Yoongi, though you couldn’t confirm that the shadow in front of you was truly him. Maybe you truly had died. 

Blinking furiously, you refused to stop until your eyes remembered how to focus. Slowly, slowly, slowly, the dark figure before you took a familiar shape. Shirtless, with damp, black waves clinging to his cheekbones – there he was. Concern was etched into his features, but his narrowed eyes relaxed when you shot him a smile. 

“Color?” You inquired with a squeeze of your hand. 

When he dropped your hand, your heart fell with it. But he sat up on his knees, placed that hand on your cheek, and captured your lips in a kiss. It was perfect, but it was torturously brief.  

“Green,” He replied. He backed away from you until he was standing at the foot of the bed. One hand dropped to his belt buckle while the index finger on his other hand beckoned you. 

You crawled towards him until his palm silently instructed you to stop. 

“Elbows on the mattress, ass up,” He ordered as he made short work of his belt. It slid easily through the loops of his ripped jeans and clattered as it hit the floor.

You leaned forward as he instructed, knees and elbows digging into the comforter you’d absolutely need to wash later – especially considering the way your mouth watered when his jeans and boxers were discarded and kicked aside. Were you drooling? 

Your body buzzed with anticipation as he crossed to the side of the bed. You wished he took his time sidling over to you, so your eyes could continue to devour his lean, snow-white frame; but if the stiff cock encircled by his hand was any indication, Yoongi wasn’t interested in wasting time. Instead, he pushed himself up onto the bed, out of sight, and the next thing you felt was his hand collecting your hair, pulling, and forcing your face up to the camera. 

His free hand squeezed your ass cheek when he said, “Eye contact, baby. Show the camera how I make you feel. Can you do that?” 

With his tip teasing at your entrance, you weren’t confident that you could – but you’d sure as hell try. “I can,” Your determination was clear, even if the voice conveying it wavered. “I will.” 

“Good girl,” He hummed. He released your hair and placed a kiss on the same shoulder blade he had earlier - when he last had you in this position. “Now, take a deep breath for me.” 

It wasn’t graceful, the way you sucked in air as he penetrated you; it was an unholy, strangled sound, and it crashed through the quiet like a wrecking ball. Every instinct begged your head to droop forward, and your back to curve up upwards, but you fought them off. Praise for your efforts tumbled out over your spine between Yoongi’s shuttered moans. His noises had you clenching around his cock, and the tightened grip of your cunt transformed them into something guttural. 

He paused when he bottomed out. Like you, he seemed to be at a loss for words. The hand gripping your hip was holding on for dear life; and the one curved over your shoulder kept you in place, allowing him to bury himself as deeply as possible.

He didn’t speak until he slowly started withdrawing himself from you, “I love the way you take me, how that tight pussy fights me whenever I leave.” 

As his cock dragged over your g-spot, your entire body shivered. He felt it and chuckled; you hiccupped, “Still so s-sensitive.” 

“Green?” 

“More -” You begged, “Please, baby.” 

You asked for it, but you weren’t ready for it. His hips snapped forward and drove him back into you before you could process what was happening. And when he kept up that ravenous pace, rutting over and over and over your detonator, it took everything you had not to explode.

All your willpower was spent trying to withstand his thrusts, though – nothing could keep you from collapsing forward onto the bed as your white-knuckled fingers gripped the comforter below. 

Before your body could fully settle over the mattress, his hand on your shoulder evolved into an arm hooking over you. He pulled you upright as his arm crossed over your heaving chest; he didn’t stop until he had you pinned to his. 

Fucking upwards into you with shallow, staccato strokes, he scolded you. “What did I tell you?” His hand dropped from your hip and dipped between your quivering thighs. His rapid thrusts didn’t falter as his middle finger began to assault your clit. “Hmm? What did I just say?” 

“Eye conta -”

The end of that word mutated into a scream. He snapped his hips forward so suddenly, you never anticipated being shoved off the edge of the world. Your orgasm ripped through you, shutting off your brain and forcing your entire body to convulse around him. 

You went limp when you fell from your high; Yoongi’s hold on you tightened to keep you from collapsing. Unrelenting, he just – kept – rutting. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

You wailed when that fourth wave crashed down over you. Caught in its riptide, you spoke in tongues; writhing and shrieking and imploding. Could a person die from coming this hard? 

Yoongi’s panting pulled you out of the abyss he’d thrown you in. “Shit,” He hissed, “I’m so close - fuck, you feel so good -” You felt it all over when he growled into your ear, “Tell me where you want it, baby.” 

You answered, but it was impossible for your hazy brain to know for sure if you’d replied verbally or telepathically. Either way, he understood – he always understood – and his break-neck speed was replaced by deep, deliberate thrusts. He groaned out your name as his cock twitched inside you, painting your walls white. 

The kiss Yoongi left in the crook of your neck didn’t wash away with the water cascading down over the two of you. You could still feel the uniqueness of its warmth, even in a cloud of steam - under the hot, heavy droplets hitting your skin.  

Your eyes were closed to avoid the conditioner he was massaging into your scalp, but your exhaustion was likely to keep them that way. The only reason you hadn’t slipped down the drain yourself was your unspoken refusal to be separated from him. Though, with that invisible string tying the two of you together, you’d never be able to stray very far, even if you wanted to.

“Can you tilt your head back, love?” 

This one was a request, not a command, and he made no effort to move it for you. The weight of your sleepiness caused your neck to roll more clumsily than you intended; it gave up, and your head bumped against his clavicle when it dropped backwards.

“Sorry,” you murmured, but he was already chuckling. “My motor skills seem to have clocked out early.” 

His laugh ricocheted off the tile. “You won’t need them,” He mused as his hands gently worked the remaining conditioner from your hair. “We can use mine.” Then he kissed the crown of your head, not once but twice. You could feel his smile spread against your scalp when you giggled. “All done, baby.” 

He’d taken his time with you; and he’d taken great care to clean – then kiss – every sore muscle he encountered. And when he was done, he used a large, plush towel to wick the lingering droplets from your skin. His hands on your waist steadied you as you stepped into a pair of sweatpants, and he smoothed the damp waves that you disrupted in unceremoniously tugging an oversized sweatshirt over your head. 

Once the two of you were fully dressed, he cupped your face in his hands, kissed you deep, and asked, “Do you need a lift back to bed?” His eyes sparkled at his joke – of course, he meant lift literally – and his eyebrow arched when you meekly shook your head. “I’m not sold. Is that your final answer?” 

You, once again, shook your head. He exhaled amusement through his nose at your indecision. Then, he placed his hands on your waist. Perfectly coordinated – as always – he lifted as you hopped, pulling you into his chest while your limbs wrapped around him. He carried you easily back into the bedroom and set you down gently on the bare mattress. 

All of your bedding was spinning in the washing machine on the first floor of your home, but he had a fluffy, full-sized throw waiting there for you. You held up one side of it, silently inviting him to join you. When he settled at your side, your head ducked down and came to rest under his chin. As soon as his arm curled over your back, your heavy lids finally closed. 

You were both quiet, one foot in a dream, when the growl of his stomach startled you both awake. Erupting into laughter, you each craned your neck to see the other beaming back. 

He wiped the mirth pooling in the corner of his eye and sighed as his laughter petered out, “Delivery from that fried chicken place?” 

“Oooh, yes, please.”

A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! The response to the first post was so incredibly overwhelming, I simply had to write a follow-up. I might continue to add one-offs to this darksided cinematic universe (lol) simply because I love their relationship dynamic. And the sexual journey they seem to be on, hahahah. Please leave feedback so I know what you liked and what you didn't! Also, lmk if there’s something you’d want to see in any possible future installments 👀