#so realizing that i was like oh. i have my own card but it's on the same membership like we have the family plan thing

[paperglader]

they really put alicent in bridgerton blue on the reunion and genuinely expected me to think that she didn’t in fact march all the way to dragonstone to get wifed up? bfr

[dollya-robinprotector]

Wobin and Lya in Clamp CCS manga style

Pose and heavy ref from this Clamp Syaoran Sakura art

[adore-gregor]

study smart not hard (altough both is best actually) this saying is so true

[apathyfairy]

soooo sick of companies acting like they dont make 1 million dollars every millisecond and that sharing your membership with your friends is bankrupting them

[tittyinfinity]

I'd love to have physical copies of all my media if I didn't fuckin lose everything

[a-b-riddle]

Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

[zooophagous]

So why do you hate the advertising industry?

Hokay so.

Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.

I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.

I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.

Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.

Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.

Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.

I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.

And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.

Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.

Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.

And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.

Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.

It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.

It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.

And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.

Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.

Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.

However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.

I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.

Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.

[forsworned]

part one

cw: onlyfans!simon, canon universe, cybersex, solo sex/masturbation, being simon's good girl while he has some downtime, parasocial relationship???

author's note: and let me say this once to be clear, if you don't know how to ask for a part two properly without giving some sort of positive feedback and instead demand it from me you will get a verbal spanking from me and i will embarrass you, i do not care

Your breath catches as you gawk at your phone, rereading the message. The sensation of anxiety pricks at you causing you to perspire under your pits and the temple of your forehead.

The thought of him—TacticalHeat—or Ghost or whatever the hell his name is waiting on the other side, possibly stroking himself at the notion of you joining him on a private call sends a rush of arousal up your spine.

Ping!

TacticalHeat: You still there, lovie?

Oh, fuck. You card your fingers through your hair and let out a heavy exhale. It's awful timing really. Like getting caught with your pants down...literally.

Fingers sticky with lube and your own arousal, you stretch your limbs to open the drawer of your nightstand and pull out a wet wipe to clean off your hands and get a gander at the state of your appearance. It's slightly disheveled, but honestly? In a super sexy bedhead kind of way.

You wipe the corners of your eyes to remove the accumulated smudged mascara from your gruesome work day and let a sharp expire through your nose. Well, if you were going to do this, you'd at least look hot doing it.

You: Yeah, I'm here.

TacticalHeat: So what do you think, lovie...you up for it?

"Fuck!" You exclaim to yourself, not realizing that your dumbass forgot to reply to his original message. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment, tracing circles in the air as you try to unscramble your mind.

You: Now works...what do you have in mind?

The three dots appear almost instantly like he's waiting for your response with the same fiery intensity that has you gripping at your phone.

TacticalHeat: I'll send you a link. I wanna see you, too.

Ghost has invited you to a Zoom meeting.

Your heart pounds rapidly against your ribcage, and you feel the heat sidling to your cheeks. You hadn't expected this to escalate so quickly, to be pushed into the spotlight. And yet, the idea of him watching you is thrilling.

With trembling fingers, you adjust the lighting in your room and the camera on your phone to ensure you're getting the best quality. One last look in the mirror to smooth out your hair, and make sure your top reveals a little cleavage before you tap on the link, muddying your phone screen with oils on your finger.

Twiddling with the tripod that sits by the edge of your bed as the link loads, you clip on your phone and sit back while you wait to get accepted. He wastes no time getting you out of the waiting room and you watch as the screen shifts, and suddenly, there he is. Simon's half-lidded gaze fixates on you, his familiar skull-mask in place, but this time it's different. He's relaxed, clad in a black loose-fitted henley that outlines his taut physique, and he's manspreading in light-wash denim jeans, hands exposed and you're already aching at the sight. It's an intimate setting and the atmosphere shifts when he gets a real gander at you. His gravelly voice sends a frisson up your spine:

"There's my good girl," he purrs, and just like that you're hooked.

There's a moment where your heart drops to your ass, and you let out a little shaky breath before giving him a shy smile. His gaze doesn't waver. It's intense and focused as he drinks in every detail of your appearance. You're half wondering what he thinks of you and half focused on the hoarseness in his voice when he calls you 'good girl'. How the blood rushes to your face and your trepidation tingles on your skin.

"Hi," You finally muster up and you swear his dark eyes light up, or maybe it's the delusion that spikes into your prefrontal cortex. "I'm a bit, um, surprised that you wanted to chat like this."

His mask warps in the corner of where you assume his lips are indicating a smirk. "I like a bit of spontaneity," he says, leaning closer to the camera. "Besides I wanted to see how you would handle this."

You avert your gaze for a moment, feeling hot all over again. He notes how you suck in your bottom and how your dilated eyes flicker all over the screen, a subtle sign that your adrenaline is pumping. He wishes he could hear your heart beating through the screen.

Your fingers delicately trace over your collarbone, "what do you wanna see?" your voice drops to a sultry whisper.

His eyes darken and he takes a slow breath as fixates on you, taking in all your subtle gestures and the silkiness in your dulcet tone.

"Show me how you've missed me," he rasps. "show me what you've been doing while you've waited for me."

Christ, you want to melt into your mattress. You knew it was a playful gesture to create a more intimate atmosphere between you two, even if it wasn't true.

The challenge in his tone exhilarates you with a hint of collywobbles that infest your tummy. With a quick glance at your full-size mirror mounted on your closet door, you begin to tug at the strap of your skimpy top, teasingly revealing enough of your skin to keep him riveted.

And it works.

As you continue, you can hear the jingling of his belt being unbuckled and the sound of his zipper going down.

Your blown eyes are entranced by how he frees himself from the waistband of his briefs and you’re driveling over how the muscles under the porcelain skin of his cock twitches. He tilts his head back, transfixed on how you’re exposing your pebbled bud to him.

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs, swallowing thickly as you squeeze your breasts between your fingers. “Every inch of you looks perfect, lovie.”

You practically fawn over his compliments. He’s praising you, watching you, getting off to you. And that feeling is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. You feel liberated and exposed, knowing that he’s eagerly watching you as the lines blur. This feeling consumes you, consumes him, and soon you’re stripping off your panties and he doesn’t even bother to hide the groan that escapes his lips. 

“Look at you, absolutely stunning. Every bit of you…” His tone changes when you part your silken, glistening folds. “Touch yourself for me, lovie.”

It’s a demanding tone. One that sends a frisson up your spinal column and you feel the need to please, but there’s another side of you that awakens. The kind that crawls out when you’re being railroaded by a domineering man. 

“Say please,” You wave your wand around. 

He softly snorts at your attempt at trying to tame him, but he humors you, “Please, lovie. I crave ya.”

And that’s enough to inflate your ego. Your fingers switch on the vibrator and you tease it over your clit, bucking your hips at your sensitive clit. 

There’s a twitch in his eyes when they widen. Like the light in his head switched on. “So you’ve been playing with yourself, have you, pretty girl?” he coos, sitting up a bit more. Oh, you’ve really got his attention now. 

Your heart flutters at the same rate that your pussy does when you realize he takes note of your current over aroused state. “Maybe,” you give him a coquettish grin. 

As you take the initiative and push the boundaries with him, a rumbling growl emits from him. His gaze intensifies as they lock on yours with a mixture of surprise and approval. He loves a good brat.

“Is that so?” he susurrates, his tone oozes with amusement. He likes the way your pretty face glimmers with the excitement to satisfy him. “You wanna take control now, do you?”

He shifts in his seat. “Go on then, lovie.” he gestures to you, and oh how his dick creams at the sight of you shaking your legs on for, gasping at the vibrating sensation of your toy caressing your cunt. You’re really such a site for sore eyes.

“Such a pretty pussy,”he praises with a husky voice that makes your heart race. The saccharine moans that leave your lips as you spasms against the silicone while you instruct him to tug at himself. 

He obliges because how can he not when you’re looking so fucking luscious on the other side of the camera as you winsomely order him to smear the opulent precum that oozes from his angry, swollen tip. A little sob leaves your lips when you see how compliant he is, and how his chest shudders at your words and creamy cries of delight. 

“Just like that,” he encourages, pumping at himself and in an instant the tables turn, and you’re more than willing to let him take control. He pants at the sight of your parted, saliva-lacquered lips and lolled back eyes. “No one else gets to see you like this. Only me.”

And that sentence alone leaves you breathless. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles, through his own labored breaths. The raw emotions in his voice makes it clear how much he’s affected by you, “God, you’re everything I want and more.”

And that does it for you because your orgasm rips through you like a hurricane and you feel your spine involuntarily arch in pleasure, peaked breasts splayed out as your pussy rapidly pulsates on full display for him. They bounce at your ragged breaths and throes of passion and he’s quick to follow, elongating the pleasure of your peak. His velvety, opulent cum spurts out in plentiful, white cords as he bucks his hips and throws his head back. His guttural moans are like music to your ears and you’re quaking at the pure rapture. 

There’s a long moment of silence as you both come down from your highs. A laugh leaves your lips, and a wry grin twitches at his features under his balaclava. You’re no longer dripping nerves. Your smile lights up the room, and his heart swells at the sight of your afterglow. Your confidence shines through and he’s still hard. Not a very common occurrence in the world of Ghost.

Your eyes flicker to his girthy cock and your grin spreads. His eyes follow yours and he chuckles and gently pumps himself, “not every day that happens.”

You cock a brow. “What the inviting me for a cybersex sesh, or the staying hard after cumming part?”

He barks out a hearty laugh, “Both I s’ppose.” he softly plashes. “Really got me goin’ there, lovie.”

And the nickname brings you back to life. Maybe you really were delirious because you can sense that his eyes display a different range of lingering emotions--persisting lust and a genuine admiration. You can’t help but to feel a little victorious as you watch him continue to stroke himself, even after the both of you reached your peak.

“Not everyday I meet someone who can keep up with me,” he rasps. He lets out a breath of satisfaction.

You tilt your head, a coy smile etches into your lips. “Guess I’m just full of surprises,” you reply softly. There’s that sensual confidence seeping into your tone and it shows on your body.

He chuckles. It’s low and alluring and it causes gooseberries to trail up your skin. “That you are, lovie,” he counters, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. His voice makes you feel warm and gooey. “Could get used to this…to you.”

The implication hangs heavy in the air making his interest in you clear and undeniable. Your heart skips a beat as the heat between you simmers again. It’s no longer the deviancy alone that tips him off, it’s the fact that he’s brought out a different side of you.  

“Maybe next time,” your voice is low and tempting as your eyes motion to his still-engorged length. “you’ll let me show you how much more I can handle.”

His smirk widens under his mask, and his hunger for you multiplies. “Count on it.” he replies with the promise of fulfilling that request.

You both share a yearning moment. The spark between you is electrifying and certainly obvious. You decide to make the first move as you sit up to hover your sticky thumb over the end call button, “Good night, Ghost.”

He chews at the end of his cheek and his eyes crinkle signaling that he was smiling wide. “Good night, lovie.”

There’s no doubt in your mind that this won’t be the last time you’ll see each other like this.

taglist: @fallen-angelslove @cinnabeanz @pricesugarwife @daikongirlie @firesgod @marierg

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@hiken-no-stark @shellyshellshell @livingoutsidethetardis @jemomgershippingco @kruegerismymalewife

@ki-ssshot @essentialbeats-blog @dmitriene

[unluckiestmember]

can I request headcanons of x-men 97 team x reader who is an absolute sweatheart and is just the cutest thing to exist.

Coming right up!

X-Men '97 X Sweetheart! Reader

Characters: Nathan Summers/Cable, Scott Summers/Cyclops, Remy LeBeau/Gambit, Jean Gray, Jubilee, Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto, Morph, Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler, Rogue and Logan/Wolverine.

Warning: Mild Cursing, but overall SFW.

A/N: Can I please get someone to remind me to actually post when I'm supposed to? Anyone? XD

Cable

“Time to get to work, keep up!… You want me to carry you? Heh, say less.”

Oh Nathan, Nathan, Nathan. He tries his best to be as tough and straight to business like his old man. Always a man to try and change the future and fight for the people with a straight face. But as soon as you’re around him, your sunshine energy radiates onto him. You make the freedom fighter have a need to impress you on the field when he’s not showering you in love outside of missions.

What really drew you to him was just how careful you were with his body. How you complimented his eye and stroked his robotic arm with so much care. It has made him really adore the end of the days where particular expeditions took a lot of energy out of you two, resulting in cuddles and sweet nothings. He never understood the whole concept of loving someone like his dad loved his mom, but after meeting you, he finally understood what they had was sacred. What you two had was sacred. Nathan has lost a lot in his life, but he’ll be damned if he loses you.

Cyclops

“Are you alright?! You’re not hurt, are you? I’m not overexaggerating- I’m worrying the right amount!”

Scott can be a pain in the neck during missions. He’s always one to bark out orders and keep a level head on missions as the leader of the X-Men. And if there’s one order that’s always on the top of his list, it’s making sure you are safe. He’s by all means not an overprotective or possessive lover, but he makes it a daily part of his life to always check on his beloved. Whenever you are just being yourself, you can find him staring at you, taking in your cute energy and reciprocating it with his own cute antics like kissing your cheek or giving you gifts when you least expect it.

Are the team a bit jealous of you having Scott’s favoritism? A bit. But hey, they’d rather someone like you have the best of Scott than the worst. Even if that also includes his defensive nature of you along with his jealous antics. He means well. You know it, sometimes you just have to remind him. Whether it be with a simple talk or a passionate kiss. Face it, you keep the leader of the X-Men grounded.

Gambit

“Ah, just the person I was looking for. Is it just me or are you getting more breathtaking every day, mon cher?"

When it comes to you, Remy is bound to flirt twenty four seven just to see that nice shade of pink color on your cute little cheeks. And if he cant succeed in that, he’s bound to have you smitten with his physical hold of your waist or his sincere compliments. He’s quite a charmer, anyone knows that, but with you, he adds another flare to himself; A sweet lover.

Gambit will always make it abundantly clear that you are the cutest person he’s ever met and how he can wager the perfect future with you by his side. Expect this man to shower you with surprise trips away from the mansion, a fresh breakfast almost everyday and a little card show if you are ever upset, because if there’s one thing he hates more than anything, it’s you being upset. You are the only one that can make Gambit so emotional because he just loves you so so much. And if you ever forget, he doesn’t mind reminding his raison de vivre.”

Jean Gray

“I wish you could see what was in my mind… Maybe then you’d realize how much you mean to me, my love.”

When it comes to Jean, you’ve basically hit the jackpot on one of the most open and loving girlfriends you could ever ask for. You aren’t just a sweetheart, you are her sweetheart. She always touches you like a porcelain doll, staring into your eyes with so much affection of her own and giggling whenever you hug or hold her, prompting her to hold you or hug you back just as tightly. On missions, she is in the zone, but as soon as they are over, she’s heading straight to you to check if you are injured. And if you’re not? Expect this woman to shower you in so many compliments and love that you might just drown from the cuteness.

Jean isn’t just your protector, but also your best friend, always free to try anything you want to try and do what you want to do.Dare she say, you might be the love of her life. Screw being lovers, she wants to be a married couple. But as much as that gets her excited, she’ll take her time for you, because she knows whether it takes her whole life or a single day, she doesn’t mind waiting for the fateful day.

Jubilee

“That was awesome! Did you see me out there- Did you?! Let me let you in on a secret; That last one was for you~!”

Because of how young she is and her lack of a love life, Jubilee is still pretty new to the whole dating and falling in love thing. But when she met you, she knew she was bound to fall in love with someone so positive and full of life. An embodiment of a firework if she said so herself. She always drags you around town with her to hangout at arcades or spend time in the mall grabbing lunch and doing cute couple things.

She cares about you enough to ask other X-Men members advice on how to treat you or show you how much you mean to her. It honestly impresses and shocks the team how this troublemaker tries her best to make you feel like the luckiest person in the world dating her. If she’s not showing her love for you through domestic activities, then look outside your window at night. You are bound to find Jubilee sending you love with her fireworks bound to make you giggle and smile. Which is always delightful because when you are filled with so much happiness, so is she.

Magneto

“What we have is stronger than any magnetic pull I’m capable of. It’s terrifying. But also magnificent.”

If you ever wanted to be treated like royalty, Magneto is the man for you. Erik treats you like you are a precious flower that could be destroyed by the mutant hating world around you. Because of this, he is so careful with you, yet not overbearing. If you want to hang out outside or simply hang out with him, he doesn’t mind as long as no one looks at you the wrong way or touches you with ill intent. Because if they do?… Let’s just say Magneto can do a lot with his powers.

When he’s not making sure you’re safe, he is awestruck at your innocence and your positive outlook on life. At first, he actually found your vision of the world to be immature, untrue and above all stupid. But the more he’s spent time with you, you’ve seem to have melted his cold heart a bit. Does he still think humanity is the scum of the Earth and nothing can change? Yes. But with you by his side, showing him what love, understanding and acceptance can be, maybe, just maybe, he can see where you’re coming from.

Morph

“Why the long face, babe? I can do a mean Magneto impression that’s sure to make you smile… Haha! There’s my love!”

Around people, Morph treats you almost like one of the guys, in a figurative sense. They don't treat you any differently from the rest of his friends and family within the team. But behind closed doors or when you two are alone, all bets are off. They are melting at your sweet nature and so quick to try to make you laugh, smile or get physical with them. Man, do they love when you get physical with him- They adore it!

But what they really loves is how caring and protecting of them you are. They've told you about their past, their run in with Mister Sinister and their time away from the team. And no matter how many nightmares or moments of body dysmorphia he experiences, they love how you are always there to pick up their loose pieces and put them back together with your gentle touch and gentler words. Because of this, they're always there to return the favor and comfort you as well when you are at your lowest. You are their best friend sorry Logan and their beloved and they wouldn’t want it any other way.

Nightcrawler

“Liebe meines Lebens. You never cease to take my breath away.”

Kurt is a pretty romantic person, especially when it comes to you. He showers you endlessly in love, rubbing his nose against yours, showering your face in kisses and becoming putty when you hold him, even if it’s just by his arm! He cherishes moments where the both of you hang out, especially by gardens where he makes cute flower crowns with you. Though just any moments with you are the highlight of his day. On missions, you two synergize perfectly well with the blue mutant complimenting you on your moves and takedowns of foes.

Kurt is an expert at physical touch for a love language, but he’s just as amazing with his words, especially with the nicknames he’s given you. He’ll make sure everyone knows that you are his Schatz, Herz, bessere Hälfte, and of course, Liebe meines Lebens. To you, he’s a lot like a little puppy; Full of energy and always waiting for your attention and affection given to him. The team thinks you two are cute even if they find it a bit annoying that Nightcrawler is always teleporting you two all over the place. It’s not too bad though since the sound of your mixing laughter is enough to make everyone’s hearts soar happily.

Rouge

“Hey, Sugar! I missed you so much today! Now come here, I at least want a hug!”

Rogue is super careful of you. You are just too precious to her and she doesn’t want to hurt or break you with her powers. So she makes sure you both have ways of showing one another how much you love each other, especially herself. Outside of soft hugs, she tries her best to give you a hand covered kiss. Though she can be super cheesy and exchange indirect kisses with rocks, feed you while chuckling at how adorably you stare at her like she hung the stars above. She’ll even have you both set up for dinner plans and fly you around in the sky if you ever want to destress from work as a X-Man.

You both have a cute relationship, even if there are moments where Rogue wonders if she deserves you or if she will ever be enough for you due to her destructive powers and the possibility she will never be able to touch you. These revelations have led to emotional nights, but the promise you make to touch her and make her the happiest woman in the world always makes Rogue realize that she is beyond lucky to have you. You make her want to find a way to touch you no matter what. And mark her words, she will.

Wolverine

“Woah, little pup. I was just gone for a few hours, you act like I went to war or something! Aw, screw it, come here.”

Logan has fallen in love with many men and women during his years of living. But damn has he never met anyone quite like you! When he met you, he thought your whole sweetheart shtick was fake, no offense. He thought it was some trick used to get people to lower their guards around you so you can get the upper hand on them. But when he found out you really were the sweet soul everyone hyped you up to be, he slowly but surely fell for you. He fell for how you spoke to him with such understanding and patience. The way you touched him was with the utmost care when you took care of him and helped him clean blood from your adventures with him that got out of hand.

Logan fights for many people, but for you he will kill anyone that hurts you or makes you cry. Your smile lights up his whole life, your laugh pushes him to be stronger to preserve it and your touch makes him feel alive in a world that always knocks him down. If it’s not the X-Men, Wolverine usually fights for himself and only himself. But now that he has you to lose, he fights for the both of you and a future where you both can live a peaceful life you’re both proud of.

If you got any requests for X-Men '97, Blue Eye Samurai, and or Arcane, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[rebeccccccaaa]

Poker Face!

_______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::

:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...

:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3

WC~ 3.1 k

________________

“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around. 

“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him. 

“You guys are relentless,” she continued.

“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide. 

“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.

“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.

“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach. 

“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans. 

“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained. 

Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles. 

“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.

“That’s the plan.”

“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested. 

“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.” 

“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped. 

“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.

You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice. 

You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Whatcha you got?” you asked.

“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.

“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”

It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope. 

“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.

“What?” Spencer questioned.

“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter. 

“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head. 

“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”

“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say. 

“Strip Poker!” 

“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.

“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.

“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.

“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”

“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup. 

“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said. 

“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”

“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely. 

Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you. 

Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent. 

Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.

But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched. 

You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow. 

“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”

“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again. 

“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.

Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat. 

Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly. 

“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can. 

“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.

Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.

“Hit me,” you egged.

“You got it,” he responded. 

A five. Fuck. 

Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him. 

“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts. 

“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost. 

“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.

“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards. 

“Blackjack, baby!” 

Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering. 

“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment. 

“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered. 

“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face. 

“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.

“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue. 

Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath. 

“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear. 

“Blah, blah,” you whispered.

“Don’t give me that.”

“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.

“What’s that?” he bantered.

“You lost.”

“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.

“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him. 

“Be my guest.”

Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.

“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully. 

Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek. 

He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him. 

You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.

“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.

“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you. 

You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully. 

You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.

“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment. 

“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment. 

“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”

“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey. 

“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers. 

“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you. 

When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you. 

“That was really good,” you giggled.

“It really was,” he agreed.

“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly. 

“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully. 

“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly. 

“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed. 

“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.

“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.

You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever. 

[cherry-leclerc]

the set up ☆ ln4

genre: fluff, humor, parent trip vibes from oscahhh, strangers to lovers (bc of course it is), uni!reader

word count: 2.12k

Caught up in work, you find time to join your friends at the McLaren welcome dinner; meeting a certain British driver along the way. Whom you don't make the best first impression with.

req!...oscar+lily playing matchmakers? cute cute cuteeee. quick one for my lando lovers mwahhh

It takes a lot to convince you; like—a lot. Partial credit is due to your pride, but honestly, it drove your friends mad. 

Let's go out and celebrate! Just a good ‘ol round of drinks. I have to study. Maybe next time.

Oh! I heard of this new place down the street where you custom make your own jewelry. Fun, no? I have enough already, thank you.

Five minutes—let’s just go grab coffee! Too tired. Go on without me.

“It’s my welcome dinner, mate. You can’t do this to me now.” Oscar’s brown eyes flicker between you and his girlfriend, to which she apologetically shrugs. Deep down, it's like she can forehear your excuse. An essay is due, your internship, helping out at your local library. There's been too many times where you’ve flaked, and they were starting to worry. The pile of clothes makes her wince as you greedily type away. 

“I-I’m sorry, but I have to—”

“Reckon you don’t have anything on your agenda that is as important as you make it out to seem,” he hums. Narrowed eyes burn down, flipping your screen towards him.

 Compile a series of current events…BLAH BLAH BLAH. He stops caring, already bored.

“I wish I could—seriously, Oscar—but I’m needed elsewhere.” A beat. “Lily will keep me updated! Go Mango!”

The Australian rolls his eyes, sharp brows expanding with desperation. “Papaya, mate, papaya.” You giggle, mimically apologizing. The clicks continue; round eyes laser focused. He tries getting your attention once more, but you don’t look up at him at all. The driver’s girlfriend purses her pink lips, crossing her legs gingerly against the couch.

“I can help you write your paper. All of it. Just please, come with us.” Blue eyes wink back as you come to a halt, temptation swirling. “We’re your friends and we want you there. Pretty please?”

The McLaren rookie thinks it has to do with his girlfriend's cute pout, but that is so far from it. It was well known that Lily Zneimer had a wicked talent for conducting a killer research essay. From her resources, to her dialogue. It’s astonishing how smoothly it gets done too. With her, it’s a guaranteed pass. Now that was what you needed. 

Berry lips twist back and forth for a second before stretching out. “Touch up on globalization effects in different cultures and we have ourselves a deal.”

-

The paper was coming along so perfectly that you almost wanted to cry. Your eyes buzz with excitement as you jot down a row of bullet points, conversing with Lily before settling on what to write. 

“This is not what I had in mind when you both made this stupid pact,” Oscar groans for the millionth time as he passes by, spotting you and his girlfriend crouched down on a table; computer, notebook, pencils, index cards, books—everything—in hand.  

“Mate, this is worth half of my grade,” you shriek, jotting a few more possible ideas. Finally, your dazy orbs connect back onto him. “As in fifty percent.” You gag. “Do you realize how terrifying that is?”

Lily shoos him. “We’re almost done anyway, darling. Go enjoy the party.” The Australian’s jaw drops and she huffs, raising her neat brows. “Go, go, goooo.”

Despite his girlfriend and his best friend ignoring him, he has a splendid time. He curses beneath his breath when a large hand sprawls against his back. Lando laughs. “Don’t worry, my date ditched me too,” he teases, blue eyes sparkling against the fuzzy lights. The rookie sighs plainly.

“I wasn’t ditched—'' He angles his head to face back to where you and the dirty blond hunch over, whispering, attention drawn onto the bright screen. A few people even go as far as to try and take a peek, probably thinking you were working on anything McLaren. “Yeah, uh, I guess you could say I was ditched.”

His teammate rubs his watch a couple or times, nothing but music lingering between them. No one really speaks up until Lily delicately makes her way. Oscar tilts his head politely. “Done?”

“No quite yet, but she has it all under control.” She faces the British driver with a sheepish line formed between her pink lips. “Hello, you must be Oscar’s new teammate.” A beat. “I’m Lily.”

“Lando,” he can feel himself proclaiming. “I thought she was Lily…” A lousy fingers points over to you. They both let out a weak chuckle. That’s my friend from back home, Oscar confirms. Her and Lily are super close, too. She beams, light blush feathering her full cheeks.

All of a sudden—the Australian sparks up. “Come, let me introduce you two.”

The twenty-four doesn't really have anything better to do; business convos that have him apologizing profusely, cameras being shoved straight into his face, girls who never get the hint. “Sure.” 

First thing he notices is the faded scar that hugs the bridge of your nose. It's almost completely gone—and he really shouldn’t even be able to spot it—but it's there, almost a glassy color that shines back at him. He notices how quick you are at typing, fingers flying at a constant speed. He’s impressed. Or the way you barely spare him a glance. 

“Don’t be rude, he’s talking to you,” Oscar hisses as he and Lily tower over you like a strict parent duo. You can distinguish the panic that laces through her when you didn’t first respond, too worried at making a bad impression, even if it wasn't her leaving it behind. 

“Of course, I…um, I’m sorry—shit!” The laptop blinks back at you as a warning before settling in its death. A groan slips by, hands pressing harshly against the keys, then the screen. Nervously, you look up at Lily, biting your bottom lip. “What do I do? What should I do? What should I do?”

“Charge it when we get back,” Oscar advises, still waiting for you to greet the older McLaren driver. Lando stands back amused. “As I was saying—”

“It’s due at midnight, dimwit!” It’s eleven-fifteen. “I need to find a charger.”

“O-okay, lets just all calm down.” Lily turns to her boyfriend. “You always carry one with you, let her borrow it.” He winces. Only during races, sweetheart, not an important event. She rubs her temples, curly hair running against the wind. “Let’s just calm down!” she screeches.

“Not helping,” you wail. “That’s it—I’m leaving.”

Oscar is quick on his feet, already tugging you to stay firm. “We haven't even gotten to the speech!” A familiar fire rushes through your orbs, burning him along the way. I don’t give a shit about that right now! I need to turn this in. 

“I’m sure Charlotte has one,” a friendly voice slides in, leaving you three to turn and face it. Lando awkwardly shrugs. “She’s really well organized, you know her. I’ll be right back.”

“Can I go with you?”

Blue eyes shift over, surprised to hear you speak. Anxiously, you bounce up and down against your heels. He gulps. “Of course.” He turns back to the Australian, who is busy comforting his girlfriend as if it was her grade on the line. “I’ll be right back.”

There’s a sort of tension that hangs steadily—or maybe he’s the only one who thinks so—but he tries his best to push past it. Of course, he was right, and Charlotte did have an extra charger, so that’s quite nice. As if this were the one and only resource of water in a hot desert night, you immediately take it from him, plugging it fiercely.

“You don’t know how grateful I am. You’re an absolute angel.” You’re quick to pick up where you left off. If you try hard enough, you can remember exactly what you need in order to have it done in a few minutes. 

“Glad I could help.”

He should probably leave, he thinks. He’s done all he could, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a seat across from you, contently closing his eyes as the sound of your keys brings him to a deep sleep. The sound of a computer shutting gently is what nudges him awake. You grimace. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been more quiet.”

Lando scrunches his eyes, rubs them for a couple of minutes. “It’s alright. You done?”

“Yes. Just in time—you really saved my ass, thank you again.”

A large hand waves you off, reclining against his comfortable spot. “You’re pretty dedicated to your work,” he mutters.

“I sort of have to be if I want to graduate on time and on top of my game. All those sleepless nights couldn’t have been for nothing.”

“Well, I don’t really know you that well…but I hope you pass,” he says. “Lando, by the way—you were probably too busy to catch it the first time.” He cocks his head to the side, a cheesy grin playing out. “And the second, as well.”

You giggle, shaking his humid hand. You don’t even seem to mind. “Third times a charm, no?”

“It appears it is.”

-

The objective was quite clear. Get you to leave your rotting bed. It was astounding how long you could go without getting up. You always blame it on the fact that—I’m finally done with my most important courses and I can sleep all I want—and—I never wake you up, now do I?

So, naturally, when they march into your room, flashing a phone—you curl a full brow. “What am I looking at?”

Oscar smiles. “Save his number. Right now.”

Lando Norris—winks back at you, digits causing a migraine to stir. You huff, reaching out for the blankets once again. “And why would I do that?”

Lily hums. “I tried to stop him, I really did.”

Beady eyes peek demandingly. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s really just one date—”

“What?”

“And if it doesn’t work out—”

You sit up straight and agitated. “What?”

“—then you won’t ever have to see him again?” The Australian flinches at your cold stare. “He thinks this was your idea…because I told him it was, but…” He winces harder. “Don’t make me look bad and please go!”

Lily squeals when you fling up, hunting him down your flat. “I am going to kill you!”

-

The Brit beams sweetly at you, pinching his hand a couple of times to pump his circulation that was suddenly lacking. “I’m a bit surprised you wanted to see—”

“This was all Oscar’s idea.” He blinks and you purse your lips. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I think he does it because the third-wheel act is starting to get to him. Asshole,” you hiss at the thought of the rookie.

Lando coughs, playing with his bracelets. “You’re not dragging me into anything. I want to be here.” Now it’s your turn to stare back at him, caught off guard. He chuckles. “I take it you haven’t gone on a proper date in a while?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Nah,” he yawns. “Oscar told me.”

Pounding your fist against the table, you yelp. “That little—he wants to ruin my life, I see.” You force a tight smile. “I’ve been busy with work…and…I’m—” A flash goes off from somewhere far away and you flinch. “A total catch. Like—total.”

Blue eyes flicker to the careful watchers surrounding the restaurant. “I don’t doubt that.”

“Good,” you respond, finally allowing yourself to rest easy. You raise a sharp brow. “Don’t you get tired of this?”

A few murmurs dance across the room, blinding lights continue. He sighs apologetically. “Right now I am. Let’s get out of here?”

You blush. “The bill…”

“My friend owns the place. I’ll pay him later.” He grabs your hand. “Let's go.”

The moment you slip into his car, panic rises fast. “I don’t hook up on first dates,” you spit out. “It’s not in my nature, I-I-I would rather get to know the person—”

“Then let’s get to know one another. I wasn’t looking for anything like…that,” he whispers, timidly. His blue eyes burn against yours. “I only wanted the chance to get to know you now that you don’t have your nose pressed up against a screen.”

A kind smile. “Okay.”

The more you two converse inside his crowded vehicle, the more you find yourself giggling against the rich seat. “You’re quite the charmer, Mr. Norris.”

“Thank God,” he jokes. “It’s working.”

Another giggle erupts when you nod. You’re sure that you're flustered, burning bright red from all his pick up lines, but you don’t have the strength to look away. “I’m glad we got the chance to talk. For real this time,” you add, sheepishly. 

“So am I.” 

And something inside of him tells him this isn’t the last.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[mxstellatayte]

Thoughts on if the drivers would use toys ( and what kind) on themselves and their partners?

ok i could only come up with a mtl for this one so here we goooooooo!

nsfw under the cut <3 minors please do not interact!

🧡lando norris

oh my god this man is SUCH A WHOREEE. he's actually the first person to bring it up in your relationship, and he doesn't so much bring it up as it brings itself up. the two of you and some other drivers and their partners are out after monaco, and something seems off about him, but you don't realize exactly what it is until you're grinding your ass on him on the dance floor and he is very, very hard. when you ask what's going on, he can barely say it without moaning because every move of your hips against his, making his own move in turn, nudges the plug he'd put in before leaving just barely against his prostate. safe to say that later that night, lando was a whining mess, gripping the sheets and head thrown back while you fold him in half with the strap he'd bought a few weeks prior in hopes of this exact situation happening buried in his ass. (got a little carried away there OOPSIES)

🩶george russell

george is actually a bit of a wild card on this list. his preference for toys leans a bit more towards the pain and restraint side of them, but he doesn't mind the occasional plug or vibrator. his own kinks make their appearance when you run up to him after a good race, kiss him, and press your hands to his chest so he can set his hands on your hips the way he likes to. what you aren't expecting, though, is for the outside of your left hand to brush something hard and plastic and for george to *whimper* into the kiss. that slut had worn nipple clamps during the race. his personal favorite combination of toys is having his hands cuffed to the headboard, completely unable to fight you off as you have your merry way with him. (as long as he gets a pat on the head and a shoulder rub with his favorite body lotion and cuddles afterwards ofc <3)

🧡oscar piastri

oscar is the flip of a coin. he's more than happy to quickly tie your wrists together with his tie if you're being a brat at an event or take his time lacing together a beautiful, intricate shibari harness to keep you in place while he uses your mouth to get himself off. when he takes the time for shibari, he'll take a lot of photos of you, maybe even a few videos to use later when he's halfway across the globe. as for toys on himself, he mainly only goes for a simple fleshlight (or lando). surprisingly, one thing he enjoys is laying back blindfolded and letting you have your way with him, as long as you aren't too mean.

🩶lewis hamilton

lewis has a very "if you're down, i'm down" attitude about most things when it comes to sex. as long as the two of you are comfortable and enjoying it, he's game on for a lot of stuff! his hard nos when it comes to toys on himself and his partner are anything that could potentially put one of you in danger or anything even vaguely involving animals. the first time you two really start exploring the world of sex toys of all sorts, he's constantly checking in with you, making sure you're feeling good, and if you tap out at any point, the aftercare is amazing bc he feels bad </3

🩵logan sargeant

oh this man LOVES fucking and getting fucked, and if there's toys involved, he's even happier. i can imagine him sending you a new toy when a big event happens that he can't be there for, and, to make up for it, he buys it for you so that you can fuck over the phone that night. he absolutely loves watching you fuck yourself with anything- your fingers, a toy, even using him to get yourself off is hot as hell to him. i also can't get the thought of him tied up in shibari with a ball gag in his mouth as you tease the fuck out of him, fucking his ass with a dildo that might be bordering on too big and jerking him off slowly at the same time (bonus points if it's in front of a mirror so he can see what a mess of himself he's making 🫣)

💙daniel ricciardo

the first time you bring up the idea of toys with danny, youre both high on the beach outside cancun over winter break, talking about all the random things two high adults talk about, and the topic of him eating you out feels. you passingly mention how much you love it when he moans while he's attached to your clit, and the idea of getting you a vibrator sparks in his mind. when you're in bed that night, the high long gone, he asks you just that, and you're so close to sleep that, when you wake up the next morning, you aren't sure if you remember what happened properly the previous night. you did, in fact, remember correctly, and when you get back to australia, there's a package laying on your bed. "happy late christmas baby xx -danny" inside is a baby pink suction vibrator that you cum with three times, saving a voice memo and texting it to him after you're done catching your breath.

💛charles leclerc

this goes without saying, but charles is more than happy to spend hours between your legs if he could. he's such a pleasure dom that sometimes you have to pull him away from your clit by his hair, and fuck if that sight alone doesn't prep you for another hour of his tongue ravishing you, you don't know what will. his cheeks, lips, chin, even the tip of his nose are shiny with a mix of your cum and his saliva, his pupils are wide and his mouth hangs open, breath heavy and fanning against you so perfectly. when you being up the idea of using toys, he's over the moon. when he finds out the toys you had in mind are ones you can wear to ferrari events under your dress, the remote hiding perfectly in the pocket of his pants? shit, he's on neptune.

🩵alex albon

what is it with the williams drivers being sub leaning? alex is similar to lewis in having the "if you're down, i'm down" attitude, and he's just as focused on his partner's pleasure as he is his own. he's the first to bring it up in the relationship, asking (very very shyly) if you'd maybe possibly under no pressure whatsoever be willing to try pegging him, and when his eyes light up when you agree, you have a feeling toys are going to start being a semi-regular addition to your sex life. on the occasion that neither of you have any (or you simply don't have the time or effort), alex is more than willing to have you ride him or fuck you himself, because i do think that, if teased enough, alex will top purely out of spite.

💙yuki tsunkda

yuki's idea of toys is much more unconventional. it could be your pillow when the two of you are fucking over the phone, the armrest of the couch in his driver's room, or your favorite dildo or vibrator. he's honestly kinda cool with most stuff, as long as it makes you feel good and is safe. as for himself, his favorite is a cock ring around him while you ride him, so that way you're both getting the best of it while he can still hold on to your tits :D he also tied your wrists together one time with a ribbon from the gift he got you for your two year anniversary and he still keeps the ribbon in his nightstand to remind him of you on nights when he's especially lonely.

❤️max verstappen

really, really prefers to fuck you himself in whatever way he can. whether he's fucking you into the mattress with his dick or sending you to heaven with his tongue and fingers or making you ride his thigh because you were being a little brat, he just loves the feeling of your skin on his. if you're being especially bratty, though, he will not hesitate to make you fuck yourself but of course you won't get to cum... why would he let you do that when you've been a brat? no, it's nearing overstimulation and tears running down your face begging for him to let you cum from the toy before he even considers giving you the release of fucking you himself.

🩷pierre gasly

pierre is a fluffy little fluff boy. just. the actual sweetest in bed. he prefers to be able to feel you himself rather than adding a toy to the mix, but if you're just really, really turned on while you're not around and feel like messing with him you'll send him a video of you fucking yourself with your favorite toy and it gets him so riled up he has to stop whatever he's doing and run to the motorhome so he can deal with his boner lol

💛carlos sainz

carlos is a very hands-on guy. he doesn't really go for dedicated toys per se, leaning more towards shoving your panties in your mouth or tying your wrists together with his tie. sometimes he doesn't even need that, though- sometimes his hand is more than enough to cover your mouth or hold your wrists together if there's no other option.

🤍nico hülkenberg

like carlos, he's very hands-on with you. the only real "toys" he uses with you are blindfolds and ribbons to hold your wrists in place. one time, he tried handcuffing you to the bed but seeing the marks on your wrists scared him so he threw them away after that :((

drivers i think just wouldn't be into toys very much, if at all:

valtteri bottas, fernando alonso, zhou guanyu

intentionally excluded: checo, lance, kmag, ocon

[yawnderu]

SIMP — König x Reader

It's a game he's grown used to throughout the months, blaming it purely on muscle memory the moment his muscular frame moves with agility, pulling his debit card out of his wallet and putting it down next to your hand, not daring to touch you or talk to you yet— he doesn't deserve it.

Half-lidded blue eyes watch with a mix of anxiety and excitement as you pick up his card, not sparing him a single glance as the long acrylics he paid for tap against your phone screen, scrolling multiple online stores before you find something you like.

“Come here.” The way he scurries over to you is almost enough to make you feel sorry for him. Almost. König doesn't waste any time on joining you in bed, holding his strong body over yours, his gaze inevitably drifting down to your ass as you present it to him, teasing him in a pair of panties he bought you last time you met.

“That's a good boy.” Even if your tone is sarcastic, König takes in the mocking praise, pride filling his twisted soul. He allows himself to lay some of his weight on you, slowly rubbing his hardening, clothed cock against your ass, thrusting at a pace gentle enough to make you feel more of him, despite the way you choose to ignore his advances.

“Buy anything you want, Meine Königin. My entire paycheck is there...” He closes his eyes, choosing the ignore the pit of anxiety building up inside him at the idea of you leaving him with nothing, calming himself down by planting ghost kisses along your shoulders and bare back, taking in the scent of your expensive shampoo.

Did I buy that for you, or was it another client? Not even the soldiers who have betrayed König's team can compare to how much of an enemy his own brain is. Jealousy is quick to set in, his bare hand drifting down to your hip and squeezing— not hard enough to make you up and leave, but hard enough to remind himself that you're there with him, not with another man.

“Oh?” He climbs through the ranks with more excitement ever since he met you, knowing he'll have more money to win you over with.

“Good boys get rewarded, don't they?” König doesn't even realize when the big, brooding soldier used as a battering ram became so pathetic, vigorously nodding his head to your words.

“You can fuck my panties. Ruin them again and it's coming out of your paycheck.” Your little threat goes in one ear and right out the other. The only thing he focused on was your permission, pale cheeks growing slightly warm and he wastes no time on pulling his needy, thick cock out of his pants, his gaze fixated on the pair of panties hugging your curves.

With a low groan, he slides his throbbing dick between the fabric of your panties, the friction sending shivers down his spine. His rough, calloused fingers dig into your skin as he starts to thrust, his movements rough and possessive.

“Fuck. Keep... keep using my card, Engel.” He manages to mutter between gritted teeth, his voice laced with desire and need. König's needy groans ring around the room, mixing in with your nails tapping your phone screen as you browse a different store, catching his eye.

Lingerie. The fact that your faith in him is so little to the point you know he's going to ruin yet another pair of panties makes him smirk, his hips slamming against your ass with more force. Truth to be told, he doesn't have any faith in himself either.

“I wonder if I should spend it all on the same place.” You think out loud, knowing König well enough to fully realize what he's into. The knowledge that you'll drain his hard-earned money makes his cock throb, feeling his precum staining your panties and skin, the evidence of his desire mingling with the fabric.

“Anything you need— Scheiße. Use it however you want, take it all.” The raw need for approval in his tone and words makes you laugh softly, only fueling his desire for more, his tired eyes closing again as his forehead rests on your warm back, his dick sliding between your plump ass cheeks, letting the warmth wrap around him.

König adjusts his position, his cock throbbing in his hand as he aligns himself with your puckered hole. It's a reward he gets whenever he lets you use his entire paycheck— not deserving of fucking your pussy until he gets another promotion.

With a steady, controlled thrust, he slowly pushes himself into your hole, applying more pressure when he hears your small whimper. A low moan escapes his lips the moment your tight hole gives him, allowing him to feel the tightness and warmth surrounding him, waves of pleasure coursing through his body like lightning.

“Where did you learn how to fuck? It's awful.” König's breath hitches at your degradation, a mix of arousal and vulnerability washing over him. He continues to thrust into your ass, rolling his muscular hips as he tries to prove himself to you.

“I can do better.” He promises in a muffled whisper, biting his lip to stop himself from cumming too soon. With renewed determination, he adjusts his rhythm, finding a pace that has you gripping the sheets, even when you try to act all high and mighty with him. His hips slam against your ass with an increased, newfound intensity, his thrusts becoming more powerful and precise just to please you.

“Too big for your own good.” König lets out a quiet whimper at your words, feeling his cock throb inside your pulsating, tight ass, the familiar knot in his stomach tightening up when he sees you grabbing your phone again, biting your thumb to prevent yourself from moaning as you scroll on a different luxury shop.

$1750.

His eyes widen when he sees the lingerie set that caught your eye, anxiety and desire mixing together while he rams into you faster, making your entire body shake at the sensation of every single nerve being massaged by his veiny, pathetic cock.

König almost knocks the air out of you the moment more of his weight is placed over you, slamming himself into your ass as deep as possible, his balls tightening up as ropes of thick, hot cum shoot into your ass the moment he sees the purchase was completed.

[ddejavvu]

Ok so smut idea for Tyler! Tyler’s shy and sweet gf who gets all horny and needy while he’s gone so she sends him some nudes or like a dirty vid and Tyler is totally thrown because that’s not his sweet innocent girl?? Is it??

Caught off Guard - Tyler Owens x Reader

please send me tyler owens requests!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Tyler's never had a problem with opening a message from you in front of his crew. You love him more than life itself, Tyler knows that, but you're almost painfully shy, and the most racy thing you've ever said to him over text was that he looked 'handsome'. In private, in the secluded space of your shared bed, filthier things come from between your sweet pink lips, but over text you're always civilized.

It's why he's so taken aback that he nearly doesn't turn the sound down on his phone when he presses play on the video you'd sent him. It's nothing but a black screen originally but your sweaty, flushed face pops into frame when you lift the phone.

All anyone at the makeshift table is able to hear before he turns the volume down is Tyler's own name, and he's wildly, viscerally grateful that it hadn't been something more suggestive.

"Woah!" Tyler coughs over a mouthful of cheap beer, chest heaving as you showcase your two fingers pressed together with a slick substance coating them, dripping from them, "I gotta- y'all eat without me, I'm- I have to go."

"Is Y/N okay?" Lilly peers up worriedly at him, the typically brash storm chaser reduced to a pouting mother hen at Tyler's urgency, "She sounds like she's crying."

"She's fine." Tyler's already jogging towards their motel room, struggling with the keys in his pocket to jam the card inside of the door, "Don't bother me, and- and don't let anyone touch my beer!"

He's fairly certain that before the door even shuts behind him, Dani is already chugging it, but he can't bring himself to care.

He reloads the video, turning the volume up so that he can hear your voice again, "Tyler, I- I need you so bad right now. I've been feeling- aagh! I've been feeling like this all day, and I just- I keep trying, but I can't do it like you can!" You sob, your face screwing up as you desperately try getting yourself off, "Look, look! This is- I'm so wet, Tyler I'm so wet thinking about you, and I just can't- I can't finish, I need you I need- hnngh! Tyler," You cry, tears spilling out over your lower lashes and down your humid cheeks, "I need you!"

Tyler's hands tremble as he jams his thumb onto the 'call' button. His jeans are uncomfortably tight now, and one of his hands is already palming against the denim before he realizes that he's even hard. He acts on instinct, tucking the phone beside his ear and panting when the rough fabric of his jeans rubs flush against the angled head of his cock.

You pick up on the first ring, "Ty!"

"Baby," He breathes, groaning as he unzips his jeans and frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, "Shit, honey, you can't- you can't fuckin' do that to me."

"I need you," You're still crying, perhaps moreso now that Tyler's voice is in your ear but your cunt is devoid of his erection.

"'Thought I was gonna bust at the fuckin' table," He scoffs, stroking over his leaking cockhead, "Shit, baby, sendin' me pretty little videos like that? You're feelin' brave today, huh?"

"It hurts, Ty," You sob, "I- I need you."

"Shit, say it again." He pleads, already fucking his fist with vigor, uncontrollably turned on by your sudden, bold change in demeanor.

"I need you!" You cry, and Tyler's throat grows sore with the volume of the groan he releases as you hopelessly grind on your too-small fingers, "Please, Ty, i need you so bad!"

"Shit," Tyler curses, wondering if he's ever cum faster in his life, slightly embarrassed yet still raring to go as he hears your needy gasps, "Oh, fuck, baby, you're- you're all mine. I've got you, we're on our way back home. I'm gonna- agh, I'm gonna fuck you into the mattress, baby, just you wait."

[cherienymphe]

Teenage Dirtbag IV (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

🎄 ༺𝓜𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂༻༺𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼༻🎄

~

“Oh! Well, aren’t those pretty?”

Your mother’s voice pulled your attention away from the flowers in front of you, throwing her a small smile as she neared you to admire them. You gave her the card when she eyed it, and you watched her smile grow, a fond chuckle escaping her.

“That’s sweet,” she praised. “Is Rafe coming by later?”

It seemed like such a silly question because you and Rafe saw each other almost every day, and your mother knew it.

“Yeah,” you sighed, sitting at the island and fingering a red petal. “He’s doing something for Ward, but he’s coming straight over when he’s done.”

She hummed, and you heard her fussing around in the drawers looking for something. Your gaze was glued to a rose, noting that Rafe got you red this time—your favorite—and you swallowed. It was always the same. Rafe would hurt you so bad that he felt compelled to make it up to you, the flowers would be delivered to your doorstep, your parents would gush, and you’d forgive him with a smile…and then the cycle would repeat.

You plucked a petal, rolling and squashing it between your fingers.

“It’s about time he starts getting prepped on all the family business, isn’t it?”

You glanced up as she took out a pan, her gaze briefly meeting yours.

“Yeah, I guess so. Ward has been asking him to do more things lately, and I know it’s usually work related, so…” you shrugged. “Only a matter of time.”

She seemed satisfied with that answer.

“Good,” she firmly said with a nod. “He can’t provide for you on daddy’s money forever.”

She chuckled to herself, but you could only swallow down bile.

“Rafe is upstanding and all of those things we want for you, but he needs to learn to make money on his own. We’ll never give him our blessing otherwise.”

Again, you said nothing, only looking at the stains on your fingers. Your entire volatile future being mapped out for you should’ve scared you beyond reason, and it sometimes it did, but in this moment, you only felt a numbness that was all too familiar. It all just felt so inevitable, so you didn’t see any sense in fighting it. With a sigh, you stood.

“I’m going to take these up to my room.”

“Put them on the table by your window, so they can get good sunlight,” she threw over her shoulder.

After doing what your mother advised, you turned to your mirror, intently staring at the face in the reflection. The fading bruise on your cheek was nowhere to be found under your makeup, and you were relieved that the same could be said for your neck. A deep inhale had your stomach aching only a tad, and you told yourself that Epsom salt baths could only do so much.

You rolled your eyes, lips pursing at the thought of JJ Maybank.

Naturally, you knew that this wasn’t really his fault. If Rafe were a normal boyfriend, you wouldn’t be covering up bruises with makeup and long-sleeved shirts in the house you’d rather not wear. You knew that Rafe didn’t actually need a reason and that no one could push him to do anything he didn’t want to do. Rafe was never the kind of guy to do anything he didn’t want to do. However, with all of that being said…

You really didn’t like JJ Maybank.

Some part of you knew that Rafe must have provoked him. You knew your boyfriend well, so you knew that without a doubt, but none of that changed the fact that you still had ugly discoloration from where Rafe had pushed you into his dresser. None of that changed the fact that JJ was the catalyst. Yeah, you probably shouldn’t have talked to him anyway, but you’d only been trying to be nice.

Trying to do the right thing.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the doorbell, and knowing that Rafe never rang it, you didn’t give it much thought. At least until you heard your mother calling your name moments later, and you were forced to descend the stairs in confusion. That confusion wasn’t eased in the slightest when you came face to face with Sarah.

She looked sheepish while your mother only smiled.

“Sarah’s here for you. I offered her something to eat, but she’s insistent that she isn’t staying long,” your mother said, briefly touching the other girl’s arm. “You tell Rose to call me. I have a bone to pick with her.”

They both chuckled—obvious that your mother was teasing—and you watched her disappear into the kitchen before resting your gaze on the blonde before you.

“I’m going to get something to eat at The Wreck. You want to come with me?”

You swallowed a sigh, glancing away and folding your arms over your chest. You didn’t know where this desire for a budding friendship came from, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. You and Sarah had only ever been friendly, and considering the company she kept, you’d had no desire for anything more. Being friends with Sarah just felt like a recipe for disaster.

“Sarah…”

She spoke up before you could, huffing and stepping towards you.

“I think Rafe treats you like shit,” she admitted, making sure her voice didn’t carry. “I know you love him and see something in him the rest of us don’t, but everything about you just seems wrapped up in him and…he seems very happy to keep things that way.”

You pressed your lips together, eyeing her.

“I don’t like it, and considering I don’t have much say, I figure the best I can do is be your friend. It’ll just make me feel better to know you have someone other than Rafe.”

Her lips turned up as she said his name, crossing her own arms over her chest.

“I’ve thought this for a while, by the way, and I just…” she shifted her feet, shrugging. “I don’t know. I just can’t take it anymore.”

With a sigh, you dropped your arms, and you knew that Sarah could tell what you were going to say.

“Come on! It’s lunch at The Wreck. We won’t be going all the way to Charlotte—Rafe will know where you are. He’s caught up with our dad, anyway, and they’re probably not going to be done until this evening,” she practically pleaded.

It was tempting, you had to admit, even if it did make you feel a little pathetic.

“I don’t know. I’d have to call Rafe and-.”

“You’d have to call Rafe, are you serious?” she scoffed before reaching for her own phone, and you reached for her. “I’m calling him.”

Your eyes widened.

“Sarah…”

Rafe’s tone could be heard even through the phone when he answered, and you felt your heart race.

“I wanna go to lunch with your girlfriend, and since you’re so uptight about knowing where she is at all times and who she’s with…”

The other girl trailed off as he spoke.

“Rafe, you’re stuck with dad for most of the day! I want to go eat, and I want her to come with me… Yes, just me,” she threw you a look at that to which you only looked away. “God, you’re so crazy, you literally treat her like a damn puppy.”

She shoved the phone at you, and understanding what was happening, you sighed.

“Hey,” you softly said once her phone was to your ear. “She just showed up here, Rafe and…”

“She said it’s going to be the two of you.”

You could tell by his tone that he wasn’t thrilled, right now, but you also knew it wasn’t just from Sarah and her antics. Rafe felt cornered. It wouldn’t look good for him to forbid you from going, and if he convinced you to give Sarah some piss poor excuse, she’d likely just ignore it. There wasn’t much you and Rafe agreed on, but you did admit that Sarah Cameron often got her way.

You heard Rafe mutter under his breath, and you didn’t doubt he was cursing Sarah’s name.

“I don’t see why she’s hellbent on butting into your life all of a sudden…”

His tone didn’t make you enthusiastic, and when your eyes met Sarah’s, they looked hopeful. You didn’t really understand why Sarah was taking so much interest in befriending you. You heard her reasoning, of course, but this was new territory, and you didn’t know how to handle it. However, you decided that it didn’t matter. Your boyfriend’s sister wanted to have lunch with you, and if it would satisfy her then so be it.

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you told Rafe something you knew he’d like to hear.

“While I have you, I wanted to thank you for the flowers.”

You heard him exhale, and you didn’t need to be with him to know the look on his face. It was the look he often wore whenever he brought you flowers—a mix of smugness and triumph with that small smirk dancing along his lips. Rafe cared about being seen as the perfect boyfriend, but he also cared about your complicity just as much. If he could placate you after a really bad fight, then he could prevent the rare backlash.

The last time you’d threatened to leave Rafe after one of the worser fights was half a year ago. The bouquet he’d given you then hadn’t meant all that much to you when you threw them on the floor. It hadn’t ended the way you wanted to but instead in tears and Rafe convincing you that you were just upset and needed to cool down. He liked to avoid that if he could.

“I wasn’t expecting red, and I was just really happy to see that. It made me feel a lot better,” you told him.

Rafe was silent for a few moments before sighing, albeit with an annoyed lilt. Your gaze met Sarah’s again just as he spoke.

“Just for a little bit. Not too long because I could finish up early with my dad, so…”

“No, yeah, we won’t be long,” you assured him. “It’s just going to be me and Sarah.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said. Let’s hope it stays that way,” he told you.

His tone was clipped, and although he didn’t say it, you knew that there was a silent addition to that statement.

For your sake.

With a nod and a soft goodbye, you gave Sarah her phone back. Her face was expectant, and when you told her you needed to get your jacket, she beamed.

Sarah had a pout on her face as she played with one of her fries, shaking her head.

“I just don’t get it,” she mumbled. “What do you see in him?”

The drive to The Wreck was far from long and had mostly been filled with awkward small talk. You couldn’t recall a time you’d ever been alone with Sarah for this long, let alone long enough to have several conversations. It was such an odd thought considering you’d been dating Rafe for two years. The more the minutes went by though, the easier the conversation seemed to flow.

However, you now found yourself in the middle of lunch and on a topic you felt was inevitable, to be honest.

Sarah’s gaze was questioning, and you struggled to come up with an acceptable answer. You couldn’t very well tell her that her brother was actually an abusive rapist who terrified you beyond belief. You couldn’t tell her that he’d threatened to kill you on several occasions. It wasn’t possible to tell her that, in truth, you saw nothing worthwhile in Rafe, and you’d merely accepted your future with him.

Instead, you managed to think back to the very beginning of your relationship when you actually loved him.

“He knows what he wants, and I like that…”

It was a trait you’d admired in him once, feeling flattered by how boldly he’d asked you out. Those were the days when you looked forward to seeing Rafe and whatever gift he had for you and whatever date he had planned. That was a time when you’d literally fall asleep on the phone with him, and these days you would be relieved if you could go several hours without even hearing his voice.

“He’s also very generous, and he looks out for me, and he loves being around me. He’s just…so happy when we’re together.”

Everything that came out of your mouth was no longer applicable to your boyfriend, but at one point in time it had been. Without realizing it, your face fell, and you picked at your food. Sarah had a thoughtful look on her face as she mulled over your words before taking a sip of her lemonade.

“Looks out for you,” she repeated. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

You threw her a look, and she merely shrugged, throwing her hands up.

“I’m just saying! He treats you like he doesn’t want anybody to come near you,” she said, disgusted. “His own sister wants to hang out with you, and you needed to call him for that? That doesn’t sound crazy to you?”

The frown on her face was deep, and you only shrugged.

“You know what he’s like Sarah. You know how…paranoid he can get.”

“Yeah, paranoid that you might actually prefer being in someone else’s company instead,” she scoffed.

You merely sent her a small smile, thinking that she had no idea of the half of it. Before the conversation could continue, two familiar faces walked into the restaurant, and you felt your heart sink. Sarah seemed excited to see her friends, of course, while you, on the other hand, only had an aching desire to leave.

When your eyes met a slowly increasingly familiar blue pair, you couldn’t stop your frown.

You glanced away, and when Pope greeted you, you only sent him a smile in return. Telling yourself that you had the worst luck, you leaned over to reach for your purse. Sarah was talking to the two of them, but when she heard the sound of your keys, the conversation paused.

“I think I should go,” you answered the silent question on her face.

You hated the way it fell.

“We haven’t even been here an hour. Do…?” she trailed off glancing at Pope and JJ. “I know that it’s supposed to be just the two of us, but Rafe won’t know.”

“Sarah,” your tone said it all, and she stood up with you when you went to pay for your food.

“Stay,” she practically begged. “Rafe isn’t here to be his normal asshole self, and you know I won’t tell.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” you mumbled, craning your neck for either Mr. or Mrs. Carrera.

By the sound of her sigh, you had a feeling she’d witnessed JJ’s conversation with Rafe that day in their house.

“JJ didn’t mean much by that. He was just stooping to Rafe’s level, wanted to piss him off.”

“Well, you can tell him it worked,” you said, throwing her a tight smile.

Her brows drew together, and she ran her eyes over you, concerned.

“What, was Rafe mad at you for that?”

“What do you think, Sarah?” you slowly wondered, fully facing her.

You could see on her face that she hadn’t considered that possibility, and her shoulders sagged.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m sure JJ wouldn’t have said anything if he’d known it was going to come back on you. I’ll talk to him, just please stay.”

You touched your forehead, glancing over her shoulder and quickly looking away when your eyes met the man in question’s.

“They’re your friends, not mine. I really should go…”

She perked up.

“Well, they don’t have to just be my friends-.”

“No, Sarah. I can’t be friends with them-.”

“Why, because of Rafe?” she incredulously wondered. “Do you hear how crazy that sounds?”

You ignored her when the familiar woman came from the back, quickly paying for your meals. When you were done, you only gave Sarah an even look, grabbing your purse.

“You know what your brother is like. Pope can take you home, right?”

You could see on her face that she wanted to argue this some more, a deep frown on her face, but you witnessed the decision to save it for another time. You weren’t stupid enough to think she was going to let this go. She eyed you.

“We’re probably going to John B.’s later, so yeah. I can leave with them.”

Preferring to ignore her mood, you smiled and thanked her for the invite. You said goodbye to Pope and JJ on your way out, thinking of just how shitty your luck was. You’d never put it past Rafe to drop in on you, and you didn’t want to imagine how things would be if he witnessed you having lunch with anyone other than Sarah…but especially Pope and JJ. You were just at your car when you heard hurried footsteps behind you, and you tensed at the sound of your name.

Unfortunately, the face matched the voice when you turned around.

JJ wasn’t close to you, but he was close enough to where you leaned against your car in an effort to put space between you. If he noticed, he said nothing, and you watched him run his hand through his blond locks. You didn’t know what he wanted and considering the last result of a conversation with him, you warily eyed him.

“Look, Sarah told me that Rafe was mad at you about what I said,” he sounded apologetic. “I didn’t know that.”

“Why? You knew it would piss him off. That’s why you said it.”

He frowned, glancing away.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think…”

“At the very best you knew it would cause conflict between us. Again…that’s why you said it,” you told him.

JJ stared at you, and you watched him blink, tilting his head.

“Do you ever wonder why you have a boyfriend who loses his shit anytime you even so much as look at another man?”

You scoffed.

“Don’t try to turn this around-!”

“I mean, it’s the truth. You felt bad, you apologized, and call me crazy, but I don’t think that’s something he should get mad at you for,” he casually said with a shrug.

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t get paid to think.”

You watched his brows raise in shock at your words, a budding smile on his lips. JJ crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing you from head to toe, and you felt something twist in your gut at his perusal.

“Are you always this feisty or is that privilege just reserved for me?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to open your door when he spoke again.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I mean that…”

You hesitated, your gaze focused on your window. You stared at his reflection in it.

“I won’t say anything next time. Ever again, actually.”

With a resigned sigh, you accepted his apology, opening your door.

“There won’t be a next time,” you told him, glancing at him as you slid inside. “We’re not friends, JJ, and we’ll never be. Stop talking to me, I mean it.”

Your words held conviction, but you felt like JJ didn’t take them seriously. He only eyed you, slowly nodding as you closed your door. Resisting the urge to glance at him again, you drove off, only feeling relief the closer you got to your house.

It was the middle of the night when you found yourself in the Camerons’ kitchen, getting something to drink because sleep was evading you. You knew that you couldn’t be gone for long, no telling when Rafe would notice the lack of body heat next to him. The rest of the house was asleep, and Sarah was with John B.

…and so that was why you were startled by the front door opening.

You could tell they were trying to be quiet, but hushed tones and the shuffle of feet was loud to anyone who was awake—you. Blinking, and filled with a mix of curiosity and concern, you made your way to the kitchen entrance. It was dark, but not dark enough to make the three figures hard to make out. When you turned on the light, Sarah actually jumped in shock.

You could tell that she hadn’t expected anyone to be up, but even as she approached you, it wasn’t her nor John B. you were focused on. The blond with them looked almost unrecognizable to you, and you sharply inhaled at the sight of him. He was barely able to stand—no matter how much he tried to—and you could only pull your eyes away when Sarah whispered your name.

“I’m just here to use our first aid kit,” she told you, trying to explain. “John B. doesn’t have shit at his house, and Kie’s parents are so anal about JJ—any of her friends besides me, really.”

Once you gathered your thoughts, you blinked at her, shaking your head.

“It’s your house, Sarah. You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you assured her.

“I know, but I’d just really rather not wake anyone up…and it’s also not something I feel like explaining to anyone.”

She glanced over her shoulder, giving John B. a nod, and you watched him pull JJ towards the downstairs guest bathroom. Your lips parted, and you looked at Sarah again.

“Is he going to be okay?”

Sarah pressed her lips together, and when she rolled her eyes, you could see the irritation and anger on her features.

“He always is,” she snidely replied.

At your concerned and questioning look, her face fell some.

“It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before,” she finally admitted. “His dad…”

Sarah trailed off with a shrug, and you swallowed.

“Oh,” was all you said, your heart sinking. “I’d heard things, but…I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“I just don’t get why he doesn’t go live with John B. or something,” she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just because Luke is family…”

She sneered the man’s name, and you felt your frown deepen.

“It’s probably not that simple.”

At the look she gave you, you hurried to continue.

“I just mean it’s probably not that black and white for JJ. No one likes staying anywhere that’s bad for them, but maybe there’s a sense of loyalty he can’t shake yet,” you explained. “If he left his house for good, he just might end up feeling guilty.”

Sarah thought that over, eyeing you in the process.

“Maybe. That doesn’t make it any easier to witness this time and time again,” she sighed.

You didn’t say anything to that, unsure of what to say. When she left to join John B. in assisting their friend, you weren’t keen on retreating to Rafe’s bedroom just yet. You weren’t some professional psychologist, but you didn’t need to be to know why the sight of JJ and the confirmation of his volatile home life affected you so much.

The sight of his bloody and bruised face was unfortunately reminiscent for you.

Your feet made the decision for you, grabbing another glass of water before rummaging in your purse for some painkillers. Sarah was in the hall when you walked around the corner, and she straightened at the sight of you. The bathroom door was cracked, but John B.’s voice carried as he talked to JJ.

“Here, give him these.”

She took the pills and water with a small smile, thanking you. The moment was interrupted by JJ’s tone.

“I can stand just fine,” he sighed. “Just give me a minute…”

John B.’s protest was clear, but you surmised that JJ waved him off, getting his way when the door swung open. The brunette was briefly thrown by the sight of you before acknowledging you, making his way outside. The sound of your name in the air got JJ’s attention, and you wondered just how out of it he’d been to only just now realize you were up.

“Here. Y/N brought these for you,” Sarah told him, voice stern as she demanded he take them.

Getting the hint that he wanted a moment to himself, Sarah took a step back.

“Make sure he takes those,” she told you before going to join her boyfriend.

Truthfully, Rafe was the last thing on your mind as you looked at JJ. Now that his face was clean, he didn’t look as bad, but the bruising and cut on his lip still made you frown. You and he were so far from friends, so standing in the hallway while he leaned one hand on the sink started to feel awkward. You were just about to remind him of the pills and leave when he spoke.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

The observation wasn’t the most astute, and you frowned in confusion. When he swung his head to face you, straightening with difficulty, you didn’t miss the way his blue eyes ran along your face.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he repeated. “…and your face is caked in makeup. Is that one of Rafe’s conditions? Remain perfect at all times?”

You pressed your lips together as he popped the painkillers, swallowing them down with the entire glass of water. You couldn’t very well tell him that you’d spent fifteen minutes covering the bruises on your cheek and neck before coming down on the off chance that you ran into a Cameron that wasn’t Rafe.

“I forgot to wash my face,” was your simple answer.

Your tone was light, unconvincing, and you could tell that JJ didn’t believe you. You didn’t know how, but something about the glint in his eye told you so.

“I’m sorry,” you finally said. “About your dad.”

The blond moved to lean against the doorjamb, staring at you.

“Don’t be. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be,” you argued.

“Yeah, well, we’re both used to a lot of things we shouldn’t be,” he said, making you bristle. “I should’ve known better. After all…I know what he’s like.”

You didn’t appreciate having your own words thrown back in your face, doubly so because JJ didn’t realize just how much it messed with you. It was funny. When you told him that about Rafe, it made sense to you. That was how you maneuvered around Rafe and so you just wanted JJ to learn to maneuver around him the same way if he wanted to avoid his temper.

Now, however, hearing him repeat that about his own father just made you feel…nauseated.

“That’s not an excuse-.”

“Isn’t it?” JJ wondered, moving closer.

He held your gaze, and the look in his eyes had you biting the inside of your cheek. You couldn’t stop your frown, nostrils flaring at the words he silently threw at you. He didn’t say them, but he didn’t need to.

“That’s different,” you argued.

JJ frowned, head tilted in confusion.

“How so? My dad’s an asshole, Rafe’s an asshole,” he drawled. “Now, Rafe may not be a physically abusive asshole, but walking on tippy toes around him just to navigate his shitty personality isn’t exactly healthy.”

You stumbled back when JJ took another step towards you, lips parting when he cut you off.

“You can’t even have lunch with his sister without the fear of some guy that isn’t Rafe crashing the date…because you know he would just fly off the handle.”

You swallowed down your anger and annoyance at how right he was, glancing away with a huff.

“You don’t know anything about my relationship.”

“I know enough,” he fired back with a smirk.

When your back grazed the wall, it was then that you realized just how close he was. The bruising on his face looked so much scarier this close, and your eyes traced the blood on his lip. Your heartbeat was uneven at his close proximity, and you pressed yourself further into the wall. JJ’s eyes flitted between your own, and when you swallowed, they zeroed in on the action, gaze lingering on your throat.

“I know that if I kissed you, right now…” you sharply inhaled at that. “You wouldn’t tell Rafe…and not because you don’t want to hurt him…”

You slapped his hand way when it reached for your chin.

“…but because you’re fucking terrified of him.”

You furiously blinked, struggling to respond to that.

“You’re an asshole,” was all you could muster up with a frown, voice trembling.

JJ only softly chuckled to himself, nodding.

“Assholes are your type, so that doesn’t sting the same coming from you.”

Pushing your way out from in between him and the wall, you stomped away. You refused to look at him when he thanked you for the drugs, fighting to ignore the goosebumps along your arms underneath Rafe’s shirt.

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part two.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.5k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, pet names, nipple play, overstimulation, multiple orgasms Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part one. / part three. | masterlist

2-5-1-2.

It’s an easy enough combination to remember, being Christmas Day and all.

Pressing 2, 5, and 1 is easy. The final '2' makes you second guess yourself.

You’re not sure why you’re panicking. He’ll pick up.

(It’s literally his job, idiot.)

Fuck it.

Your index finger hits the '2' and the hashtag to finalize the combination.

When you hear the line go dead, you tense every muscle in your body.

No breathing.

No blinking.

Just waiting for that silky, sultry siren song to come over and confirm your bias that it’s the single sexiest voice you’ve ever heard.

—but it’s that automated lady you tried to bypass from the menu.

“Please enter your credit card number, followed by the expiration date—”

“Oh, Goddamn it,” you groan, shouldering the phone to shuffle your purse around.

Eventually after some digging, you find your card before she can continue a second loop of her payment spiel. 

You can’t believe you’re legitimately putting your credit card information out there for anyone to steal.

Yet, if Annie’s been doing this for ages, then it ought to be safe.

Right?

After typing in the necessary numbers and confirming they’re correct, you’re so out of your own head that you don’t even realize the line switches from slight static to smooth nothingness.

“So you finally called back.”

“Shit!”

The buttery smooth greeting — or lack thereof — makes you nearly drop your phone.

You gasp and manage to catch the device just in time to hear a chuckle, graveled and low, on the other end.

“And just as jittery as last night.”

“Levi,” you greet breathlessly, straightening your outfit like he can actually see it.

You swear you hear a smile in his voice.

“Hey, baby.”

Oh sweet Jesus.

“Or do you prefer it when I call you Scarlet?”

You prefer literally anything he’ll give you, is what you want to say back, but you don’t want to automatically appear as though you’re ready to be walked like a dog at minute one.

“I’m… fine with ‘baby’,” you confess after a beat, focusing on the swirl of the marble counter below you just to dissociate to his voice.

“Thought so,” he arrogantly states before making this grunting noise, like he’s rolling his body in a chair to get more comfortable. “Are we talking again?"

"Is that alright?"

"You know it is." Levi's voice lifts, softer now. "And how's your Saturday so far?”

“Very mundane and super lackluster,” you admit. “I’m sure you’ve had a much more interesting day than me.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he replies without skipping a beat.

“No?” you ask with a smirk. “I’d say getting people off with the sound of your voice makes for a pretty interesting job.”

“Who said it’s only just my voice?”

Son of a bitch.

The phone shifts from your right shoulder to your left.

“It isn’t?”

He makes a noncommittal hum, and it runs straight to your core. “That's confidential, sweet Scarlet."

"Boo," you joke. "You're no fun."

"You haven't seen me at my fun yet," he corrects. "Speaking of fun: how are you not hungover?"

“The power of heavy tylenol and H2O? Which... I have to apologize that."

"For what?"

"Uh, I pretty much poured my heart and soul out to you last night.”

He chuckles. "I didn't mind it. Feeling any better about that situation?”

“I haven’t really thought about it since last night, so you’re already a miracle worker.”

"Oh?"

"Yeah, no joke."

“Huh." He clicks his tongue. "And what have you been thinking about?”

You say it without realizing you’ve said it out loud:

“You.”

Both ends of the phone go silent.

Your eyes widen, wanting nothing more than to take a pan out of one of the cabinets to bash your head in with anguish. 

“In, like, an interested sense.”

Shit, that isn’t much better.

“An… interested sense,” he repeats, slower this time. His vowels dip deep.

“Oh no,” you bemoan. “Okay. Let me restart: I mean it in like a — you were on my mind? Today, sort of way. So I called.”

“...uh-huh.”

“Because the call ended so quickly!” you add. “I didn’t think it was going to end so abruptly at the fifteen minute mark, but I wasn’t done talking to you, so I called again.”

“You’re shit at asserting yourself, aren’t you?”

His words make you blink twice.

“Huh?”

“You don’t like making decisions or having to explain things,” he replies without judgment. “You think if you want something, then it makes you selfish.”

Ouch.

“Well, when you put it like that,” you reply in a bitter, yet lifted tone of surprise. 

You hear a noise on the other end. A ‘tch’ if you can make it out.

“Sorry," he apologizes. "Too far?’

“No! Too real,” you admit with a small laugh. “And I’m sure you don’t want to play analyst-therapist tonight, so.”

“I’m here to do anything you want,” he reminds, syrup-y sweet. 

“Anything?”

“Mostly anything,” he adds, and there’s a tiny chuckle bubbling between the words that makes your heart flutter. “Can’t hold a tune worth a damn and I don’t know how to speak some languages, so there are limitations.”

You laugh despite yourself, feeling your stress melt.

Then—

A small groan, like his head's tilting backwards. “Damn, I like hearing that.”

You turn away from your kitchen counter, subconsciously padding to your bedroom. “Hearing what?”

“Your laugh,” he explains. “It’s sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Very.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully.

Dark hair. Gray-ish blue eyes. Sharp nose. High cheekbones.

Fit.

When your eyes flicker to your own bed, you try to picture a version of him waiting there.

He could be leaning back on his elbow, button-down shirt splayed open like a newly-peeled present.

Maybe his legs are parted.

Maybe he stares at you like you’re all he could ever want.

His voice cuts through the fantasy, causing your breath to catch.

“What do you want, baby?”

Then it drops an octave lower.

“...c’mon, be selfish for once.”

For once.

Like he can read your soul through a damn cell phone.

But Levi is right — your entire short-lived relationship with Porco and just about any other man before him has been through a small lens. Fitting in the middle seat just to never make any noise. To bend with the curve rather than against it to create your own path.

It’s just a sex hotline, but for some reason, his words resonate.

Be selfish.

Wasn’t that the point of calling in the first place?

“Anything?” you repeat a second time, much softer.

Levi shuffles on the other line then exhales like he’s getting comfortable.

“What do you need?” he asks, tone low and words slower. 

Purposeful. 

“What do you want?”

You close your eyes, drawing in a slow, steady inhale.

Are you seriously doing this?

No more overthinking.

“Should I... get comfortable?” you ask, too afraid to say what it is that you want.

What you’re about to do.

“Mm, you near a couch or a bed?”

“A bed.”

“Don’t get on it yet,” he orders, “but walk towards it. Bend over it.”

Jesus Christ.

“Bend over it?” you ask with a shaky breath of disbelief.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “You’re home from a long day. I’m home from a long day. All you’ve wanted all day is to have someone tell you what to do, right?”

As much as your face feels like it's on fire, you slowly walk to your bed and put the phone down between your splayed palms.

You press the speaker option to ‘on’, and feel a wave of arousal hit your gut when you hear him sigh through the phone.

“I thought you said you wanted me to be selfish,” you remind, bending over your bed.

“You’re allowing me to take charge,” he retorts with little hesitation. “You’re letting me take care of you the way you always should’ve been taken care of. Your ex-boyfriend has no fucking clue what he’s missed out on.”

You exhale, trying to keep it together.

“Levi—”

“I’m right here, baby,” he huskily promises. “Right here. Not leaving you.”

You feel ridiculous.

You’re so turned on it’s almost laughable.

“You ready to let me take control?” he eventually asks, and you nod like he can see you.

“Yeah, I’m— I think so.”

“I like using a red-yellow-green light system,” Levi hums. “Red’s a hard stop. Yellow is negotiating, a slow down to check in. Green means you’re in.” He pauses, and you lean down closer to your phone, bending further. “Color?”

Even on speaker, his voice rips straight through you.

“Green,” you decide, blurting before your brain can catch up.

“Good girl.”

You’re not going to survive this.

“Are your lights off?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he decides. “I want you to crawl slowly onto the bed now. Can you do that for me?” 

Your hand slides obediently, passing over the phone as you begin to rest one knee on the mattress. It dips with give. 

“All the way up to your pillows, then you can lay on your back — but keep your eyes closed.”

“Okay.”

Eventually you drag your phone with you as you crawl to the headboard of your bed, only to then slowly turn around and drop to your back.

“Are your eyes closed?”

With the phone speaker right at your ear, it almost lends itself to the fantasy of him hovering above you.

His lips dip at the edge of your ear, the static lost to you.

“Yes,” you exhale, relaxing into the bed.

“Good. You’re doing so good for me already, and we’ve barely started.” He pauses, shifting once more. “What’re you wearing, baby?”

“Something so not sexy,” you joke, and it earns a breathy laugh from him.

“Bet you can make anything sexy,” he tells you, and it shoots straight to your lower belly.

“How would you know?” you ask, your hand already reaches for the hem of your shirt. “You’ve never even seen me.”

“No, but I hear you, and it’s fucking delicious.”

Your breath hitches, and you can hear it; the smile in his voice.

“Take everything off, except your underwear.”

“Bra, too?”

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he tells you, and it’s much less breathy. It’s certain, like he wants to check in — make sure you’re just as into it as he sounds. “Would you rather I help you take that off?”

Your brain blanks.

Slowly you push your jeans off first, kicking them to some unknown corner.

Then you rise, ripping your t-shirt off of your body, until you’re sitting in your mismatched bra and panties.

“How would you take it off of me?” you boldly ask, though you can’t quite get rid of the shake of anticipation in your voice.

“Fuck, I’d love to,” he grunts, and your face burns. “I’d be so busy pressing small, slow kisses to your neck. Reach up and touch your neck for me. Feel how I’d kiss it.”

You do.

As surprised as anyone else, you reach up and press your fingers against small parts of your neck, earning him a tiny gasp and noise of want.

“Dragging down to your throat.”

You press two gentle fingers to your skin again, following his path, before slamming your thighs together to try and relieve the heat between your legs.

“My finger would just… slip, right under the right strap of your bra.”

Your fingers dance across your collarbone, slipping your middle finger just under the delicate strap to mirror.

With your eyes closed, the motions lend to an almost out-of-body experience.

Like your hand trailing down your body isn’t yours; it’s his.

You’re his, right now.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, and you nods furiously.

“Very.”

“Good. Let me pull the other one down. I wanna see how pretty my girl is.”

The praises, the way he so easily speaks this way, has you all sorts of flustered.

Slowly you raise your other hand to pull down the strap, and whimper when you tug down as far as you can.

Your breasts spill out over the cup, allowing your hardened nipples to greet the night air.

“Can I touch you?”

The words almost make you open your eyes, as if you’ll see this mystery man hovering over you.

You know he's not here.

You wish he were right here.

“Yes.”

“How do you like to be touched, baby? Show me.”

“Levi,” you whine, allowing your shaky hands to run along your breasts.

You’re afraid, you’re exhilarated, but when you finally pinch the little buds and roll them between your fingers, you’re too far gone to care.

“Fuck—”

“Feels good, huh?” Levi’s own breathy voice interrupts your curse. “You look so beautiful like this. Letting me play with you— God, I could do this for hours—”

“Want you to.”

You don’t even recognize your own breathy tone. 

Hell, you only hear him.

You only feel him.

“Need more,” you pant, and he hums with amusement.

“No,” he replies, “think I’m gonna play with you a little more right here for now.”

You accidentally pinch your nipples, harder, like he’s teaching you a lesson.

“Levi.”

“What, is my girl getting impatient?”

His girl.

You don’t even know him, but you’d sure as hell like to be.

(How easy is it, for you to fall so fast from your judgmental high horse when Annie first slipped you this number — only for you to be moaning on your bed, hands groping and kneading your breasts, for a man you didn’t know?)

“Y-You said,” you stammer, “to be selfish, and I want—”

“Shh, I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” Levi interrupts on the other end. “But you have to do something for me, too.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t want you holding back on me. No shyness. No second guesses. I want you, I want to hear what I do to you. Is that understood?”

You can’t take it.

Your one hand leaves your chest to skim down to your belly, unable to wait any longer.

“I want you to touch me,” you hiccup.

“Yeah?”

His voice wavers in the response before it strengthens. Demands.

“I want those panties gone first. Take them off and spread your knees. Feet flat on the bed.”

No need to be told twice; you hastily pull your panties down your hips, your knees, until they pool at one of your ankles.

Your knees knock together before spreading, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I want to touch you, too, baby.” Levi swallows, coating his throat. “How wet are you for me?”

Fingertips run past your lower belly to touch the apex of your thighs, gasping with surprise and relief when you feel that familiar electricity.

“Really fucking wet,” you admit.

The groan he emits is delicious. “Fuck.”

For a moment, you feel completely out of your depth. 

This is meant to be a sex hotline, but there are lines blurred in your mind. Something about the sheer image of him leaning back into his chair, fucking a fistful of his cock while he has a phone operator headset against his ear, only turns you on that much more.

“If we had time, I’d spend all night memorizing what you taste like. What you feel like. How you let go — for me, only for me.”

“Only for you,” you promise, unable to stop yourself from drawing circles over your clit.

You moan, head bent back against your pillow.

“Fuck, you’re touching yourself, aren’t you?” he asks, and his voice seems less controlled now. It’s got a hint of raggedness, and it only quickens your pace. “You feel amazing, you know that? Such a pretty pussy, all spread and wet for me—”

“Shit, Jesus, Levi,” you gasp, knowing that you’re not going to last long.  You’re too wound up from the night before. “If you keep talking like that—”

“What, are you gonna come for me?” Amusement tickles the question. “Oh, you can come for me, baby, but I’m gonna need at least two from you tonight.”

Your fingers press a little harder to your clit, and you keen. 

“Wh– At least?”

“As if I’d ever be satisfied with only one,” he murmurs. “No, I wanna watch you come apart. Feel it on my fingers with those cute little contrac—”

That’s it.

You moan louder than you expected, the taut bowstring suddenly snapped in half. 

You arch off the bed, relentlessly rubbing your fingers against your body to ride out the insane orgasm that you — that Levi has given you.

Even if you’re blissed out, you hear it on the receiving end:

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Fuck, you sound amazing. I know it’s gonna be tough, but keep going for me, okay? Don’t stop.”

“It’s sen– ha, sensitive!” you whimper, wanting to stop your hand.

“Mm-mm, you said you’d be good. Be selfish, baby. Give me two.”

“But Levi!”

Everything is on overdrive.

Your hand; your body; your mind.

You imagine he’s hovering over you, working you with his hand with a near-sadistic relentlessness.

As you battle your own refractory period, your toes curl, teeth clenched.

You want to be good.

You want to be so good.

And somewhere in that overwhelming intensity, you feel it: the ebb and flow of pleasure returning, crawling through your veins and forcing you to not give up.

To give this to him.

Then you hear it: panting.

As if he’s getting off to this himself. Your eyes snap open, wide, to an empty room. 

When your cheek turns to the phone, you confirm that’s what you hear:

Ragged breaths, albeit softly, with added grunts of control. 

Like he’s holding back.

Something about that image of him in a chair, his hand relentlessly pumping his cock in time with your hand, your whimpers and moans, does damage.

“I need— mm— want— please.”

��I’m right here, baby,” Levi promises, though his voice is weaker. You can even hear him swallow again. “Right fucking here, wanna hear you cum so bad.”

Maybe you really were pent up enough for two, because soon you’re slipping — falling — into that blissful nothingness while your body clenches on itself, clit fluttering from a second release.

It’s less intense, but that doesn’t make it any less good.

Everything throbs in your body as you come down, panting, with a slight sheen of sweat on your skin.

You turn to your phone, totally gone in the bliss of the aftermath.

Levi has grown silent as well; only light puffs of air come through the speaker now.

“Feeling better?” Levi asks with a hint of pride in his voice.

“Shut up,” you answer with a gentle laugh of your own. “I’m… shit. I guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks.”

That statement gets Levi to laugh, and your heart feels twice as full.

“That’s one way of pillow talk, I guess.”

The man pauses.

“Are you alright?”

As if he’s truly concerned, worried about your wellbeing.

You don’t allow yourself to fall for it, not completely.

This is his job — even if it felt so real, in the moment.

“Much better,” you promise, smiling to yourself.

“Happy to help,” he hums, his voice returning to that stormy swirl of seduction and softness.

The sobering reality of an empty bedroom should deter you, but all you can do is smile.

(When is the last time you genuinely felt giddy? Excited? Satisfied?)

“Hey, Levi,” you murmur eventually, slowly sitting up to unhook your bra and toss it away. No need to keep it on.

“Yeah, baby?”

You’ll never get over the way he sounds when he calls you that.

It’s permanently stuck to your frontal lobe, obscuring any other logic or reality.

“Am I still allowed to call?”

“Allowed?”

“Yeah, even though we…”

“What, you think you get one experience and your membership is up?”

Levi chuckles, shifting in his seat — or bed — or wherever he is.

“You can call me anytime you want.”

“Any?”

“Between company hours, yeah.”

“Even to talk?”

“Of course,” he answers, softer this time. “Always to talk. Go get some rest.”

“Mm,” you mumble, turning on your side as exhaustion takes over. “I will, but only because I want to and I’m being selfish.”

It surprises you to hear him laugh again, but it’s louder now.

More prominent. 

As if he genuinely enjoyed your joke.

Get your head out of the clouds, girl, is what you want to say to yourself, but you can’t be bothered to care.

“Good. You earned it.”

A noise emits from your tired throat to acknowledge him, too sleepy to formulate a real sentence.

Then his voice drops to a whisper, for your ears and your ears alone.

“Goodnight, baby.”

You press the ‘end call’ button and fall into the deepest sleep you’ve had all year.

.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading part two of P4! This is insane. I still cannot believe the feedback I got in part one. Seriously, you all made my June. I hope this next part has satisfied your curiosity of how Levi would be a hotline operator.

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo