#Professional Event Coordinators | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gloomwitchwrites · 4 months ago

Note

The 141 boys and the TikTok trend “everybody knows that I’m a good girl officer”

Firstly, I want to say that in this house, we say "fuck the police (derogatory)" every single day. However, I will indulge in this instance because it's our 141 boys and I think the trend with them would be absolutely smoldering. But I will change it up slightly, and pull from my Bodyguard!141 AU Post as well as lean into a security detail aspect for this one.

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

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, dirty thoughts, flirting, secret relationship

Word Count: 1.5k

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

John Price

Price adjusts the ear piece in his right ear.

The blasted thing doesn’t fit right. It keeps slipping. It’s irritating but it’s manageable. Not like Price is running anywhere. At least, he doesn’t plan on moving too quickly. His job is to stand and observe. To make look after a certain MP’s daughter, and to take her back to the hotel when she tells you she’s ready to leave.

You are no stranger. Far from it.

And it goes far beyond the grounds of appropriate behavior.

Price has completely stuck his foot in it, bedding you when he isn’t supposed to. Stealing kisses in dark corners, and fucking you behind closed doors. He was hired by your father to look after you, and instead, John has taken it much further than that.

But he doesn’t fucking regret it.

Not at all.

John adjusts his ear piece and scans the room from left to right. You’re not in sight but that doesn’t bother him. This ballroom is packed full of rich schmucks who couldn’t give a shit about him.

He scans the room again, and this time he finds you.

You’re walking toward him, hips moving in a sultry sway that steals John’s resolve. You’re gorgeous. Perfect. And he can’t stop staring.

The corner of your mouth quirks with amusement, and John straightens his shoulders, making himself appear bigger. He needs to look professional. He needs to look like he’s not thinking about all the ways he wants to fuck you.

But it’s hard to focus, and when you approach, you glance over your shoulder at him, words leaving your mouth that John doesn’t entirely catch at first. Your foot pops in the air, and the friend you’re walking with giggles, her hand pressed to her painted lips.

Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.

A good girl.

Yes. You are.

You’re John’s good girl.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

High-stakes missions have always been part of Kyle’s life. It is what he knows. What he thrives on. But between the missions, Kyle keeps working, and not with SAS.

Kyle mostly signs up for security detail at different places around London. Sometimes he might work as a bouncer for a club, or be monitoring people entering a music venue. Sometimes the gigs are swanky, and sometimes they’re not. Kyle doesn’t really mind as long as he’s paid.

That’s the whole point.

He’s saving. Wants to buy a house. Maybe find someone to settle down with. Life is going by fast. He needs some stability amongst all the violence.

And tonight? Tonight, he’s nothing more than a glorified security guard.

He looks the part in all-black tactical gear, and he isn’t the only one. There is an entire group of them all lined up in front of large windows, creating a bit of barrier. The event coordinator expected protests. All there is are a handful of people across the street with signs. They’re harmless.

Kyle doesn’t pay them any mind.

He does watch the regular people walking by on his side of the road. Some people are here for the event and others are just passing through.

Standing on the corner nearby is a small group of young women. They’re all dressed up like they’re heading to the clubs. Kyle pretends he’s not looking, but that would be a lie. There is one he keeps glancing at.

You’re fucking stunning. A beauty.

But Kyle has to remain calm. Aloof. He’s not here for you or anyone except the job at hand.

“Go over there.”

“I can’t!”

“Girl. He is so cute. Do it.”

Kyle casually turns his head, only to find you striding toward him. His throat drops into his stomach, and you waltz past him, pausing just to his right, flipping your hair, and batting your eyelashes at him and then your friends.

“Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

Your friends scream, and then you hurriedly run back to them as if you’ve done something you shouldn’t.

A good girl? Sure you are, love.

Kyle smirks and looks away, doing his best to hide a growing smile.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon sits in the driver seat of a large, black SUV. His fingers are itching for a cigarette. He needs the smoke—to feel the burn. To rid himself of some of this agitation.

It’s not annoyance. It’s not frustration. And it sure as shit isn’t anger.

No. Simon has a fucking rager in his pants, and his thoughts are filled with images of you. You—who he’s supposed to be protecting. Escorting you to and from events, pushing back the crowd, and keeping a firm lock on where you are at all times.

The black dress you’re wearing tonight is made of flimsy material. It clings to every curve and swell. Simon is hungry—a feral animal that couldn’t stop stalking you throughout the event.

Now, he’s about to take you back to your hotel. And he knows you’ll invite him in. He knows that the little black dress you wear will be nothing but a pile on the floor in due time.

But this need in his bones isn’t just Simon’s fault. You were a fucking tease all evening. You were bad. Openly flirting with other men in front of him, drinking more than you should have, and genuinely being a little terror to his sanity. All this behavior will only get you punishment. A punishment he’s happy to deal out once he has you behind a closed door.

A car door clicks, and Simon glances up, expecting to see you slide into the backseat. You’re not there. You’re next to him. In the front passenger seat.

“What the fuck are you doing?” asks Simon, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel.

You shrug and settle in. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply, leaning on the middle armrest.

Simon can smell your perfume. “Buckle up,” he growls, and you do so casually, as if you don’t hear his irritation.

He pulls out into traffic, and the moment the two of you are clear of the building, Simon feels your hand on his thigh moving dangerously close to his dick.

“This bad behavior needs to stop.”

Your body shifts and you sing-song the next words out of your mouth. “Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

The words are bit slurred. You’re completely pissed, and Simon cannot help but laugh. No punishment then. Not tonight at least.

But tomorrow?

Absolutely.

John "Soap" MacTavish

This isn’t Johnny’s usual job, but it’s easy work.

Usually, hired security and local police take care of concerts and sporting events, but the military has been called in for this one, and Johnny is fine with that. Again, it’s easy work, and they’re paying him more for it.

He stands in one spot, scans the crowd, and acts casual while looking downright intimidating. The intimidation isn’t hard. They have him completely decked out in all-black tactical and balaclava included. All you can see of Johnny are his eyes.

It’s fun, actually. When he put it all on, he pretended to be Simon, only to receive a swat upside the head for it from the man himself.

Johnny has his hands casually resting on his bulletproof vest. No one is really looking at him, and those that do quickly look away. But there is one he can’t stop looking at.

You’re so damn cute, and you can’t stop glancing at him either. You’re with friends, and you keep smiling in his direction. If this were any other night, Johnny would approach you, flirt a bit, maybe even ask for your number. Might even take you home with him if you were open to it.

But Johnny is on the job, and he can’t afford to do that.

As you move closer to him through the crowd, one of your friends keeps saying something to you, moving their hands as if urging you to do something. Johnny isn’t sure what, but he’s curious. You don’t look like danger, and there is nothing about your demeanor that says that you’re looking to cause trouble.

Maybe it’s the balaclava. That seems to be a thing now.

As you approach, there is a pop of your foot, a quick flip of your hair, and a stunning smile. Your friend holds up her phone and you turn away from Johnny briefly to say “Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

I bet you fucking are, love.

Your friends giggle with pleasure, and you quickly move away from him but not before you glance over your shoulder one last time, mouthing a silent “thank you.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

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@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@arrozyfrijoles23 @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @vrb8im

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isaadore · 18 days ago

Text

ILLICIT AFFAIRS LANDO NORRIS

pairing lando norris x reader

SUMMARY you meet lando at a charity event and immediately hit it off. as time went on, you slowly fall for him, but he feels the need to keep you a secret. despite the endless promises from him to make the relationship public, he never follows through on them, leaving you feeling like an option instead of a priority. inspired by “illicit affairs” by taylor swift.

word count 4.4k words

warnings HEAVY angst, lando’s a red flag, unrequited love, emotional manipulation

note first ever lando fic <3

MAIN MASTERLIST LN4 MASTERLIST

THE ATMOSPHERE AT the charity event buzzed with energy as the low hum of conversations blended with the soft clinking of champagne glasses. Lights flickered across the spacious hall, casting shadows on the elegantly dressed guests mingling in clusters, each face adorned with a mask of friendliness. You stood at the edge of the room, clipboard in hand, checking off the names of donors and VIPs as they arrived. As a volunteer, your role was straightforward: coordinate and stay out of the way. However, beneath your composure, nerves twisted in your stomach. Each signature was a reminder of your own smallness in a world where you clearly did not belong.

You observed the attendees flitting from one conversation to another, their laughter ringing like tiny explosions of wealth. Each smile and cheerful greeting served as a reminder of your own anonymity, as you felt like a cog in a machine that hummed with life while you remained unseen.

It was nearing the end of the evening when you spotted him: Lando Norris, a few feet away, laughing at something one of his friends had said. There was something infectious about his laughter, a sound that seemed to ripple through the room, drawing the eyes of those nearby. You recognized him immediately, of course. You weren’t an F1 fanatic, but you knew his name. Yet, seeing him in person was different. He seemed… more real, somehow. Not just a face on a screen or a name in a headline, but a person.

His tousled hair glimmered under the soft lighting, and his eyes sparkled as he chatted with his friends. You felt an unexpected rush of warmth in your cheeks as you watched him, your heart picking up pace in a way that left you both excited and apprehensive. He must have felt your gaze because he turned in your direction, his eyes catching yours briefly. A playful smile danced across his lips. You looked away quickly, mortified to have been caught.

At that moment, time seemed to freeze. The noise of the event faded into the background as your mind raced. What would it be like to actually talk to him? Would he be as charming in person as he seemed on social media? Your thoughts were interrupted as he turned back to his friends, and you fought the urge to sink back into the shadows, convinced you’d never get the chance to speak to him.

You were almost certain that would be the last interaction you had with him, ever. As the event wound down, you found yourself stationed at the coat check by the exit. The evening felt like it was dragging on, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of everything and nothing at once.

“You’re the one who was working the check-in, right?” Lando asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts, clear and bright. There he was, standing in front of you, just as you thought you would never interact with him again.

You managed to nod, surprised and unsure how to respond, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. The warmth of his presence was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“You’ve been here the whole night, then?” he asked, pulling out a small, leather Louis Vuitton wallet and handing over a ticket for his coat.

“Pretty much,” you said with a shrug, forcing yourself to maintain a professional tone despite the way your heart was hammering in your chest. “But it’s worth it. It’s for a good cause.”

He tilted his head, genuinely intrigued. “Why volunteer for something like this?”

You paused, considering your words carefully as you glanced away, searching for a deeper truth to share. “I guess… I like feeling like I’m part of something bigger. Helping people, even if it’s in a small way. It’s like… I want to make a difference.”

Lando nodded thoughtfully, taking back his coat. “That’s cool. Not many people would spend their night doing that.”

He kept the conversation going for a bit longer, discussing the event, the guests, and the poor quality of the food. For a moment, you almost forgot he was a professional athlete; he seemed like just an ordinary guy passing by, someone you enjoyed talking to.

You didn’t expect to see him again after that night, but two days later, your phone pinged with a message from an unknown number.

Hope I’m not overstepping. Got your number from the event coordinator.

It’s Lando.

You stared at the message, half convinced you’d imagined it. But when you replied, he answered almost instantly.

hey, you’re not overstepping. it’s good to hear from you.

It’s good to hear from you too. :)

You both started off talking casually, moving from occasional texts to asking about each other’s day and then to late-night calls.

As the weeks turned into months, your connection grew in ways you never expected. Each message and call felt like a rope, pulling you closer to him, closing the gap between your worlds. You found yourself counting down the days until the next race weekend, not because you wanted to see him drive but because of the brief moments when he’d disappear from the paddock to call you, his voice filled with adrenaline and excitement. The rush of his laughter and the stolen moments made you feel alive, as though you were experiencing a thrill far beyond what Formula 1 could offer.

One evening, Lando suggested meeting up after the Monaco GP. It was late, and he was exhausted, but he insisted on walking along the harbour with you despite the whispers and glances from passing fans. There was a thrill to it like you were sharing a secret the rest of the world didn’t know. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close as you both stared out at the city lights reflecting on the water.

The air was thick as you wandered through the narrow streets, laughter and music drifting from the nearby bars. You felt a strange sense of belonging, as though the world had faded away and left just the two of you.

“You ever feel like you’re living two lives?” he asked suddenly, his voice low and contemplative, breaking the comfortable silence.

You glanced up at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “Like… there’s the life everyone sees. The races, the media, the expectations. And then there’s this other part. The real part. Where I get to just… be me.”

You looked at him, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. “Which life is this, then?” you asked, your heart racing with curiosity and longing.

He smiled down at you, his eyes softening, but the hint of sadness lurking there sent a shiver down your spine. “The one I wish I could live all the time,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You wanted to reach out, to comfort him in whatever way he needed, but the fear of crossing an invisible line held you back. Instead, you settled for a gentle nudge against his side, leaning into him as you walked. “What would it take to make that happen?” you asked, hopeful yet anxious, searching for a hint of what could be.

Lando chuckled softly, the sound tinged with a hint of melancholy. “I wish I knew. Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in a whirlwind. The moment I think I’m free, something pulls me back in. It’s exhausting.”

You nodded, the weight of his words resonating within you. The world of fame and racing was foreign, filled with its own set of rules and expectations. But standing there with him, you felt you needed to pull him away from it all to show him the life he yearned for.

As months passed, the excitement of your connection began to dim. The secrecy that had once felt thrilling now weighed heavily on you. Each time you’d fly out to see him, you’d find yourself sneaking into hotels, slipping out before dawn, hiding from prying eyes. Lando would promise it was only temporary, that one day he’d be able to let everyone know about you. However, you started to feel like you were playing a part in someone else’s story, always waiting for a spotlight that would never come.

The turning point came one night in Barcelona. Lando had invited you to the race afterparty, and while you knew you’d be lurking in the shadows, you hoped that at least for a moment, he might acknowledge you. You spent hours picking out an outfit, wanting to look your best while still remaining inconspicuous. But as you arrived, the excitement in your chest quickly morphed into dread as you took in the crowd.

The night went on, and it became clear he was keeping his distance, chatting with colleagues, posing for pictures, always careful to stay on the opposite side of the room. The way he laughed with others, his vibrant energy lighting up the space, only amplified your sense of isolation. You tried to blend in, chatting with other guests, but the feeling of invisibility gnawed at you, a constant reminder of the line he was drawing between his life and your place in it.

You watched as he effortlessly interacted with the media. It was intoxicating and heart-wrenching all at once, knowing you were just out of reach, a spectator lurking in the background. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being left behind, the light of his world shining so brightly that it eclipsed everything else.

Eventually, you slipped outside, finding a quiet spot on a balcony overlooking the city below. The cool air stung against your skin as you leaned on the railing, staring out into the night.

It wasn’t long before you felt Lando’s presence beside you. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there in silence, his gaze distant as he looked out over the city. You could sense the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

“Why do you always do this?” you asked finally, your voice quiet and filled with frustration.

He looked at you, confusion etched on his face. “Do what?”

“This.” You gestured back toward the party. “Pretend like I’m not here. Like I don’t exist in your world.”

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair, the weight of your words hitting him hard. “It’s not that simple. You know what it’s like with the media. One photo, one headline, and they’ll tear you apart.”

You swallowed, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. “Do you know how hard it is for me? Watching you laugh, talk, be yourself around everyone else, and then pretend like I’m a stranger? It hurts, Lando. I don’t want to be your secret anymore.”

He reached out, his hand grazing yours. But you pulled away, too hurt to ignore.

“I’m just trying to protect you,” he said, desperation lacing his words.

“Protect me from what?” you demanded, your voice cracking. “From being a part of your life? From being seen with you? I can’t keep hiding, Lando. I don’t want to be an option anymore.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his silence louder than any words he could have spoken. You searched his face for understanding, but the pain in his eyes reflected back the struggle in him. Finally, he whispered, “I don’t want to lose you.”

The hurt and frustration boiled over. “Maybe you already have,” you said, and without another word, you turned and walked back inside, leaving him alone in the quiet night.

The weeks that followed were filled with desperation. Lando tried reaching out, but each call felt empty, a reminder of the life he was still keeping you out of. You missed him, missed the easy laughter and the late-night conversations, but you knew you couldn’t keep living like this, always on the sidelines, always hidden.

You focused on your own life, immersing yourself in work and friends, but the ache of his absence was always there. Each time your phone rang, hope fluttered in your chest, only to be crushed when it was just another group message or a call from a colleague. Your heart grew heavy, and the conversations with your friends felt empty in comparison to your feelings for Lando.

One night, he showed up unexpectedly at your apartment. You hadn’t seen him in person since that night in Barcelona, and the sight of him standing there, vulnerable and apologetic, almost broke you. The way he stood with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his hair tousled, and his eyes shadowed made your heartache.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him, his voice low and serious. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, but the tension crackled in the air between you.

“About what?” you asked, your voice trembling as you tried to maintain your composure.

“About us,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. “And everything that happened. I know I messed up.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing with anticipation. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, glancing down as if gathering his thoughts. “I’ve been selfish. Afraid. But I don’t want to keep hiding.”

You looked at him, hope flickering in your chest. “So what does that mean?” you asked, longing for clarity.

“It means… I want to try. I want to let you into my world, no matter what it takes.” His words hung in the air, heavy with promise and possibility.

And for a brief moment, you believed him, feeling a mix of hope and fear, the thrill of what could be mingling with the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Reality hit hard as the days turned into weeks. Despite his promises, Lando kept you in the background, just as before. You attended races, blending into the crowd, hurting as you watched him share his world with everyone but you. Each laugh he shared, each photo he took, felt like another nail in the coffin of your relationship. The distance grew, and every interaction turned to moments of joy overshadowed by a sense of despair.

The bright lights of the racetrack felt like a stage set for everyone but you, and the applause that echoed through the stands was a reminder of your place in his life: always out of reach. Each time Lando reached out, his messages filled with enthusiasm about his races and triumphs. A dull ache settled in your chest as you realized the happiness he experienced was increasingly separate from you.

Finally, it all came to an end one night. You stood in front of Lando, your heart racing, feeling the weight of the words you were about to say. The dim light of his apartment cast shadows on his face, highlighting the deep lines of worry etched on his brow.

“This isn’t what I signed up for,” you said, your voice trembling as anger and heartbreak collided within you. “I thought you wanted to change things. I thought you wanted me in your life, not just in the shadows.”

Lando’s eyes widened, pain on his face as he took a step closer. “You know I do! I’m trying! But you don’t understand the pressure, the stakes…”

“Don’t pretend like you’re the only one who’s under pressure!” you said, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’m here too! I’m the one who’s been waiting, hiding, and feeling like a ghost in your life. I can’t do it anymore, Lando.”

He stepped closer, desperation flooding his eyes. “Please, just give me time. I need to figure this out.”

You shook your head, the pain overwhelming you. “Time? I’ve given you enough time. I don’t want to be an option anymore. I deserve to be more than a secret.”

The silence that followed felt like an abyss stretching between you. The walls felt like they were closing in, and the air grew with tension. Finally, you whispered, “I can’t keep doing this.”

And just like that, the fragile thread connecting you snapped, unravelling everything you’d built together. You turned away, your heart breaking with every step as you walked out of his life, leaving him standing in the dark.

As the door closed behind you, reality hit Lando like a freight train, the consequences of his actions crashing down on him. He stood in the silence of his apartment, a void where your laughter used to fill the air, the reality of what he had lost settling heavily in his chest. He had pushed you away, convinced that keeping you hidden would protect you, but now he realized that it had only created a gap between you, a wound that might never heal.

A YEAR LATER

The café was buzzing with life, sunlight streaming through the large windows and illuminating the vibrant chatter of patrons. Lando strolled in, his mind still preoccupied with the endless cycle of races and media obligations and some days, he’d feel the pain of your absence. Today was one of those days.

As he waited in line for his coffee, Lando couldn’t shake the feeling of being adrift. The laughter of fans, the chatter of friends celebrating victories; it all felt distant like he was watching life unfold through a pane of glass. With each passing day, the absence of your smile haunted him more than the pressures of the racing world ever could. He longed for the moments you had shared, the laughter, the connection, but it was too late now.

His thoughts were interrupted by a wave of chatter and laughter from the corner table. He turned, and his heart dropped. There you were, sitting across from someone else, a man who was leaning in closer than Lando had ever dared. You looked radiant, laughter spilling from your lips, and for a moment, time stood still.

A mix of emotions surged through him: jealousy, regret, and longing. He felt a pang of envy at the sight of your joy and sat with the realization that he had lost you to someone else. He should have fought harder, should have tried to mend the rift he had created, but now here you were, moving on without him.

As you glanced up, your eyes met his, and for a brief moment, the world fell away. Surprise flickered in your gaze, quickly replaced by a look of uncertainty. Lando’s heart raced as he willed himself to smile, but it felt forced, a mask to hide the storm of emotions brewing inside him. He stood frozen, trapped between wanting to reach out and the fear of what it would mean if he did.

The man you were with leaned closer, whispering something that made you laugh again, and it was like a knife twisting in Lando’s chest. The sound was beautiful, but it stung like salt on a wound. He turned back to the counter, pretending to check his phone, but his heart was racing, battling the urge to pull you into his arms and tell you how sorry he was.

But as he turned away, he could feel your gaze on him. He wanted to shout your name, to break the silence that loomed like a thick fog, but fear held him back. He was afraid of disrupting your happiness, afraid of hearing you say what he already feared: that you were happier without him.

Just as he was about to step outside, the barista called his name. He grabbed his coffee, forcing a smile as he turned back toward the door, but his heart was pounding in his chest. That’s when you stood up, your laughter fading as you walked toward him, the man you were with still seated, oblivious to the tension in the air.

“Lando?” you said, your voice filled with uncertainty. He caught a glimpse of your eyes, a mix of emotions swirling within them, mirroring how he felt.

“Hey,” he replied. He could feel the heat radiating off you, the familiarity bringing up thousands of memories.

“Nice to see you,” you said, trying to maintain a casual tone, but Lando could sense the tension lingering in the space between you. He glanced over your shoulder, catching the curious gaze of your date, and the sight sent another wave of jealousy over him.

“Yeah, you too,” he managed, forcing his gaze to meet yours. Your eyes held a million unspoken words, and he felt the weight of them pressing down on him. “How have you been?” he asked, desperate to keep the conversation alive.

“I’ve been… good. Just busy with work and stuff,” you replied, your voice faltering slightly. “And you? Racing still?”

“Yeah, always,” he said, a bitter taste filling his mouth at the thought. “Winning, losing, you know how it is.”

You nodded. “I saw you won the last race,” you said, a forced smile tugging at your lips. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he said, his heart aching. “But it’s not the same without you there.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, raw and unfiltered.

Your expression faltered, a flicker of pain crossing your face. “Lando…”

Just then, the man from the table called out to you, breaking the conversation. “Everything okay?” His voice was casual, but Lando could hear the possessiveness beneath.

“Yeah, just… catching up with an old friend,” you replied, you shifted your gaze back towards Lando. The man’s expression darkened, a flicker of jealousy passing across his face, but you seemed unaware of it.

“Maybe we should go?” the man suggested, and Lando’s heart sank at the thought of you leaving with him.

“Yeah, I—” you started, but Lando couldn’t let you walk away again.

“Wait,” he interjected, desperation creeping into his voice. “Can we talk? Just for a minute?”

You hesitated, conflicted. “I don’t know, Lando. It’s complicated…”

“Please,” he pressed, the urgency in his voice growing. “Just… for a minute.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you nodded, glancing back at your date, who frowned but didn’t object. “Just a minute,” you said, stepping aside, and Lando’s heart soared at the small victory.

The two of you found a quieter corner of the café, where the sound of chatter faded into the background. Lando leaned against the wall, his eyes locked onto yours, seeking even a small part of the connection that you once shared.

“Look, I know things ended badly between us,” he started, his voice steady despite feeling the opposite. “I messed up, and I’m sorry for pushing you away. I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you.”

You looked down, the weight of his words heavy in the air. “You really think it was that easy for me?” you asked, your voice laced with hurt. “You think I just moved on? It’s not like that, Lando. I’ve been trying to pick up the pieces since you shut me out.”

“I didn’t mean to—” he began, but you cut him off, the pain in your eyes cutting deeper than he anticipated.

“Didn’t mean to what? To hurt me? To leave me hanging?” Your voice trembled, and he could see the anger mixed with sorrow in your expression. “I thought we had something real, Lando. But when you walked away, you broke everything. I was left to figure it all out alone.”

“I know,” he said, desperation rising in his chest. “And I regret it every day. I thought pushing you away would protect you from the chaos of my life, but it only drove you further away. I’ve been miserable without you. I don’t— I can’t want to lose you for good.”

Your eyes softened momentarily, but the resolve in them remained. “But you already did,” you said softly. “I’m here with someone else now, Lando. I can’t just pretend that you didn’t hurt me, that I didn’t feel like I meant nothing to you.”

He felt the truth of your words like a punch to the gut, the reality crashing over him. “You mean everything to me,” he insisted, his voice breaking. “You’re the only one who ever really understood me. Without you, I feel lost.”

Your expression faltered, the conflict raging within you. “And what do you expect me to do? Just drop everything and go back to the way it was? It’s not that simple, Lando. I’m trying to move on.”

“I don’t want you to move on without me,” he said. “I want to fix this, to make it right. If you give me a chance, I promise I’ll do better this time. I’ll fight for you.”

The moment hung heavy in the air, your eyes searching his for sincerity. “But what if you’re just saying that because you’re afraid of being alone?”

“I’m saying it because I can’t imagine my life without you in it,” he replied, vulnerability spilling from his lips. “I’ve been racing for titles, for victory, but nothing feels right without you by my side. I need you, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove that to you.”

You took a step back, your expression unreadable. “I don’t know if I can trust you again, Lando. It hurts too much to think about going through that pain again.”

“Trust takes time,” he said, his voice gentle. “But I promise I’ll be here till you come around.”

Just then, the man from the table approached, a look of concern on his face. “Everything all right?” he asked, his tone slightly defensive.

You glanced at him, and Lando felt the tightness in his chest return. He didn’t want to fight for you with another man standing there, but he couldn’t let you walk away again.

“I need to go,” you said, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Wait, just—” Lando started, but you shook your head, the finality in your eyes piercing through him.

“I have to figure things out, Lando. I can’t just jump back into something that broke me.”

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Lando standing in the café, your footsteps fading into the distance.

Lando knew he had lost you, perhaps for good. As the world continued to spin, he was left with the realization that sometimes love wasn’t enough to mend the fractures life had carved into the heart. He knew he might never have the chance to tell you how much you truly meant to him.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ LN4 MASTERLIST

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris angst #lando norris smau #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 #formula 1 #✷ isaadore

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iznsfw · 6 months ago

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Off*IZ Hours

IZ*ONE

Twelve different girls, twelve different roles, same corporate of endless lust. Professionalism isn't a word in their world of air-conditioning and coffee—but sex? Definitely something that keeps office romance steamy.

Kwon Eunbi, Secretary — @iznsfw

Miyawaki Sakura, Boss — @writerpeach

Kang Hyewon — @capslocked

Choi Yena, Event Coordinator — @worldsover

Lee Chaeyeon, Payroll — @nsfwrpg

Kim Chaewon, Data Management — @gangplanksorenji

Kim Minju — @capslocked

Yabuki Nako, Data Analytics Secretary — @leafostuff

Camera Shy

Honda Hitomi — @firagaarmor

Jo Yuri, Freelance — @octoberautumnbox

Like It Like I Love It

An Yujin — @sinswithpleasure

Jang Wonyoung, External Relations — @praeluxius

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vintagegeekculture · 2 months ago

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The Hall of Amazing Men: Branscombe Richmond

A new admission to the Hall of Amazing Men, Branscombe Richmond is best known for being an actor where he played Lorenzo Lamas’s friend, the Lando Calrissian-like sharpie Dallas Sixkiller, or as Moki, the smartmouth Hawaiian friend of Magnum, P.I. But behind the camera, as a tough as nails stunt coordinator and stuntman, Branscombe Richmond created and developed nearly all the eccentric and eye catching events in the TV series American Gladiators: Atlasphere (the one where people roll around in giant balls), Powerball (done simply because they needed a sport that could be created cheaply because they ran out of money for development) and all the various ones where musclemen shoot tennis balls at people, and where you have to avoid muscular women by jumping on a bungee cord. I don’t think it would be inaccurate to say that with his development (on a really thin budget, no less) of memorable, eye catching sports and events that, with his stunt training he knew could be done safely enough so that even kinda-sporty housewives from Illinois could do them without injury, Branscombe Richmond created American Gladiators. He turned an idea into a realized, practical show that can be done – I don’t think it is inaccurate at all to call him the uncredited creator of American Gladiators.

In his career as a stuntman, Branscombe Richmond, meanwhile, is another one of those faces that shows up over and over playing evil henchmen, members of motorcycle gangs in rough biker bars the hero brawls with karate (if there’s ever a rough scummy biker bar out there, you can bet Branscomb Richmond is in it), and hordes of nunchaku wielding ninja, to the point where if you are, like me, an 80s-90s action aficionado, his face makes you go “oh, hey…it’s that guy!” Can you really call yourself an action fan if you don’t start identifying “your” evil henchman? His IMDB page is mostly roles that are named “Gunman In Jeep,” "Biker #2," and "Terrifying Clown."

If there is a Evil Henchman Hall of Fame, Brandscomb is there alongside the great Al Leung. You can spot his face as a henchman in Never Too Young to Die (with John Stamos), Action Jackson, Batman Returns, the Hidden, Iron Eagle III: Aces High (objectively the best one as it had Ms. Olympia Rachel McLish), and Star Trek III, where he was a Klingon henchman to Christopher Lloyd who almost got disintegrated and had to feed his disgusting slimy monster dog-salamander. It's comforting to know the profession of henching is alive and well 300 years in the future.

On television, Brandscomb Richmond was on every single cool show from the 80s: Tales of the Gold Monkey, TJ Hooker, Manimal, Airwolf, Knight Rider, Baywatch, and many times attempted to kill the A-Team, especially from motorcycles. Like Chiba, another stuntman-actor, Branscombe Richmond specialized in motorcycle stunts, and he was admitted to the Motorcycle Hall of Fame in 2003. He is, to this day, the guest of honor at whatever motorcycle rally your embarrassing hick uncle attends. I have no evidence for this, but I have long suspected that the reason Richmond was hired to be Dallas Sixkiller in Renegade with Lorenzo Lamas was so they could get his unpaid advice on motorcycle stunts (much like how I have always suspected Warner Brothers hired Ben Affleck as Batman as a "backdoor" way to ask him to direct).

He also played the older brother of the Rock in the Scorpion King, which is an interesting choice because despite getting roles as American Indians (and being beloved in the American Indian community, who, as a whole, deeply love characters who are smartmouth, wiseass sharpies/scammers who get one over on everyone), Brandscome Richmond is in fact, like the Rock, of Hawaiian origin. His first major role in television, that of Moki in Magnum PI, was in fact Hawaiian.

Why are there so many Pacific Islanders in stuntman careers, MMA, and professional wrestling? The answer is surprisingly pedestrian. It’s because Pacific Islanders are a sizable ethnic population in Los Angeles, where movies and television are made, so if you need someone in L.A. that are tough as nails and can take a hit, a Samoan or Hawaiian is a good choice.

Happily, Branscombe Richmond is alive and well, mostly retired as a traditionally large Hawaiian family patriarch. He does occasional voice work, as Gibraltar in Apex Legends, a character physically based on him as well. I imagine he is relieved to be working in showbiz and no longer risking brain damage to do it.

#hall of amazing men #branscombe richmond #henchmen #80s #action movies

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reiding-writing · 1 month ago

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ECHOES OF SILENCE — SPENCER REID!

digging too deep into something you’re not directly involved in can have consequences.

s1!spencer x fem!reader | mystery | 3.3k | event masterlist.

| part one. | part two. | part three. |

main masterlist.

a/n — part two babyyyy, with a few cameos for my babes, iykyk

You sit in the back of the lecture hall, but you’ve stopped listening.

The words from the professor dissolve into the noise of your own thoughts, thoughts that loop in a quiet, panicked hum.

It’s been weeks since you first brought up your theory—missing college girls, all within a radius too tight to be coincidence—and still, no one’s taken you seriously. A joke, they said. A distraction from exams, group projects, and campus parties.

The friends who once nodded when you talked now roll their eyes, turning their backs on you with easy laughter when you bring it up. Even your roommate, who had seemed concerned at first, has started to shut the door a little too firmly when you try to explain the latest detail you’ve uncovered.

Outside, the October air bites, but you hardly notice. You move through campus like a ghost, just as unnoticed as the girls who disappeared.

There's something wrong here, you can feel it—but nobody else seems to care. The administration deflected your concerns with vague reassurances about “young adults finding their own path.” The words were polished, as if they’d been spoken a hundred times before.

When you left their office, you couldn’t help but wonder if they had a protocol for when girls like that vanished.

You’re walking back to your dorm when your phone buzzes, Spencer’s voice echoing through the receiver. The relief is immediate; at least he believes you. You answer, and his voice, calm but strained, fills the silence.

“I’ve been looking into the disappearances,” he says without preamble. “It’s not just your local colleges.”

Your pulse quickens. You stop mid-step, scanning the quad as if something will jump out at you. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve connected similar cases in colleges further out in the city. Girls, vanishing from Maryland, Strayer—there’s a pattern. The BAU is looking at it now.”

You knew it. That cold knot in your stomach tightens further as he continues.

“We’re talking about a coordinated effort. Someone, or a group, is targeting them. It’s not random.”

The world feels sharper, the shadows darker, like something is lurking just out of sight. “Why hasn’t anyone said anything?”

Spencer sighs. “It’s under the radar. They know how to blend in, make it look like the girls left voluntarily, but the timeline doesn’t fit. Whoever this is, they’re careful. But they’re getting bolder. You were right to be worried.”

You swallow hard, but your throat is dry. This was more than you’d imagined. “So, what do we do?”

His voice lowers. “You need to be careful. We’re dealing with something bigger than just local authorities. The BAU is moving, but these people are professionals. If they know someone’s onto them…”

You don’t need him to finish the sentence. It hangs in the air between you, as heavy as the threat itself. You look around again, this time truly seeing the faces of the students passing by. Any one of them could be next. Or maybe it’s already too late for some.

—

The scent of stale coffee fills the local police department’s waiting area, mixing with the sharp tang of disinfectant. You sit across from Spencer, flipping through a stack of missing person reports he’s been able to pull.

The faces of the girls stare back at you from the pages—smiling in yearbook photos, carefree and young. It’s hard to reconcile the images with their fates, with the cold emptiness that follows their names and the faint, scribbled notes: last seen at a party, disappeared after a study group, no signs of forced entry.

You’re glad that Spencer agreed to let you in on the official investigation, unsure you’d be able to go about your daily life with that malingering thought in the back of your mind that any one of the girls you see on a day-to-day basis could be the next addition to your notebook, another number in the case. A statistic.

Spencer sets another file on the table between you, his brow furrowed in concentration. “We’ve got a disturbing amount of overlap here. Same age range, similar social circles. Most of them were last seen at crowded events.”

You nod, skimming through the details. You knew this was bad, but seeing it all laid out like this, in official reports, makes it more real. “They’re being targeted at parties,” you mutter, piecing it together aloud. “Whoever’s doing this knows exactly how to disappear them without raising any alarms.”

Just then, Detective Walker strides in. You recognise her as the officer you’d spoken to a few weeks ago when you first voiced your concerns. She was dismissive then, barely giving you five minutes before handing you off to a clerk. Now, her expression is more serious, though a hint of skepticism still lingers in her sharp eyes.

“So, you’re telling me these disappearances aren’t just coincidence?” Walker asks, dropping into the chair opposite you. She flips open one of the files but doesn’t really look at it. “I don’t know, kids come and go all the time. Some of them just don’t want to be found.”

Spencer, ever patient, sits up straight. “We’ve been tracking similar cases across multiple colleges across D.C. These girls didn’t just decide to leave. There are too many similarities. Someone is orchestrating this.”

Walker glances at you, then at Spencer. The silence stretches long enough for you to feel the doubt creeping in, but finally, she leans back, rubbing his jaw. “Alright. I’ll bite. Let’s say this is more than it looks. What exactly are we dealing with here?”

A flicker of relief passes between you and Spencer. Walker isn’t fully convinced yet, but at least she’s listening.

Over the next few days, you sit in on interviews with the families of the missing girls, listening as they recount the last time they saw their daughters.

Most of the stories are eerily similar: the girls were seen heading to a party or a study group, sometimes in crowded dorms, other times at social hangouts, but never alone.

No one ever saw them leave. No one noticed them slip away. One moment they were there, and the next, gone, like a shadow in the middle of a crowded room.

You start to notice something else too—the faint look of frustration in the families’ eyes. A few mothers mutter how the police didn’t take their worries seriously at first, how they’d been told their daughters were probably off with friends or boyfriends, that they’d come back eventually. But they never did.

And you sympathise, if you were frustrated by their negligence, you couldn’t even imagine how awful it felt for them.

Later that week, back at campus, you and Spencer sift through more data in the library’s back corner, out of sight of curious students. You’re exhausted, but you can’t stop, not now. The glow of your laptop screen reflects off your tired eyes as you comb through social media profiles and event listings. Then something clicks.

“There’s a circle,” you whisper, pulling up a list of campus groups, scanning for overlapping names and attendees. “They’re attending parties and groups in places that are all within an hour radius from each other.”

Spencer leans in, looking over your shoulder. “We need more data. There’s got to be something to lead us to a central location.”

Spencer rifles through his bag for a few seconds before pulling out his phone, failing in a number and letting it ring on speaker.

“Giver of all things pink and fluffy, how can I help you boy genius?”

You furrow your eyebrows at the response, but Spencer seems unfazed.

“Hey Garcia, we need access to everything connected to these campus events,” He explains, laying out your findings. “Emails, attendance lists, anything that could show us who’s been organising these things. There’s something bigger going on.”

The sound of keyboard taps comes over the phone, joined by a “Watch a true genius do her work,”

The line goes silent for a few second barr the keys, and then there’s a small tut from the woman on the other end. “Uh, there’s a student forum for D.C colleges, seems like they share addresses and dates for certain student events with each other, all of our linked events being mentioned at least once, seemingly by the same few individuals,”

There’s another small pause, and then an unhappy hum. “They just posted a new party listing today, I’ll send you the date and address,”

“Thanks Garcia,”

“No problem Wonder Boy, Penny G out!”

You glance at Spencer, a cold wave of dread hitting you as the phone goes dead. This is it, almost certainly proof that someone’s been hunting these girls. And worse, they’re not done.

Walker is going to have to believe you now.

—

The first message arrives late one night, just as you’re about to turn off your computer. It’s an email from handle that’s just a bunch of letters and numbers, but the subject line—STOP—is what catches your attention. You hesitate, thinking it might be spam, but something feels wrong. Against your better judgment, you click.

You don’t know what you’re getting into. Walk away, or you’ll end up like the others.

There’s no signature, no indication of who it’s from, but the message is clear. You stare at the words, your pulse suddenly racing, and glance around your darkened dorm room.

The blinds are drawn, but you feel exposed, as though someone’s watching you right now. Your hand hovers over the mouse, and instinctively, you delete the email, but the unease doesn’t go away. Instead, it festers, a growing knot in your gut.

You immediately call Spencer. His voice is groggy but sharpens when you tell him what happened. “I think they’re onto us,” You breathe out, voice heavy with concern.

You can hear the ruffle of what you assume to be his sheets as he sits up. “We need to be careful. You should stay somewhere else for a few days.”

You agree, but sleep doesn’t come easy. The next morning, you pack a small bag and move into a motel on the edge of town, one Spencer picked for its anonymity.

You don’t tell anyone where you’ve gone, not even your closest friends. It feels safer that way. Still, the tension clings to you like a second skin. You can’t help but check your surroundings every few minutes, scanning faces and cars, wondering if one of them belongs to the person who sent that message.

A few days later, you’re sitting across from Spencer in his car, watching the local diner where you’re set to meet Detective Walker. The message still lingers in your mind, but you push it aside as Walker arrives, sliding into the booth with a grim expression.

“We found something,” She says without any preamble, placing a thin file on the table between you and Spencer. “Her name’s Charlotte Francis. She went missing last year, same pattern—college student, disappeared after a party. Only, we found her. Alive.”

You and Spencer exchange a look. “Where is she now?” Spencer asks, leaning forward.

Walker sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “She’s in a trauma center. We haven’t been able to get much out of her, but... what little she’s told us? It’s bad. Really bad.”

Your stomach turns. “What did she say?”

Walker hesitates before speaking. “She was taken by a group—an underground ring, we think it’s traffickers. They exploit them, sometimes for months, before they disappear completely. Charlotte’s one of the few we’ve ever recovered.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. Exploit. The word echoes in your mind, heavy with implications. “She’s... she’s still alive though, right? Can we talk to her?”

Walker nods, but there’s no relief in her expression. “She’s alive, but barely. She’s not the same girl who went missing. The trauma, the things they did to her... it broke her. She won’t even look people in the eye. Most of the time, she doesn’t speak.”

A chill runs down your spine. You’ve been chasing this story, desperate for answers, but now you wonder if you’re getting too close. The warning from the email comes rushing back—Walk away, or you’ll end up like the others.

Later that day, you and Spencer visit the trauma center where Charlotte is being kept. The place is sterile, too clean, and the soft hum of fluorescent lights only heightens your anxiety.

A nurse leads you to a small room where Charlotte sits on a bed, staring out the window, her face hollow and gaunt. Her eyes don’t flicker toward you when you enter, and she barely reacts when Spencer speaks to her in a gentle voice.

“Charlotte? My name’s Spencer Reid, I’m with the FBI, is it alright if I ask you some questions?”

She nods stuntedly, barely so much as a flicker of acknowledgment in her expression. “Charli,”

Spencer blinks. “Sorry?”

“Don’t— call me Charlotte, please,”

“Right,” Spencer nods softly, pulling up one of the plastic guest chairs and motioning for you to do the same. “Of course, that’s no problem,”

The conversation is slow, almost non-existent, and it’s only when you mention the parties that she turns her head slightly, just enough for you to see the pain etched deep into her expression.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice a fragile thread. “Don’t look for them. They’ll find you.”

The weight of her words settles over you like a suffocating blanket. You know now that this is bigger than you ever imagined—more dangerous, more personal. And suddenly, the fear isn’t just about finding out the truth. It’s about what happens when the truth finds you.

As you leave the trauma center, Spencer glances at you under his glasses, his face tense with unspoken worry. “We’re getting close, but this is going to get worse before it gets better. They’re watching us.”

You nod, but you can’t shake the feeling creeping over you. Charli’s warning plays over and over in your mind. How many girls have vanished without a trace? How many more are out there, waiting to be found—or worse, already gone?

And how long before you become one of them?

—

Garcia’s lead takes you to a club on the outskirts of the Georgetown campus, one of those places that’s just far enough from the city to feel unsafe but close enough to attract the usual crowd of college students.

The police, along with Spencer and his team from the BAU, have planned the sting carefully—too carefully, you hope. The club is being watched, plainclothes officers mixed into the crowd, waiting for the moment to strike.

You’re there too, disguised as just another student, your nerves stretched thin as you wait for the signal. The goal is simple: get enough evidence to take down the ring, and rescue anyone being held against their will.

Spencer parks a few blocks away, both of you agreeing it’s better to approach on foot. The night air is thick with humidity, and a nervous energy buzzes between you as you walk toward the pulsing neon sign that marks the entrance.

The club is loud, chaotic. Inside, bodies move in time with the beat of the music, students laughing and drinking without a care in the world. But your focus isn’t on the crowd. It’s on the VIP section in the back, cordoned off by a velvet rope and guarded by two burly men. Spencer’s sharp eyes catch it too.

“That’ll be where it’s happening,” he mutters, nodding toward the area. “It’s the only place private enough to be able to make someone disappear without being noticed.”

You and Spencer inch closer, blending in with the throng of students. You act casual, pretending to sip a drink you grabbed from the bar. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to look everywhere at once, scanning faces, trying to recognize anyone who fits the descriptions from the missing girls’ reports.

Then you see it.

A girl—too young, too innocent-looking—escorted by one of the guards through the VIP entrance. She glances around, clearly out of place, and you see the flicker of hesitance in her eyes just before she disappears behind the curtain. You nudge Spencer, your throat tightening.

“Spencer,” you say, voice barely a whisper.

He nods, tense. “Let’s get closer, but keep your head down. We can’t risk getting caught.”

You push forward, slipping through the crowd until you’re just a few feet from the VIP area. Spencer’s already pulling out his phone, discreetly trying to snap photos for evidence.

But as you lean in to catch a glimpse beyond the curtain, your foot catches on something, and you stumble forward—just enough to attract the attention of the guard.

“Hey!” the guard shouts, immediately stepping toward you.

Panic surges through you. Spencer grabs your arm, pulling you back, and you both make a quick retreat, weaving through the crowd. The music swells around you, but it does nothing to drown out the sound of the guards following close behind.

Your heart races as you dart through the narrow hallway toward the back exit, Spencer right on your heels.

“We need to get out of here—now,” he hisses, eyes darting toward the door.

You don’t need to be told twice. Together, you shove through the exit, spilling into the dark alleyway. The door slams behind you, and you take the opportunity to breathe.

“Oh thank god,” You slap a hand over your chest as you look over your shoulder towards Spencer behind you.

Except he isn’t there.

“Spencer?” you question, voice echoing empty in the alleyway.

A cold wave of dread washes over you. You spin in place, the sounds of shouting fading into the background. “Spencer!” you call again, louder this time, but it’s no use.

The realisation hits you like a punch to the gut. He’s not here. And you’re alone.

“Okay, okay breathe,” You exhale heavily, motioning downwards with your hand to calm yourself down. “Just go back to the car, yeah,”

You nod to yourself as you walk back towards the main street, taking routine breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth.

“Everything’s good, we’re fine,” You’re not exactly sure you’re convincing yourself, but you don’t deny the relief you feel when you spot the light spilling from a street lamp around the corner.

And then someone grabs you from behind, yanking you backwards. A hand clamps over your mouth, and you struggle, kicking and thrashing, but it’s no use. A van door slams shut, and everything goes dark.

— part three !!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst

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dashcon-two · 3 months ago

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Our First Update!

Hi everyone! Wow, the reception to DashCon 2 online has been insane. We are so incredibly grateful for the support! We know that there haven’t been a ton of updates in these past few weeks, but we promise that we’ve been planning a bunch behind the scenes. We're going to be going over a lot of information here that we covered in our newsletter, along with some more behind-the-scenes details.

If you haven’t subscribed to our newsletter, please consider doing so! We’ll be putting out monthly summaries of important updates, alongside regular short posts here on our blog and these longer summaries.

NOTICE 07/9/2024: We're currently having some trouble with the newsletter and cannot guarantee that you'll receive our summary right away. We're sorry for the inconvenience and working hard to resolve the matter

WHY HAVEN’T THERE BEEN MORE UPDATES

Frankly, a lot of the stuff we’ve been working on is pretty boring. We’ve been working a lot on budgeting and logistics, what you’d expect from a con that’s still pretty early on in development. We also haven’t wanted to rush announcing anything just to have something to put out; we don’t want to make promises that we can’t keep. We have more in the works, we promise, but we’ve been taking time to make sure that we’re laying a strong foundation for all future plans.

To be completely honest, we originally planned on publically announcing our plans in mid-September, which has definitely impacted our publication schedule. When we learned of Strange Aeons’ DashCon video we realized that it would be a great time to reach out to her (which we’d already planned on doing), and go public with our plans. We were also concerned that if we went public after her video it would be assumed that this was a cashgrab aiming to ride the hype from her video. Because of this, we’ve had far less to announce than we would’ve necessarily liked. However, we’re now at the stage where we’ll have a more consistent update schedule going forward.

OUR TEAM

To start, we have received a lot of questions about our team and experience. The DashCon 2 team is a mishmash of people in and around the convention world. For specifics you can consult our About Us page, but as a collective we have people who have worked professionally as event/programming coordinators, volunteered at conventions/festivals/renaissance fairs, and of course, we've all been attending conventions as guests for over a decade.

If you’re interested in potentially joining our team, we’ve now opened up volunteer applications for people interested in helping organize DashCon Two. Please fill out this form, and we’ll be in touch soon!

Our team is also working hard to connect with other people in the con scene, especially in our local area. We’d like to give a big thanks to Jenn from Dangerous Ladies for consulting with us and shouting us out on Twitter. Please check her out on Twitter @dangerousladies! If you’ve been involved in con organization and wouldn’t mind having a quick chat with us, we’d love to hear your two cents! Please contact us through this form.

VENUE

Unfortunately we don't have a specific venue confirmed yet. We’ve been in contact with a variety of venues available around our preferred date, but we're still negotiating the details. We cannot confirm anything until paperwork has been signed, but know that not matter what, we will be paying for our venue in advance.

Because of some new venue updates (that we can't talk about yet), the date of our event may be subject to change, but will remain within the month of July.

VENDOR APPLICATIONS

The team is thrilled by the excitement so many Canadian artists have for vending at DashCon 2. Vendor applications are not open yet because we haven't yet signed for the venue. Once the venue is confirmed we'll be able to finalize our numbers, including attendee expectations and price.

Thanks for reading! The DashCon 2 Team

#dashcon #dashcontwo #updates

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therealcocoshady · 3 months ago

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Come inside

Eminem x Assistant!Reader

Author's note : so, funny thing... I got this request I really like and started writing to it. But I realized I needed to give it some sort of prequel, just to set context, y'know ? Long story short, I wrote something rather long and I could have waited until the whole thing was complete to post it on here, but I'm a really nice person and I thought you guys would enjoy it 😉. Stay tuned for part 2 !

CW : Implied smut but nothing NSFW. Tipsy reader. Marshall being a consent king. Coco pouring all of her energy into describing a kiss.

When you started working for Marshall, you had immediately developed a crush. How could you not ? Your boss was not only talented, he was also handsome, kind and funny as hell. You had a blast working for him and, even though being a personal assistant to a celebrity had never been your dream job, it sort of turned into it. Only a fool would complain about being paid to hang out with a talented musician, helping them managing their day to day life and enjoying a lot of perks, such as trips and occasional presents. Sure, the job was demanding and didn’t really leave a lot of room for personal life, but your boss definitely made up for that. It all started during a work trip to Los Angeles.

You had been working for Marshall for a little over a year and you were used to trips to California. He often went there, whether it was to work with Dre or to meet with people from Interscope. It was often the same song and dance : you did the coordination for the trip, took care of the day to day management of his schedule and, while he was busy making music in Dre’s studio, you were on call but allowed to do whatever you wanted. You had heard a lot about celebrities that demanded that their assistant be with them at all time, ready to indulge their every whims but Marshall was pretty low-maintenance, especially when he was in studio mode. As long as the his schedule was coordinated correctly and his lunch was delivered on time, he didn’t care what you did or how you chose to spend the day. You actually came to enjoy the work trips to California, which were less hectic than life in Detroit. You got to sleep in a comfy suite in a nice hotel, go to the beach, lounge by the pool, answering the occasional email while your boss was in the studio. All you had to do was meet him in the morning for breakfast, keep him informed of his daily schedule before he went about his day, be available if he needed to call you to sort something out (he never did), and join him for dinner, either at the hotel’s restaurant, in his room or at Dre’s. You also went with him to a couple of parties. At first, you didn’t think you would enjoy the events and attended them in a strictly professional capacity, but as time went on and you got to know Dre and his team, you let your hair down and allowed yourself to have fun. Everyone in the Aftermath family was friendly and the parties were always really great. During one of them, preceding the launch of Gin&Juice, you were offered the opportunity to sample taste the flavors and, one thing leading to another, you ended up indulging in gin-based cocktails with everyone. Being a lightweight when it comes to drinking and handling your liquor, it didn’t take too much for you to be tipsy, showing your boss a side of you he had never seen.

While the two of you had always gotten along very well and had a friendly relationship, you usually kept things on the professional side. Due to the nature of your job, you knew a lot about him and his personal life but you didn’t share too much about yours and, since he was very respectful of people’s wish for privacy, he definitely didn’t pry or ask too many questions. However, the liquor had you being a little more talkative and, on the way back to your hotel rooms, you ended up opening up. You weren’t too sure how the subject turned to your love life, but you certainly ended up laughing out loud when he brought up the topic of boyfriends.

What’s so funny ? He asked with a confused look on his face.

That you think I have boyfriends, you chortled. That’s… hilarious.

Sorry, he chuckled. Girlfriends, then ?

What I mean is that being your assistant doesn’t exactly make dating easy, you explained with a smile. You’re a great boss but, believe it or not, you’re the biggest cockblock !

Am I ? He chortled.

Oh yeah, you giggled. Apparently, not a lot of guys are willing to accommodate that kind of schedule. And the ones that do usually end up blowing it when they find out I work for you.

Do they ? He mused.

Are you kidding ?! It’s a nightmare ! Last guy I dated was great. But when he found out I work for you, he absolutely lost it ! You chuckled. He was absolutely obsessed and he spent all night asking questions about you and was pissed when I told him I wasn’t allowed to answer any of them. And don’t get me started on the guy who went on a rant about how he’d never trust me, since I work for a « sexy millionnaire ». His words, not mine, mind you.

Wow, I’m sorry, he chortled. I feel for you.

Eh, it’s fine, you shrugged. You kind of ruined me for other men anyway.

Oh yeah ? He asked with a grin. How so ?

Well, you certainly made me rethink my standards, you giggled. I can’t go for the first loser that comes my way when I work for a really handsome man who takes me on cool trips and gives me presents.

Should I stop being such a nice boss, then ? He grinned.

Please don’t, you giggled. I really enjoy working for you. I can’t complain.

Even if I’m a cockblock ? He asked with a smirk.

Yeah, you said with a laugh. That’s your one and only flaw.

Is it ? He mused. I would have thought you’d find quite a few of them… I know I’m not easy to put up with.

You’re fine, you said.

Good to know, he chuckled.

And you’re really fine, too, you added without a second thought.

You didn’t even catch yourself, not realizing that you had just told your boss that you thought it was really attractive. And to help matters worse, your own flirty facial expressions really flew over your own head. It was only when Marshall looked at you with a smirk on his face and returned the compliment that you realized what you had done.

Why, thank you, Y/N, he said with a smug face. I think you’re pretty fine too.

Oh my god, you said as you blushed. I’m so sorry !

Come on, it’s no big deal, he chuckled. I can think of worse things than being complimented by someone like you.

Someone like me ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

Well… You know, he said as he gestured towards your body. Come on. You’ve seen yourself.

His words, the gesture, the look on his face made you blush even harder. Not only could you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, warmth was invading your whole body, and the gin was definitely not helping. The rational part of your brain was trying to tell you to lower your gaze and go to bed but, unfortunately, it was being silenced by the other part. The irrational one. The one controlled by your hormones, that was urging you to jump this man’s bones.

You’re making me blush, Mr Mathers, you said in a sultry voice. You’re such a big flirt.

You’re one to talk, he whispered. Telling me you think I’m fine. You’re the one making me blush.

Am I in trouble, boss ? You asked in a voice that was all but innocent.

I think the headache you’ll have tomorrow will be enough trouble, he said with a playful grin.

I didn’t drink that much, you giggled.

He hummed and chuckled before taking a look at you. You were in front of our hotel room, standing close to each other. You smiled and looked into his baby blue eyes. You had always been so drawn to them. You liked everything about his eyes, from the color to the depth of the emotions they conveyed. They had an intensity to them and, most of the time, you managed to refrain yourself from staring too long, knowing you could drown in these waters. But in this moment, you couldn’t stop yourself. And when you did, it was only to look at his lips for a second, before holding his gaze again. You didn’t even need to speak. Your eyes were doing all the talking, supported by the biting of your lower lip and the soft sigh that escaped you.

How much ? He asked carefully.

Enough to have the courage to tell you to come closer, you said as you batted your eyelashes.

I think you’re a little drunk, he said with a slight shake of his head.

I’m sober enough to give informed consent, you purred.

His lips twitched into a smile, though you could see him try and hide it. He held your gaze and inched a little closer. You weren’t touching but the atmosphere was heavy and had your heart pounding. You smiled to yourself, noticing how evident his attraction was. You still had it. You still had game. He was close enough so that you could notice his breath hitching. And he got even closer, his forehead touching yours, one of his hands brushing against your hip.

Is this ok ? He whispered.

More than ok, you murmured at you leaned in and cupped his jaw. Is this ok ?

He didn’t even reply. Simply nodded with a grin, before capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. You could tell that he was testing the waters and you were quick to respond, your other hand finding its way to the back of his neck as you deepened the kiss. It became more urgent, more intense. His arm wrapped around your waist and he slowly pushed you against the door to your room, as he kept on kissing you with a passion that made your brain glitch. It was everything a kiss should be. Soft and hungry at the same time. Warmth was invading your chest as Marshall captured all of your senses. You lost track of the time, of where you were. All that mattered was the lingering taste of Diet Coke on Marshall’s tongue, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the softness of his fingers on your cheek and the sensuality of him playfully biting your lip before your mouths reluctantly parted ways to allow for some much needed breath catching. When you opened your eyes, you saw him blink a couple of times as he regained consciousness. Evidently, he was as dizzy as you, the newfound chemistry absolutely exhilarating. Your eyes met again and the sparks of attraction were obvious and, this time, none of you needed to ask, practically jumping on each other, your bodies mirroring each other’s raw and unguarded desire, your chest pressed against his as his mouth crashed on yours with a fervor that took your breath away. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him even closer to you, his body moulding you as every inch of space between the two of you disappeared. Your lips moved in a desperate rhythm, tasting, exploring, as if making up for all the time they’d spent keeping their distance. Your nails lightly raked down his chest, sending a jolt of heat straight through him. He groaned into the kiss, pulling you even closer, his other hand gripping your waist with a possessiveness that matched the urgency in his kiss. You responded eagerly, your tongue tangling with his, and the kiss became a wild, feverish dance of lips and breath. Every touch was charged with a need that neither of you could ignore. When you finally pulled away again, both of you were breathless, hearts pounding as if they’d run a marathon. Marshall’s thumb brushed against your cheek, his breath ragged as he looked at you, eyes dark with desire.

Holy shit, he muttered. That was… Wow.

I don’t want to stop, you said in a voice that betrayed your hunger for him.

Then don’t, he whispered, pulling you back in for another searing kiss.

It was as if you’d both been craving unknowingly craving for this. It felt right. There was something about the way you held on to each other, the exhilaration of newness mixing with an odd familiarity. It was all but foreign, and he seemed to know all the right ways to touch you, that had your pussy throbbing, aching with desire for him.

Come inside, you pleaded in between kisses.

To your room ? He asked breathily.

Yeah, sure, that too, you shrugged.

For all you cared, he could have his way with you in the hallway. He let go just long enough for you to fumble with the keycard and, as soon as you stepped in your suite, he was all over you again. You nearly tripped as you made your way in, both of your desires so urgent that you didn’t even make it to the bed. Not until round two anyway. In the heat of the moment, caution was thrown to the wind. You didn’t care that he was your boss. You didn’t care that it might be weird in the morning. Neither did he, it seemed. All that mattered was your carnal need for each other, your senses only focusing on pleasure, touching and tasting each other as the room filled with moans and whimpers for a night that seemed never-ending.

Only the night did end and, as you woke up alone in bed, naked and wrapped in the bedsheets that reeked of sex and your boss’s cologne, you knew you had to have a much needed talk. You had never thought of yourself as a coward, but you sure as hell didn’t feel too good as you knocked on his door, unsure of how he felt about what had happened and a bit upset that you couldn’t even hide behind excuses of alcohol clouding your judgement. You had wanted this and it was time to face the music. There was a bit of awkwardness as he opened the door and greeted you, before allowing you to step into his suite. You could sense the weight of what had happened in the atmosphere, none of you being sure where to start. You decided to do what you did best : focus on work.

The car to take you to Dre’s studio will be there in 20, you informed him. The chauffeur will pick you up at 4 and drive you to the airport for our flight back to Detroit. No lunch delivered at the studio today since you’re going out with Dre. I will pack your bags and I’ll meet you at the airport. I have texted Dre’s assistant and she’ll have energy drinks and snack ready for you when you arrive. I know you don’t do too well when you haven’t slept.

Thanks, he hummed. Is 20 minutes enough for a talk ? I’d like to… sort things out before we start the day.

Of course, you said as you tried to sound as neutral as possible - not willing to let your anxiety show.

You stared at each other awkwardly for a second and he gestured for you to sit on the couch.

Are you alright ? He asked carefully.

Yeah, you hummed. Are you ?

Of course. Look… last night was amazing and I don’t want you to think that I regret anything, because I don’t. But you work for me and it complicates things.

It does, you agreed. I don’t have regrets either, but I think we should keep things professional. I actually like working for you and I know I’m good at my job. I’ve worked too hard for one night to mess things up.

Agreed, he said. We’ve got something good here.

So, what happens in LA stays in LA ? You suggested.

Exactly, he said with a smile.

You both sighed in relief, happy to be on the same page. Just like that, the talk shifted to something work-related, and it was back to business as usual. You both went about your day and met again when you boarded the private plane for your flight back to Detroit. During the flight, you attempted to read a book but you could feel the atmosphere heavy, as well as Marshall staring at you. You didn’t say anything, though, figuring it would take a little while for things to go back to normal. It was probably a good thing that you were flying back home, getting to sleep in your own place rather than in a hotel room next to his. Going back to the studio would probably help too. The sooner you’d go back to working like usual, the better it would be. You didn’t talk much and simply wished each other a good night before parting ways as the chauffeur dropped you at your place before heading to Marshall’s.

You spent an awful evening, trying to shake feelings of frustration. You attempted to pamper yourself and have a spa night at home but, as you lathered your skin with lotion, you could only think about Marshall’s touch, and how you wished it were his hands against your skin. And it didn’t get much better when you decided to touch yourself before bed, struggling to get off, your bullet vibrator obviously not comparing to the man who had made you see stars the night before. You were starting to get there when your doorbell rang, making you grunt as you quickly tossed the toy to the side and put your pajama shorts back before going to open the door, ready to yell at whoever thought it was ok to bother you at 11PM. Your heart dropped when you saw Marshall standing there, holding the scarf you had worn on the plane.

Hey. I know it’s late but you left it in the car, so I figured I’d bring it back to you, he said as he gestured to the scarf.

Thank you, you said softly. It could have waited until Monday, though. You didn’t have to drive here so late.

It’s no big deal, he shrugged. I, uh… Mentally, I’m still in LA.

Oh, you mean the time zone ?

Yeah, sure, that too, he muttered.

You held his gaze, understanding what he meant. You scoffed softly and stepped closer, taking the scarf from his hands, your fingers brushing against his as you did so. You felt the tension, some sort of electric current coursing through your veins when you touched. Letting go of what had happened in LA seemed impossible. You bit your lip and cursed your brain and dripping wet cunt for what you were about to do.

Do you want to come inside ? You offered.

Inside your apartment ? He asked as a grin formed on his lips.

Sure. That, too, you said in a sultry voice before pulling him inside of your apartment.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem imagine #eminem fluff #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine

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seoladyltd · 1 year ago

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httpwintersoldier · 1 year ago

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『 lady marmelade. || buggy x reader 』

[PART 2 OF 4 - ONE PIECE'S KINKTOBER] - BUGGY VER.

[SHANKS VER.] [MIHAWK VER.] [SANJI VER.]

pairing: buggy x f!reader words: lenghtyyyyy summary: your occupation lead you to meet your new boss... who'd perhaps become more than that. angst; smut; fluff.

Doing Burlesque was not what you had initially seen yourself doing professionally, but in a weird turn of events, the doors had opened and you walked right through them. Or rather... the curtains.

You initially intended to study the sea and its mysteries, but it wasn't exactly a job that paid well from the get-go, so you began working at a bar. Just to get yourself started, you said.

Then a man noticed you... He was tall and well built, a little meat on his bones but definitely intimidating. Hair as white as snow and a full beard with a nicely kept moustache. The man couldn't help but compliment you: your beautiful smile, your beautiful body, your bright personality... You were perfect, he said.

He approached you, initially asking you how much you made. You found it insulting! That was, until he said he'd triple it if you joined his show. The man was sure you'd be a hit, and he was right.

At first you thought he was inviting you to be a stripper, but as you learned the art of burlesque, you realized it was nothing of the sort - and you loved it. The attention, the compliments, the lights and cheers, the beautifully decorated attires, the attention to detail... But most of all, you adored the freedom it gave you to study the sea.

The pay was amazing, and it allowed you to have enough time and money to invest in your hobby - the sea.

"We got a... uh... how to describe the situation..." the stage coordinator said as he tapped his chin, looking for the correct words "We got a different crowd."

You were applying the finishing touches to your attire, but stopped, furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the man as you heard his choice of words, as well as the ruckus behind the curtain.

You stood up and walked to the edge of the curtain, tugging on it slightly, so only one of your eyes peeked out to look at the audience. You gasped in horror and stepped furiously towards the stage manager.

"Since when do we allow pirates on our cabaret!?" You whisper-yelled at the man.

The heels made you taller than him, and the way you were staring him down sent a shiver down his spine. The man was gripping his board with the show instructions as he struggled to give you a response.

"I guess we do when- when they pay well we do..."

You weren't prissy, much less were you an elitist, but pirates... they disgusted you. When you began working at the cabaret the owner allowed pirates in. Those nights were treacherous, to say the very least. The harassment, bottle throwing and disrespect for the art rose through the roof on those nights, so pirates and their crews were banned effectively from watching the shows. Except the ones whose pockets were deep, apparently.

You slumped back on your chair and held the bridge of your nose between your thumb and index finger as you sighed.

"Tell me I'm the first one, please, tell me I get to get this over with and fuck off home."

The stage manager scoffed.

"I don't know what would overcome the Boss to somehow put you first... You're the last one." The man informed.

He had the habit of doing this. You were his golden goose, the cherry at the top, as he liked to say, so you were always last, because everyone stayed to watch you.

That was the only time where being the favourite sucked.

"Babygirl, you're first, you're on in 40 seconds." The man said, and your colleague applied some powder hurriedly and walked to the big red curtains.

You watched as she stepped out to her signature intro song with a fake smile that hid how fucking terrified she was of the pirates.

Usually sets came and went as quickly as a snap of the fingers, but this one time, the one time you were curious to hear about, seemed to drag on for ever and ever.

"Thank y'all for tonight, you were lovely!"

As soon as you heard those words and saw the curtains move, you stood up.

"Evelyn, 60 seconds 'till you're on!" the stage manager called to your next colleague as you walked towards Babygirl, held her hands and looked her in the eye.

"So? How were they!?" You asked, barely even letting her catch her breath.

"You know what? Not that bad..." She said, sounding surprised by her own statement "I get the feeling they were just kicked out of every bar in town and came here to drink. They were excited and there was quite a lot of ruckus and cheering but I think the main focus were the drinks... There was this clown dude in the back that seemed very desinterested though." Your colleague explained, as you both walked to her vanity and she began taking off all of the paraphernelia that decorated her.

You furrowed your brows. That was surprising... But it made sense, somehow. They might've been behaving just for the sake of not being thrown out again and running out of alcohol for the night.

Your colleague looked at you up and down.

"You're going with Cherry Pie today?" She asked.

You kept a couple personas in your pocket, to keep it interesting. You liked to call it "The Burlesque Sisters", except each one of them was played by you. It kept people interested and coming back for more, wanting to get a peek at each sister.

You looked down at your attire: it was a red corset with wine-coloured felt details and a heart-shaped neckline. You wore a miniskirt that was not at all intricate, as it came off in the very beginning of the set, long black gloves with red feathery apliques on the hem, black stockings, and a pair of beautiful red platmform heels with guilded details. Your makeup matched the get up perfectly: a bold red lip with a dark red liner, gold sparkles decorating your face, as well as gold eyeshadow on your waterline, and a killer cat-like black winged liner. You were always keen on having your hair up, as you felt it was the perfect hairdo to keep eyes focused on your body and on your movements.

Cherry Pie was a fan favourite, no doubt. So you were a little reluctanct on bringing her out, afraid that the pirates would keep coming back for her (cocky of you, you were aware), but it was too late to change.

It wasn't long before you heard Evelyn's typical goodbye quote. She came in strutting in the room, hapilly removing several bills from various parts of her attire.

"Good tippers!" She said with a smile.

"Cherry Pie! You're on in two minutes!" The stage director called.

Whoever went next to Evelyn got a little more time before going in, as the staff needed to clean up her glitter sprayed across the floor.

"So? How was it?" You asked, raising your brows.

"Oh, it was great! They weren't exactly respectful but they tipped really well and they were very engaged! Except for this clown dude at the back, but I didn't bother much with him." Evelyn said with a shrug as she took off her earrings.

You stood up with a pensive face and straighened your outfit, suddenly becoming curious about this clown guy that seemed to be uninterested by women in very little clothing dancing in front of him. You walked to the curtains, waiting for the stage manager to give you your cue.

When you heard the first beats of your intro song you strutted in, one foot in front of the other, hands on your waist and a big, flirty smile. You winked at the crowd as the big stage lights lit you up.

You lifted your arms up as if to say "I'm here!" and popped out your hip.

"Welcome, to the Cherry Pie show!" You said, earning a bunch of cheers, and then hit the Beety Boop pose, placing your hands on your knees and popping out your ass as you winked.

The clown your colleagues had mentioned wasn't hard to spot: this wasn't a simple crowd, for sure, but he was definitely the one that stood out the most. In a good way... you'd argue.

However, as you introduced yourself, you could see him look up: his head lifted from the fist that it previously rested on and his eyes sparkled. You couldn't relate to the desinterest the others had reported, and you wondered if you had particularly piqued his interest - or if he was just tired of the position he was in and decided to switch (although the glint in his eye said your initial theory was correct).

You carried on with the performance, keeping a special eye out for the pirate clown.

You slowly undid your corset, opening it to reveal a tighter, smaller corset, flashing the crowd with an expression that said "oopsie!". There were some groans and there were some laughs at the trick. You discarded the corset you had taken off and went around the room collecting bills, as you danced suggestively and lip synced to your song.

As you walked closer to the clown you bit your glove and slid it off, revealing your long, red press on nails. You repeated the process on the other glove and discarded them, earning a few whistles. You could feel the clown's gaze on you, almost as if it burned.

And so, you decided to tease him: you dragged your nail along his jaw. The clown somewhat leaned into your touch, and although the music was loud, you could swear you heard him groan.

You continued you act and, in no time, your songs came to an end and it was time to say goodbye to your surprisingly pleasant guests.

"Y'all have been a lovely crowd! I've been Cherry Pie, Cherry Kisses!" You yelled, touching your ass with one heel as you blew them a kiss.

There was standing up, whistling, cheers, and a couple noises from displeased people, sad that the show was over. One thing was for sure, the clown guy had a hunger for you - and he wouldn't let you go so easily.

As you disappeared behind the curtains, the man stood up, making his way to the back.

"Sir you can't come in-" The bouncer began, but instantly shut up when Buggy flashed him a wad of Berry. Any ammount of money was worth being sacrified if it meant it was used to see you.

Evelyn and Babygirl had gone home already, so when you heard footsteps you assumed it was your bodyguard ready to escort you home.

"Hey Dante I'm not ready yet, give me 5 just to take off the makeup and put on some clothes!" You said, not looking behind you as you worked on getting the glitter off.

"I think you look marvellous just like that."

When you didn't recognize the voice, you were startled and stood up, looking at the man that had spoken, to find the clown guy leaning against the door frame.

You couldn't not remember who he was...

"What are you- How did you get here?" You asked, pointing at him and squinting your eyes.

"Honey, I've got plenty Berry, and I don't mind spending it on you." He said, arms stretched out as he stepped towards you.

You raised your brow and crossed your arms in front of your chest as you analyzed him from head to toe.

"This isn't a strip club, you can't pay for a room with me or whatever. And it's Cherry, not Honey." You said, attitude dripping from your voice.

"Yes, unfortunately it isn't a strip club, but I'm not here for that. I want to offer you a spot. On my crew, on my show." The man offered with that familiar glint in his eye.

"Why, pray tell, would I want to go be a pirate? The pay here is amazing, I love my job and I am comfortable." You asked.

The clown admired how unafraid you were of him. People usually kept their distance, ran away, stuttered near him... But there you were, facing him and challenging him. He absolutely had to have you.

The Captain was desperately looking for reasons to give you, until his eyes landed on a book you had on your vanity. You liked to entertain yourself and read on breaks from shows and happened to leave them on your vanity.

"A book about marine life?" The man asked, pointing at the book "Honey, why read about it, when you can see it. Join me and you'll see all of the life you read about in those pages, up close. I'll equal what they pay you here- fuck it, I'll double it."

Now that was tempting... But you couldn't help but wonder why...

"Why do you want me so much?"

Now that was a damn good question.

"I've never seen my men this focused on something. It's good for morale and it gives them something to do other than a big mess on my ship. Plus, we kinda need a gymnast on the show and you fit the bill."

Bullshit. He just bullshit his way out of the truth - in reality he just wanted to have you close, he wanted to be able to look at you up close whenever.

"Your men? Your ship? What are you, a Captain?" You asked genuinely.

The male scoffed and took another step towards you.

"You don't know who I am, do you?"

You shrugged as an answer, your face showing a definite sign of absolutely not giving a shit about the answer.

"My name is Captain Buggy, or Buggy the Clown." Buggy, as he introduced himself, detached a hand and had it fly over to you.

"Woah! You're a Devil Fruit user!" You said, amused to finally meet one, and shook the flying hand.

Although detached, your touch on him still managed to send shivers down his spine.

"So, Miss 'Cherry Pie', have we got a deal?"

You pretended to think for a bit. The answer was obviously yes (more pay and you got to be close to the sea!?), but you didn't want to seem too eager.

"I believe we do Captain Buggy."

The way you said his name made him wonder how many other ways he could make you say it... It sent another shiver down his spine, and the captain asked himself if it had been a good idea to invite you on board - Buggy didn't know how long he'd be able to keep his hands off of you.

When the owner of the Cabaret heard of your departure he nearly fainted. The man tried to negotiate but he couldn't possibly match what Buggy had offered you, so the boss reluctantly let you go and you embarked on a new journey.

The beginning was a little rocky, some of the crew members got a little touchy and Buggy had to threaten them multiple times, but after you started standing your ground and threteaning them yourself, you gained their respect.

Normally you wouldn't be so brave as to stand up to several big men experienced in fighting, but you knew the Captain had your back, and that gave you a lot of confidence.

The first time there was a show, Buggy invited you to sit back and watch, so you could learn how it all worked before being part of it, and you had to admit, seeing the man take control of everything... it was kind of hot. Those words danced in your tongue when he asked you what you thought about the show afterwards, but you decided to keep it to yourself.

"This good enough Captain?" You asked innocently, fixing your corset so your boobs stood out.

Buggy thanked his heavy makeup for concealing his blush, and the coat for hiding his growing boner as he inspected your outfit from head to toe. He wanted to say no. He wanted to cover you up with a long, large coat and send you out with it so only he could see you like that, but alas, that wasn't possible...

"Uh yeah, Y/N, you look fantastic." The Captain said, not able to look away from your chest.

You giggled and thanked him, before getting ready to step out. The tent was particularly full that day, as people gathered, curious about the new act that had been announced.

As the cheers, claps and whistles reached Buggy's ears backstage, he felt a sense of jealousy spread in his body. Oh it was a bad idea to hire you, for sure...

When the show came to an end and the guests had left, Buggy sat on his throne and counted the Berry they had made.

Suddenly, he heard steps.

"Who the fuck is here and why are you here?" The Captain asked, in a grumpy tone - he very much disliked being interrupted.

"Sorry Captain!"

As soon as he heard your voice it was like a rainbow washed over him. He hated that. He hated how you had so much control over his body, over the way he felt.

"That's okay, thought it was one of the other degenerates. What can I do for ya, sweetheart?" Buggy asked in a completely different tone from the one he had previously spoken in, pleased that you had come talk to him still in your show attire.

"Well I wanted to ask... did I do good?" You asked, biting your lip and holding your hands behind your back nervously.

Oh boy did Buggy want to grab you by the neck and push you against a wall... Seeing you in front of him, nervous and asking for his approval, all while biting your lip... You had no idea how much self control he had not to fuck you dumb.

"Sorry sugar, I couldn't watch the show tonight..." The Captain explained, a sad tone in his voice as he said it.

"Oh..." You replied, a little disappointed "Well, maybe I could give you a private show." You said with a flirty wink.

Buggy smirked and looked at you, supporting his head with his fist.

"Don't make promises you can't handle keeping, princess." Buggy said, boldly.

You chuckled and turned around.

"I can handle everything, Captain."

You could feel Buggy's eyes on you as you walked away, and chuckled lowly when you heard him curse under his breath.

The man turned, huffed and puffed in bed that night, grabbing his crotch at the thought of you, at the way you called him Captain, and at the pretty little teasing quote you'd thrown at him - but he knew that no release would be satisfying - unless you were the one giving it to him. That couldn't be. He had to find a solution.

Little did the man know, the solution would find him soon enough.

Due to his Y/N-induced sleepless night, the following day the man retreated to his living quarters before dinner, in order to get some rest.

You, who didn't know what was going on, grew concerned about the Captain. He was always grumpy, sure, but he was also constantly laughing and full of life, whereas that day he was simply... not.

You knew no one was even supposed to go near his room, let alone visit it when the Captain specified he didn't want to be disturbed. But you were one curious cat - and a worried one too.

As you stood outside of his door, you bit your lower lip, wondering if you should knock or not, but before you could decide for or against it, the Captain had already sensed a presence outside.

"Who has a death wish?" Buggy asked, referring to the person that stood outside of his room.

"T-that would be me, Captain..." You replied, nervously, confident he'd recognize your voice.

Buggy's mind was torn - he looked (and felt) like shit on one hand, but on the other, having you with him in his room all by yourselves... The bottom head thought faster, and he replied with a low "come in".

You opened the creaky door slightly and peeked inside, before walking in.

Buggy laid on the bed, his hair free of the bandana and tied in a low ponytail. He had one arm falling from the bed, and the other covering his eyes, and one leg resting on the bed as the other had his knee bent.

You blushed slightly as you realized he was just wearing his underwear and a large striped shirt.

"Woah..." You said, at the sight of his long hair.

Buggy uncovered his eyes to look at you and followed your gaze. He just chuckled, making you snap back to reality.

"Uh, Sir- Captain," You corrected "are you okay?..."

The light in the room was scarce, the only thing lighting up the space being the moonlight coming in through the hatch. Still, you could see his cocky grin.

"You worried about me, princess?"

You dared walk closer to him, in small, shy steps.

"Well, yes... You didn't seem yourself today..."

Buggy clenched his fists and held himself back with all the strenght possible and imaginary when you put one knee on his bed, making it dip slightly on your end, and placed a hand on his forehead and face.

"Captain, you feel hot!" You said, worriedly.

He was hot alright, but it wasn't a fever that left him like that.

"You know princess, you're right, I haven't been 100% lately, I have been having a little problem..." Buggy admitted, as he licked his lips.

"A p-problem? What problem?" You asked, an uneasy feeling rising within you.

Upon seeing your panicked expression he chuckled.

"A problem with you, dear."

The panic and fear increased even more, and it was visible on your face.

"Don't worry princess, you've done nothing wrong. In fact, quite the opposite... You've been doing all the right things."

You innocently cocked your head to the side.

"I'm- I'm sorry Captain, I'm not sure I'm following..."

The man grinned and groaned when the name left your lips. Such an innocent mouth, that he had imagined doing such sinful things to...

"You see, sweetheart," Buggy began, his hand lightly tracing up the thigh closest to him "you've been driving me crazy. The way you dress, the way you talk, fuck- the way you say my name."

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he imagined you moaning his name. You grew hotter and hotter at each of his words, and all you could focus on was how his hand went higher and higher on your thigh. And without noticing, in your head, you began begging for his hand to just fucking hurry it up and grab your ass.

"W-well Captain, I guess it's only right that I fix the problem, I caused it after all, hm?" You suggested bringing your other leg up to the bed and across him, so you were straddling his lap.

"Oh princess, I don't know if you wanna get into it..." His hands found the place you wanted him to find.

The man grabbed your ass with such force that you couldn't help but moan.

"I'm pretty sure that I do..." You said in a husky voice, as you felt his cock harden under you.

Before he could speak, you opened your mouth once more.

"You know, Captain," now that you knew he enjoyed it, you were going to exploit the hell out of the name "I like the way you take control of the show..." you paused once more and leaned in to whisper in his ear "How about you take control of me like that?"

It was as if your voice brought him the full 10 hours of sleep he needed. It was like energy washed over him and he felt... alive. More than ever.

The clown was quick to switch positions, straddling your waist and pinning your hands above your head, slowly riding up the top you wore. Buggy licked his lips as he stared at your exposed stomach.

"You're playing with fire, princess. Little girls that play with fire get hurt..." Buggy teased with a glint in his eye.

"Then hurt me."

His lips glued to yours instantly, in a violent, hungry kiss. Buggy didn't know it was possible for someone to drive him even crazier, but you did it. You pushed him to the very edge and he had never craved something so much in his life.

Buggy's hands were all over your body - grabbing your thighs, slapping your ass, caressing your waist... He wanted to take in every piece of you. As he touched you, the Captain slowly took off pieces of your clothes, and when you realized, you were naked under him.

You blushed slightly, tugging at the hem of his shirt so he'd understand.

"We're not speaking now, dollface?" The man asked as he removed his one piece of clothing "Cat got your tongue? Hm?"

You ran your hands down his torso and bit your lip - he was a lot more toned than he let on.

"Just... admiring the view." You said before catching his lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

Buggy detached one of his hands, and you shrieked into the kiss as his cold fingers made their way inside your panties. He teased your entrance, until you tugged on his hair as if to say "hurry up, fucker".

"Don't be-" He paused, shoving two fingers into you slowly "-impatient."

You sighed deeply and moved your hips against his fingers. Buggy looked down at you move in amusement.

"You know pretty girl, we have another problem at hand..." The Captain said, tracing your face with his fingers until he reached your neck.

"W-what is it?" You asked, through half lidded eyes and in between moans.

Buggy gripped your throat, making you gasp and arch your back. He leaned closer to your ear so he could whisper.

"I don't know if I wanna fuck you like this to see your pretty little face when you cum on my cock, or shove your face in the pillow and fuck you from behind."

"A-as long as you make me cum Captain..." You said with a smirk.

You whined as he removed his fingers and licked them clean.

"Are you doubting my capabilities, princess?"

You had no time to reply, as he reattached his hand and used it to flip you around and pull your ass up in the air. You gripped the sheets, your cheek against his pillow taking in the smell of your Captain, as you watched him take his placed bbehind you.

Buggy took his sweet time palming your ass and admiring it.

When he took out his cock, you couldn't see it from the angle, but you knew it was big and girthy, because when his hard lenght smacked against your ass, you knew you were in for it.

"Fuck..." You breathed out.

Buggy chuckled.

"It's not even in yet princess, save the cursing for later..." He teased, running the tip of his cock up and down your folds until he himself couldn't hold it any longer.

The Captain wanted to slam into you and fucked the words out of your mouth, but it was your first time with him and he didn't want to risk being too rough or hurting you.

So, with furrowed eyebrows and agape mouth, he pushed into you slowly, until he bottomed. It took all of his strenght to pull out and shove his cock back in in a slow pace.

Once he found you were comfortable with the pace, he began speeding up and, when your moans became loud and you called for his name, Buggy lost all control.

The man gripped your hips like a madman and fucked you like his life depended on it.

"Oh fuck- you're such a good girl Y/N- you take me so well..." He praised as he gripped your ass and smacked it a couple times, earning a yelp from you.

"Y-you feel so good Captain!" You moaned, gripping the sheets beside your head.

One of Buggy's hand detached and found your clit, rubbing it at a consistent, fast rhythm. The man was good. You wanted to savour the moment as long as possible but for the first time you found it hard to not cum.

Maybe it was his skill, maybe it was his demeanor, and maybe it was his appearance, but the truth was that you couldn't get enough of him fucking you.

"Buggy I think- I think I'm gonna cum-" You whined, as a familiar feeeling began washing over you.

"A-Already princess?"

Buggy kept up the confident persona, but deep down he was thanking every diety in existance because he didn't know how long he could last, with you moaning for him and tightening around his cock like he had imagined so many times.

"Please... may I cum?"

"Do it!" Was all he could say.

Your legs faltered and the Captain had to hold you up as he fucked his cum into you, riding both of your orgasms out.

Small groans and whimpers filled the room as the both of you came down from your highs. Buggy hissed as he removed his soft cock from you.

The man helped you lay down on the bed and wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him as he closed his eyes.

"Hey Buggy?" You called, as you played with his hair and admired how long his lashes were.

"Hm?..." He sleepily asked.

"When you hired me, was this your intention?" You asked, biting your lip.

The man didn't open his eyes, he just chuckled.

"I can't say it was completely innocent... I wanted you close to me." Buggy explained with a smirk.

He then grabbed your ass and pulled you even closer, causing you to shriek and giggle.

"I guess you got it, Captain..."

1K notes · View notes

seventeenreasonswhy · 3 months ago

Text

Same Team! A YJH Office Romance Pt. 10

18+ / NSFW!!!! MDNI!!!!!

Idol!Jeonghan x ProductionStaff!Reader

You’re serious about your job, but not as serious as Yoon Jeonghan is about flirting.

~6.7k words

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Series Content: slooowwwwww burn, fluff! but with tension!, cute flirting!, will-they-won’t-they vibes!, did I mention tension!?, some alcohol consumption, appearances by all of the members, reader is shy and gets flustered easily!, jeonghan is jeonghan-ing!

Chapter Content: smut (NSFW c/w below the cut!), kissing, making out, some unwanted advances by an NPC on Y/N!, hannie gets a little jealous

My Masterlist

NSFW Chapter Content: dom!jeonghan, sub!reader, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex (please practice safe sex!), Jeonghan has a corruption kink and a ‘sir’ kink!, scolding/light degradation, edging/orgasm denial, some manhandling w/o establishing ground rules (please communicate before you do any kind of roughhousing in the bedroom ok? these two just happen to like the same thing!), nicknames: sir (for JH), ‘little whore’ (just once for Y/N).

Author’s Note: We’ve reached the final chapter!! I decided to end this series with Y/N and JH’s first time having sex together because I wasn’t rly sure how to end it without literally writing an entire series of novels lol (not that I WOULD’NT!). Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reblogged/liked this series!! It’s my first fanfic series for Seventeen and I had so much fun! I’m working on a school life AU fic featuring Wonwoo and a dystopian AU featuring DK next!! 😊

Taglist: @yeoberryx @clownprincehoeshi @soffiyuhh @wonwoos-wineparty @hamji-hae @junniesoleilkth @seokqt @haniinah @yangtyunhannie @cherrylovescheol @Illucere @lukeys-giggle

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

You had never been to Paris, but it fit how you’d pictured it almost exactly. The filigreed architecture, the wide, cobble-stoned streets, the elegant storefronts along the Champs Elysée... you were drinking it all in on the car ride to the hotel.

You had your own hotel room, which was more than you had expected. The designer brands had sprung for an entire floor, accommodating single rooms for each member and their staff—an upside of having so many brand ambassadors in one group.

You didn’t exactly have time to settle in, however. Your next event was taking place in the afternoon the following day and you and the other staff still needed to coordinate with each venue’s security on exactly when the members would arrive at their respective events. For you, this meant another car ride to YSL’s offices, where you and other staff would discuss details and procure badges for the runway show and afterparty the next day.

You dropped your bag down on the hotel bed, barely absorbing the luxurious room before you heard a knock at the door.

It was Yoon Jeonghan.

“Nuna,” he said as he waltzed right past you and into your hotel room. You instinctively looked out into the hallway, eyes wide, making Jeonghan laugh as he took off his shoes and sprawled out onto the bed, making himself at home.

“It’s more suspicious when you do that, you know,” he said, and you immediately shut the door and quietly—but urgently—told him to keep his voice down.

“What are you doing here?” you basically whispered, getting closer to where he was lying on the bed.

“You don’t want me to be in here?” The look he gave you was somewhere between a smirk and a pout, but the glint in his eyes made you pretty certain why he was here.

“Jeonghan-shi,” you said politely but firmly.

“Oh, professional mode,” he said—in English, too, just so it was crystal clear that he was making fun of you. You just fixed him with a glare, which unfortunately only made his grin wider.

“I have to go to the YSL office with the other staff soon, so I don’t have time to entertain you right now.”

“That’s okay, I’ll just watch you get ready.” The look on his face seemed to challenge you to kick him out as he laid back on the bed, fully spectating now.

“Okay, fine,” you said, deciding to call his bluff and quickly unzipping your bag, taking out your makeup and other supplies to freshen up a bit before you had to leave. Does he actually just want to be in here with me? You wondered, finding the idea hard to believe. Jeonghan could be doing a million things right now—it wasn’t often that he got to relax away from the commotion of the other members and their constant schedules. You knew he had tonight off, and that he could at least get dinner with Joshua or Mingyu... but he was in here, in your room, instead—watching you carefully as you sat at the sleek, modern-style vanity table in the corner of the room combing out your airplane hair with your fingers.

“Nuna, you didn’t bring a hairbrush?” he asked, sounding almost like a little kid.

“No, I forgot it,” you said, slightly embarrassed at even this extremely minor error. You’d moved on to gently patting your face with oil blotting paper as you saw Jeonghan walking out of the room.

“You can use mine; I’ll be right back.” It was a pretty innocuous thing, just lending you his hairbrush... But something about the way he’d said it... so casually, the way that a boyfriend would talk to you, made your heart leap a little bit.

Sure enough he returned with a hairbrush, but rather than handing it to you, he came up behind where you were seated in front of the small mirror and started gently brushing out your hair for you, making you tense up at first, but gradually relaxing under his touch.

Wow, you thought, unsure of the last time someone had brushed your hair for you... You honestly couldn’t even remember if your mom brushed your hair as a child. This feels nice.

You closed your eyes before even realizing it, the sensation of Jeonghan softly brushing out your hair was so relaxing. Jeonghan glanced at your face in the reflection of the vanity mirror, his heart squeezing inexplicably at your clearly exhausted expression. After a minute, he stopped brushing, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of your head.

Your eyes flung open at the feeling of his sweet kiss, and you whirled around awkwardly, eliciting a laugh from him.

“I thought you were in a hurry,” he teased in a low voice, “but you looked like all you want to do is sleep just now.”

The thought of staying here, ordering room service, and having Jeonghan’s fingers gently run through your hair, lulling you to sleep... to be honest, nothing sounded more appealing. But you couldn’t abandon your responsibilities, no matter how tempting it was.

By some stroke of genius (or insanity) your hand reached up to Jeonghan’s face, cupping the side of his cheek before gently running over your thumb over the cute mole under his eye. You were struck by how good his skin looked, even right after a long flight. It was so soft... He smiled at the touch, nuzzling into your hand slightly before you stood up and whispered to him.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t go,” he answered in a low voice immediately, shooting some kind of electric charge right through your body. He’d told you not to go on the plane, too.

I don’t want to go.

You were both standing close together now, his eyes trailing down your face, then down your neck, all the way down your body it seemed. You wanted so badly to pull him into an eager, hungry kiss, but you felt that if you started you wouldn’t be able to stop...

But a rap at your door cut the tension immediately, making the pit of your stomach drop.

“Y/N-shi,” it was the sound of Jeonghan’s manager’s voice. “Are you ready? We’re going to head downstairs.”

“I’ll be right down, thank you!” you said quickly.

You bolted to your bag, pulling out a blazer to throw over your t-shirt and jeans from the flight.

“You’re so jumpy,” Jeonghan pouted, having been on the verge of kissing you—actually, more like devouring you. The truth was you were driving him insane. That worried but determined look in your eye, the gentle waves in your hair after he’d brushed it—you looked like a princess. Something powerful inside him wanted to...

Wanted to what exactly? This feeling he had looking at you—bleary-eyed from the plane, but somehow still gorgeous—it wasn’t violent... but it was intense.

Like he wanted to... corrupt you.

He realized he’d never felt this kind of urge before. But he wanted to see your pretty, innocent face blush dark red while he did filthy things to you. Things that you may have even done before... he couldn’t say because he didn’t know that much about your past experiences in the bedroom, really, and honestly he didn’t care. Your whole aura exuded innocence to him, and he knew it might be wrong but truthfully... it drove him up the wall.

You didn’t really pick up on this, though, now having been thrown back into reality—where your professional responsibilities laid in wait for you. You quickly rummaged through your things in your carry-on, desperate to find where your folder of schedules and contracts was buried.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” Jeonghan said, unable to ignore your frantic rush out the door and trying to bring you back to him with his soothing voice. You were so affected by your work. You cared a lot. It was plain to see how big your heart was.

Jeonghan knew he was being selfish. He knew that you were making the choice to go out the door right now, and that your job came first... but he’d been finding it more and more difficult to resist getting close to you, teasing you, touching you...

“Will I see you later?” You turned to Jeonghan before leaving, trying to ignore his blatantly hungry stare.

“Mmhm,” he hummed sweetly right away, his eyes almost boring through you. His gaze was so intent, so tempting that all you could do was immediately slam the door behind you, practically running to the lobby.

***

The meeting with YSL was briefer than you thought it would be. It turns out, their team really just wanted to get drinks. They asked you and the other staff to go out with them, and you could hardly refuse.

“We can discuss business over some wine, yes?” The tall gentleman in the impeccably-cut suit said to you—he was apparently a production director who worked with a lot of brands during Fashion Week. You didn’t like the way he had guided you by the small of your back into the dimly lit bar, but you brushed it off as him just being friendly.

You were honestly too exhausted for drinks and wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel, your chest still fluttering after the way Jeonghan had looked at you before you’d left.

“Where did you learn French?” the tall man asked you. You were now seated around a low table on red, velvety booths at the back of the chic bar. “It sounds like you’ve been speaking for a long time.” You were flattered that he was complimenting you—sincerely, too, by actually speaking to you in French instead of English. A seal of approval, you had learned.

“Oh, I kind of learn languages as a hobby,” you said.

“Y/N-shi is our language ace,” one of your coworkers said.

“That’s a good asset to have, indeed,” the man said, “I’ve never met someone who does something so laborious for fun.” He was kind of sprawled out on the bench, right next to you. He had his arm draped casually along the back of the seat behind you, which wouldn’t have bothered you if he hadn’t also been looking at you up and down... This guy felt sleazy. And you were pretty sure that he was trying to neg you with that ‘laborious’ comment.

“Yeah, I’m very into boring activities,” you said sarcastically in French, and then repeated it to your coworker in Korean, who mercifully laughed, hopefully picking up that you wanted her to stick around in the conversation so you wouldn’t be cornered by this guy.

“You don’t seem to have time to get bored with how hard you work,” the guy said, “Live a little.” He was changing his strategy. He had turned fully toward you now, the first two buttons of his shirt coming undone under his blazer. His cologne smelled overwhelming. You didn’t like the grin he flashed you with the words ‘live a little.’ His whole aura made your stomach turn. Your mind flashed to the smell of Jeonghan’s perfume. Much more subtle and beautiful...

“That’s true,” you said stiffly, before deciding that you wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. “I’m so sorry, but I am actually starting to get a headache—” you tried to politely extract yourself from the conversation, standing up as you made your excuse, but the man suddenly grabbed hold of your wrist.

“Oh, don’t go just yet,” he said, obviously trying to keep his tone lighthearted, “the night is young!”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, adamant about keeping things professional, although now you’d put it together that this whole meeting was probably an excuse to go out and hit on the women in your team all along, “It’s been a long day, I’m going to go back to the hotel.” Your tone was firm enough to leave no room for interpretation, but you turned to your other colleague, indicating with your eyes that you needed help getting this guy off of you. Thankfully, she picked up on it.

“Yes, Y/N-shi,” she said quickly in her broken but polite French, “I saw you didn’t sleep much on the plane—go get some rest!” You couldn’t have been more grateful that she said that. The guy’s grip loosened on you, and you took the opportunity to quickly leave—not even looking behind you or saying goodbye to the others.

It’s not like similar things had never happened before. Working in this industry, especially on the production side of things, you met all kinds of sleazy guys like that. You were just glad that he hadn’t been drunk enough to make a scene.

But still, you felt agitated now.

Who does he think he is grabbing a total stranger like that, angry, indignant feelings swirled through you in the cab back to the hotel, and we’re supposed to work together this week...

Your mood hung heavy over you as you finally returned, opening the door of your hotel room with a click, relieved to at least be back in your own space.

But the space wasn’t entirely your own, it seemed. You entered to find Jeonghan, dozing off on your bed.

He looked just as angelic as he had sleeping on the plane. You quietly took off your shoes and shrugged off your blazer. Normally, you’d be panicked about him still being in here... in your bed, no less. For a split second you considered calling the front desk to send you a roll-away bed. That’s something hotels do, right? But even your inner rule-follower seemed to scoff at how absurd the idea was. Who am I kidding? Honestly, you were too tired to even fight with yourself. Of course you were going to crawl right into bed next to Yoon Jeonghan. Of course you had imagined moments like this for months—though, not exactly under these circumstances.

You quietly got your things from your bag, changing and getting ready for bed as silently as possible in the bathroom.

But Jeonghan’s eyes had fluttered open when you returned.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice coming out so sweet and sleepy it made your heart ache a bit.

“Ah, did I wake you up?” you asked softly.

“No, no,” he said in a quick and reassuring voice. You liked how he did that when it was clear someone was worried. You could clearly see he didn’t want the people around him to overthink things and get stressed out, so he was always quick to reassure them. Including you.

“Come here,” he said, motioning for you to lay in his arms. Your heart pounded, more self-conscious now that he was awake. But you crawled into bed next to him, despite feeling like you might turn to dust right then and there.

“How was your meeting?” he asked softly as you nestled into his chest, his arms wrapping around you sweetly, one hand smoothing down your hair... You could almost cry it felt so sweet and nurturing when he did that.

“Oh, it was—” you weren’t sure what to say. It wasn’t really a meeting, more like an odd excuse to go out and hit on the female staff...

But Jeonghan picked up on a shift in your tone right away.

“Did something happen?” He asked, gently brushing your hair away from your face, tucking it sweetly behind your ear. He was so close to you. This was the closest you had been since he’d come to your apartment that night. You didn’t want to talk about some sleazy guy on the production staff, you just wanted to fall asleep in Jeonghan’s arms, his hand petting you sweetly until you both drifted off... But Jeonghan’s curiosity was piqued even more by your pause.

“It’s nothing,” you sighed, “Just some French asshole.” Jeonghan’s hand stopped mid-brush along your hair.

“Who? What asshole?” his voice was still low and quiet, but he propped himself up a bit on his elbow to look directly at you.

“This guy who works on these runway shows,” you said, “He was just... he didn’t seem to be very professional.”

“What does that mean?”

Whoa, he’s worried, you realized.

“It’s nothing, Jeonghan,” you said, taking Jeonghan’s face between your hands, suddenly feeling anxious at his reaction, “they took us out to drinks, which I think was the point of the meeting all along, and he was just clearly only interested in flirting with the women there.”

“With the women there, or with you?”

“...What’s wrong?” It was strange for you to see Jeonghan react this way. You hadn’t seen him this amped up before, though he was still speaking at a low volume. You didn’t expect it—he always seemed so unflappable. He seemed to snap out of it at your question, though, quickly turning away from you. You could tell that he was embarrassed.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he said after a moment, his immaturity dawning on him, making him feel ashamed that he had reacted so hastily. The thought of other men hitting on someone he was seeing usually didn’t bother him... But the thought of someone else putting you in a position like that made him kind of furious. He faced you again, his stomach sinking at the look on your face—desperate and exhausted.

“Sorry,” he repeated, his tone calmer and sweeter, apologetically brushing your cheek, “I just don’t like that some idiot was making you uncomfortable.”

Your pulse raced. You had to admit... he seemed to feel bad about it, but it felt kind of nice to see him get protective like that...

“Let’s forget about him,” you said softly. It was like the words fell straight onto Jeonghan’s heart, making it flip over. He gazed at you; his eyes unable to hide how badly he wanted you. He pulled you closer, embracing you under the covers now. The tightening grip of his arms around your waist filling you with butterflies. It felt good to be held by him. You nuzzled your face deeper into his chest, making him want to squeeze you even closer, you were being so cute.

You felt Jeonghan’s hand take a gentle hold of your head, tilting it up toward him, and before you could think, he was kissing you. His lips felt so soft... but the way he was sweetly teasing your lips made some deep urge within you come to life.

You leaned into his kiss, pressing into him with a little more eagerness. He noticed, taking the cue to deepen the kiss, gripping your head in both of his hands now as you two laid there, making out in the hotel bed.

It wasn’t long until you were whimpering quietly against his lips. He traced your bottom lip with his tongue before pulling away slightly... Hovering over you now, your eyes meeting to exchange a brief, craving look before he smoothly hooked his thumb into your mouth, forcing it open, and dove in again, kissing you much more aggressively.

Jeonghan’s tongue invaded your mouth and you couldn’t help moaning sweetly into him, the vibration making his body heat up even more. You looked so beautiful and desperate... He wanted nothing more than to tear your clothes off and fuck you right away—make you pant, beg, scream... But he knew it would be better to take his time.

Not that you couldn’t tell how hungry he was for you—the pleading feeling of his tongue, the way his hands were starting to roam over you. It occurred to you that Jeonghan had wanted to do this with you for a long time.

As he kissed you, your mind began to melt—falling further and further into the realm of total surrender.

Jeonghan could feel your body relaxing beneath him. Not to mention the way you were openly and greedily responding to his kisses.

She likes this.

You felt his fingertips slip underneath your pajama top; his hand cool against your skin as it slid up your bare stomach. You wrapped your arms around his neck, not discouraging him. His other hand was still holding your face firmly beneath his as he continued to feverishly make out with you. You could hear the soft, lapping noises of your kissing echoing through the room...

Suddenly you let out a yelp—louder than you’d intended—when you felt his hand ghost over your breast, his thumb brushing lightly against your already-pert nipple through the fabric of your cute, lacey bralette.

You felt Jeonghan smile against your lips, satisfied at your reaction.

“Mm, Y/N-ah you’re going to get us in trouble if you’re that loud,” he murmured in your ear, teasing you before trailing more kisses down your neck—making you gasp softly at the feeling of his silky, wet lips; reflexively gripping his shoulders.

He was making his way down your body, and you knew that if he went any further you might not be able to handle it... but with all of the pleasure coursing through you, gathering in the pit of your stomach, making your legs start to squirm... you didn’t want him to stop.

Jeonghan nipped at your collarbone, making you draw your breath in sharply before he continued to kiss you over your top—the space between your breasts, your abdomen, just below your belly button... You could feel your breathing getting more ragged the lower his face got.

His lips arrived at the space between the waistband of your pajama shorts and the raised hem of your top—his hand was still up your shirt, holding onto the sensitive spot along the bottom hem of your bra on one side. He looked up at you. His expression made it feel like he was challenging you, but you knew he was waiting for permission to go further. You had no idea what kind of face you were making... you felt like you could scream, your body felt so overwhelmed already.

In an attempt to control your volume, you bit into your own hand before glancing down at Jeonghan with your best “please continue” look.

He honestly didn’t care what kind of look you gave him; all he knew was the way you were desperately biting your own hand was hot enough for him to throw caution to the wind and discard your top for you. He pulled it over your arms and flung it aside in one fluid motion before returning to the space between your belly button and the waist of your shorts... kissing the sensitive spot sweetly while hooking his fingers underneath the band and pulling your shorts down to reveal your absolutely soaked underwear.

“Ah, who knew Y/N-ah was such a dirty girl,” he pretending to chide you in a low, commanding tone. Your stomach lurched at his words as your legs instinctively tried to snap together, your hand flying down from your mouth to try to cover yourself from his up-close view. But Jeonghan caught you by the wrist, forcing your hand to the side and holding it in place against the bed. He was surprisingly strong, and the decisive way he averted your attempt to cover yourself... did something to you.

You wouldn’t say that you were the kinkiest person out there... not by a long shot. But you couldn’t pretend you didn’t like being dominated a little. Especially by Yoon Jeonghan.

“No hiding,” Jeonghan’s command sent an electric shot right through you with his direct gaze and scolding tone.

“Yes, sir,” you said before thinking. There was a pause as you realized what you’d just called him, your hand writhing under Jeonghan’s grip in a futile attempt to cover your face out of embarrassment. Since when did you call people ‘sir!?’ Had you ever said that to someone!? Your eyes were wide and your face hot with disbelief, completely mortified.

You peeked down at Jeonghan, worried that he’d be weirded out by you calling him that out of nowhere, but he didn’t look weirded out at all...

If anything, he looked feral.

“Good girl,” he hummed, his smirk making it apparent just how turned on he was. It wasn’t just that you had called him ‘sir,’ but your cute, flustered reaction made him want to push your buttons even further. He kept his gaze directed at you as he placed his head between your legs again, watching as you averted your eyes—too overwhelmed to watch as he kissed the sweet wet spot that had formed on your underwear. So fucking cute, he couldn’t help thinking, enjoying this rare opportunity to see you so helpless. His lips started teasing you, planting wet kisses against your folds, with only the drenched fabric of your underwear standing between your bare cunt and his mouth. The embarrassment of him being so up close made your whole body flare up. Your legs were trembling with anticipation as you felt Jeonghan’s mouth moving before sucking lightly on your clit—making you moan, your back arching from the effort of trying not to be too loud or squirm too much.

Jeonghan was grinning against your underwear now. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. She can’t stand it. Your squirming, whimpering voice was too sexy. He wished he could watch you all hot and bothered like this forever, edging you until you cried.

He finally let go of your wrist, sitting back on his heels and making sultry eye contact with you before removing your underwear.

“Ah, I knew it,” he said softly, “nuna’s pussy is perfect.”

You couldn’t help turning your face to the side. You were so wound up that you didn’t know how to even react, like your mind wasn’t even aware of what your body was doing.

You felt Jeonghan shift his position slightly, threading his arms beneath your knees now so that your thighs were resting on his shoulders and he could grip your waist with his hands. Your face snapped toward him, something like fear rushing through you at the realization that he could see all of you up close now. He noticed the look of panic in your eyes and kissed the inside of your thigh sweetly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a velvety, whispered tone. He bent his head down and kissed the space just above your clit softly.

You threw your head back, biting your lip to contain the filthy sounds that were threatening to burst out of you as he began to lick and kiss your folds. His earlier kisses were delicious, but his mouth working delicately at your soaking wet cunt felt unreal.

“Mmm,” he moaned into you, the vibration stimulating you so harshly and suddenly that your hand flew down to his hair, taking the soft strands into your grip before you could even control yourself. But this only made him go harder at devouring you... He held you down by the hips, your legs shaking with ecstasy.

“Ah, Jeonghan-ah...” you moaned his name, making him murmur in satisfaction against your pussy, loving the sensation of you tugging his hair as his tongue dove in and out of you. He moved his head slightly, taking your clit between his lips and sucking on you. This threw you into a full-bodied convulsion. He wished you could just scream out the way you clearly wanted to...

“Ah, I’m gonna come—” you breathed, certain that if he continued to fuck you with his tongue like this, you would surely get his face covered in your juices. The thought of it made you desperate to get him off of you and eager for him to keep going at the same time.

“Mmm, I can feel you tighten around my tongue when I put it in,” he mused against you, making you laugh nervously, caught off guard by such a specific and perverted comment. He took the opportunity to eat you even more vigorously, his tongue lapping up your juices as your clit twitched out of control...

You were about to succumb to a powerful orgasm, when suddenly the sensation of Jeonghan’s tongue disappeared.

You jerked your head up in confusion, only to see that Jeonghan was now standing at the end of the bed, giving you an incredulous look as he started casually removing his shirt.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, feigning innocence, “I thought you knew that if you want to come, you have to ask nicely.”

Your breathing was heavy, making your chest rise and fall dramatically as you narrowed your eyes at him. He just smirked, his lips and chin still glistening with your arousal. His taunting look turned you on way more than you wanted to admit. You gulped in air, trying to catch your breath. Jeonghan was down to just his underwear now, and you could see the burgeoning outline of his cock pressing against the black fabric of his briefs.

Alright, if you want to play that game...

You sat up, softening your face but still holding Jeonghan’s cruel gaze. You made your way to all fours on the bed before him and looked up, attempting your best coquettish face.

“Please, sir,” you said in a poutier tone than you normally used, batting your eyelashes and everything. “Please let me come.”

Jeonghan’s face almost cracked into a full-blown smile, making you feel smug for calling his bluff. Honestly, he didn’t think he could stand it either if that’s how you were going to be. The erotically pure sound of your voice, the angle of your sweet eyes gazing up at him, your begging tone... He didn’t think he could get any harder looking at you but somehow you’d provoked him even more.

He took your jaw roughly in his hand, jerking your face up further to meet his wolfish gaze.

“Better,” he said, “but not quite nice enough.” He enjoyed the flash of panic in your eyes almost as much as the glare that followed. Letting go of his grip on your face, he bent down to unhook your bra. His face was closer to yours now, and you could tell that he was reaching his limit, too.

“Sir, could I please make you feel good then?” you asked, your voice soft and syrupy sweet.

Jesus, Jeonghan thought, chuckling now at how outrageously turned on and amused he was by you toying with him like this.

He removed your bra, exposing your cute boobs. You sat up, suddenly nervous again and attempting to cover yourself from being totally naked in front of Jeonghan like this. Your abdomen was aching with want, your pussy still dripping from him going down on you... But his voice brought right back to the task at hand.

“What did I say about hiding?” he snapped at you, and you hurriedly lowered yourself back down to all fours, giving him an exaggerated, apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said, “please, let me make you feel good.”

“Oh? And how are you going to do that?” he asked, his tone mocking.

“Could I suck your cock?” you quirked your head cutely to the side, puffing out your lower lip and hoping that this would be enough to please him.

“What do you say?” he asked, but he was grinning—already palming his hard length, clearly enjoying this...

“Pretty please?” you smiled sweetly, and Jeonghan almost groaned he was so overwhelmed with how sexy and cute you were being. How could he have known that you would turn into this perfect, provocative sex kitten for him? How did he get so lucky?

“Good girl,” he said and he let his stiff length spring from his briefs as they fell to the floor. You couldn’t help letting a small gasp escape your lips. You should have expected his cock to be just as pretty as the rest of him, but this man had the most beautiful dick you’d ever seen. You looked up at him again, smiling gently, before taking his tip into your mouth, teasing his slit a little with your tongue. Jeonghan let his head fall back, the feeling of your mouth on him making him groan in pleasure.

You gradually worked his cock further and further into your mouth, swirling your tongue in slow, sensuous circles around his girth before getting into a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his length. He looked down at you, gritting his teeth from the stimulation you were giving him. You were talented at this. You probably wouldn’t say so, but Jeonghan could tell; your obliviousness to how sexy you were just making him desire you more.

He took a fistful of your hair in his grip, gently helping to push his cock into your throat. You made a slight gagging noise, but didn’t show any sign of stopping—instead grabbing onto his thighs to support yourself as you picked up the pace.

Jeonghan was moaning, but conscious of not getting too loud. He sounds so good, you thought as you sucked your cheeks in, maximizing the pressure on his cock. You held onto him tightly, sure from his grip on you that he was getting close to coming.

But before you could finish him off, he pulled you away from his dick by your hair, your mouth releasing from him with a pop as his grip forced your face roughly upward to look straight into his ravenous eyes.

“You little whore.” His voice might have been low and seductive, but there was a bemused smirk on his face as he called you the degrading nickname. You couldn’t help smiling a little, too, feeling cocky at him lashing out like that—clearly you’d almost made him come before he wanted to.

But you couldn’t say he looked mad. He was grinning softly, still holding you roughly by your hair as both of you panted, challenging each other with the respective gleams in your eyes, held upright only by the tension of the other’s grip.

After a moment of catching your breath, Jeonghan closed the gap between you with another deep, gluttonous kiss. His arms wrapped around you and you felt his hard cock—wet now with his precum and your spit—press into your lower abdomen from his standing position as you held onto him, still on your knees atop the bedspread.

Jeonghan guided you backward onto the bed with his body, crawling on top of you as he pushed his tongue further into your mouth. You could faintly taste your own come still left on his lips. He raised your arms above your head, holding you down by your wrists and making you squirm beneath him. He left hungry, heavy kisses along your jaw, your neck, moving down to your chest... You mewled with pleasure at the feeling of his tongue capturing one of your nipples, lathing over the hard bud and making you jolt.

“Y/N-ah’s nipples are so cute,” he said, suddenly shifting back to his regular speaking tone, making you laugh at his random sweet commentary. But you weren’t distracted for long before he was sucking on your other nipple, still pinning you down by the wrists to ensure you wouldn’t to put a stop to his teasing.

“Ah, Jeonghan...” you panted his name, and he turned to look at you again. He was so beautiful. You couldn’t believe that this beautiful man was ravishing you like this...

“Nuna, I can’t be patient anymore,” he said in your ear, and you felt his hard length slide against you... You simply answered his implied question by reaching your neck forward to kiss him again, softly this time.

“Please let me come this time, sir,” you whispered, smiling at him. Jeonghan returned your sly smile, adjusting his body ever so slightly before effortlessly gliding his hard cock into you.

You let out a high-pitched sigh at the luxurious stretch his cock gave you, his thick length seeming to barely fit between your walls. It had been a while since you’d done this, really—you were just thankful that he’d gotten you so wet already. It didn’t hurt at all, but you felt a delicious tension at the feeling of his cock hitting your cervix.

“Ah, fuck, Y/N,” he breathed in your ear, his hands pressing down firmly on your wrists as his head dropped to your shoulder. You were so tight; he was sure if he moved at all he’d come right away—and he didn’t want to do that just yet. It wasn’t nearly enough time inside of you. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t masturbated a few times while imagining this exact moment, but of course the real thing was beyond compare...

You started to lose it, the way that Jeonghan wasn’t moving—just kissing you languidly, letting go of your wrists in favor of holding you by the waist.

“Jeonghan—” you whimpered his name, unable to even form a full sentence you wanted him to start fucking you so badly. Jeonghan glanced down at you, giving you one more kiss before he started to thrust his hips into you.

His cock slid in and out of you so easily, the delicious rhythm of stretching you and then releasing the tension and then stretching you again making you moan, and even you weren’t sure if you could keep the volume down.

Jeonghan watched your beautiful face twist into an expression he’d never seen from you—completely ecstatic. He loved that you smiled while he was inside you, feeling your whole body respond to his made him feel in danger of losing control.

He picked up the pace, holding you in place with one hand on your waist and the other hooked underneath your knee, pulling it up higher to get an even deeper angle into you. You felt his cock hit your most sensitive spot repeatedly, covering your mouth again to keep yourself from screaming in pleasure.

“Uh-uh,” Jeonghan quickly pulled your hand away from your mouth, “you don’t get to cover your mouth, Y/N.” You pressed your lips firmly together, practically biting your tongue now. Jeonghan had sat up on his knees, holding you by the hips as he slammed his cock into you repeatedly, his pace getting brutal now.

“Jeonghan!” you couldn’t help letting out a yelp of his name as your orgasm finally hit you in full force, making your legs tremble against Jeonghan, your arousal dripping down his cock—still beating into you steadily. Your face was flushed and there were tiny tears pricking at the edges of your eyes, which was all Jeonghan needed to be sent over the edge, as well. He felt the coil inside him snap and quickly removed himself from you, coming instead all over your bare stomach and tits.

You felt the hot sensation of his come on you, both of you breathing heavily... You looked up at him to see him already looking at you, panting, completely fucked out. He drew his breath in sharply, and you both stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

You covered your face in embarrassment, suddenly internalizing what just happened, your exhaustion mixed with the joy of having finally done it with Jeonghan making you delirious.

“Stay there, nuna,” Jeonghan said sweetly before scampering off to the bathroom, returning with a towel and carefully cleaning you up. He was back to making cute and silly noises as he touched you, any trace of the man who just fucked you had gone now, replaced with your usual adorable Jeonghan. He finished cleaning you and himself up, and jumped right into bed, curling up next to you like a baby.

You couldn’t stop giggling; you were so excited and nervous—you were sure that at least someone on this floor heard the two of you... these old fashioned hotels didn’t exactly have sound-proof walls. But even you were fine with leaving that to be tomorrow’s problem.

Jeonghan watched you, overjoyed that you seemed so giddy.

“Ah, nuna’s smile is the best,” he said, nuzzling your nose with his.

“Hannie’s smile is the best,” you said, melting his heart with the nickname.

Jeonghan’s arms wrapped around you and you cuddled your face into his silky hair, unable to stop smiling even after you drifted off to sleep.

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