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wannaeatramyeon · 8 days ago

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Your Adventures as the Lookismverse Designer

G/N. Run-ins with Burn Knuckles, Goddog, Allied and Big Deal. Masterlists

Being in the Fashion department, you had assumed your classmates had a passion for fashion. For god's sake, it's in the name.

But no, you're wrong.

Apart from using it as an excuse to wear designer brands from head to toe, no one really gave a shit.

No one cared about the history, about design, fabrication, construction.

No one... apart from you that is.

Your first client wasn't really someone you could say no to unless you had a death wish.

When the whole of the Architecture department shows up along with Vasco, their terrifying leader, you consider running off and screaming.

It was only Jace Park, who seemed to understand a more subtle approach and how intimidating they looked, that stopped you from wanting to flee to the teacher.

(Strange. You actually don't recall seeing your teacher for months.)

"Please," Jace murmurs to Vasco and he's practically begging. "You didn't need to turn up with everyone. Just leave this to me. Please."

If you didn't know better, you would think Vasco was giving him grateful puppy eyes. But that can't be right. He's a thug.

"Sorry," Jace turns to you, looking contrite and fiddling anxiously with his big ears when you're finally on your own. "Are you the Fashion Designer?"

It should have been a stupid question, considering you're in the Fashion Department.

Except you look around at the so-called boxer who pitifully simps after the brunette all day, the rich blonde kid who never talks to anyone, the other girl who is an aspiring streamer and you sigh to yourself.

"Yes, that's me."

All things considered, the Burn Knuckles are very easy to please.

It's a design printed on some pre-made boilersuits, not exactly avant garde.

You did touch up the logo though and provided some more clothing options than requested. Boilersuits in a small selection of colours, bomber and leather jackets.

When you hand over the boxes to Vasco and Jace, the latter shakes your hand and the former stares at you with tears in his eyes and asks how they can ever repay you.

You shrug. Because he did already pay you for your time and the materials.

"Don't worry about it." You say, giving him a polite grin.

Vasco beams and you think maybe this guy isn't so scary.

Somehow your reputation precedes you.

To be honest you didn't even realise you had any sort of reputation until a guy with a messy mop head and two dogs corners you in an alleyway.

"I heard you're the Designer," he grunts.

A part of you thinks of fleeing once again. A smaller part of you thinks damn, that nickname is kinda cool.

"I am?"

"Don't play dumb. I know who you are."

You would have found him rude and menacing if not for his dogs picking that exact moment to roll around on the floor belly-up, desperately wanting some attention.

"Fuck's sake," he mutters though he squats down anyway to pat them. "So?" he continues, trying to regain his previous threatening aura even as the pups wriggle around under his touch.

"So what?" you ask, not able to stop the smile creeping over your face at this adorable sight.

"I need some clothing."

Perhaps the Burn Knuckles gave you a false sense of bravado, thinking everyone would be as easy as them. Unfortunately, this guy is a goddamn headache.

He wants hoodies, which isn't an issue but he wants matching dog-sized ones and he wants you to design the logo from scratch too.

"But I don't do graphic design," you cry and he pretends he can't hear you.

On your twelfth iteration, he doesn't glare at it and praise the heavens; he's finally happy.

Well, happy is an overstatement. He doesn't exactly look happy but he's no longer glaring at you, so you assume in Johan Seong's world, that means he's exhilarated.

The hoodies fit, both Johan and the dogs, and the logo looks good too.

You wave goodbye to the back of all three. Your bank balance is healthier except you hope they never darken your doorstep again.

(You have no such luck. He returns, months later, requesting tracksuits.)

It's a sorry state of affairs when three of the members of Allied are part of the Fashion Department, and come to you asking for help.

"Why don't you design it yourself?" you ask Daniel Park, Zack Lee and Jay Hong.

They look at you like you've grown two heads.

You will be eternally grateful that Jay Hong is mute, that Vasco is actually the sweetest cinnamon roll, and Daniel Park is pretty easy-going because having Vin Jin and Zack Lee constantly bickering and criticising your design is bad enough.

Apparently these men are very adept fighters. Caught up in some gang shit. It didn't matter. You still wanted to ram your pen through their skulls.

Then throw in someone else called Hudson Ahn who also seems to like giving rude, overly critical comments concealed as constructive criticism -

You threatened to quit more than once.

Eventually, after staying awake for 46 hours - you all agree on a logo.

"Here." You thrust the USB drive with the files at Daniel Park.

"What do I do with this?"

"You're in the Fashion Department too." You rub at your tired eyes, patience long gone with these morons. "Find a clothing printer yourself. Search for it on the internet. You know what that is right? The internet?"

Somewhere to your right, Vin Jin bursts into laughter.

You can't decide if this guy is trying to sell you something or if you're actually falling in love with him by the second.

Hell, he could sell you some snake-oil and you're so charmed you don't mind.

"So, you'll do it?" he asks, holding your hands in his larger gloved ones and you feel yourself simpering like an idiot at the contact.

"Sure thing, Mr. Kim."

"Jake," he says, giving you a toothy grin. "I'm Jake. And this is Jerry."

"Who?"

"Jerry Kwon," A large hulking man steps up besides Jake, offering you a handshake.

What? How did you miss him? You didn't notice him at all.

"Oh. Uh. Of course. Nice to meet you too Jerry."

"Come here, guys." Jake signals for the other men hanging back to come forth. "Ths is Brad and Jerry and Lineman."

Shit. Damnit, you've been so fixated on Jake Kim that you ignored everyone else.

Hell. You didn't even realise there was anyone else.

"Hi," you say, wanting the ground to swallow you up and blushing furiously.

Jake catches your eye and gives you a wink.

Being completely honest, the Big Deal tracksuits aren't your best work.

You're not too sure on the logo design (though hey - that's not really your handiwork). The placement is a little awkward and the design is sort of plain.

You added gold elements to at least make it a bit more cohesive, and sourced extra durable fabrics with lots of movement as apparently the guys have a tendency to damage clothing during fights.

"What do you think?" Jake says, modelling your finalised version.

From the smile on his face, you could tell he's very much satisfied with your work.

"Looks great," you say and you're telling the truth. Although it's not really the tracksuit that looks great, but the man wearing it. His broad shoulders and tight waist, long muscular legs and-

Oops. You silently apologise for objectifying him.

The way your eyes rake over his form isn't subtle, though it's definitely flattering. Jake playfully throws another wink your way.

#lookism #lookism x reader #vasco #euntae lee #jace park #johan seong #daniel park #vin jin #zack lee #jake kim #vasco x reader #johan seong x reader #jake kim x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 2 months ago

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The Dark Lord (Part One)

Summary: The reader gets caught stealing from the infamous Dark Lord Winchester. Instead of killing her though, he offers her a job for some reason...

Pairing: Dark Lord!Dean x employee!reader

Word Count: 2,500ish

Warnings: language, briefly mentioned torture/killing

A/N: Think of this as a slightly magical AU set in the present day. I might pick this up again if there seems to be interest in more!...

________

“I don’t care what the hell you do to me, I’m not-” You cut yourself off when a blonde woman in her thirties and sky high heels held out a cup of hot coffee. “Is that…espresso?”

“It’s a roasted blend from Guatemala, boss is big on it lately. He’s so boring and never let’s me give him anything but straight black but I like to serve all our guests something nice.” She set the cup in your hand, an artisanal drawing of a W set in the center. “It has notes of hazelnut and caramel.”

“Thank you?” you said, her eyes lighting up. “Is this…poisoned?”

Her face fell so fast you felt awful for the way tears prickled her eyes. “Everyone always asks that. It’s just nice coffee.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, taking a sip and smiling. “It’s lovely.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, turning to leave the dark room you were sat in.

“It really is good coffee.” She perked up a little, nodding once. “It’s just…I couldn’t help but ask.”

You held up your chained hands, the woman giving a sad smile. “Dark Lord Winchester is really the sweetest man I’ve ever met. I have no idea why everyone that he has come in his office thinks he’s going to kill them.”

“He kills people all the time…over nothing…” you said. She laughed and your stomach dropped.

“Oh no, Lord Winchester doesn’t do that! I’ve never seen him kill a soul that didn’t deserve it. Well, maybe a few but I seriously doubt he’ll kill you! He doesn’t tend to kill women as often, just a little torture. I’m sure you’ll be fine!” You withered into your seat when she left.

At least you had good coffee before your demise.

You jumped when the door crashed open, hot coffee spilling over yourself. It dripped down your shirt and soaked into your jeans, your skin stinging when a blur passed your periphery. You swallowed thickly as a man in a black bomber jacket, dark gray t shirt and black jeans walked in front of you. He crossed his muscular arms as he leaned back against the desk, peering down at you.

He looked like he wanted to kill you. Or fuck you. Or both.

“Hi, Dark Lord Winchester,” you squeaked out. He bent at his hips, leaning down, watching you slump down even further. “Oh fuck, just kill me now.”

“Not yet,” he hummed, straightening with a hard set jaw. He looked down his nose at you, making you feel like an ant under his mighty six foot one muscular frame. “My security caught you stealing from one of my warehouses. I’m told it was a prescription drug.”

“Yes, Lord Winchester,” you said quietly. You looked at your wet clothes, waiting for him to drag you down to his dungeon and rip you apart.

Instead a cell phone was tossed in your lap. You scrunched up your face and gazed up at him, Lord Winchester still staring you down.

“Uh, is this my last call or something?” you asked. He breathed deeply, looking over your head.

“Two options. Option one. I will kill you for stealing from me.”

“I’d like to hear option two,” you said quickly, Lord Winchester glaring at you.

“Option two. You work for me. I need an assistant and perhaps I’ll find you valuable enough to keep you alive long term.”

“Option two,” you said, nodding your head. He stood up straight and hummed.

“I thought so. You’re dismissed,” he said. You glanced down at your cuffs, Lord Winchester ignoring you. He walked around behind his desk and sat, glancing at his computer. “Do not make me ask again.”

You scurried out of the chair, grasping the empty mug in one hand, cellphone in the other.

“Y/L/N.” You froze, back to him. Fuck, he’d changed his mind. He was just toying with you. He was going to- “Get up to speed this afternoon. I expect you here to start eight am sharp.”

“Yes, Lord Winchester.” Quickly you left, pulling the door shut behind you. You let out a sigh, your overly friendly coffee bearing companion rushing around the corner with a smile. “I told you he wouldn’t kill you! Boss made me promise not to tell. I’m Donna by the way. Deputy Head of Security. I volunteered to be your new hire buddy!”

You blinked slowly at the blonde, tilting your head, her eyes drifting downward in alarm. “Oh no, you’ve burned yourself! Let’s get you out of those cuffs, to the infirmary and into a fresh change of clothes. Lord Winchester wants to go through all of your HR paperwork today and a brief tour before sending you home.”

“I uh,” you put a hand against your head, shaking it out. “Why did he give me a job and not kill me?”

“He must like you. Normally he kills people or tortures them or makes them pay him back with hefty interest. Oh!” She pulled out a thin envelope from her back pocket, handing it to you. “This is your offer letter. It’s not really an offer, more of you have to accept or you die sort of thing but he wanted to make sure you got this.”

You felt like you were in a strange dream as you tore it open, slowly walking by Donna’s side down a hallway. “So Michael is our staff doctor. He’ll check your arms-”

You nearly fell when you’d read the salary on the offer letter. Donna caught your waist, alarm written all over her face. “Oh my god. I’m calling for-”

You shoved the paper in her face, taping the bolded line. “Is this a joke? He’s paying me this much?”

Donna laughed, urging you to walk forward again.

“Six figures? Six figures?!” you screeched, Donna shaking her head. “What-”

“Working for Lord Winchester is lucrative but…there’s an expectation of discretion. I mean, he is the Dark Lord of the land. It’s not the sort of job you want to slack off at.”

“Wonderful.”

It was late, well into the evening, when you’d finished with your tour. You were in the lobby of Lord Winchester’s fortress, rubbing your eyes. Michael had given you a pair of scrubs to change into while your stained clothes were sent to the launder. Thankfully he’d deemed your skin only irritated from the hot coffee, not burned. Most of the day had been in HR, Donna sitting in to help guide you through your options.

Options like free healthcare. A pension. On-site housing. As his assistant, or “Personal Executive to The Dark Lord” as your title in the payroll system stated, you were expected to live in the fortress and move in this weekend. All covered and utilities paid for by the company.

A chef that cooked all your meals, if you were so inclined. Shuttle services to and from school in town with a tutor available after school to help with homework. A grand library for kids to study in and for the adults to further their own educational studies if they chose. There was even an inter-company softball league that got quite competitive.

Dark Lord Winchester on paper was the best fucking boss in the world.

A throat cleared behind you, making you jump and drop the stack of papers in your hands. You spun around, Dark Lord Winchester standing there.

“Sorry, sir,” you said, kneeling down, attempting to pick up the papers as quickly as possible. To your surprise, he dropped to one knee, leaning his body and grabbing a folder that had your company credit card inside. He held it out to you, deep green eyes watching you as you hesitated to take it.

“If you’re going to work for me, you can’t be scared shitless all the time.” You snatched the folder, his eyes raising briefly before he stood tall. He held out a hand, your own eyes wide. “This is where you put your hand in mine and I help you stand up.”

You swallowed, doing as told, his strong arm effortlessly pulling you up.

“Look at that. You touched me and didn’t turn to dust,” he chuckled. You only stared, Lord Winchester looking over your head. “Let me make something clear to you. I treat my employees extremely well. In return, I expect their best work and their loyalty. If you show up to work and do a good job, there is no reason to fear me.”

“How do I know I’m doing a good job?” you whispered. He looked down to you, pursing his lips.

“You’re the damn Executive Assistant to The Dark Lord. You ask a question, you do it with confidence. Ask correctly and I’ll answer.”

“How will I know I’m doing my job well?” you said, holding his gaze this time.

“Any woman that would risk stealing from the Dark Lord, knowing very well what I do to thieves, to get medicine for their kid brother? That is the kind of woman that I know will do spectacular in this job.”

You parted your lips, Dark Lord Winchester glancing at them before looking away. “How do you-”

“I know lots of things.” He checked the dark rolex on his wrist, frowning. “It’s late. I’ll drive you home myself. Wait on the front steps.”

You watched him go down a different hallway, your head going a million miles an hour.

What the fuck was happening?

You stepped outside and five minutes later, an older black Impala, very nicely taken care of, pulled up, Dark Lord Winchester behind the wheel. You slid in the passenger seat, a wonderful aroma in the air. He drove you home in silence save for the soft rock music playing through the speakers.

Your face burned when he drove that beautiful car through your less than glamorous neighborhood and as soon as he pulled to a stop in front of your very small rental, you were getting out.

“Y/L/N,” he chided. You stopped halfway, Lord Winchester reaching into the backseat and pulling over the back a large white bag. “For you and your brother. Dinner and his medication for a few months. Michael will be able to refill it when it’s up and can schedule a physical with him to check if his treatment needs to alter. Please apologize to your brother from me. He’s likely frightened being alone judging by the way every light is on inside.”

You shook your head, your lip tugging up. He narrowed his eyes as your smirk grew. “What is that look for?”

“Dark Lord Winchester my ass. You’re a good person, aren’t you?” He scoffed. “Nah, I’m starting to see this for what it is. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you’re nice deep down.”

“I’m not nice,” he growled. You took the bag from his hand, softening your smile. “Do not think I’m kind.”

“Oh, of course not,” you said, holding up the bag. You got out, closing the door behind you. But you bent down, leaning into the open window. “Thank you. He…his asthma’s been getting worse lately. This will really help us. All of it will help.”

He was quiet, looking out at the dark road. “A car will pick you up at 7:30. Movers will come by Saturday morning to pack up your things.”

“Goodnight, Lord Winchester,” you said, stepping back.

“It’s Dean,” he said, revving the engine, making your heart race. He took off, your chest still thumping when you went inside.

“Kyle! I’m home with dinner!” You called. Kyle came rushing out of the hallway, a blanket pulled over his head. “I’m so sorry I’m late, buddy. Did you get scared?”

“No,” said the twelve year old, doing an awful job of hiding his relief. “What’s for dinner?”

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you find out for us?” You handed him the bag, Kyle rushing back to the kitchen with it. “How was school?”

“Fine.” He said nothing more as you entered, pleasantly surprised to find a balanced dinner of chicken, vegetables and some sweet potatoes inside. “Is this take out?”

“No. I uh, got a new job today,” you said, opening the box that had his medicine inside. “Hey. Got you a refill.”

“What’s your new job?” he asked, taking a plate from you and scooting into his spot at the small two seater table.

“I uh…work for Dark Lord Winchester. We’re, uh, moving on Saturday to live at the fortress. You’ll have your own room and there’s some other kids that live there too for you to play with. He uh, actually wanted me to tell you how sorry he was for keeping me late tonight.”

“Really? Cool.” You rolled your eyes. “Does he actually wear a skull mask and a black cloak?”

“No,” you laughed. “He looks very normal. Maybe you’ll get to meet him someday.”

“Cool,” he said again, frowning when you pointed at his untouched vegetables. “Y/N-“

“Eat them or Dark Lord Winchester won’t be happy…” you chided, Kyle shrinking down into his seat, reluctantly taking a bite, a flash of surprise on his face.

“These are way better than when you make them!” He started to scarf down the brussels sprouts as you sighed.

“I’m not dead and you’re eating veggies for once. I’ll take that as a win for today.”

The Next Morning

“Good morning, Lord Winchester,” you said as you rose from your desk outside his office on the far end of the second floor, dressed in skinny jeans, a bright yellow sleeveless blouse and an oversized blazer. Dean looked you up and down, his eyebrows raising. “HR said the dress code-“

“If I wanted everyone to wear suits, I’d have everyone wear them. Your outfit is fine. You’re probably not going to wear heels with the running around you’ll do,” he said, entering his office, waving for you to follow after. His legs looked long in the dark denim that clung to his thighs. He wore a white long sleeve Henley shirt with a navy button up over top, sleeves rolled up his forearms. “If you would stop staring at me could we get started?”

Your face flushed as you sat in the chair opposite his desk, Dean sitting with a groan and greedily sucking down a cup of coffee.

“So your job is to make my life easier,” he said, opening his laptop, frowning at it. “I get a lot of…requests from my department heads. I need you to be a buffer between me and them for the day to day. I also need you to handle pop ups and act as a sounding board for myself.”

“HR went over the expectations with me,” you said, Dean grunting as he drank more coffee again.

“Great. I need you to start with brainstorming ideas for how to rescue my brother from Crowley. We’ll meet after lunch to discuss.”

“King of The Dark Lands Crowley?” Dean hummed. “Isn’t he…”

“A demon? Oh yeah,” he said, giving you a barely there smile. “Shouldn’t be a problem for a little thief like you.”

________

A/N: Read Part two here!

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ultrone · 9 months ago

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seven minutes in heaven !

you join a 'spin the bottle' game at a party and get paired up with shauna ҂ smut & fluff; enemies to lovers, making out, dry humping, cum-filled strap-on use, choking. . .﹙5.1k wc﹚

the dim glow of fairy lights strung across lottie’s backyard cast a warm, golden hue over the party. the yellowjackets had won an important game the day before, and as usual, lottie’s parents were out of town, so there was no hesitation about throwing a party to celebrate the win.

you leaned against the wooden fence, holding a red plastic cup filled with something that tasted like a fruit punch spiked with some sort of liquor. you weren't exactly sure what was in it, but you were certain that more than half of the cup was pure alcohol.

your peace was interrupted by an all-too-familiar optimistic voice. "y/n! i've been looking for you," jackie said, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you away from your cozy corner.

"what are you doing?" you asked the blonde girl as she pulled you inside the house.

"we're playing a game," she said with excitement.

"don’t tell me it’s spin the bottle," you groaned as you saw people gathering around.

“come on, y/n, don't make that face,” jackie said, “maybe tonight's your lucky night,” she added with a wink, making you chuckle.

"alright, everyone! time to play!" she declared, ushering everyone into the living room. of course, she wasn’t going to play, being in a relationship with jeff. however, her nosy ass always wanted to be in charge of spinning the bottle—and potentially ruining people’s nights, you thought.

in no time, a group of people started sitting in a circle right in front of you. you noticed a bunch of yellow and blue bomber jacket owners gathering around. it was sort of a tradition that after every winning game, if there was a party, the yellowjackets would wear their bomber jackets all night to stand out. the owners of the bomber jackets in the circle were lottie, shauna, melisa, and surprisingly, laura lee. there were other people from school as well, including randy. hesitantly, you sat down between melisa and some random guy.

jackie took the bottle, giving it a vigorous spin. as the bottle spun and slowed down, its neck pointed straight at randy. then, after another spin, it landed on avery, one of the cutest seniors. a big smile lit up randy’s face, and you could practically feel his eagerness from a mile away. however, avery, with tousled hair and captivating, smoky eyes, shot randy a look of disgust. you could tell she wasn't too thrilled. unaware of the girl's reaction, randy stood up, all pumped and ready to head to the closet. you couldn't help but stifle a chuckle, and you noticed shauna letting out a relieved sigh.

"enjoy yourself," lottie teased, giving avery's shoulder a pat, to which she responded by rolling her eyes.

as they made their way to the downstairs closet, jackie spoke to the rest of the group. "okay, guys, brainstorm! what if we send two pairs at a time? it'll make things go quicker," she suggested, and everyone seemed to be on board.

“great!” she exclaimed before giving the bottle another spin. this time, though, it landed on you. jackie couldn't hide her excitement; she suppressed her smile and playfully wiggled her eyebrows up and down. “i wonder who the lucky winner will be,” she said before giving it another spin.

the bottle spun again, and you felt your heart sink as it stopped at shauna. you saw her face turn pale, and then red with annoyance. she glared at you as if you had somehow rigged the game.

jackie clapped her hands and squealed. “oh my god, this is perfect! the two most unlikely people to ever hook up.”

"this is gonna be interesting," lottie remarked with a smirk.

jackie seized both of your arms and whisked you towards the stairs. “come on, you two, don’t be shy! it’s just a game, have some fun!” she urged, but your attention was fixated on the irksome sound of laughter and cheering from the others.

you tried to resist, but jackie was too strong and excited. she pushed you and shauna into the upstairs closet and slammed the door behind you. you heard her shout, “seven minutes, starting now!” before her footsteps faded away.

you and shauna stood in the dark, facing each other. you could barely see her outline, but you could feel her hostility. you heard her snort and say, “this is ridiculous. i’m not going to waste my time with you.” she added, “just stay away from me and don’t touch me.”

you retorted, “fine by me. i don’t want anything to do with you either. you’re the last person i would ever kiss.”

she scoffed dismissively. "that's good then. it would be a waste anyway." her words carrying more weight than you anticipated.

shauna leaned against the wall, arms crossed. following suit, you leaned on the opposite side, feeling the bitter tension lingering in the air. you stood in silence for a moment, listening to the faint sounds of partying from below. you both felt uncomfortable, but neither was willing to break the silence.

then, she sighed. “you’re very annoying,” she muttered under her breath.

"you're not exactly a breeze yourself," you shot back. "not to mention stubborn as hell and fucking rude," you added, unable to restrain yourself.

her lips curled into an exasperated smile. "at least i don't act like i'm too good for everybody. you're the most stuck-up person i've ever met."

“well, at least i don't live under my best friend’s shadow. when we go downstairs, we should ask jackie for your daily dose of croquettes, you fucking lapdog.”

her eyes narrowed and she glared at you for a moment. “what was that?” she asked with a slight growl in her voice.

you stood your ground. “i said that you're a lapdog, bitch,” you enunciated each word with a sharp edge, your frustration boiling over.

shauna's eyes flashed with anger as she lunged forward, grabbing your shirt and forcefully pushing you against the drawer behind you. her hand moved up to your throat, putting just enough pressure to make it hard to breathe. attempting to pull away, you realized she was stronger than you anticipated. her face hovered inches from yours, her gaze intense, as if daring you to make a move.

before you knew it, you were gripping her wrist and pulling her tight against you. she tried to resist but you didn't let up. the closeness of her body, the heat of her breath, was making you light-headed. the smell of her perfume was intoxicating. your breath was short and hard as you stared into her eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you kissed her.

“don't look at me like that,” she breathed, her voice low and hoarse. you noticed that she was blushing ever so slightly.

"like what?" you whispered back, your breath tickling her skin, making her feel hot and flustered.

"like you want me," she mumbled quietly, a hint of uncertainty in her voice, her breath teasing your skin.

“who said i did?” you replied nonchalantly, trying to resist the urge to lean in and press your lips against her.

she leaned in slightly closer, her lips just a few centimetres from yours and whispered, “i know you want to.” a few seconds passed in uneasy silence as the tension built between the two of you, the heat from her hand on your neck making you weak.

"fuck it," you muttered under your breath, finally giving in and pressing your lips against hers.

her eyes fluttered shut as you made contact, responding to your kiss as if her life depended on it. she slid her hands to the sides of your face, her fingers threading through your hair and holding you against her. the kiss was bruising and intense as your hearts pounded against each other. your hands found their way to the small of her back, drawing her nearer as you lightly nibbled on her lower lip. it felt like an eternity before you pulled away, both of your breaths laboured, foreheads resting against each other.

“i fucking hate you,” you whispered, peering into her eyes, her grip on your face still firm.

“i hate you more,” she murmured back, almost petulantly, before pulling you into another passionate kiss.

as your lips melded together, she smoothly moved her hands down to your waist, skillfully guiding you to perch on top of the drawer. almost instinctively, you parted your legs, coaxing her to stand right between them. her hands travelled up to your upper thighs, gripping them firmly as her lips trailed a path along your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses all the way to the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

every fibre of your being screamed to touch her, to feel her everywhere. in a desperate attempt to do so, your fingers instinctively traced the outline of her jeans' waistband, gripping it and pulling her closer while wrapping your legs around her. a soft moan escaped your lips as you felt a bulge pressing against your center.

sensing your arousal, she seized one of your wrists, guiding it to her bulge, placing your hand directly over it and giving a good squeeze. "you like that?" she husked, a smirk playing at her lips. you could only respond with a breathless sigh.

encouraged by your reaction, she returned her hands to your upper thighs, holding them even more firmly as she pulled you against her bulge with deliberate, slow motions against your clothed center.

“mmh-” you moaned as you slid your hands under her shirt, fingers digging into her toned abdomen, leaving marks as you held on tight.

her lips captured yours once again, in a slower but equally intense kiss as before. the rhythm of her hips matched the pace of the kiss, her movements deliberate yet forceful against you. as your left fingertips continued to graze her abdomen, your right hand began to tease her chest, slipping beneath her bra. a soft groan escaped her lips at the contact, sending vibrations against your mouth.

growing a little desperate, she paused for a moment, eliciting a groan from you. sliding her hands to your waistline, she started unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans. equally eager, you assisted her by shedding your jeans and letting them cascade to the floor. at the same time, she undid her own jeans, allowing them to pool around her ankles, revealing her standing in nothing but dark red boxers, a strap peeking out.

drawing closer again, she didn't immediately resume her previous movements. instead, she lowered her face and gently rested her left temple against your cheek, her gaze fixated on the silhouette of your lower body.

her hands found a resting place on your thighs, softly caressing the spots where she had left gripping red marks just moments ago. each warm breath against the side of your neck intensified the pulsating sensation at your center. slowly, her hands traveled upward, reaching the hem of your panties, fingers slipping beneath. her index finger played with the fabric, pulling and letting it slap against your skin. the sound echoed slightly denser than cotton, catching her attention. as her fingers lingered against your pelvis, she slowly traced her thumb across the warmth and moisture of your clothed center.

“fuck, you’re so wet…” she whispered against your skin, her eyebrows furrowing, almost whimpering at the thought of being responsible of turning you on like this.

unconsciously, your hips began to move, your center yearning for more than just a lingering touch, but she held back. in your desperation, you pressed her against you with your legs, a sudden move that prompted her to place her hand on the wall for balance. she chuckled at your desperation, and you moaned at the contact of her hard length flush against your wetness.

"okay, okay," she said with a smirk, yielding to your silent pleas as she planted a small kiss on your cheek.

her fingers deftly slid to the hem of your panties, pulling them down and letting them join your discarded jeans. following suit, she lowered her boxers, allowing them to fall gracefully to her ankles.

her body drew closer to yours once more, but this time, one of her hands held her cock, while the other rested on your hip, unconsciously caressing your skin with her thumb. you felt yourself melting into another kiss, her mouth was warm, but her tongue was even hotter, exploring every inch of your mouth.

your breath hitched as you felt the tip of her strap tracing circles around your clit, and a loud groan escaped you as she rubbed her length against your wet folds, maintaining its stiffness with her grip.

“just put it in already,” you pleaded, the sensations in your core becoming too overwhelming to bear.

shauna's lips curled into a sly smile as she met your gaze. "good things come to those who wait," she quipped as her mouth found its way back to yours once again.

“whatever, shakespeare,” you breathed out as she continued to tease you, her length slipping against you due to your wetness.

“that was actually violet fane, a british au—”

“yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up,” you groaned, annoyed at the teasing. you couldn't take it anymore, you slapped her hand away, taking her girth in your hand, surprising her and causing her to lose her balance once more. pulling her closer by it, you aligned her tip with your entrance. she smirked, finding your sudden dominance hot, and she didn't stop you as you used your legs to push her against you, feeling her cock slowly entering and stretching your walls.

your head fell back as she bottomed out inside you, her strap-on so large that you could feel it pressing against your cervix. you slid your hands to her shoulders, gripping her tightly, and she hugged you by the waist, so close that you could feel each other's heartbeats. shauna's fingers wrapped around your hair, gently tugging your face to the side and exposing your soft neck to her mouth. she traced her lips down your neck, her tongue exploring your skin with each kiss. her breaths brushed along your skin as she nibbled at your earlobe and planted teasing little bites along your jawline. with her other hand firmly on your hip, she slowly shifted her hips back and then bottomed out again, falling into a steady rhythm. a soft groan escaped her lips as she felt the strap's rigid back massaging her throbbing clit.

your eyebrows furrowed, and soft moans escaped your lips, lost in the intoxication of her kisses and the steady friction of her length against your tight walls. your hands tightened their grip around her toned shoulders.

shauna lifted her face from your slightly swollen and moist neck, peering into your half-lidded eyes. “you okay?” she asked with tenderness, her voice low and raspy, her fingers gently caressing the side of your head.

"look at you, who would've thought that all you needed to become a softie was to get laid,” you teased, meeting her gaze and sliding your hands from her shoulders to around her neck, biting down a smile.

she breathed out a chuckle, rolling her eyes. “i’m not a softie, i was just being nice,” she grunted while slowing down her movements.

“i know, i’m just fucking with you,” you said, “i’m okay,” you added, giving her a soft smile to let her know you appreciated her concern.

just as she was resuming her rhythm, you both were interrupted by a glimpse of movement through the slight slit of the closet door. someone was walking past. a moment of frozen silence passed as you both tried to remain still. the person's footsteps faded as they continued down the stairs. you breathed out softly and relaxed, exchanging a glance with shauna.

“shit, that was close,” she whispered, exhaling sharply and slowly letting go of your hair, her other hand still resting gently on your hip.

"yeah, too close," you murmured quietly. “let's just stay silent,” you suggested.

“good luck with that,” she replied cheekily before giving you a quick kiss on the lips. she moved both hands down to the middle of your thighs, opening your legs wide and holding them in that position with her palms.

with her thick cock still inside you, but unmoving, she teasingly slid one of her hands towards your center and started to slowly toy with and pinch your swollen clit with her thumb.

“oh, fu—” you began, but she quickly hushed you with her lips, giving you a deep, bruising tongue kiss.

her calloused thumb continued drawing incessant circles around your throbbing nub. by the time your legs started twitching, indicating your urge to close them together, she swiftly returned her hand to its original position on your thigh, keeping them wide open, and began thrusting into you with harsh movements.

despite the tightness of your walls, her cock slid smoothly in and out, coated with your abundant wetness. her hot center pulsed with each firm thrust, pressing against her clitoris. she penetrated you so deeply that you could almost see your belly skin pushing from the outside. each time her tip pushed onto your sensitive spot, your eyes rolled back, and both your moans were muffled by her tongue, which melted against yours.

your arms were wrapped so tightly around her neck that you were almost choking her, your lungs desperate for air but unwilling to let go of her. she momentarily let go of your legs, lifting the white shirt under her flannel and tucking half of it behind her head to keep it out of the way. resuming her rapid thrusts, you could now feel the toned skin of her lower abdomen slapping against your clitoris with each motion.

“enjoying yourself?” she asked breathlessly with a half-smile, her mouth finding its way back to yours once more.

you could only manage a muffled response, unable to form words. you placed your hands under her bra and began to play with her nipples, squeezing her breasts as you pinched them between your fingers.

“mmh– that feels good,” she husked out, prompting you to pinch her nipples even harder. her movements started to get sloppy, but it felt so good that she was trying her hardest not to cum yet. she removed her hands from your thighs, instead, holding you closer by resting one hand against the top of the drawer next to your thigh, and the other one pushing you closer by wrapping it around your lower back.

you tried to help her by matching her rhythm, moving your hips against hers. sliding your hands to her back, you held her by the shoulder blades for stability. once you had a good grip, you increased your pace against her.

nuzzling her face against the crook of your neck, she maintained her relentless pace. the room echoed with the sounds of her grunts and the slapping of skin as she pounded as hard as she could. it didn't take long before both of you reached climax. with one final, deep thrust, you felt her faux white cum filling you up, and you both rode out your orgasms together. she softly collapsed on top of you, her weight keeping you pressed against the drawer.

loosening your strong hold on her shoulders, you now held her gently as both of you caught your breath.

after a few moments of silence, she gently disengaged from the embrace and stood upright. "we should probably get back now…" she said, her voice still a little hoarse from all the grunting.

“right,” you replied softly. with that, you slowly got up, stretching out the discomfort in your hips and back. you both dressed in silence and once you were both finished, shauna opened the closet door, motioning for you to go out first.

“looks like chivalry isn’t dead,” you joked awkwardly, making her smile.

the both of you made your way downstairs, and she couldn’t help but notice the way you walked, slowly and a little clumsily, causing her to chuckle. upon reaching the bottom, a round of applause greeted you, courtesy of lottie, van, and nat, who were comfortably seated on the couches directly in front of you.

“and now,” van declared, her red cup serving as an improvised megaphone, “i present to everyone the official champions of seven minutes in heaven!” she glanced at lottie, who was busy checking her watch. “breaking the previous record of…” van paused dramatically.

“forty-five minutes and thirty-eight seconds,” lottie declared, raising her eyebrows in genuine surprise.

you rolled your eyes at them, trying to hold back the smile tugging at your lips. “like you didn’t sit in that circle just to get into laura lee’s celibate ass pants,” you retorted to lottie.

“fine,” lottie admitted with a grin, “but let’s not forget who willingly spent over half an hour in the closet with their mortal nemesis,” she defended herself.

van, still using her red cup as a makeshift megaphone, leaned forward with a mischievous grin. "so, shauna, was it everything you dreamed of, or should we recommend a more skilled partner next time?"

shauna narrowed her eyes slightly at van's playful snark. in the past, she would’ve likely scoffed and rolled her eyes in response, but now, there was a hint of amusement lurking behind them.

"she was okay," she replied nonchanlantly, a smirk on her face as she shot a teasing glance at you. "she's not so bad when she keeps her mouth shut," she joked, making everyone laugh in surprise.

“okay,” you interjected, feeling a bit sheepish with a blush on your face, “i’m heading to the kitchen for some water,” you announced before striding away.

you heard van's voice crackle on with her red cup, "we want all the details later!" she shouted, causing the whole group to burst into laughter, making you grin with embarrassment.

as you made your way towards the kitchen, the party noise faded into the background. you grabbed a glass of water, and while you took a much-needed sip, you heard footsteps approaching.

shauna joined you by the sink, grabbing a glass of water and taking a sip before turning to look at you. her eyes met yours and lingered for a moment before she spoke.

"so," she began as she leaned against the counter, “jeff’s taking jackie home tonight. do you need a lift home?” she asked, her big eyes staring at you attentively.

“oh, don’t worry about it,” you stammered nervously, “i can just tag along with lottie or tai.”

“i don’t mind, really,” she insisted, her dark eyes lingering on your lips before meeting your gaze again. you felt your heart pounding in your chest. the way she was looking at you was making it hard to think straight, and your body was getting all warm and tingly.

“well–“ you began, but before you knew it, she approached you and gently took hold of your chin. drawing you closer, her lips met yours. they were tender yet firm, and your breath was steady as you whispered, “i wouldn’t mind either.”

you allowed her to lead the kiss, her tongue making deliberate moves between your lips. her hands cradled the back of your head, fingers entwining in your hair as she drew her body closer to yours.

a soft whimper escaped you, arms wrapping around her waist. the heat inside you intensified as your bodies pressed together. her tongue explored your mouth, breath growing heavy as she tugged at the hem of your shirt. shauna lifted her leg slightly, wrapping her thigh around yours to pull you even closer. urgency filled her movements, her pulse quickening, and her breath became shallow. suddenly, she pulled away, looking up. “maybe we should go,” she whispered, her breath catching momentarily as her heart thumped against her chest.

“yeah, we should,” you mumbled, still dazed by the intensity of the kiss. your brain was foggy, struggling to process what had just happened.

exiting the party, the two of you strolled towards the car. shauna opened the front seat’s door and motioned for you to get in. you took a quick glance at the other guests, but luckily, none of your friends seemed to be paying attention to you two. you climbed into the passenger seat, and shauna closed the door behind you.

it was quiet inside the car, only shauna’s soft music played. she glanced your way from time to time, a teasing glint in her big eyes. you couldn’t help but notice her gaze, and a smile crept across your face as your heart beat faster. each exchange seemed to thicken the air, causing your cheeks to burn.

approaching your destination, shauna slowed down. the road became dark outside the car, the streetlights casting a dim glow over the pavement, which turned into the driveway. she brought the car to a halt and turned to face you. you sat there, waiting for her to say something, but neither one of you spoke. her big dark eyes were fixed on yours, her expression soft and curious.

"um, so…" you mumbled, looking down for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “thanks for the ride,” you said.

"yeah, anytime," she replied softly, her eyes lingering on yours a moment longer before refocusing on the road ahead. taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat, adjusting her grip on the wheel as you reached for the door handle.

"wait," shauna intervened before you could open the door. gently grabbing your arm, she turned you towards her. warm eyes locked onto yours, and her breath seemed to catch as she sought the right words. you couldn't help but notice the soft, delicate features of her face and the way her eyes seemed to glimmer with affection. "i was wondering…" she began, her voice soft and unsure. the tension in the air heightened as her words hung there. "can i call you sometime?" her voice was barely a whisper, and her gaze seemed shy.

"i- yeah, of course," you replied softly, feeling your heart skip a beat as you gave her a soft smile. you had never imagined this kind of interaction with her, but now that it was happening, it felt right.

"how about this weekend?" she asked with a hopeful smile.

"yeah, i'd like that," you responded, giving her a gentle nod. shauna's face lit up, and she gently squeezed your hand before unlocking the car doors.

exiting the car, you bid shauna goodnight and made your way into your house, the sound of her car fading as you closed the front door behind you. racing upstairs, you burst into your room and leaped onto your bed, burying your face in the pillow.

you lay there for a few minutes with our heart was racing, feeling butterflies fluttering all over as you replayed the night’s events in your head.

finally, you rolled over onto your back, allowing yourself a moment to catch your breath. however, your peace was soon interrupted by a tapping sound at your window.

you sat up immediately, surprised by the sudden noise. you cautiously walked toward it to check what it was.

as you got closer to the window, you could see shauna, leaning against the fence below it, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket. you noticed that her face was upturned to your direction, eyes fixed on you, her breath fogging the glass.

without thinking twice, you scrambled to open the window. "what are you doing here?" you asked, meeting her eyes.

for a moment, she didn't respond, her cheeks flushed and her breathing steadying. yet, her gaze remained focused on you, and her mouth had curled into a small smile. "i wanted to see you one more time before the night is over," she answered, her voice soft. "mind if i come up?" she added.

you replied instantly, "yeah, sure, come on up."

as she climbed the exterior walls of your house, you took a deep breath and opened the window wide enough for her to enter. upon reaching the window frame, she met your gaze, your faces inches apart.

"you could have just knocked on the front door, you know?" you teased, biting down a smile.

shauna shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. "can't a girl be romantic anymore?" she quipped with a smirk.

"oh, is that what this is?" you mocked, giving her a teasing look. "you breaking into my window in the middle of the night? romantic would’ve been knocking on the front door with flowers."

"i don't know, climbing up the building, clinging to a fence, and sneaking into your window seemed pretty romantic to me," shauna replied with a smirk, her hands gripping the window edges.

"shauna, i live in a one-story house," you chuckled softly.

"well, my point still stands," she playfully retorted, rolling her eyes at you. "and your windows are abnormally high, my arms are aching," she added.

“oh, sorry,” you said, stepping aside for her to enter.

"it’s fine," she replied, stepping inside. however, her footing slipped, and she tumbled onto you, sending both of you into laughter as you landed on the floor.

you sensed her warm breath near your neck, her hair gently brushing against your face. your bodies were close, and her arms wrapped around your waist. you couldn't help but notice how close she was, and how good she felt against you. her deep eyes looked up at you, her lips forming a slight smile. gazing back at her, you timidly slid your hand across the floor until it found hers, intertwining your fingers. she locked her hands with yours, and both of you held the gaze for what seemed like an eternity.

"can i kiss you?" she whispered, her eyes searching yours for the answer.

your heart raced, and your blood rushed through your veins.

"yes," you replied softly, and she leaned in, placing her hands on your cheeks as her lips met yours.

your lips parted as she kissed you softly, her lips tender and soft. it was nothing like the fierce way she had kissed you at the party. her tongue explored your mouth with deft and practiced movements, and as you pulled her closer, she leaned into you, holding you tightly.

as you pulled away, your lips were aching to feel her again. “stay the night?” you asked her.

her soft, dark eyes locked onto yours, her breath quickened and her cheeks flushed slightly. you held each other's gaze until she finally spoke.

"i’d love that."

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lunarw0rks · 1 year ago

Note

By anychance can you write something along the lines of..

Simon x (fem) reader

Simon who goes out to the bar and leaves with the reader but he thinks she's a prostitute (b/c of the way the she was flirting with him)💀 and leave money on the table and she's sumwhats offended when she wakes up but takes the money anyways.. they hook up again.. he leaves money and y/n gets fed up and tells him she's not.. a relationship sumwhat building off of that

"Say cheese!" 🤵🏾‍♀️📸 👩

What You Paid For // Simon!FemReader

Summary: Simon had no shame indulging in escorts, especially ones who make an effort to flirt with him. Only problem? You're not an escort.

Warning(s): explicit content (18+), strong language, smut, oral sex (g.), p^rn w/ little plot, unsafe sex, fem!reader, no use of y/n

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: this took forever omg ;') not proofread, so don't mind mistakes

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? // ao3 ver.

The bar itself is an establishment of contradictions.

The counter is rich mahogany that exudes an air of sophistication, yet its edges are rough and worn, and the crowd is anything but graceful. A collection of vintage chandeliers dangle from the ceiling, but their lighting casts a warm and attractive glow upon the room.

Behind the bar, a vast array of liquors is proudly displayed on ornate shelves, each bottle catching the glint of candlelight. You tap your fingers against the bar, pulling out your wallet. “Champagne?”

The bartender shakes his head, “we’re fresh out, Ma’am, apologies.”

Of course, they’d be out of it, given the sheer amount of people in here. You sigh, blurting out the first common drink you can think of, “I’ll do a Gin and Tonic, then.” You slide a bill across the bar, but there’s another hand—and he’s sliding a greater wad of cash, and quicker.

“Kentucky. Leave the bottle.” The gravel in his voice tells a thousand stories, as does the large shadow he’s casting on you.

You put your cashback in your pocketbook, examining the hand resting on the bar next to you. His forearm is heavily tattooed; skulls, flames, dog tags, the works. “Thanks for paying.” You fist the drink when it’s slid across the bar, finally laying your eyes on him.

His comes shortly after; a burly build, black bomber jacket, and a skull-printed balaclava. Definitely, an appearance you’ll remember with any amount of alcohol in your system.

“Mhm.” His thumb caresses the rim of his glass and his eyes travel you from top to bottom. The man clearly isn’t fond of words, or eye contact for more than ten seconds. It’s obvious he wants something to look at while he works on the bottle, that much is obvious. A man as anti-social as him wouldn’t be standing there if he didn’t want to be.

Your painted lips wrap around the skinny cocktail straw, your tastebuds hit with a mix of bubbles and burn. “You from around here?”

“Here and there.” He’s from Manchester, or somewhere near there, that’s all his vagueness tells you. Can you really be upset at him for eye-fucking you? He hasn’t gotten too close for comfort or gone anywhere near your drink, and those hands, they’re trouble. Though, with a frame like his, you would need to brace yourself before—

Now you’re just getting ahead of yourself. Focus.

You sip some more, a bigger one this time; the drink you ordered is now about half empty. “You don’t belong here, do you?” Perhaps it was the sting in your throat allowing the words to come out more freely.

With a grunt rather than a response, he chugs his shot. “What makes you say that, love?” You can see his cocked brow from under the fabric, and it makes your mind wander again. Going off his lashes, he’s probably got a head of blonde hair. The rest of the ogling? It’s interrupted by his impatient need for an answer.

“You just seem like a… rugged type.” Hot. He was hot.

Needing a distraction, you find the lime slice used as a garnish. If you were being honest, it was a cool-off. You needed to play it cool, try not to scare off the least skittish guy here; something only you could manage. The glug of him pouring another glass replaces his lack of engagement. He lifts the fabric of his mask again, tossing back another. Despite the lack of pacing himself, he’s remained untouched by the shots.

The man smacks his lips slightly, leaning just a bit closer. “Rugged, huh?” You could swear there was a smirk under that mask, and it was driving you insane. Instinctually, you need to find something to occupy your flushed silence with; the lime slice.

You raise it to your lips with a nod at his words, giving the fruit a bite. Your face scrunches from the acidity, though you’ve tried to play it off. Instead of deterring the tension between you two, it only drew attention towards your lips, how they’ve embraced the lime. Some of the citrus pools on your lip, a stray tear dripping down your chin, but you haven’t noticed.

If your goal was to be a tease, consider yourself victorious.

He could practically feel the heat gathering in his core. Though the teasing was unnecessary, it added to your services. They were services, right? The woman he paid for just happened to be an escort—a ravishing one at that.

There wasn’t any shame in indulging, he was never in town for more than a month at a time.

Your fingers find your chin, wiping the juice away with a swipe, not a clue in your mind how arousing that was. “What’s your name?” You have to yell a bit over the bass and lean in closer to his ear. The smell of him is more intoxicating than the array of bottles behind the bar combined.

“C’mon.” He jerks his head in the direction of the door, and he’s already disappeared into the crowd before you can reply. You uncross your legs and get to your feet, slamming the last of your drink before following his path to the door.

You’ve reached the entrance of the bar, still consumed by the volume of the music. Surely, his build would be easy to spot in a crowd. You’re on your toes, neck craned up to see through the crowd, but the other patron’s movements have you dazed and trapped.

Through the paned windows, you spot a shadow cast on the pavement, a still one. Either it’s the nameless man or your flirting sent him running for the hills.

You do your best to shove through the crowd, finally able to breathe when the icy air stings your cheeks. Your panting and searching were cut short by your back hitting a cement wall, an unusually gentle hand placed on your waist to keep you steady.

That scent is suffocating again; mint, tobacco, and whiskey. The nerves of being jerked into an alley settle when your senses answer all the questions.

His thumb rubs a circle against the fabric of your dress, giving some pressure when his voice is heard again. “Simon.” The question you asked in there, is now answered. “Now, answer my question. Either I’m being a knob, or you want something from me, hm?”

His eyes glow in the shadows of the alley and they don’t budge. Of course, you want this, you were only speechless.

You feel yourself nod, though the only sensations you can focus on are his scent and the tingles of attraction his fingertips are causing you.

“Right,” Simon scoffs, slightly pressing his chest closer to yours, “are you gonna take me where you’re stayin’, or are we doing this here?” His head looks left and right, a silent notice of the city oozing with chaotic nightlife.

Your breath is visible in front of you the longer you walk down the street. The hotel you’re staying in is within a minute's distance, and your neediness is thanking you for it. His shadow is close behind, but his head is looking straight ahead, both hands in his pockets.

Finally, the both of you reach the breezeway of the hotel. Simon’s breathing gets heavier, and so close you can feel the breeze against your ear. Large hands slither around your waist, fondling as the electronic beep of your suite door sounds.

The breeze of the heating system clashes with the goosebumps formed on your skin—and they aren’t because of the cold air. His legs nudge yours ahead, daring you to stumble if he didn’t have an arm wrapped around you. He’s so close; the way you had been fantasizing about in the bar from the moment his hand slid across the mahogany.

The bag you were holding finds the floor as quickly as the room door shuts.

Though his hands never leave your waist, he steps in front of you, stopping when the back of his legs hit the end of the bed. His weight settled against the mattress with a groan, then his hands found his belt, impatiently tugging at it.

“Don’t just stand there. Kneel.” His voice is a hungry muffle through the mask, but his amber eyes are all the convincing you needed. With both palms on his toned thighs, your shivering legs buckled until you were level with his bulge.

His fingers peeled back the waistband of his boxers after he shifted his jeans down. Simon wasn’t making an effort of getting entirely undressed, he rarely did. His erection sprung from his boxers, the tip of it dripping in arousal already. Seeing it was much more daunting than visualizing it; intimidating, even. But were you going to get up off the floor? Not a chance.

His fist clamped around his length, giving it a few strokes as he watched your lips intently as if picturing the inevitable lude act ahead of him. The image of the lime juice dribbling down your chin was egging his urges to a high.

You scooted up closer, his inner thighs pressing against your shoulders. Next, your fingers found the base of his length, replacing the strokes of his hands for him. Simon only stared hungrily, lifting the hem of his shirt so it was out of your way. Your lips parted slightly, mouth salivating, as aching and doused as your core. You flattened your tongue along the head, just enough for him to shift his hips ever so slightly. “Don’t be a tease.” His hands grasp around the edge of the mattress, leaning back to get a full view of your tongue teasing his cock.

He says it with such conviction—as if he isn’t the most well-endowed man you’ve gone down on. If you weren’t so blinded by lust, you just might have rolled your eyes at the comment, even come up with some alluring remark about his size. But you’ve occupied your mouth, sliding from his tip to base slowly and mimicking drinking from a straw.

“Fuck…” His curse comes out like a hiss, caged by his gritted teeth. Though it’s only been seconds of your mouth on him, he can’t resist his hands finding the back of your head, nudging forward each pass your warm mouth makes.

Now, the tip of your nose collides with his pelvic bone, a methodical gag with each thrust. Your cheeks hollowed around his thick length, despite the stretch it was to fit him in your mouth. You tease the underside of his cock with your tongue, tracing each vein and small curve with vigor—undoubtedly only multiplying his sensitivity. “You look even prettier like this, swallowing my cock.” Tears have pricked at the corner of your eyes, showing through your hooded stare up at him.

His head pushes increase in speed, and you can feel his tip bruising the back of your throat, causing heavier breaths through your nose. The last thing you’re going to do is tap out for air, not with the attractive sight in front of you. Your scalp burns from the press of his fingertips, but it’s an arousing pain. He’s remained in charge this whole time, but even he can’t conceal his need for release.

Simon’s grunts and groans have grown louder, his head is thrown back, and he’s bucking his hips upward into your mouth to meet his pushes. By now, the muscles in your jaw have given way, enough for you to withstand all the force of his jerks.

“Almost done, sweetheart.” He’s no longer teetering on the cliff of release—he’s there. The hand on the back of your head gives your hair a yank, keeping you in place as he uses his thrusts to finish himself off.

Your eyes flutter shut, hearing the feral moans paired with his hot seed spurting down your throat. “Swallow for me, that’s it.” He watches the muscles of your sore throat muscles constrict and unwind, with no sign of the semen oozing from your lips. Only your own saliva is, a string of it visible when you pull yourself away from his length.

Simon fingers his pocket, finding and pulling out a condom. “Think you can manage this for me?” He presses the jagged corner of the pouch to your wet lips. You sink your teeth into the foil edge, pulling your head back until it rips open. He slides the latex down on his length, stomach still rising and falling from the intensity of his finish.

Before leaning back on the bed, he clamps a hand around your upper arm, pulling you up with him. He shifts himself back to not hang off the edge, re-positioning the both of you with little effort. Then, he lifts up your dress enough to be faced with your soaked undergarments, followed by a slight ‘tsk’ under his breath. You’re eager by this point, now that your tender throat is a constant reminder of what he had been blessed with, and how profoundly you’re yearning for this man.

With some shifting of your legs, you roll the panties off and toss them aside. Once you’ve returned to your original position, hovering over his length as it rests against his stomach, he cocks his head. “You can’t be tired yet, haven’t even touched you.” It’s a mocking, downright patronizing scoff, but it’s bleeding with allure.

You peer down at his twitching length, wrapping your fingertips around the shaft until you’ve guided him in front of your entrance. Simon’s merely enjoying the show, the gears whirling in your head as you work out the mathematics of the act. His tip is being eased by your hands until he feels a small bit of warmth swallowing it, the familiar squelch of your slick core being eased onto his swollen cock. Your eyes flutter shut as you sink lower, feeling both the burn of the stretch and the alleviation of all the aching you felt for him.

His large hands find each of your hips, feeling your shaky hips eventually collapse fully onto his length, gandering a drawn-out groan from his lips. The only part of his face you can see, his eyes; they’ve rolled slightly—now a hooded stare of hunger.

You start to roll your hips, his length is as deep as possible in this position. Each hand resting on your waist rolls up your dress more until everything below your belly button is in his sight. “Knew you would take it all, pretty minx like you.” He mutters, his accent stronger when wasted with ardor.

For now, you’re easing yourself in circles on his length, relishing in the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix. Gently enough to yield no discomfort, but with enough force to kick off the waves of pleasure coursing through you. The burn in your thighs is the only discouraging part about this, only seconds in and your lower half feels weaker.

“Need some help?” He says smugly, an unhurried thrust upwards into you to eliminate your body’s burden of control. The sensation makes you quake, a hushed moan escaping you. It seemed when you were so focused on doing all the work, you hadn’t made a sound. But now, your delight was on full display, deserving to be a stuttering mess by the end of tonight.

His fingers tightened around the fabric of your dress, rutting his hips upwards with more intensity. Your hands switch between grasping the white sheets to palms on his chest, unable to keep upright without the support of a surface. He gives little time for adjustment, only increasing the bucking of his hips with each second. Eventually, your gasps have turned into overwhelmed whines, a fucked-out expression forming on your face.

The sound of skin meeting skin fills the hotel room, overpowered by the sounds of pleasure largely coming from your lips. Simon’s sounds have remained primal grunts and groans, profanities coming through gritted teeth when he bottoms out entirely.

You feel the familiar bubble of release in your abdomen, the clenching of your gummy walls each time he slides in and out of you. His name slips out a few times, gaining an amused, egotistical chuckle. You felt better around him than he could’ve imagined like he was the moment he saw the flesh of your thighs when you crossed your legs at the barstool; the dress fabric constricted them, begging to be wrapped around his waist and bouncing on his cock. And now, he has been granted his short-lived fantasy.

“Keep doin’ that, sweetheart.” Simon tossed his head back again, the sensitivity increasing when you pulsed around him. The warmth around his length, the constriction of your core, the moans of approval—he was doomed to climax again. You’ve gathered enough endurance to move your hips with him. They clash with each meeting thrust, a jolt of electricity every time he pumps so deep. Even if this is cut short by his finish, the feeling of him inside you now is enough.

Your back arches, seemingly stuck with tense muscles as your core endures his drilling. A small portion of your climax has hit you when he changes the angle, making you cry out even louder. He’s gotten shaky and sloppy, and his physical strength is the only thing allowing this amount of speed.

“Gonna—” He begins, rutting with even more aggression, so much you’ve been left at a standstill. His words are cut short by the shake of his thighs, then a slow decrease in his intensity. “Bloody fuck...” Simon’s eyes shut briefly as he finishes, the grip on your waist unyielding until it passes. Your chest heaves above him, his length still embedded deep while you both recover.

The once-arched posture turns into a tired slump, eyes half-lidded as a satisfied sneer spreads on your face. It wasn’t a dissatisfying hook-up, it was one for the books. You can feel his muscles relax beneath you, a twitching cock sliding out of you until it lays flaccid against his inner thigh. His fingers find the hem of your dress and push the fabric back down, and even he’s surprised it didn’t fray from his iron grip.

You swing your legs off him, crawling to the side of the bed occupied with your things. Simon didn’t use many words, and you were too exhausted for them anyways; your legs had turned to putty minutes ago.

You hear the snap of his waistband, then the shuffling of denim being pulled up his firm thighs. With your back turned to him, you don’t see him dig into his wallet and place some bills on the neighboring nightstand, folded in half neatly. Once the suite door shuts behind him, your drowsy eyes have fluttered to a tight close.

————— ୨୧ —————

Things were… complicated when you woke up and saw the money left on the nightstand, next to a scribbled phone number. Were you offended? Yes. Were you flattered? Also yes

Simon wasn’t the type of hookup you just brushed off, enjoy for the night, then forget it ever happened. Vivid flashbacks plagued you the entire morning, as did how you were still wearing last night's clothes, and your makeup had been ruined.

Whoever—whatever he was; he knew how to carry himself.

If you never saw him again, the night would be nothing but an erotic memory. But, it was worth a shot to reach out.

Your finger hovered over the call button for about a minute, hesitancy gnawing at you. He wouldn’t give this to you if he didn’t want you to reach out. Why him, the most mysterious bloke in the bar? Was it too early in the afternoon to contact him? Did you look too available?

Imagining the sensations all over again, that’s what swayed you. Worst case, he refuses the company or doesn’t pick up.

Each ring had you shaking your head, losing both your dignity and confidence in the bold move.

… “Hello?”

The gravel in his voice told you he had very recently been sleeping off last night’s activities. You practically pinched yourself, cringing at the sound of your own voice when you replied.

“It’s me. I wasn’t sure if I should call right away but… I can’t stop thinking about last night.” You rolled your eyes at yourself, ashamed of the reflection you saw through the hotel mirror. This was ridiculous, right? Downright needy?

A nerve-racking chuckle can be heard as if he was feeding on your humiliation. His voice had a little hint of unsteady as if he wasn’t expecting a call.

“Gave you some sweet dreams, then, huh?” His dry attempt at flirting made your face sizzle with warmth.

His faux self-assurance rang for miles, though it was abundantly clear he couldn’t care less about how he presented himself. What you see, that’s what you get from him.

You liked what you saw. Very much.

“I was thinking,” you began, squeezing the puffy duvet with all your might, “we could get together. Tonight?” You bit down on your lip with so much force, you pricked it with your teeth.

There were a few seconds of silence on the other line, then the faint shuffle within sheets. You impatiently licked away the drop of metallic crimson, expecting the beep of a terminated call.

“Like the sound of that.” His smugness almost had you doing a lap around the hotel room.

You hadn’t the slightest clue what you were in for, but there was not a chance in hell you were bailing on tonight.

————— ୨୧ —————

Why did you feel the need to clean an already spotless hotel room? You didn’t have a clue either. The thought of sending a maid in there had you brainstorming senseless scenarios; the underpaid housekeeper knowing precisely what you were up to.

But you had no reason to feel ridiculous. He agreed, you two were consenting adults, what’s the harm?

Everything looked untouched, almost passable for a vacant room except for your bags. You dug through said luggage and found a more relaxed evening outfit.

He seemed like the punctual type. Looking at the digits on the digital clock, you counted down the minutes. The clock hit six o'clock—then a few additional minutes had you convinced he skipped town.

You almost tumbled off the futon when three faint taps sounded on the door.

6:03 PM

You spread the blinds with two fingers, seeing the familiar broad shoulder resting against the wall, the faint fog of his breath in the bitter evening air. Taking a look in the mirror, you examined your appearance once more—then made your way to the door. With a heavy sigh, the door creaked open, revealing him.

“Hey,” you greeted, stepping aside to let him step in. Any other greeting seemed too formal, yet the one you uttered seemed too relaxed.

You pressed a palm on the flesh of your hips, both hands at your sides after shutting the door. Seeing him so soon, it seemed ludicrous, but his aura was addictive. His boots shuffled against the carpet, footing inside with hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

“Didn’t have to dress nice for me.” Simon sat on the futon, legs spread wide as he leaned against the backrest.

You settled on the bed adjacent to him, shaking your head to shake away the flushed feeling his rasp gave you. “I wanted to,” you replied, looking up from your lap, “do you want to watch something?” You wanted to smack a palm on your forehead. Watch something? Simon knows why you called him here, and you haven’t been exactly subtle.

“You can put something on. Can’t promise I’ll be watching the movie, though.” He said with the slightest glint of eroticism in his eyes. To cope with the urge to tear his clothes off right then and there, you slid the channel list off the end table, entering the most promising one. It was a dated slasher film, interesting enough to keep your attention. You fiddled with the pamphlet for a few seconds, before setting it back on the nightstand.

His stare hadn’t broken, earning a chuckle from you, “what is it?” You question, running a hand over the tucked bedding. Simon wanted you, right then. Why else had you called him? You wanted more business, it was so obvious to him.

“Never met anyone like you.” What he wanted to say was that he’s never met an escort like you. You were selling the whole quality time and date night act well. And he had fallen for it, spending the whole night yearning for another night with you, to be a few hundred dollars less by the end of the night.

You let out a small scoff, keeping your eyes glued to the TV. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment, Simon.” You were, purely because you pictured that cash he gave you. Had it truly been that good of an experience for him? Someone with more than enough practice in the bedroom?

“Take it however you want,” you heard him shuffle, and then his shadow cast on your frame.

You turned your head when you felt a finger tracing your chin, then running along your bottom lip. “As long as I can hear your voice.” His touch made you shiver slightly, sending a rush of head down your hammering chest. So much for warming up with a movie.

The urge to kiss him had never been stronger, but you didn’t dare reach for the fabric concealing his lips. You couldn’t blow this now, not after a day of picturing the second round with him. “You’re giving me those eyes again. You want something?” Your head nodded, though you were speechless from desire. Simon chuckled lowly, admiring your meek effort to answer him.

His hand tightened around your jaw, taking on the role of the commanding figure in the room. “What kind of prick would I be to keep you waiting, then?” His true nature was to give, it was only fair considering how good you were to him the previous night.

The unoccupied hand slid up your thigh until he reached the hem of your shirt, hiking up the fabric until he gave the back of your bra a tug, releasing the hooks until it slid off. His large hands fondled your breasts, running a gentle thumb over the nipple until you produced a soft gasp for him. When he grew impatient, which took little time, he pulled the shirt off your head until your top half was on full display to him.

Slowly but surely, the positions shifted until he was hovering over you on the bed, his knee between your legs. You rocked against it for friction, the pressure of his kneecap pressing on your clothed clit, now slightly swollen from arousal. “A little impatient aren’t we?” He cooed into your ear, the statement plain hypocritical. He couldn’t even sit through a minute of the film you put on before he was looking at you like a piece of meat on a platter.

He picked up the pace of his hands, indulging your impatience. Within seconds, you found yourself on your stomach, the bottoms you were wearing being pulled down with a harsh yank. He lifted each of your legs until you were rid of all your clothes entirely. Now, you were below him and at his mercy; the opposite of last night.

You raised your hips slightly upon feeling his bulge pressed against your ass, a painful tease considering how needy you were. He grasped one of your thighs, spreading them enough to trace his fingers along your core from behind. “Guess I was right.” He purrs into your ear, inserting a finger into your cunt. Simon slowly pumped his finger in and out, adding a second when enough slick pooled down to his knuckles.

His fingers were long enough to stimulate places only your hands could dream of; a foreign, but insatiable sensation to you. You arched your back and writhed feeling the preparation of his fingers, sliding down a hand of your own to circle your clit. But you needed more; he needed more, and he didn’t want you getting sloppy like last night.

Simon withdrew his fingers, snaking one arm around your midsection to keep you in place. “Keep still for me, love.” He murmured straight into your ear, the low octave giving you the chills. Behind you, he tugs at the waistband of his jeans and boxers simultaneously, exposing his stiff length. He could waste time teasing you, it would be so easy with you this desperate. But you didn’t finish last night, and he was aching to feel you come undone around his length.

With one arm still keeping your lower half in place, he guided his cock to your pulsing core, easing himself inside inch by inch. Your breathing hitched, despite this being the second time you felt him stretching you out. Simon eased deeper, until he bottomed out and could feel the bulge of himself through the hand on your stomach.

His thrusts were snappy and deep, his palm pressing on your stomach to enhance the pleasure you were feeling. A spark of pleasure ignited into a consuming wave, making you sputter and mewl at his expense. This was different than last night, not as focused on him, though he was enjoying this just as much. When he went home that night before bed, spending several minutes pumping his length, he was imagining pumping your tight, sticky walls; his fist didn’t compare, not in the slightest. This was too much. But he wouldn’t stop until you finished.

“You’re close aren’t you?” Simon rutted into you with force, moving the hand from your stomach to the base of your throat, pulling you up so your curved back was against his chest. His lips trailed along the back of your neck, peppering sloppy licks and kisses on your prickled flesh.

Your eyes widened slightly at the realization—he had lifted his mask, maybe even taken it off his head completely.

His saliva coated your neck in small spots, adding to the array of sensations, similar to a violent whiplash of pleasure. It was like the previous night, waves of pleasure with each of his slamming thrust into your needy core. Your gummy walls pulsed around him, drawing groans and rolls of his eyes, a slight nibble on your earlobe to keep his approaching climax contained.

Your words were an inconsolable quake by this point. “Fuck— Simon—” A hushed sniggle came through Simon’s agape lips, urging him to make one final move to push you over the edge. He slithered his hand from your throat until it found the nape of your neck, pushing your upper body forward so only your hips remained raised. The switch allowed him to hit an even deeper angle, his balls slapping against your rear with each deafening thrust.

Though his hands were firm when folding you, his words remained gentle and praising, as if he was enjoying them himself. “Gonna cum for me, hm?” He teased with a deep inhale, both hands now thrusting your hips backward onto his length—not easing up on his intensity.

Fire pooled in your lower abdomen, like a swirling inferno going to burst any second. Everything seemed to burn, with the exception of your core. Your muscles ache and contract, a thin layer of sweat formed on your skin, the indents of his fingertips seared doomed to be seared into your memory for days following.

All the building, tight churning; it shattered within seconds of his relentless pounding. You let out a choked sob of pleasure, squeezing your eyes shut as you writhed and twitched around his cock. The deepness of his thrusts, the speed of them, doomed you to the prolonged climax you were expecting.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” the firm hand on your nape releases once your high ceases, “so good for me.” It seemed the moment you hit your own breaking point, he lost all the stamina he had used to prevent his own. Only seconds later, his thrusts had turned sloppy and slow, easing in and out until he drained every last drop of his seed inside you.

What once was a heat from your high, it was now the warmth of his semen pooling inside of your core, seeping out the slower he went. Your hips remained raised, though your thighs burned and shook from the intensity of the activity. When Simon’s hands withdrew from your hips, you rolled onto your side as he removed his sensitive cock.

By the time you turned to face him, the balaclava had already been pulled down over his face again. If you weren’t so vividly focused on the sensations, you might’ve forgotten about how his lips felt. There was no way, not after he made you finish like that.

He tucked his length into his boxers, then pulled up his jeans again, but didn’t bother to button them up again. “How much do I owe you, love?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, peeling away apart his stacks of cash.

You were so caught up in the moment previously, you forgot to mention the elephant in the room. You weren’t an escort, just a woman who hit the hookup lottery. “You know I’m not a hooker, right?” You sat up in the bed, finding the spare quilt and wrapping it around your naked frame.

“Should I be offended?” You questioned again, filling his stunned silence. He was trying to conceal his shock, but his freeze said it all.

He folded his wallet again, tucking it away with a silent glare. Now, you were just plain apprehensive about his answer. At first, the money was flattering, that you were that good for him. But now? What if all he thought of you was a hussy he found in a pub?

When he noticed your crumbling humor about the situation, he scrambled to place a hand on your waist, “this is my bad. You were just— you were plain amazing, sweetheart. I thought you were an over-qualified escort, not some…”

Wow. That could’ve come out better.

The faltered confidence now turned into a grimace, a playful one. His scramble to correct himself, to ensure he didn’t hurt your feelings—it was charming. You couldn’t conceal your snicker as he leaned close, eyes swallowed with guilt.

“I’m not upset, Simon. Not anymore, at least.” You retorted, holding the hand that was on your waist.

Simon let out a sigh of relief, eyes studying you for any sign of doubt. His fingers caressed the fabric of the quilt, brows knitted together with half-seriousness.

You chuckled at his brooding exterior, his whole-hearted attempt at swaying you into being irate. “Was I worth the money?”

He nodded his head sluggishly, the fabric over his mouth shifting as he gave a smirk. “I don’t think any bloke can put a worthy price on that.”

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