#i take my job as personality hire very seriously

[writeriguess]

GUURL What a joy to have you here again. I am very happy to know that you are back to doing something you like and that you do it perfectly anyway. you are amazing, i missed you ╰⁠(⁠*⁠´⁠︶⁠`⁠*⁠)⁠╯

I wanted to request a Bakugou x Reader where he's the bodyguard. maybe something smutty or suggestive with the situation, do what you want with it. (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

author's note: Thank you so much! <3 This scenario is so incredibly hot—I couldn't help but make the smut longer. Katsuki as the reader's bodyguard is just irresistible!

Duty and Desire

The rhythmic clicking of your heels against the marble floors echoed through the grand hallway, each step a reminder of the gilded cage you called life. Tonight’s charity gala was no different from the others—endless forced smiles, hollow conversations, and the subtle undercurrent of danger you’d grown used to.

Trailing behind you was Bakugou Katsuki, his sharp crimson eyes scanning every corner with the intensity of a predator on the hunt. Dressed in a tailored black suit that hugged his broad shoulders and powerful frame, he looked more like someone who belonged at the event than a hired bodyguard. But his scowl—perpetual and deadly—made it clear he wasn’t here to schmooze.

“Will you stop glaring at the walls like they personally offended you?” you teased, glancing back at him with a playful smile.

“Tch. You think this is funny?” he grunted, hands shoved into his pockets. “You’re the one with a damn target on your back. Maybe take it seriously for once.”

You rolled your eyes, but his words carried weight. The threats against you had started small—anonymous emails, cryptic messages slipped under your door—but they’d escalated. Enough for your family to hire Bakugou, a pro-hero known for his explosive temper and unyielding determination, as your personal bodyguard.

Except he didn’t just feel like a bodyguard anymore.

It was in the way his broad shoulders stiffened whenever someone got too close, the way his gaze lingered on you for just a second too long when he thought you weren’t looking. And it was in the way your skin burned whenever his hand brushed yours—brief, accidental, but searing nonetheless.

“Stay close,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff as he stepped forward, placing a firm hand on the small of your back.

The touch was fleeting but deliberate, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You hated how much of an effect he had on you.

“I’m not going to wander off into danger, Katsuki,” you said, turning your head to glance at him.

He arched a brow, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Yeah, well, I’ve seen the way you get when you’re bored. Don’t make my job harder than it already is.”

The night dragged on, the room filled with the kind of people who thought money equaled worth. You navigated the crowd with practiced ease, playing your part as the dutiful representative of your family. But no matter how many times you smiled or shook hands, you were always aware of Bakugou’s presence—his crimson gaze never leaving you.

Every time someone stepped too close, his hand would brush your arm, your back, your waist, guiding you away with a touch that was equal parts protective and possessive.

“You’re hovering,” you said at one point, turning to face him.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the job, princess,” he shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

The nickname sent a jolt through you, as it always did. It wasn’t affectionate—not really—but there was something about the way he said it that made your stomach flip.

The tension between you simmered beneath the surface, growing harder to ignore with every passing moment. By the time the event wound down, you were desperate for some fresh air.

You slipped away to a secluded balcony, the cool night breeze a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. The distant hum of traffic filled the silence as you leaned against the railing, staring out at the city lights.

But, of course, you weren’t alone for long.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” Bakugou said, his voice cutting through the quiet as he stepped onto the balcony. He shut the door behind him, effectively sealing you both off from the rest of the world.

You turned to face him, leaning back against the railing with a faint smile. “You’re off-duty now, aren’t you?”

“Not until you’re home and locked up safe,” he replied, his hands shoved into his pockets as he approached.

His presence was magnetic, his broad frame and piercing gaze drawing you in despite the simmering annoyance in his tone.

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” you said, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

Bakugou scoffed, his lips curving into a smirk. “Yeah? Tell that to the psychos sending you threats.”

The tension between you crackled like static electricity, the unspoken attraction growing harder to ignore. You didn’t know if it was the moonlight catching in his ash-blond hair, the way his suit hugged his muscular frame, or the fact that he was the only person who ever made you feel truly safe—but you couldn’t deny the pull anymore.

“You’re always so serious,” you murmured, your voice dipping into something softer, more intimate.

“And you’re always so damn reckless,” he shot back, stepping closer until there was barely a breath of space between you.

The heat radiating off him was intoxicating, his scent—smoke and spice—clouding your senses. You tilted your head up, your heart pounding in your chest as his crimson eyes bore into yours.

“Maybe I like testing your limits,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bakugou’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides as he stared down at you. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Don’t I?” you challenged, leaning up just enough to close the remaining distance between you.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his breath mingling with yours as he hovered just out of reach. Then, with a growl of frustration—or maybe surrender—he grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against him, his lips crashing into yours.

The kiss was everything you’d imagined: fierce, demanding, and all-consuming. His hands gripped your hips with enough force to leave bruises, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. You gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, his kiss turning rougher, more desperate.

“Knew you’d be trouble,” he muttered against your mouth, his voice rough and low as he pressed you back against the railing.

“And yet, here you are,” you shot back, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tugged him closer.

Bakugou growled, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, lifting you onto the edge of the railing as he stepped between your legs. The cool metal pressed against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his hands as they roamed over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he admitted, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Good,” you breathed, your head falling back as you clung to him. “Because you’re the only one I trust to catch me when I fall.”

His grip tightened, his gaze blazing as he pulled back just enough to look at you. “Damn right I will. But don’t think this changes anything. You’re still a pain in my ass.”

You laughed, leaning forward to press a softer, lingering kiss to his lips. “And you’re still my favorite pain in mine.”

Bakugou’s lips were relentless against your skin, trailing heat down your neck as his hands gripped your thighs firmly, keeping you steady on the edge of the balcony railing. The cool night air did little to temper the fire burning between the two of you, and with every graze of his teeth, every rough kiss, the world outside the balcony seemed to fade further away.

Your hands roamed over his chest, your fingers gripping the lapels of his suit jacket as if anchoring yourself to him. His body felt solid beneath your touch, every muscle tense and coiled with barely restrained energy.

“Katsuki,” you breathed, your voice breaking as his mouth found the sensitive spot just below your jaw.

He growled low in his throat at the sound of his name spilling from your lips, the vibration of it sending a shiver through you. His hands slid higher, brushing the fabric of your dress aside to squeeze your hips. The pressure of his grip made your head spin, but it was the sudden shift of his body against yours that truly sent your pulse skyrocketing.

You gasped as your thighs brushed against his hips, feeling the unmistakable hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of your dress.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your eyes widening slightly as you looked up at him.

Bakugou froze for a moment, his crimson eyes locking onto yours as if daring you to say something. His lips curled into a smirk—cocky, almost predatory—as he leaned in closer, his voice a low growl in your ear.

“You feel that, princess?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “That’s what you do to me.”

The roughness in his voice made your stomach flip, your hands tightening their grip on his jacket as your thighs instinctively pressed together. But he wasn’t about to let you retreat. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you flush against him so you could feel every inch of his arousal pressing against you.

“Shit,” you breathed, your cheeks flushing as a wave of heat pooled low in your belly.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. “That’s what I thought. You’ve been teasing me all night, haven’t you?”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing as he pressed his hips against you again, his movements deliberate and slow. The friction was maddening, and the smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, though your voice came out shakier than you intended.

Bakugou chuckled darkly, his hands sliding down to grip the backs of your thighs. “Flatter myself? Tch, you’re the one squirming.”

“I’m not—” you started, but your words cut off in a gasp as he rolled his hips against yours, the hardness of him pressing perfectly between your legs.

“Not what? Huh?” he taunted, his tone rough and teasing as his lips found yours again, cutting off whatever weak protest you were about to make.

The kiss was dizzying, his tongue sliding against yours with a mix of dominance and desperation. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body arching into him as the heat between you became unbearable.

“Admit it,” he muttered against your lips, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You like this. You like driving me crazy.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your lips curving into a smirk of your own as you leaned in to nip at his bottom lip. “Maybe I do.”

Bakugou growled, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises as he pulled you even closer. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“And you love it,” you countered, your breath hitching as he pressed himself against you again, the hardness of him making you dizzy with want.

“Maybe I do,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as his lips trailed down your neck.

Bakugou's lips were back on yours, searing and demanding, as his hands slid down to grip the backs of your thighs. He pulled you closer to the edge of the railing, locking you in place as his hips pressed firmly against yours. The hardness straining against his pants was impossible to ignore, especially as he shifted his hips deliberately, dragging against you in slow, maddening strokes.

“Katsuki,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the friction sent a jolt of heat straight to your core.

He didn’t respond with words—he didn’t need to. Instead, he growled low in his throat, his hands sliding to the underside of your thighs and hoisting you up higher so you were completely at his mercy. The cool night air hit your legs as the fabric of your dress bunched up around your hips, but the heat of his body pressed against you made you forget the chill.

“Fucking soaked already,” he muttered, his voice rough as his crimson eyes dropped to where your bodies met.

You flushed at his words, your breath hitching as you felt his hips press against you again, harder this time. The thin fabric of your panties did nothing to stop the steady, delicious pressure of him rubbing against you, and you bit your lip to stifle the whimper threatening to escape.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, his tone dripping with arrogance as he rocked his hips against yours, slow and deliberate. The hardness of him pressed perfectly against your damp center, and the friction had your head spinning.

You clung to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric of his suit jacket as your body moved instinctively to meet his. “Shut up,” you whispered, though the way your thighs tightened around him betrayed you.

Bakugou smirked, leaning in to nip at your ear. “Don’t tell me to shut up when you’re grinding on me like this,” he growled, his voice rough and teasing as he thrust against you again, dragging a gasp from your lips.

The movement sent a wave of pleasure through you, the friction just enough to make you ache for more. Your panties were soaked, clinging to your skin as he continued to press against you, his pace growing rougher, more desperate.

“Katsuki,” you whimpered, your head falling back as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“Say my name like that again,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin.

You obliged, your voice breaking on his name as he ground his hips against yours, the rhythm almost punishing now. Every movement sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body arching into his as the heat pooled low in your belly.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he admitted, his grip on your thighs tightening as he held you steady, his movements growing more erratic.

“You’re the one who started it,” you shot back, though your voice was shaky, barely a whisper as your nails raked down his back.

Bakugou chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing your neck as he thrust against you again, harder this time. “Yeah, but you’re the one who’s gonna finish it.”

The tension between you was unbearable, the heat and friction building to a crescendo as his movements grew rougher, more desperate. You could feel every inch of him through his pants, the hard length of him dragging perfectly against your damp panties, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze.

Your breath caught in your throat, your body trembling as you stared up at him. “I—”

“Say it,” he growled, his hips pressing firmly against yours, dragging another gasp from your lips.

“I want it,” you finally whispered, your voice breaking as the words tumbled out.

Bakugou’s eyes darkened, a triumphant smirk curling across his lips as he leaned in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss. “Good,” he muttered against your lips, his movements growing even rougher as he ground against you with enough force to make your legs shake.

The world around you disappeared entirely, leaving only the two of you tangled in a haze of heat and desire, the line between duty and desire long since obliterated.

Bakugou’s movements stilled for a moment, and you felt him pull back just slightly, his forehead pressed against yours. His breath was hot and ragged as his hands slid down to grip your thighs again, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to the edge of your panties.

“You’re killing me,” he muttered, his voice low and rough as he glanced down at where your bodies were pressed together.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as his fingers hooked around the damp fabric of your panties, tugging it to the side with a deliberate slowness that made your pulse race.

“Katsuki—” you started, but your words dissolved into a sharp gasp as his fingers brushed against your bare skin, grazing your slick folds.

“Shut up,” he growled, his eyes dark with hunger as he leaned in to capture your lips in another bruising kiss.

His free hand moved to his belt, and the sound of the buckle clicking open sent a shiver down your spine. You felt the warmth of his hand as he freed himself, the hard length of him brushing against your thigh.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice dripping with arrogance as he shifted his hips, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance. “Already soaked, begging for it. You really are a tease.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you tried to steady yourself. “If I’m such a tease, then what does that make you?” you shot back, though your voice was shaky, breathless.

Bakugou smirked, his lips brushing against yours as he pushed forward just enough for you to feel the pressure of him pressing against you, not quite entering yet. “A guy who’s about to give you exactly what you’ve been asking for.”

The heat between you was unbearable, the tension snapping as he finally rolled his hips forward, pushing into you slowly, inch by inch. Your breath hitched, your head falling back as he filled you, the stretch of him making your thighs tremble.

“Fuck,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself fully inside you. “So fucking tight.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a low groan from him as you arched into him. “Katsuki,” you whimpered, your voice breaking on his name as he pulled back slightly before thrusting into you again, harder this time.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough as his movements grew more deliberate, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Katsuki,” you repeated, your voice trembling as your body moved in rhythm with his.

“That’s right,” he muttered, his lips finding your neck as he bit down gently, his teeth grazing your skin. “You’re mine tonight.”

The world around you faded away entirely, leaving only the heat of his body against yours, the sound of your ragged breaths mingling in the cool night air. Every thrust, every whispered growl of your name, pushed you closer to the edge, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as his movements became more erratic, more desperate. “I’m not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that.”

You gasped, your nails raking down his back as the pressure built inside you, your body trembling with the force of it. “I—I’m close,” you managed to whisper, your voice breaking as his thrusts grew harder, faster.

“Then come for me,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he held you steady, driving into you with a relentless pace.

It was all you needed. The tension snapped, and a wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body arching into his as you cried out his name. He wasn’t far behind, his movements growing erratic as he groaned low in his throat, his grip on you almost bruising as he found his own release.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, tangled together on the edge of the balcony, your breaths mingling as the cool night air wrapped around you.

“Fuck,” Bakugou muttered, his voice rough as he finally pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “You really are trouble.”

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you leaned in to kiss him, softer this time. “And you love it.”

His lips curved into a smirk, his crimson eyes glinting with amusement—and something deeper. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low. “Maybe I do.”

Feel free to request <3

[cinewhore]

love being a young professional (wearing a ‘shrek around and find out’ shirt during an important zoom meeting)

[sublux]

i'm so mad i don't have private insurance through an employer so i could get any kind of therapy or medication or anything. tags are a rambling rant

[tj-crochets]

Good news: after a lot of weeks, my air conditioner is fixed!! Also good news: I caught an error in the software at work that was impacting both contractor pay and customer invoicing! Bad news: going through large amounts of data loosely falls under the purview of the department I am now sort of in charge of, which meant my department (which is me and two other people) had to individually open every single order from [specific subset of customers] since the beginning of the year to manually check if either error had occurred. Hundreds of orders, even with a few different criteria we could use to narrow it down. It's done though! I mean the error is not fixed but previous instances of it causing problems are caught and now that we know it exists we can catch future problems before they are invoiced/paid out I have done zero crafting today and I honestly doubt I will get any done lol

[arolesbianism]

Thinks abt my lob corp nuggets oh so hard. I may only have second hand half remembered knowledge of project moon worldbuilding but I will still forever obsess over my lil guys who suck absolute ass

[somnoir]

My father's secretary

Danny Fenton did not expect to be secretary material but after 7 years of being a hero and having Jazz as his elder sister, he was damn good at it. He needed a job, he knew that, and Wayne Enterprises was willing to hire a 21 year old taking online college classes for aerospace engineering.

And he was fucking thankful for that cause Mr. Wayne was pretty neat and bought him good food and coffee whenever he looked out of it. Half his family were already in Gotham with only his parents in Amity. They were finally reformed and now their research finally advocated for the rights of ghosts and spread awareness on their culture. Good for them.

Jazz and Dante were in Arkham working as a psychologist and guard. Elle was still in school, enrolled into Gotham Academy once Vlad insisted on paying her tuition. To be fair, he was paying for Danny's tuition too.

But back to his secretary duties. His boss was Bruce Wayne, yes, but he did often work with the man's son and the current CEO. Tim was nice and had the same caffeine addiction as him. (Jazz highly discouraged this friendship in case they both made a monstrosity of coffee and energy drinks.)

But Mr. Wayne was the best. He was rather clumsy and a bit airheaded but he was the best fucking boss he could ever ask for. The man's paternal instincts were on point and Danny was almost intimidated when the man started handing him extra cash whenever Danny came to the office looking more tired than usual. When that failed, Mr. Wayne resorted to giving him more material things.

Now, he doesn't want to take advantage of this ridiculously kind man with a lack of self preservation (God, was this what Jazz felt about him?). But Mr. Wayne had given him this amazing coffee maker and then proceeded to give Danny the best toaster ever. And Danny has always been known to resolutely be against Billionaires adopting him. But Mr. Wayne?

Danny had honed his back talking skills to perfection to talk down arrogant elites that kept demanding for his boss. He mastered his customer service voice and that condescending look he saw the receptionists give people like they were tantruming toddlers. Danny was ready to fight for that man (Vlad was choking somewhere as the Fentons worriedly look at him).

Jason has heard about Danny Fenton a couple of times. Tim, Dick, and Bruce had mentioned him a lot. Bruce's new secretary that looked like he'd woken up from a coma and was comparable to a grumpy cat on his best days. He's seen the guy a couple times, noticed how he was almost as tall as Jason. Honestly, he kinda looked like a twig (but then that was because of Danny's suit that he made sure didn't completely fit him).

Seriously. Danny was willing to fucking fight anyone and everyone for Bruce Wayne.

The guy was strange. Very strange. Especially when the pits seemed to either become frantic or calm whenever he was around. It depended on the situation really, but mostly the pits grew calmer around Fenton. Like a cat that finally saw its favorite person. It was so weird.

He was drawn to Fenton, sometimes finding himself walking towards the man before he snaps out of it.

It's on this day where Danny was by Bruce's side, a stylus and tablet in hand. He was furiously tapping away at his phone, cursing under his breath about bothersome and stuck up cialiteses.

"Jason!" Bruce happily greets, "Don't mind Danny for a bit. He's telling of some investors for trying to meddle with the company. Tim is too sleep deprived to handle it."

"Where is Tim?"

"Danny threatened to throw the company's coffee maker out the window if he doesn't take a nap." Bruce chuckles, glancing fondly at his fiesty secretary. "Danny?"

"Give me a minute, Mr. Wayne. Some people are trying to squeeze into your schedule when I specifically told them that they can't." Danny says, clearly irritated but looks at Bruce with an apologetic gaze. "No—Mr. Luthor, neither Mr. Drake nor Mr. Wayne are available on that day—"

And it dissolved into Danny telling of what Jason assumes was Lex Luthor to stop his attempts. In other words, corporate for Fuck off.

"He's good, isn't he?" Jason humms as he follows Bruce down the hall, glancing at the tired employees that looked utterly exhausted and horrifically motivated. "Looks like adoption bait."

"Unfortunately, Danny is a very much against Billionaires adopting him. His godfather is one and has attempted multiple times." Bruce sighs, feigning a sorrowful look as he sends Danny a small pout. "What did you do when he tried the fifth time again?"

"I blew up his car, Mr. Wayne." Danny nonchalantly says, "But that only made him want to adopt me more."

Jason blinks, baffled before he's laughing at the utter absurdity of the situation.

"That sounds similar to—"

Gunshots tore through the air as people immediately screamed. At the entrance of the building was the Joker in all his insanity, guns blazing. Jason froze, sucking in a deep breath as he took one step back. They weren't in costume, they weren't the Red Hood and Batman in that moment.

"Nightwing, Robin, and Spoiler are on their way." Oracle says through the comms but that doesn't comfort him in the slightest.

It's chaos in moments and people are ducking their heads to avoid the bullets. Jason and Bruce look right at each other, taking cover as bullets ruin the walls and furniture. But Bruce is dragged from his spot, pulled towards the Joker who laughs maniacally as he pressed a gun against Bruce's head.

"Mr. Wayne!" Many people yell as they all stared in horror as the Joker threatens Gotham's beloved prince.

Jason immediately remembers an explosion and a crowbar.

(Reminder, Danny Fenton was very much ready to go to war for Bruce Wayne).

A tablet and a stylus was suddenly shoved into his arms. Jason blinks, turning to Danny who tugs at his tie and rummages through the counter for something. The Joker sees this, clearly irritated.

"You! Eyes on me!" The Joker practically demands, hysterical that not everyone was paying attention.

Danny apparently doesn't give a damn before looking the Joker straight in the eye.

"Eyes in me." Danny repeats.

A second later something was thrown and a cutter was cutting through the Joker's eye.

Jason gaped at the seemingly harmless secretary, unable to comprehend that this man had just thrown a fucking cutter into the Joker's eye.

Bruce is set free.

Everyone is frozen in place.

Everyone watched as Bruce Wayne's tired and overworked secretary beats the shit out of the Joker, saying something about how he wasn't going to lose a good boss.

No one particularly knows what to do once Danny pulls out the cutter with the Jokers blood and... Fucking shit, was that his eyeball?!

Dick and Damian arrived at some point, also too shocked to do anything. When Danny was done and satisfied, with the Joker still alive, groaning and whimpering from the pain that Danny inflicted.

As if he hadn't almost killed the Joker, Danny turns to them with a tired smile.

"Mr. Wayne, I implore you not to die. I can't lose the best boss that I've had." He plainly says and takes the tablet and stylus back from Jason.

Jason thinks he might just marry this feral man.

Yeah.

Yeah, he was definitely going to marry Danny Fenton.

Part 2 | Masterpost

[simpjaes]

SWEET LITTLE MONEY MAKER. ― S.JY

When your best friend quite literally gifts you an entire man, you realize that you’re in no place to pretend that you don’t love it.  or the one where you’re very much an “i don’t need a man” type of person, and Jake shows you that you do, in fact, need a man….him, you specifically need him. Only because he needs you. 

MDNI! reblogs help writers, so please show your support through a reblog! PAIRING ― stripper!sim jaeyun x rich!afab reader

WORDCOUNT― 13.6k

CONTENT―  he’s a switch and desperately wants to be ur sugar baby, you’re a boring rich bitch who has no interest at first, masturbation, reader is kind of power-hungry, jake chokes her NOTE ― if you’ve read this before, specifically for jeno, hi. that was written by me back in 2022 except now it’s way better and not an absolute trash-fire. enjoy! not proof read kind of.

nsfw tags under cut::

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

NSFW TAGS― jake is a stripper so obv dancing and stripping, HE’S VERY SWITCH BUT MOSTLY SUBBY HERE, hand job, masturbation, choking without permission, finger fucking, making out, protected sex omg GASP, slight nipple play, riding, lil bit of stomach bulge, sensitive cock continues to get fucked lmfao

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It was a gift, or rather, he was the gift.

A downpayment of six hundred dollars told you enough about the man. It’s obvious he offers his services to lonely, sad, rich women who have no one else to spend their money on. A parasite, a leech, is what he is. Yet, still, your best friend has been taunting you with the idea for months in an attempt to have you give the guy a try.

She had apparently heard of the infamous Jake through various means. All rich women, all lonely and unsatisfied women. Which, to you only seems like a fucking insult to be taunted with the very idea of hiring this man. What is she implying? That you’re lonely and unsatisfied? Please.

Some best friend. Then again, she has since experienced Jake herself, and now her taunting feels more like…promises. 

“He’s so clean, toned, and oh god–” She had paused with a flush across her cheeks as she thought back to the heated night. “The way he moves, shit, he teases so much. I could have died right then and there if he were to–” 

The expression of disinterest on your face did not halt her doting, nor did the blatant grimace you eventually shot at her. Genuinely, you cannot take her seriously. Already you know too much about her, which is nice and all, but you could do without the details of her little stripper friend and how “wet” he left her. 

“I even heard that sometimes he even gives special treatments with his services…” She had rolled her eyes after she said that, almost looking offended. “Not that I'd know or anything, he took my cash and left when our session was up.” 

You recall knowing exactly what that “treatment” probably entailed, and the reason your best friend didn’t get it was likely due to the fact that she’s, well, not that rich. You’d assume such an expensive man wouldn’t give special treatments to women who wouldn’t end up being repeat customers anyway. Or, maybe, he just wasn’t trying to drain her dry. 

And even with all of the information being dangled in front of your face, practically force fed to you, the image should be more delicious than the century-old wine you have every night at dinner– for the entire duration of her doting compliments of Jake, you are simply not fucking interested. There’s other things to do in life, more to worry about than getting your body excited for someone who will never finish the job. 

Last week was when your bestie told you all about her single night with him. In fact, her entire visit was just her speaking of him, of how great he is, of how alluring he is. Arguably, you see that she’s a bit obsessed. Does it make you curious? Maybe a little bit, but not enough to actually give him a go yourself. And so, after that visit, you watched her leave with a menacing, evil little glint in her eye. You ignored it, as per usual considering she’s always up to something, unaware that the visit she lends to you today is not a complimentary marketing campaign of a male stripper, no, it’s a fucking ambush. 

When she appeared at your doorstep, she said nothing. She didn’t even look you in the eye, actually. Weird.  She did, however, have an envelope in her hand and you were almost offended at how she threw it at you and trotted away without a single greeting or goodbye. No afternoon lunch over champagne, no gossip, no advertising. Just an envelope. 

Suspicious.

Upon opening said envelope, you find that your bitch of a best friend dropped that six hundred dollar down payment, likely in an attempt to force you out of being the stick in the mud that you always are. There’s a note. Your name in bold letters, a date, a time, and a signature of none other than “Jake Sim” with a fucking website on the back. 

Shortly after huffing and rolling your eyes, about two seconds from tossing her six hundred dollars in the trash, you feel your phone ping to show your best friend texting you. 

Best Friend: I paid for it, you just have to tip him. a lot. tip him a lot. You: why the fuck would you buy a stripper for me?

Best Friend: you need it, trust me. 

So, now here you are waiting for that knock on your door and wondering why you even tried to look nice for some dude that’s about to swing his meat in your face. Appearance, reputation, whatever. Fucking unbelievable, you think, that there’s a stripper out there that only does private parties and your own best friend thinks you need it? You could have any dick you want, why the fuck should you have to pay just to look? 

He’s going to be expecting more than just you here, alone in your house. Surely, he won’t be expecting to waltz into someone’s home all oiled up only to find one very disinterested woman. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

To your dismay, Jake has apparently already been warned of you. Your best friend probably told him that you’re a nightmare, too difficult to fluster or gain an interest from. The first words out of his mouth when you opened your door was “She said you’d give me that look.”

Still, even so, your best friend wasn’t lying to him. You played the part of yourself all too well as you watched him saunter into your home as if he owned the place. You’re impressed actually, with the way he doesn’t seem to feel out of place in such a lavish room. He looks…comfortable here as he scopes out his stage for the night, like he belongs. 

“Big place, looked smaller on the outside.” He says casually, filling the silence in the room since you make no attempt yourself to greet him. 

You watch as he tosses his bag beside your living room couch and eyes the spacious area just in front of the large fireplace. His eyes flick to the windows, to the walls, counting the outlets and looking for shelves with space. 

“The smaller the better, sometimes it feels too big in here for just me.” You finally speak, admitting a small weakness of yours almost immediately. You are lonely, despite never wanting to admit it. And you watch as he shrugs, now crouching to grab wires from his bag. 

“Oh yeah?” He glances at you. “Must get lonely. What a good friend to purchase me to help you with that.”

You bite the inside of your cheek at that, noting his calm and cool tone as he talks his business. The little smirk at the corner of his lips is charming, but it’s all for show. He’s just a pretty man, that’s all he’s got going for him and you guess you can respect the hustle. 

“This was not my doing.” You cross your arms, pretending to be unimpressed. 

“Yeah, yeah–” He waves you off as he begins to set up, making space for small lights to set the mood, looking to see if you have a sound system he can use. “I already know that you’re new to this.” He’s still calm, still collected.

“Lucky for you, first-timers are my favorite to entertain.” He smirks again, now looking directly at you as he, now, fluffs some of your couch pillows. 

Your curiosity spikes again only for a moment. You really did think that the initial meeting would be different, less casual. You half expected him to waltz in cock swinging. Wasn’t he, like, supposed to pretend to be a cop or something? You know, show up and press play on a magical stereo that didn’t exist beforehand and start vibrating on you? 

Instead, he’s just setting up…fully clothed in a ratty sweater with jeans that hug his thighs. He doesn’t appear at all to be a man that gets paid to take his clothes off. It makes you wonder. Makes you want to ask questions. Then again, you still have no interest in learning about him considering you already know exactly what he will be doing soon enough. 

“You’re good with the mood lighting, yeah? Or do you prefer the morgue lighting?” His eyes shoot up to the bright white lights on your ceiling as he goes for his laptop now, presumably to connect it to your very obvious sound system.

You only take slight offense to his comment on your living room lighting, considering you have a control panel that can make them way less blinding, but– he’s right. And now you’re a little insecure that you prefer such a drab color in your home. You make your way to the wall, clicking the buttons on the panel just to prove you have warm lighting too, and that you can adjust the brightness. 

“Ah, perfect.” Jake hums from across the room, eyes focused on his laptop screen before glancing to you and your extravagant light switch. “A little lower.” He guides you, knowing exactly which lighting accentuates his toned body the best when paired with his own little LED colored lights. 

You turn the knob slightly, wondering just how good he must be at dancing in houses like this one. 

“Little more.” He smiles

You dim the lighting more, looking at him and his relaxed posture. 

“Right there.” He finishes in a more gentle tone, eyes focusing back on his laptop as he prepares not only the playlist but the mood lighting from his end too. Red. Lots of red.

And you just watch, his voice ringing in your ears as you try to pretend that your best friend wasn’t right. Even with just this casual set up…he’s…goddamn, he’s alluring. In that ratty old sweater, with his messy hair and pretty smile. 

Stunning. 

This motherfucker is stunning. 

“Go and sit–” Jake says now, nodding to your couch as he places his laptop down, presumably done with the set up. “Just tell me where I can get myself ready and I’ll be back out shortly.” 

You point towards the guest bathroom as you take your seat on the couch, unsure as to why your hands feel so clammy. And by the time he rounds the corner and you can hear the bathroom door shut, you attempt to make yourself comfortable. 

And goddammit, no matter how many times you’ve napped here on this plush and soft surface, you can’t find the comfort here right now. The curiosity of why you’re okay with this burns in your gut despite knowing exactly why. Despite the fact that your best friend can always see straight through you and know exactly what you are. 

At the end of the day though, why the curiosity exists isn’t what matters. It’s the curiosity itself. You want to know how much money Jake makes doing this, if he likes doing it, how he got started, what he does to advertise himself in a way to only find women like you, and many other things. Countless things. He’s hot as hell, actually, and how he’s come to do this kind of work is either one of two things. One being that he’s using what the Gods gave him to the fullest. Two, being that he had no other choice. 

If he’s going to be paid to give you attention, the least you can hope is that he does it because he enjoys it, not because he has to do it. And if it does end up being because he has to do it, then perhaps his tip would be even larger than what you’d give for the ladder. 

You’re uncomfortable. 

The fact looming that you genuinely could go out and find a man at any given moment, yet here you are with a man forced upon you because you simply won’t do it. The implications of this man being here, why he’s here, how he ended up in this situation. 

You’ve never been one to care, so why start now? 

“You overthink too much.” Your best friend had said to you once, twice, hundreds of times during your friendship.  Maybe she’s right, maybe you should just enjoy the show without feeling entitled to a slutty man’s life story.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake remains in the bathroom for a good thirty or so minutes, each of them passing like a nightmare in your head. Back and forth your brain goes, from not wanting to be in this situation to fighting yourself for being such a fucking bore. A very, very attractive man is primping himself for you to look at, he’s going to come out and do his best to turn you on, the least you can do is let yourself enjoy something for once. Enjoy him. Gawk and fawn over him. After all, at least you know there’s no promise to be had after he leaves. 

No missed calls, no blocked numbers. This is business. 

Fucking thankfully, the moment he comes out of your bathroom your mind has adjusted itself into the correct state of mind for this. A torturous adventure of thoughts, but you made it nonetheless. You actually can’t even look away from him now that he’s revealed himself, even when you tried. He isn’t dressed in anything that looks tacky or cheap. Hell, he doesn’t even look sexual. He just looks…

Expensive. 

Jake genuinely looks like this is a place where he belongs. He smells like he belongs here, walks and murmurs like it too. 

You feel yourself physically react to him in his blazer and dress pants. Business is what got you to where you are today, but never have you found the attire sexy in any way until now. The suit looks much like what your team would wear day to day in the office. Always all those shy men coming into your office, stuttering through their questions and need for approvals. Jake isn’t stuttering in his suit though, he’s standing confidently at his laptop as if he hasn’t even noticed you staring yet. 

One look from him though is all he needed. Choosing this attire for someone like you is sure to mix both business and pleasure. It was a gamble of course, to bring your work home for you, but he does have the slight hope that you’ll never look at a man in a suit the same way again after this. 

And goddamn the way his abs were glistening in the dim lighting before he had turned away from you. His blazer was partially open revealing nothing but skin when he walked into the room, and you honestly wonder if he even needed to do that. He could be fully clothed at this point and you think the room would still feel hotter than usual given your mind-state. 

The way his belt held his pants on his hips was enough to have you thinking, looking as if it’s begging to be unbuckled just so the sound of it could fill your ears. The way the blazer widens his shoulders much more than the sweater from before. He looks bigger right now, both physically and in aura. 

The scent of him wafted off of him in an even prettier way when paired with his image. He smells like a sweet type of musk, something you’d be interested in drinking alongside your dinner on special occasions. And under the assumption that the scent is why his abs are fucking glistening– fucking body oil. He uses body oil for this.

His hair rustles about when he turns to face you again, this time with the bass of whatever song he’s playing accentuating each step towards you. So…the talking is done then? Your cheeks heat up at how quickly he starts his session with you, even without a single roll of his body. Already, you could eat him alive, the smirk on his face leading your eyes straight to him. 

Trailing down, down down. To his neck, that small glimpse of exposed chest, to the even more exposed lower abdomen section. His belt.

“Good?” He asks, leaning over you and placing his hands on either side of your head as he grips the couch.

You can’t look up at him, eyes training on his chest that you can now fully see through his single buttoned blazer. That same sweet musk assaulting your lungs. 

Watching you from up here, Jake can tell you’re going to be fun to play with. A woman with such a harsh exterior now melting at the mere image of him when he’s got the right lights on him. To be fair, he really was warned and prepared by your friend, which didn’t seem the type to afford him on more than one occasion.

He thought it was nice that she paid for another session, shocking him to learn that it wasn’t for herself at all. What a wonderful friend, and what a bitch you’d be to have turned him away. 

Finally, you nod to him, still eyeing his body in a shameful show of how much you genuinely did need this. What’s so bad about paying to look? Especially when the man is Jake, and he’s presenting himself like this.

“Rule number one.” Jake smiles, swaying in front of you as his grip tightens against the couch, wanting you to feel trapped and hopefully mesmerized by him, “I only accept bills of twenty, fifty, and one hundred. If you toss a fucking dollar, I’m leaving.” 

That’s clearly not an issue you could fathom having, despite your internal protests. You only carry bigger bills anyway so you nod to him, quickly forgetting he even shared that ridiculous rule that would never apply to you by means of watching his hips swirl rather than sway. You see the heaviness in his pants, and you wonder if he gets himself hard for these little shows. 

You fear looking up at his face now too, because you know he’s staring down at you, watching your every breath, every move. 

“Rule number two,” He lends down now, lowering his voice and blowing against your ear in a short breath. “Don’t touch me without being invited, or without asking.”

Now, that’s a rule that applies to you only because you immediately want to defy it. There’s a knee jerk reaction almost that makes you want to reach out, to grip his flexing body and pull it closer. You wanted to feel how slick his skin is with that wonderfully scented oil. You wanted the scent on your fingers for later, you wanted to feel how warm he must be. 

He doesn’t wait for your nod this time though, already noticing a familiar look on your face that he gets from most, if not all, of his clients. This is why he’s so in demand, after all. If he plays hard to get, sometimes he gets more out of his sessions. Sometimes he even gets a repeat client. 

“And rule number three–” He continues, this time pulling back and positioning his face in front of yours. This rule appears to be an important one, the rule where you need to look at his face rather than his body. As if it needs to be heard. “I won’t touch you unless you ask– or beg.” 

What you’re not realizing at this moment is that rule number three isn’t something he often speaks of. Sometimes, very rarely, Jake is in a mood when he goes out on a job. Condoms are always with him, just in case, but he never intends to use them or utter rule number three until meeting said client. They pay to look at him, not to touch him, however…if they pique his interest he surely offers the third rule. 

And if a client never hears of it, they know that even if they ask to touch, he would never. Even if they want him to touch, he wouldn’t touch anywhere too pleasurable. 

Meaning, you were right to assume what he was doing in your bathroom for so long. His hand felt better than usual against his length for the split second he had of tucking it into the most attractive position. He knew instantly that tonight was one of those nights, and you were to be a point of his own desire too. He played with himself for a bit, allowing himself to get half hard before coming out of the bathroom.

The way you looked at him finished the job, allowing his cock to grow to full attention at the mere sight of you fawning over him in silent discomfort. So– yeah, the third rule being for you was a given. 

And when you swallow around a lump in your throat and look dead into his eyes, he thinks you know exactly what he means too. You’re lucky his cock is acting up, hell, he’s lucky it’s acting up. Look at you, fuck. Those tired eyes look ignited, and what luck the two of you have to have ever known your best friend. 

“Deal?” He finally says, tilting his head cutely and waiting for you to nod. And you do nod, just as he suspected you would. Slowly, before glancing down at his body again. 

He knows now that it’s time to start moving. Really moving.

“Is the song okay?” He asks, now pulling back and bracing himself against the back of your couch with all of his strength. “It was picked specifically for you.”

You’re not entirely what he means by that, but you assume your friend must have told him what she thinks you’d like. 

“It’s fine.” You say, glancing away from his direct eye contact and suddenly feeling like a love-struck puppy in the way you feel so incredibly fucking shy because of him.

Jake notes that you didn’t ask what he meant by the song, but he doesn’t push. He’s better at talking with his body anyway. So, he begins to focus. Opting to start slowly and work his way up, specifically to work you up. 

He steps back and away from the couch, centering himself in your living room as he closes his eyes and stretches his arms up to loosen his body a little more. Most of his clients love to see the way his muscles move as he stretches, and he suspects you’re of the same mind. 

This entire playlist is chosen for clients like you. The ones he intends to let see all of him if they so wish to. The music is slow, the bass is strong, and each beat runs through the body in a way that makes him shiver. He can move as if he’s fucking you even from across the room without so much as a touch, and he knows you’ll realize it.

He’s at his best too, when this sort of thing happens to him. The eye contact is more intense, his hips are more pointed for a reason other than payment, and arguably he feels he’s most attractive like this too. Considering the countless times he’s been paid to dance and expose himself to women he’d never even look at twice, it always hits differently when a client is just his type. 

And when he looks at you through the start of his dance, you appear to be painfully stiff against that soft couch. He smirks, a small chuckle rumbling from his chest. If only you knew how lucky you are, knowing his clients would be on their knees for a chance to experience him like this. 

The fact that it’s your first time doing this…he’d be smart to not pull this shit on you. He’s never tried this with a new client, after all but–fuck, just look at you.

Jake’s hips move on their own for the most part, he doesn’t have to think much when he’s getting into it. He easily dances along to the music for you, as if it’s second nature to him despite not yet removing any clothing. It’s the build-up for him now, and he thinks it may be that for you too. Of course, if he leaves your house tonight with a large tip in his pocket and a hard, untouched cock, that’s fine too, though not preferable. 

You watch him the same way he watches you, after all, the electricity for this to play out is there. It’s rare that he can feel goosebumps raise on his skin by a mere look from a woman that looks far too powerful despite sitting there helpless. He’s making you helpless, the dim lighting of this room accentuating his body is making you helpless. 

And truly, you find yourself understanding with each shadow on his stomach as to why he’s so favored in the groups of lonely women. Arguably, you’re shocked your best friend decided to share him.

As the song begins to fade, Jake readjusts himself. He watches you during the brief silence, a sort of fondness in his eyes making you wonder if he’s looking at you or if he does this for everyone. It feels intimate with the way his eyes slowly scan your body in the quiet room. As if the silence doesn’t need to be filled with anything other than eye contact.

For him though, a woman has never met his eye between songs. Typically, their eyes are glued to his chest, cock, hands, and neck– never his eyes. They’re muttering, moaning, or shouting for him to hurry up, that the clock is ticking and they want to see more. But not you. Even as the next song plays, your eyes stay focused on his until he looks away and starts closing the distance. He skews his body now, allowing you to see him in profile. 

In some ways, you have him feeling a bit flustered in the way you keep meeting his eye despite his body making a show for you. He’s never had to act with his face more than he has with you, even as he drops to his knees during a particular part in the song, thrusting his hips forward in an attempt to make you imagine yourself bent over on the floor in front of him. 

He glances to his side, and still you’re searching his face.

He, now, looks back down for a moment, finding himself trying to guide yours somewhere else. He knows his job is to be looked at, to be seen, but this is far too seen for his liking. Thankfully, your eyes do follow his, and you gasp at the way he moves. 

Your mouth falls open, gripping the hem of your dress as you imagine exactly what he intended.

The fact that this is your first time, Jake realizes this is new ground for him too. Typically, he speaks with his body and it appears now, he needs to portray some form of sexuality to you with his eyes. Like the roles are switched, he has to do to you what you’re supposed to be doing to him.

This is new, but warranted. Easy, even, for him to do it because he does want you.

You watch him intently, not fully realizing that you’re barely watching him fuck the air in front of him. Yeah, you see that too, but your eyes always go back to his and now, his own gaze is meeting yours. His gaze is searching your body, watching you move in reaction. From the way your fingers grip at the clothes he’d like to see on the floor later, to the way you slightly rub your legs together in a way that is almost too easy to miss. This alone is enough for him as his eyes burn their gaze into you. Much like you’re supposed to be doing to him.

He’s supposed to be able to look at you and know exactly what you’re thinking. So be it, the least he can do is let you know what he’s thinking. 

Jake’s dance is more intentional now when he leans back on his arms, throwing his head back but keeping his head turned towards you. He tries to show you specifically what he would do to you. That bulge in his pants is large and blatant as he thrusts forward and back to the music. You glance to it, offering the same jittery reactions of arousal. 

And this is when he allows his blazer to slide off of his shoulders, reaching to unbutton that single clasp for it to go sliding to the floor. He continues his movements through it, watching your eyes move to his arms and the strength used to hold himself up, his skin more and more visible to you. You do try to keep eye contact but…well, the way his abs flex when he presses forward, going concave with each inhale of those sensual lips that constantly smirk at you. 

It’s a shame, really, to know that the bulge in his pants will remain there, unseen. 

With his blazer now pooled at his wrists, he regains his focus. He wants you so badly by this point that it’s driving him crazy how hard he’s having to work for it. You’re supposed to be feeling this way, not him. Even if he can see that his routine is causing a reaction from you, he’s practically masturbating himself against the inseam of his pants just to get you to say something to him. 

Meaning, he needs to work harder. The current song is soon to be replaced with another, his favorite to dance to, his favorite to fuck to. And to be fair, by the time this playlist gets to this song on this specific playlist, usually his clients are already shaking under him. Not you though, you’re holding yourself back and he can fucking see it.

He ignores the fact that it’s technically not time for him to move on to his next set of dancing, mostly because he almost never has to get to this part, he leaves his blazer on your floor as he positions himself back on his knees, turning towards you this time and looking you straight in the eyes. The fact that he’s hard and horny is enough to amplify the way he’s looking at you, confidence so high that he’s fine with being seen in any way you want.

He’s slow when he does it, crawling a few steps closer to you. You watch the way his shoulders move in the light, his eyes rounded and cheeky, his hair falling in front of them with a charming movement. It’s not intentional when you rub your legs together at the image yet again, very much wanting to spread them the closer he gets to you. 

You can’t help but think he looks smaller on his hands and knees, eyes looking up at you as if he could eat you whole. You do wonder if your face reads the same for him, with the nervousness hitting you off and on. 

“You’re hot when you look down at me like that.” Jake mutters out of nowhere under the veil of his music, stopping in place in front of you, planting himself right at your feet. “I’d like to touch you, is that okay?”

Nevermind the fact that Jake has never actually had to ask to touch a client before, he really can’t help it at this point. His cock is aching in his pants and he isn’t quite ready to wait an entire playlist worth of songs just to put his clothes back on and leave the door with pain between his legs. He very much wants to fuck something right now, preferably someone.

You.

On the other hand, he’s pleased to see how fucking fast you accept his request. Yes, he can touch you. Fuck, you want him to touch you.

And the whole idea that this is just him doing his job is so far in the back of your mind right now that you almost forget that he probably does this to most of the women he’s paid to entertain. Quite frankly, you don’t give a fuck. You can pretend that he only does this for you, you can live in a fantasy just for a night. 

Jake lends you a smile as the current song finally fades out, the silence back except this time, you’re not looking into his eyes when you nod. 

He’s slow when he places his hand on your knees, rubbing up, up, up until he’s able to lift himself and hover over you. He intentionally pushes your dress up your thighs, solely because he wanted to see you rub them together in full, shameless view for him. He wants to know what his body does for you. What it does to you. 

And he stands, hovering over you for a moment with his hands glued to your thighs before he stares down at them. You just do as he expected, you rub your legs together, you look anywhere but at his eyes now, your hands grip the couch beneath you.

“I’m going to get on top of you,” Jake says now, dipping his head into your line of sight and forcing eye contact again, now gripping the back of the couch rather than your thighs, Just as he did when all of this started. “Would you like that?”

“Do you do this for all of your clients?” You suddenly ask with a smaller voice than you gave him upon opening your door. You breathe in sharply when he moves instead of answering your question immediately. 

He spreads his legs, propping himself right on your lap, facing towards you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest radiating near your face. 

“What kind of answer are you looking for?” He laughs fondly, grabbing your hands and placing them on his chest. “You should touch me, by the way.” He foregoes his own rule with that one, not wanting to wait any longer for you to maybe ask him yourself. “Just pull away if you don’t want to.” He adds, guiding your hands over his chest and down his abdomen.

“You didn’t answer my question–” You interrupt him, feeling the warmth pool and drip into your panties. “It’s a yes or no question.”

He chuckles sweetly, stopping your hands at his abs and holding them there. 

“No,” he admits, moving his focus to the music now that he’s got your hands on him. “I don’t do this for all  of my clients.” 

Jake isn’t sure why he does it, but now he can’t bring himself to look at you. The eye contact feels more intimate than it should with you asking him such a question and demanding an answer. Even as he swirls his hips, feeling his clothed cock rub up and against you every few seconds, it feels almost too intimate. 

“Oh, yeah?” You nervously chuckle back, feeling his muscles move beneath your hand as he thrusts his hips forward. 

“You know,” He mutters, guiding your hands a bit lower despite his own confusion at how much he’s enjoying this moment with you. You feel the cold metal of his belt buckle against your palm and you think he’s going to stop there, like maybe this is just something he does to amp up the show or something, but no. He drags your hand down further until you feel the warmth of his cock under his pants..  

Your pulse quickens as your ears start to ring. Your eyes avoid where your hand is right now, taking in a deep breath and looking up at him with question. He’s not looking back though, instead, his head is dropped and he’s staring at his pathetic bulge against your hand. He’s dancing into it, against it.

“I’ve never gotten this hard over a client that doesn’t want me.” He admits shamefully in a pathetic little laugh, bucking against your palm again to the beat of the song. “I can’t tell if I’m doing my job well enough.”

You feel shocked at that. A client that doesn’t want him? Is he fucking insane?! Then again, you need to be honest with yourself sometimes. You’ve tried to appear as uninterested as possible until he started crawling to you. There is clear attraction, obvious needs swirling in the air right now. You force yourself now to look at your hand with the hefty bulge rubbing desperately against it. The sheer size of him is something entirely different from what you were expecting out of him. This feels forbidden.

Wrong, even, But goddamn. The man is masquerading his dance solely so he can fuck against your right now. Maybe you should show some interest. 

“You’re doing well, Jake,” You finally mutter to him, the first compliment you’ve given since he got here. 

“Yeah?’ He sighs out, relieved as his hips press harder into your palm. Arguably, he’s not even dancing at this point, just trying to get off. “How well?”

Yeah, he’s a little desperate at this point for you to do something on your own. It’s so out of character for him to do all of this just to…well, get off.

“Show me,” He raises his brows, now removing his hands from yours and running them up his chest. His hips continue to move on you, and he watches you as you hold your hand in place. “Come on, the buckle is right there–” he nearly pleads. “You don’t have to be shy.”

Like a book, the two of you read the other at this moment. You’re not a woman of many words and he seems to understand that now, taking your single compliment and running with it. You do as he says, unbuckling his belt and now, sliding your hands up his body to meet his. 

“There you go,” He stresses through another relieved sigh. Leaving your hands where they are against his chest and sliding the belt from his loops on his own. He tosses the belt behind him, relishing in that lost look in your eye.

You clearly have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you seem to like it. And god, does he fucking love it. Especially when he motions his head back down, forcing your hands back to where they belong and helping you unbutton his pants. 

“Take it out, go on.” He says in a rush, “I’m asking you to do it.”

To be fair, you’re going to do it despite the nervousness in your gut. It’s been so long since you’ve touched a man, and even longer since you wanted to. You could half argue that you feel like you’re about to lose your virginity right now despite all those hook-ups in college. Still, you don’t even nod at him when you do it. Carefully tugging his pants down and watching the weight of his cock do the rest of the work for you. 

His legs spread wider as he points it up at you, a lewd scene, one that feels both disgustingly sexy and very, very, straight forward. You’ve never been like this with any other person. Or rather, no one has ever blatantly shown themselves like this to you. 

And still, Jake just looks at you. So much eye contact becoming more and more comfortable as he learns what you seem to like. He can feel the air in your apartment against the head of his cock, the cool air rushing past his shaft and causing him to shiver with a very quiet moan. He still only looks at you during this moment, wondering why you’ve let your hands fall to his thighs. Then he sees a new look in your eyes.

Are you…waiting to be told what to do? 

For some reason, he keeps forgetting that you’ve never had a stripper in your home before, let alone been seduced by one. Honestly though, he assumed you’d catch on by the point his cock was out. This isn’t for show anymore, he wants you. 

“Touch me?” He asks gently, reaching back down to your hands and urging you to grab his cock. “You don’t even have to move, I can do the rest–” He chokes out a groan mid-sentence as he feels you grasp him in your fist.

Such a silent woman beneath him. He can only read you in specific moments, this one not at all being one of them. You’re hesitant but willing, perhaps? You leave him questioning himself and his own motives, still wondering if that compliment you gave him was genuine or just part of your own little show. 

Yet still, you’re gripping him tightly and allow him to focus his hopes. Dancing beautifully into that little circle your hand creates for him. The best part is that when or if he ever actually dances to this song, it’s when he’s blatantly fucking someone. So the movements come naturally, just as they would if your legs were buckling and your pussy was spread open on him. So, basically, this dance is nothing short of fucking your fist, pretending to keep up an act that he so wishes you’d see through. 

He keeps his face intense, moving his shoulders and arms as if it’s easy for him to turn the tables and position you to where your legs are on his shoulders and he’s rubbing his cock against your, hopefully, soaked panties.  

It’s a struggle though, to not moan out in desperation when you tighten your grip on him. He watches your pupils blow out, and can see the way you’d now probably ask him to do just that. To put it on you, to shove it in you. And so, he slows his hips a bit and catches his breath, staring down at you in wait. 

“You’re really expecting me to get off all on my own?” He finally says in an exasperated breath to your stillness and silence. He really is, trying to act as though he can’t see the look in your eyes and how it’s changed since he started dancing. “Baby, don’t you want it?” He adds, now waiting to see if you’ll move your hand away from him.

You don’t though, to his surprise, you actually start moving your hand on him. You’re jerking him off, staring up at him like you want it, squeezing the head of his cock before dragging those pretty fingers back down. 

Instantly his eyes roll back. “Fuck, that’s good,” He compliments your hand, shaking a bit and shivering at the fact that you really just did that. “Can I stop pretending that I’m still dancing for you now?”  

You find it in yourself to chuckle now, nodding with a confident sort of smile. It hit you fairly quickly, actually, as you watched him chase his pleasure all by himself. He’s so hard, and so incredibly thick in your hand, you’d be stupid to say it didn’t turn you on. It’s that fact that you’ve barely said anything to him and he’s begging you to look at him, to watch him, to touch him. All of your nervousness slowly disappeared because it was being replaced with power. 

Now, that, you’re used to. You know what power feels like in all aspects of the working world, but never at home. Never when sex is involved. You’re always expected to play the part of a desperate woman in need of love, and that’s just not you. No, you’re a powerful woman with nerves that could kill you. And the way Jake parallels your working world, it’s almost too perfect. You’re used to men being beneath you, begging for your money, giving you all of their attention, apologizing for normal human errors. 

Jake isn’t exactly begging you for money, but he’s still begging for your hands. 

“No.” You finally say, relishing in the shock on Jake’s face. “Keep dancing, it’s what you’re being paid to do.”

His eyes fall a bit now as he nods his head. You almost feel his cock falter at the same time at your response, but you move your hand a bit faster. You grip a bit tighter, urging him to do whatever it is that’s on his mind. You want to see if he will actually do as he’s told now, considering you’re the one with the money to bring him back here. 

It’s endearing how he does his best, and honestly, his best probably far surpasses some of the most notable dancers on the market if you had any idea of how they were. It’s just a bit hard to continue this act for him when you’re gripping his cock in such a beautiful way. 

“You’re–” He pauses to hold in a moan, feeling the way you drag your hand in time with his dance. “You’re not going to ask me to touch you?” He finally adds, meeker than before, far less confidence. 

In fact, he’s hiding his face.

You smile in response, looking up at him with dark and wide pupils as you swallow each movement his body makes for you. Your ears are still ringing, unable to comprehend the music blasting in your sound system. Your focus is solely on him, your hands are on him, your confidence is because of him. 

The answer to that question should be a given, after all, shouldn’t he be well aware considering this little stunt he pulled that actions truly speak louder than words?

“No wonder she liked you so much.” You start, now loosening your grip on him just to see the way his hips frantically chase the warmth of your palm.

“Wait–” He asks slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed and bashful. “You really thought, I let her get me off like this?” 

It almost pisses him off that you’d say that to him, then again, it’s not like you knew that this specific instance is rare and reserved for very few clients. 

“You couldn’t even look at me properly thirty minutes ago, now you think you can make assumptions?” He argues, pushing away from you.

Your response is skewing an eyebrow at him, watching him fight for control as he pulls his hips back and shuffles off of you and onto his feet. You glance down at his cock and the way it stands painfully erect, twitching at the sudden lack of friction. 

“Is it wrong to assume when you very clearly want me to make you cum?” 

He stills himself, a blank expression turning to that of a devilish smile, eyes narrowing at you as he leans over you. 

“Are you suggesting that you’ll get me off?”

You smile, spreading your legs a bit and feeling the stickiness drip through your panties now. 

“She did tell me that some clients have gotten special treatment from you,” You mock him slightly, watching his eyes glue themselves to your thighs. You make a show to spread your legs a bit for him. “I also know that she was no such client.”

A small moment of silence as he devours you with his eyes, seemingly interested in the attitude you have towards him now.

“I also didn’t imagine your clients would be the ones getting you off.” 

Honestly, it’s like he hit the fucking jackpot with you. Challenging him, mocking him with his cock out in front of you. If you so much as wiggled your cunt in front of him, he would instantly be back on his knees, letting you soak his face in whatever way you please. 

“Normally they’d be jumping at the chance, you though–” Jake very nearly growls at you with a deepened voice. “You look like you’re the one who needs to get off, if anything to get that snarky grin off your face.”

“Go on then, dance.”

It’s almost like a game now, he feels. You know he’s trying to seduce you and it seems you’re enjoying the fact that you haven’t let him yet. He knows that you intend to let him, so yeah, fuck yeah, he’s going to play along. 

He raises a brow at you as he steps back once more, trying to ignore the fact that his cock is aching to be touched again. You still want your show? Good. He’ll fucking give you a show.

Jake does as he’s told, finally kicking his pants off in full and keeping his eyes on you the entire time. He watches the way your legs spread when he rubs his hands down his naked chest, straight down to his cock where he only briefly tugs at himself. He can almost see under your dress as you continue to spread your legs more and more, but the lighting is far too dim to see what his act is doing to you just yet.

When he saunters behind you, dipping his head by your neck and whispering the dirtiest part of the song into your ear, he can see your sharp intake of air, and he watches the way your breasts move with each breath he forces out of you, and the way your nipples perk through the fabric.

So, he stays here behind you with his hips pressed to the back of your couch, ghosting his hands over your neck, moving down your arms, and then to your chest. He doesn’t touch, because you still haven't asked yet, but he knows hovering alone is enough. It’s like he can feel the electricity beneath his fingers somehow reaching your skin. 

  And he continues to sing against your ear, leaning further forward to plant his hands on your thighs again, mostly because he’s already been given permission to touch you there. 

“More,” He gently demands between lyrics. “Spread them all the way.”

Jake watches for a moment from behind you, pressing his cock against the back of the couch the moment he sees your legs stretch open, your dress hiking up past your waist, enough now that he can at least see a glimpse of the skin closest to your pussy. 

“Ask me to touch you.” He pleads against your ear, trailing his fingers up your thighs enough to where he would need you to tell him to stop otherwise. “Just tell me you want it.” 

It’s silent save for the music playing, and his cock is aching so badly by this point that each time he rubs against the couch he’s almost breaking down to fucking beg you to let him touch you. That alone could make him cum, but god, you’re so good at playing hard to get even if it’s blatantly obvious that he’s already got you. 

You’re fucking playing with him, and he can’t decide if he loves it or hates it. 

Your silence is so damning to his dripping cock, and his skin feels so hot right now that he’s almost forgotten that he was paid to be doing anything that’s not this. 

“No.” You playfully respond, dangling yourself just out of reach. You breathe in deep though, knowing you can’t keep denying him for much longer with the way his hands are rubbing at you. “I like it better when you’re the one asking for it.” You lean your head back and rest it against the cushions of the couch, and he instantly moves from your neck to look down at you. 

Oh. 

“Cute.” He says, having no issue at all to be the one to ask, beg, plead, or cry. Whatever it takes to get a feel of you at this point. It’s just…new to him.

Another long moment of eye contact has him trailing his hands higher than before, almost to the point that there’s no skin on your thighs to touch that doesn’t involve your panty line. 

“May I?” He asks, leaning down a bit closer so that his face is mere inches from yours. “Will you take my fingers?” 

You could mistake this distance as something that should not be crossed between the two of you. Barely hearing his question at this moment, the only thing you want to do is to kiss him, and it hit you so fucking fast that you almost forgot he’s doing anything you ask of him. 

“Come again?” You smile, blinking up at him. 

He breathes in, seemingly frustrated.

“My fingers. Take them.” He says rather than asking this time, already moving his hands to trace up your panties and feeling the wetness seep through onto his fingertips. “You’re already dripping–baby,” He stops to moan at it, amazed by how fucking soaked you are. “I can imagine they’d slide right in.” 

Typically, you wouldn’t allow anyone to call you that. “Baby.” but coming from his mouth, it sounds fitting. It sounds seductive, sexy. It has your stomach in knots, actually, your hips bouncing up just slightly at his words with the pet name attached. Finally, you let him. Finally, you grind yourself against his fingers. 

“I’ll make you feel so good–” He groans at your movements, loving how desperate you suddenly appear despite pretending you weren’t going to work for your own pleasure. He continues to trace his fingers up and down just to feel the mess of you, the one that he created, and the one that he intends to make messier. 

“Moving your hips isn’t the answer though, baby.”

You swear he can read your mind, there’s no fucking way he would say it like that without knowing how you just internally admitted to liking it. 

“Yes,” You let out shortly, darting your eyes away from him. “I’ll take them.”

That breathy laugh he releases sounds sweet, almost dripping like syrup when he lays his head beside your neck. His soft singing picks back up as he listens to you now more than the music, his fingers continuously ghosting where he promised to put them, not yet moving your panties. 

Paired with it, his abdomen stays tense as he humps against your couch, his muscles locking up at the pleasure running through him in this position. Your hips lightly chase his fingers, up when his fingers move down, and he can’t help the shy smile that spreads across his lips. It’s one you don’t see, but the constant shift in your personality is something that keeps him on edge. Keeps him wanting more, to know more, to see and feel more of you. 

And when he finally reaches around you with his other hand, pulling your panties to the side and exposing your pussy, he watches you take over for him and push them down instead, offering far more than he anticipated. He watches as you kick them off your ankles almost elegantly, as if you could do this job of dancing better than he can.

“Eager?” He teases, knowing you won’t respond to that. And you don’t. It pleases him to know that at least by now, he can kind of read you. Yet, still, there’s nothing more at this moment that would please him more than getting to see you in full. To wander back around this couch and get a real good, close up look at what he’s doing to you. 

“You’re so wet right now.” He groans, knowing that you were soaked before and only hoping you’re dripping more and more for him now. His cock is weeping as much as he’d like for you to be, chasing any amount of friction he could have. And he can see his fingers slip and slide through your slick into places he wasn’t even attempting to touch just yet solely because of how wet you are. 

“You held out for so long,” He coos now with a soft breath against your neck, feeling your cheek nuzzle against his flexing arm. “Look at that,” Two of his fingers tease at your hole before– “they slipped right in.”

Your breathing is labored by this point, feeling him play with you as if he has all the time in the world to fuck with your head. Which is…nice. No rushing despite the time limit on his session, proving time and time again that you’re getting more than others get from him. Lucky you, that you can moan out without shame for him. 

And you do, grabbing his hand and practically fucking yourself with his fingers. That takes him by surprise as the warmth and sheer tightness envelopes his digits. You are excruciatingly sexy to him, he doesn’t even attempt to stop you.

In fact, he doesn’t even hold back now, meeting each chase of your hips with the force of his fingers plunging into you deeply, with full intention. He scissors them open, feeling your hole stretch around them beautifully enough to fit in a third. And god, you’re so fucking wet. He can hear the slapping of his soaked fingers inside of you pushing more and more of that arousal out. 

He moans blatantly against your ear now, easing you into talking back to you. 

“Bet you could take cock so well–” He murmurs, feeling you shiver against his grasp. “How long has it been? Hm?”

He’s talking to you, yes, but hyping himself up at the same time. The scent of your hair forcing a slight obsession with you in his mind. The way you feel, look, smell, move when you’re just inches from him like this. He knows you won’t respond to a goddamn thing he says too, but it doesn’t matter too much to him at this point. Because now, you’re whimpering.

Such a confident, well respected woman…fucking whimpering.

“What was that?” He asks playfully, running his other hand up your body until he gets to your neck. “Has it been that long?”

And for the first time, you were going to answer. For the first time, he doesn’t leave room for you to answer. Instead, you feel his palm resting flush against your neck, now pressing in and practically holding you down by the neck as he fucks his fingers into you faster. 

Painfully faster.

“Cry for me again,” He encourages you, wincing as his own hips frantically chase the back of your couch. “You’re allowed, come on, do it again.”

And because he’s working for it, because he’s doing so fucking well, you let out another choked moan. His hand straining your neck so tightly that any sound coming out sounds strained and desperate, even the sound of yourself right now ignites a fire inside of you. You can feel that grasp tighten each time his fingers fuck into you with a painful jab, his palm placed so perfectly that you can feel your clit being rubbed each time he pulls his hand back.

It’s…overwhelming.

“Yes, fuck- again.” He groans, bucking his hips forward and frantically lifting his head from your shoulder, all so he can look down at you. He’s heard you, now he wants to fucking see how desperate you are when you cry out. 

When you open your eyes again, wincing every few seconds at both the pleasure and pain of his desperate hands, all you can see is his face. All you can feel are those same long fingers threatening more and more cries from your chest. He’s hitting spots inside of you that haven't been touched in a long time. Feeling it now almost burns, even with the cold metal of that single ring on his finger against your neck. 

And when he tightens that hand on your neck once more, not only do you cry out, but he matches you with his own stuttered gasp. You strain to keep your eyes on him through this moment, watching the way his teeth appear to scrape at his bottom lip when the sound of you envelopes his ears. So, you do it again, and again, and again. 

His fingers only continue their aggressive assault inside of you, his palms still hitting your clit, and that other hand around your throat…honestly? You could fucking sing songs to him at this moment if he so wished it. 

“You’re shaking.” He comments, eyes flicking to your body. “Can you even breathe right now?”

His smile looks so fucking mean, knowing full well that you can’t breathe and only tightening his hand harder against your throat. Nevermind the fact that you never discussed this type of thing with him, fucking wasn’t even in the agenda. But now? Fuck it. You do like it. Maybe you even love it. The way you’re moaning for him is all either of you need to know. 

This time though, when you moan out and it’s sounding particularly raspy, he releases his hand from your throat and instantly leans down to your lips. He’s a bit shocked that you immediately strain your neck to kiss him. What he was going to do was degrade you. Now though, he’s just tasting the way you’re so desperate to kiss him. As if you’re wanting this to be real, to be intimate. 

Arguably, your idea was better than his own because now he can’t bring himself to degrade you. In fact, he was stupid to even consider such a fucking thing. Despite never kissing his clients, things with you have already lasted far longer than he’d normally allow. Things have already surpassed the intimacy level he allows too, even with the very few lucky women who get to touch him. He’s never asked for it, and he’s never gotten this much of his own pleasure out of finger fucking them. Not once has he ever fucked himself against a couch to hold himself back for a woman either. 

Maybe just this once, he can want it to be real too. Even if he leaves with a pocket full of cash, the fantasy right now is enough for him to accept it as is. If you want him to kiss you, he will fucking kiss you.

His pupils grow as his eyes close, slowing his fingers unintentionally as he focuses on your lips and tongue. Even his body against your couch relaxes and his hips slow to that of a sensual thrust forward, one that offers a long and painful drag against his already raw and reddened cock. You kiss him back better than he’s even been kissed before, and falling into it was terrifyingly easy. 

His brain nearly short circuits at the softness of it, allowing his hands to move on their own accord, cupping your jaw with one hand and emptying your pussy to rub your clit with the other. He’s intentionally deepening the kiss far past his own comfort level.

But he is comfortable, and that’s precisely what’s uncomfortable about it. 

“You can take it–” Jake mutters between kisses, more focused on your lips than the words he spilling to you. “You want more, right?” He continues, only now pulling back in a breath and waiting for you to adjust your eyes on his. 

Immediately, when you open your eyes they widen at him. Goddamn, was he this sexy before? Did he even look this into you when he was on your lap fucking your fist? Out of all of his begging, this…this right here. Are you really about to fuck a stripper? The man you were so against meeting just this morning? The man who has $600 in his bank account from your lovely, fucking adored and beautiful best friend? 

The man that you’re probably going to give the entirety of the contents in your purse to the moment he packs up and moves on as if this never happened?

Yes.

“I want more–” You say to him, blinking at his pretty eyes and intentionally rubbing your clit against his fingers, mostly because it appears as if he’s stopped functioning all together.

And before you can even blink, his fingers are pulled away and his presence is gone. You lift your head to watch him, cock still erect and heavy against his thigh as he goes directly to his bag. As if he knew it was going to happen, as if this was his plan before he even met you, he pulls out a condom and slips it on without so much as a sigh of relief.

After all, he does have to take precautions to be fucking an absolute stranger like this.

“Oh.” You huff in disappointment, not entirely meaning for him to hear it. 

He raises his eyes to you as he pulls at the end of the condom, offering plenty of space for whatever release he intends to have soon, but his eyes don’t seem concerned nor bothered. 

“What? You want it raw?” He asks playfully, wiggling his eyebrows briefly before making his way back to you. “That’ll require a bit more discussion, you know.”

Discussion that neither of you are willing to have solely because your pussy is throbbing and his cock appears to be more pathetic than it already was being strangled in that thin layer of latex. And without another word, allowing both of you to put that to rest for now, he’s right back over you, lifting your dress up and off of you. 

“Fuck.” He breathes out as your tits falls from their perfect place within the dress. The sopping wet couch beneath you only soaking up more of your slick as his words force more out of you. God, you feel so wanted. 

You keep your arms lifted to help him ease the dress entirely off of you, leaving you bare beneath him as he instantly goes to grab both tits, pressing them together before flicking both nipples with the tips of his fingers. 

Your body jolts at the sensation, feeling it run through you and swell your clit more than it already was. The ache is worse, your hole is pulsing, yearning, wanting to be filled. Still though, he takes his precious expensive time, leaning down and sucking one erect nub into his mouth and flicking it all the same with his tongue. 

“Right here?” He mouths from around your tit, eyes closed and tongue still focused elsewhere. “You want to be fucked here?” He mumbles again, realizing that his question will likely go unanswered. It’s very likely that he is going to fuck you right here, on your living room couch. Asking you such a thing was stupid, borderline cringe-worthy. 

To his surprise though, you lend him a small “no.” as you lace your fingers in his hair, pushing his lips to your other nipple just to feel the warmth of his tongue.

“No?” He questions, blinking up at you from your chest before biting gently around the sensitive bud against his mouth. “Where then?” 

To his dismay, your smile is still beautiful but the way you close your legs and sit yourself up from the slouched, relaxed position you were in disappoints him. Mostly because he’s now forced to stand up too, and even more so because he has to keep his head dipped in order to keep his mouth on that perfect nipple of yours. 

His disappointment fades as you hold his head there, feeling your legs almost buckle against him when he moans around it, sending vibrations through your chest. You remain gentle though, wobbling on your legs and shuffling forward, allowing him to continue his antics. Slowly but surely, you turn him around and back him up against the couch.

Only now, when you push him back and his teeth graze your sensitive nub do you realize that he’s so, so much needier than you expected. Even with his begging, his little disappointed sound didn’t go unnoticed. His brows are still furrowed now, not even paying attention to the fact that you’ve just shoved him down so that you can be the one straddling him. It’s cute, actually. Noticing how he was so intimidating when he came into your house, walking with confidence, dancing with intention, finger fucking you and choking you as if he had a right to do it…only to now look at him and the way he’s melting.

The way he’s needy, borderline puppy-like to be near you.

His eyebrows shoot up from that little face of disappointment though, when you pull yourself from his mouth and instead plant yourself right on his lap, letting your pussy lips envelope the underside of his cock as you grind up immediately.

It’s the first slippery touch his cock has felt all night and honestly? He’s been on edge this entire time. You grind so fucking beautifully, and it’s a first for him to realize that he’s entirely speechless.

You’ve rendered him incapable of speaking. 

“You’re cute, I don’t think you realize that.” You comment, gliding against his cock and watching his hands reach out to grip your waist, “Really cute.”

He doesn’t falter at your compliments, instead he just melts into it even more. His cheeks are permanently blushed as he leans forward to try and get your tits in his face again, and all you can do is grip his hair and let him. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the head of a cock bumping your clit, and you’d never forgive yourself for not letting yourself have this kind of fun more often. 

And Jake just gets whinier. His cock pulses and twitches to be inside of you all the while despite the discomfort of that latex layer likely needing to be replaced already. Still, his hands keep moving your waist, pushing and pulling you faster against him until– ah.

You angle yourself perfectly when he slides your upwards again. All you had to do was perk your ass out and wait for him to push you back down. Finally, he slides in without fully realizing that’s what was going to happen, and goddamn the sound he makes, fuck.

“Mmfuck,” He winces, digging his nails into your hips at the speed of which he bottomed out. The breath is knocked out of him and all you can do is stare down. Look at him now, so docile and sweet like he wasn’t fucking your livingroom floor prior to this. 

And the grip of you on him, so strong. The slide was so easy, so fast, that he genuinely is seeing stars at how good you feel wrapped around him. The velvet walls inside of you pulsing, pushing and squeezing his cock all over. He can’t help the sounds he makes, grunting and feeling that grip you have in his hair intensify his pleasure. 

Both of you now let out a long winded breathy groan at the sensation of your body adjusting to his, in all fairness, you had to grip onto something and his hair just so happened to be the best thing at the moment. He seems to love it though, so when you finally regain your senses of being absolutely fucking full, you pull at it again, tilting his head back so that you can see the expanse of his neck and the way it moves when he swallows. 

“Bounce.” He croaks out at you, eyes glistening with pure fucking hope that you will. 

And, well…when you feel his length pulse in place inside of you, you do exactly as he asked. You bounce, taking his full, thick cock each and every time. Not allowing a single inch of it to be neglected. All he can do in response is squint, trying to keep his eyes open through each breathy groan of praise and encouragement. He does lose himself entirely to the feeling of euphoria and the pain of how harshly you keep his head tilted back. 

He really didn’t think you could get any sexier, honestly, and as far as he’s concerned…if he moves right now he’s going to cum. So, he doesn’t. Instead, he just lazily smiles at you and lets his eyes finally close so that he can fall right back into the state of seeing nothing but stars.

Frustrated, yet incredibly turned on by the way you’ve just completely lost him, you bounce harder, then you sit flush against him, twisting and swirling your hips. Grinding forward back, counting how he moans each time you do something that feels particularly sensitive for him. And you hang onto that, repeating those actions, lifting your ass and sliding back down. Again and again, until your legs shake and your fingers threaten to pull his hair too hard.

“Look at you now,” You half-chuckle out of breath, hearing the wet slaps of skin on skin paired with his blatant and sensual moans drowning out the playlist that has been long forgotten. “You can’t even move.”

All he does is nod his head, that same lazy and cocky smile appears as if to insinuate that you’re damn fucking right he can’t. Like he’s proud of it. And you’re not going to ignore the fact that his hands are still on your waist either, gripping onto you so tightly that you fear he could draw blood if you move the wrong way.

“Keep going, baby–” He somehow manages to say to you. “Don’t stop.”

There it is. This entire time he’s been begging to fuck you, and now he’s finally begging you to fuck him. His voice still sounds like honey, with that impressively hard cock inside of you pulsing so constantly that you could probably feel him in your stomach if you were to press against it. 

“Mhm,” You answer him, promising that you won’t stop through just a half-moan and a long winded intake of air. Honestly? At this very moment, you feel like you’re sitting on a throne. Jake, obviously, being said throne but whatever. The fucking power he’s making you feel is nothing short of alluring. 

And now, as that power goes to your head, you opt to grind rather than bounce for him now. Your hips aren’t as erratic, yet still he tenses up for you, forcing his cock to somehow feel even harder as you fuck it into yourself through lazy drags of your clit against his pelvis. 

If you keep going like this, you could cum in an instant. But before you can even finish that thought, you look down at him on instinct due to his sudden silence. 

His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, and his mouth is open in a silent moan. You can see that he’s not breathing, seemingly holding his breath even after you release his hair. His head lolls back with that same expression, and that’s when you feel his fingernails dig.

“Oh,” You moan, now resuming your grinding much harder now, making a point to bump your clit repeatedly against him. “Fuck, are you cumming right now?”

Still he doesn’t respond, you can only feel his hips stutter under you despite trying to remain entirely still and stiff for you. You know that now is when you need to be chasing, because you’ll be damned if you’re not going to cum with him inside of you. 

You want to be full like this, you want to squeeze him, to play with his sensitive cock even if it starts to soften. He’s too pretty, too fucking pretty when he whimpers. And so, you continue grinding, up until you’re on the brink of your orgasm but not quite there yet. To the point his cock is only half in you with the way you’re angling your clit against him, chasing your own high so aggressively that you barely feel his fingers tightening on you again. 

Jake shoots his head back up, eyes opening as the sensitivity hits him quicker than he would have liked, but you don’t relent. The pain is intense from how hard you’re riding him, but he can see how close you are, the image alone compliments that sensitivity he’s feeling right now. 

He seethes out painful praises to you as your desperate cunt finally reaches orgasm, squeezing against his softening length so tightly that he can’t help but whimper with you. Still, he studies your face through his own winces, shuddering at the way you close your legs around him despite them being forced to stay open in this position. You try to curl into the pleasure, as if you wish you could disappear completely alongside it. 

And god, the way you grip at his arms for leverage as you shake through it. Dare he say…he’s fond of you. It still hurts, but it kind of hurts more when he knows it’s over. Mostly because it feels like he’s been in this room with you for days, knowing that’s not true. Surely he’s stayed longer than your allotted time with him, but you seemed to have given him something worth staying for at least.

When you slump over him, he almost wants to cry from how fucking sensitive he is right now. Thankfully, you seem sensitive too as you wince before he does, remaining as gentle as you can when you reach down to the base of his cock and hold the condom, allowing him to slide out of you at his own pace. 

And then, the playlist comes to an abrupt end at just the wrong moment, because it forces Jake to realize that he hadn’t stayed at all over his paid time frame. Now, all he can hear is the way his breath is entirely too uneven compared to any of his sessions with prior clients like this. He’s breathing much too fondly for you, or rather, not breathing well because of you. He can’t just…go home can he?

“You okay?” You ask to the slight panicked look on his face, seeing how he stares straight up at the ceiling, not blinking, no readable expression. “Jake?”

He shakes himself out of it, eyes slowly moving and blinking to look at you.

“That–” He tries to talk, genuinely, he does. “Um…”

The change in atmosphere almost freaks you out. Isn’t this what he wanted? You saw the way he lost himself there briefly though, you can admit. None of this was even that rough or kinky, so you’re a bit confused as to why he’s acting like this.

Maybe you even feel a bit guilty. Like you’re the problem. So, you silence yourself and lift onto weak legs to stumble and find your dress. You throw it on quickly, hiding your shame that he so wanted to see just fifteen minutes ago. Then, you head for your purse and grab every single bill you have folded neatly inside. 

Just like that, you place the money in his shaking hand and can’t bare to look at him.

“Wha-” He starts, licking his dried lips and sitting up a bit too quickly. “Why are you giving me so much?”

“It’s your tip.” You try to say casually as you clear your throat. “You can shower too, if you’d like.” 

Jake holds his breath, hoping you don’t genuinely think he did all of that for the money. He was already paid to be here, the whole…you know, fucking thing, was his doing. What happened was because he wanted it, and…he still does. Are you truly just strictly back to business like this? You literally just handed him his rent for the month and then some, it kind of amazes him. The audacity. As if he’s never been handed handsome sums of cash from drunken lonely women. You aren’t a woman who needs him, and yet you pay like you did. 

“Shower with me?” He forces himself to ask, because he knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t. After all, this tip feels like a rejection of what just happened. Hush money, even. 

He doesn’t know what just crept into this room through the fucking silence, but he doesn’t like it. And it seems you don’t either, because you instantly comfort him with a smile and a step forward. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He didn’t intend to spend the night, free of charge no less, but he did. All of that including some embarrassing talk involving the seriousness of how this is not normal for him. 

Surprisingly, you believe him. 

After the shower, the mood had shifted into something that felt natural and less rehearsed. He wasn’t just some stripper you could call over with a downpayment of $600, he was Jake, a man trying to make ends meet in a city far too expensive even for you if you’re being honest. 

Jake, a man wanted by several women. You, on the other hand, feel the need to mend your lonely and stone-cold heart with him, however much that may cost. Not to fall in love, or to fill any type of voice. If anything, you want to be taken care of in specific ways, and you’d like to take care of him in turn. 

So, when he grimaced at your joke, saying that he would practically be your sugar baby and that you’d run off all of his other business out of need to continuously be fucked by him and him alone, you almost stopped pressing the matter.

Because you would run off all his clients solely for keeping him too busy with you to go to them. You would be paying him every time, making damn sure he’s well taken care of and financially stable. 

Jake did notice how you looked disappointed, quickly backtracking his grimace.

“Wait, you’re serious?” 

You nod shyly, blinking at him.

“It’s not like we have to sleep together every time, you won’t even have to dance for me anymore.” You argue, knowing that’s at least a half-lie. “All I ask is that you don’t fuck your other clients if you’re still seeing me, and intending to..you know–”

Jake nods happily, without question even.

“So, what happens if I’m horny and you’re not available then?”

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“Jerk off like a normal person?”

Fair enough.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

man, i forgot how lame this fic is but yknow what? good for me. jake is so fuckin’ fine fr I DON’T EVEN CAREEEEEEEEEEE. pls reblog and leave feedback on my work :D

[sweetimpurity]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ day 16!! more bodyguard!Miguel hehe! cw: loss of virginity wc: 2k not proofread if none of this makes sense, it's not my fault, I'm sick haha love ya!˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

This is not what Miguel was hired for. He was hired to protect you, not fuck you. And yet here you are, your bare legs spread out over his lap as you stare at him with pure innocent eyes and pink puffy perfect lips. But you're so eager. He knows you’re tired of feeling so young and innocent. Knows you've been craving something like this, something to make you feel alive and like you have control over what makes you feel good. He wants to make you feel good. He knows you're a virgin, knows that you don't know what to expect. But he wants this to feel good for you, so badly. And the last thing he wants to do is hurt you, he couldn’t hurt his perfect, innocent girl. 

His hand is gentle on your soft fleshy thigh, moving upwards to where your thigh meets your hip, squeezing the joint slightly with his thumb and fingers. If you weren't so precious to him, he’d be more rough. He’d grip his fingers into you flesh and probably grab you hair, pulling you head back as he fucked up into you hard and fast, making you cry with pleasure. But you're his angel girl… the one person that he knows deserves all of the gentle loving he can offer. 

He’s not used to this. He’s older than you by a few years, he’s had his fair share of sexual experiences and one night stands. But you're so pure, he almost feels guilty about it. He’s partially responsible too… following your father’s orders and keeping you away from every man at every dinner, every business party. He told himself he’s just doing his job and to a certain extent that is true. But it made him angry to think about… thinking about some random man getting to hold you and kiss you. A stranger loving his sweet girl. 

He just hopes he’ll be enough, and it almost pains him to know he’ll be stripping you of that purity tonight. 

“You’re so beautiful…” He whispers, running his fingers down your cheek and to your neck, pulling you closer to kiss your throat, suckling at the skin and making your heart beat faster. You can only hold onto his broad shoulders, clutching onto him like a lifeline as he positions himself between your thighs. He’s warmed you up, kissed every inch of you. And all that’s left is for him to be inside. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks seriously, looking in your eyes. “No…please…” You whisper, seeing the nervous expression creeping up on his face now. “I don’t want to hurt you…” He whispers. You smile softly at him. “I know…”  

Without another word, your faces inches away, gazing into each other's eyes, he slowly pushes into you, pressing in with the pad of his thumb, moving so slowly to ease himself in. Your eyes flutter shut, face contorting with discomfort, but you try not to show how much pain you're in, even though you feel like you're being split in half. A strained gasp leaves your lips and his eyes scan over your face. “It’s okay baby… it’s gonna be okay…” He pushes himself deeper into you, trying to ease you open and a louder whimper leaves your lips, clutching his shoulders firmly, fingers digging into his shoulders. When he hears it all the alarms go on in his brain, the alarms he’s been fine tuning for the past few years to know when you're not okay. 

“I’m gonna stop.” He mutters, moving to pull out, to stop the pain he’s causing you. But your arms tighten around him. “No… please… I’m okay…” You breathe out, trying to take deep breaths, the burning pain slowly fading into a dull ache. “I want this…” You tell him honestly, nuzzling your face into his neck. He wants to give you what you want. He kisses your cheek gently a few times, this being his only way to numb some of your pain. Hovering over you, moving his hips very slowly, listening to you gasp and sigh but also becoming overwhelmed himself. You're so warm and tight, and you feel so good. 

Miguel tries his best, feeling you cling to him so tightly. His fingers going to your clit to try and aid the process. Aiding the ache and trying to make you feel good. 

“Fuck-” He sighs as your legs wrap around his waist, bringing every inch of him to be buried deeply inside you. “Baby-” He moans, his eyes shutting tight, his head dropping down to your chest as he’s now in the spot he was worried he’d end up in. He’s over you, slotted between your trembling thighs. And he can’t hold it back. His breath hitches in his throat, his invincibility seeming to crack and it’s all because of you. You're the only person who could get him this way. 

“Please Miguel…” He hears you moan, pulling back, looking deep in your eyes and he can’t help himself. He thrusts into you to the hilt, filling you up all the way and it’s almost too much for him to handle. Hearing the whine at the back of your throat as he stretches you out on his thick girth. Panting for breath he tries to keep it slow but you feel so good and you just keep begging him for it. His strokes quicken, fucking into you faster now. Your breath gets caught, jaw dropping and he moans your name in your ear, fucking you hard and quick, pushing you up the bed slightly. His lips part in heavy breath, feeling himself overcome with lust, watching your face and he can’t tell if you are lost in pleasure or pain, but he can’t bring himself to slow down. 

“Angel… oh baby…” He moans loudly, dragging his thick cock through your tight velvet walls. 

After a few seconds your face finally turns to one of pure pleasure, your eyes rolling up into the back of your head. “Oh.. oh Miguel….” You moan helplessly and this only makes him go faster, making you squeal and squirm but he makes you still with his strong arms. Strained gasps mixed with moans escape him as he feels himself nearing the end, and he can tell you're close too by the sound of your moans and the way your muscles spasm around him. His fingers go to your clit, rubbing his thumb soothingly into the nerves as he tries to bring you to the finish. 

When you feel that burn in your stomach, your hand presses to his abdomen, unable to tell him with words what you're feeling. Not even knowing what you’re feeling. You’ve never felt it before. Your breath becomes heavier, a helpless whimper following every exhale, and his hand clasps over yours on his stomach. Soon your back is arching into the pillows, moaning as your muscles pulse around him in rhythm, gushing on him and letting the foreign feeling take over. This must be what it feels like. 

He moans at the feeling and dips down over you again, wanting to be close. He kisses your throat a few times before pressing his cheek to your shoulder, breathing hot onto your skin as he releases deep inside you. Filling the rubber. The condom was a necessity, although he can’t help but crave the feeling of pumping you full and raw. 

The room is filled with panting breath as Miguel lets some of his weight rest on top of you, both of you coming down from the high. He can’t believe he just let that happen. He just couldn’t help himself, you felt so good and you were moaning his name so sweetly, it just felt right. But that was more rough than he was intending, more rough than he thinks you deserve for you very first time. 

“Are you okay?” He pants, trying to catch his breath and looking down at your rosy flushed cheeks. “Yes, I’m okay…” You smile at him and he’s glad to know you're alright and you're not upset with him for getting lost in the moment and losing control. Resting on his elbows over you so he can be close, wanting to make sure you feel loved after the fact. “That was too fast…” He smiles wide at you as he tucks some fallen hair behind your ear. In response to this you smile, laughing softly. You're not mad, you're actually feeling really happy. “I’m sorry, angel…” He laughs quietly, kissing your hot neck and your ruddy cheeks. He watches your face with a big smile as you giggle beneath him. Your shoulders bouncing up and down and your chest pulsing with soft adorable laughter. He’s so happy to see you happy and he can’t help but smile. 

“Good, baby?” He smiles, wanting to know how you’re feeling, what’s going on in your mind. “Good… so good, Miguel…” You whisper. A swell of pride blooming in his chests. 

Your hands go to his chest, looking in his eyes with a softer smile as he leans down to kiss your lips. You're almost sad that it seems to be over. Wanting the feeling to last forever. He runs his lips over your cheek before lowering himself down even closer and letting his face dip down into the crook of your neck. Your hand goes to the back of his neck, running your fingers through the curls at his nape. You just want him to kiss you for a little while longer. You don't want to be without his warm skin on you and his hands holding your body.

With his face in the crook of your neck and your hand in his hair, he begins to move within you again. Very slowly this time. You were not expecting it, and he could tell from the gasp that filled your mouth the second his cock thrust through your sensitive walls once again.

Immediately you both reacted to the feeling. With both of you feeling sensitive now, all you can do now is hold each other tightly and breathe. His heavy breath fanning your neck and chest and your soft moans filling his ears as he fucks you slow and sweet. This was the feeling he wanted to give you. This soft, squishy, full feeling. 

His arms are cradled around you as he pumps you full of his inches. Holding you so close and safe and secure. Nuzzling against your neck.

“I love you…” 

His heart flutters when he hears those words fall from your pretty lips. He’s hopelessly in love with you, willing to give you any and every part of himself. “I love you too…” He whispers, lifting his head to look in your eyes with a smile. And when he says those words to you he can feel himself reaching his own high. Humming as his head falls back down into your neck and his hips quicken. You can’t help but moan, clenching around him repeatedly, causing him to moan into your skin right next to your ear. “Oh baby… oh.. oh angel…” He moans breathlessly, his deep voice causing your stomach to flip, pushing you over the edge into oblivion. 

This release is sweeter. Miguel pumps into you through your orgasm as you whimper under him, your fingers digging into his shoulders and your chest rising up, soft breasts pressing up against his chest. With one final push Miguel is once again finding his release and you can feel the warmth of him spilling out inside. 

“Mm-uhh” You whimper and your head falls back into the pillows. Miguel tilts his head so he can watch your face and he smiles watching you come undone once again. “So pretty baby…” He says along with a slew of praises as he kisses your jaw and throat, halting his hips and letting you come down from your climax. 

Soon the two of you drift off to sleep in each other's embrace, not knowing what the future holds. Especially with you parents coming home from a month-long business trip tomorrow. 

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[retroaria]

hey! I'm not really into nsfw stuff- sooo would you like to do something soft with reo? 😭 like, idk, him as a husband or father so with a family? THANK YOU SO MUCH 💗💗

✮⋆˙ domestic reo headcanons ✮⋆˙

a/n: this is so brain rotted i can’t even lie i think reo is just so easy to romanticize. pure fluff.

• | BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy !! - aria 💜 | •

✮ I actually love this because i headcanon that reo would be a great dad :D at the very least he’d be extremely supportive of whatever his children wanted to do in their lives. He wouldn’t force them to follow in his footsteps like his father and he’d use whatever devices he could to ensure they can comfortably follow the path they choose.

✮ Would post about all his children’s accomplishments, or if you guys didn’t feel comfortable posting the kids he’d still take any chance to tell everyone about it - even his teammates who literally don’t care that his son got the highest score on the spelling test (they’re happy for him though). He secretly enjoys scrapbooking for his kids but they’re “your books” and he “just helps you with it sometimes”. (he’s the one who took almost all the pictures and saved every piece of paper his kid has ever drawn on)

✮ Reo is a charming husband, so charming and sweet it’s hard to be mad at him. He’s a bit lacking in cleaning/caretaking capabilities when it comes to the home but he puts in the effort??? He tries his best and if he does a bad job he always makes it up to you one way or another. In all honesty, he’s probably already hired people to do that (forgot this man is inheriting a multi millionaire dollar corporation).

✮ Reo is however very good at taking care of children. Once he has a clear grasp of their needs, he finds it to be really enjoyable and fulfilling. He takes a lot of pride in whatever happiness and comfort he can bring to his kids. He hates the sound of his babies crying, not because it’s annoying (though he complains about that too) but because it genuinely hurts his soul. He can be a bit too worrisome about it sometimes - he’s totally the type of person to look up his child’s symptoms and freak out over seeing all the worst case scenarios.

✮ The one thing that reo particularly excels at is taking care of you when you’re sick. He can always tell when you’re not feeling your best and he immediately harps on you. He doesn’t know how to cook very well but he knows how to make a few different kinds of warm foods to fill your stomach and give you a little energy. He’d absolutely refuse to stay away from you (unless it was a seriously contagious illness or if you guys had a baby that could’ve gotten sick). Doesn’t care if you’re sneezing and coughing and wheezing, he wants to feed you and hold you and kiss your hot head until it cools down and everything is better again. His goal is always to make sure you get better as soon as possible and won’t let you do anything but rest and relax until then.

✮ Reo is an incredible gift giver! I’ve certainly mentioned this in another hc post, but he is always out and about buying you little things that remind him of you. If you guys have a kid that’s just more gifts he’ll have to get and the thought of that honestly excites him.

✮ Anything can happen but…reo with a daughter…guys….

✮ he would be the sweetest girl dad! would do everything in his power to make her believe she’s an actual princess and he’s just one of her loyal servants. Spoils her rotten and doesn’t feel bad about it.

✮ You’d have to explain to him how this could negatively affect your daughter and it would break his heart. He’d go into theatrics trying to refute it because “What do you mean I can’t let her have everything she wants?” and “What if she cries? You want me to make my daughter cry?” he gets it eventually, but remains reluctant lol.

✮ He’d love playing sports with his kids. Would try to get them into soccer but if they end up liking another sport he’s still just as hype. Isn’t initially familiar with the concept of letting the kids win but soon realized he has to level with the speed of their little legs.

✮ I don’t have any specific hc’s for him as a boy dad but he’d be just as great of course - he’d make sure his son sees how women should be treated based on how he treats you!

✮ If he could find a way to make you the total world ruler he would because he truly believes you’re the most capable person. He’s the kind of husband who lets you run things for the most part but is always there to step in when you need a break or if you just want him by your side. Would call for an emergency flight back home from whatever country he’s training in just because you said you didn’t wanna go to parent teacher night alone.

✮ He loves doing mundane tasks with you, but always tries to “make it a bit more fun” as he says - which basically means he puts away the clothes you fold while you listen to him crack really bad jokes at you, gossip about his teammates, or try to sing and serenade you with his MANY playlists he’s made dedicated to you. On days you both have nothing going on he follows you around the house like a lost puppy, which is slightly annoying but it also means you have four hands to do stuff because he’s a participator above all else.

✮ Reo always makes sure to show his appreciation for how hard you work whether it’s at your job, taking care of the kids/house, or both. He takes time alone with you very seriously, even as your lives get busier and your family grows he always makes sure there’s time for the two of you to just be together and be in love. Always jokes about how you guys need to keep the romance going. He has small romantic gestures that he indulges you in throughout the day: kissing you on the cheek, brushing your hair out of your face/tying it back for you if you if you need (taking his hair tie out for you to use), hugging you a little tighter just before you get up, running a bath for the both of you, massaging your shoulders while you talk.

to be fully honest with you guys, i have never in my life wanted to have kids so it was a bit hard for me to imagine what being happy with children would be like LMAO but alas i did my best. stay safe and stay cool. - aria :3

[pjo-tvs-version]

I know that no one asked but I just wanted to add my two cents to the current pjo era we are having right now...

First off, I love Rick and the books he has written but honestly tsast and wottg aren't some of his best works. That's not the problem because yeah not all books can be amazing but the problem is that they are his most recent ones. Cotg was better than these 2 but it too had it's drawbacks. Now I have this thing where if I like something then however bad it it, I try to make myself enjoy it. It's like a coping mechanism- delusion. But with wottg, I actually sat back and thought. Since when did I take a week to finish a pjo book? I am the person who finished Hoo in like less than a week and I took a week to finish wottg which took me aback. The characters were very oc. Grover was perhaps the only character close to his actual well character. I don't usually nitpick but like I had said in a post earlier, continuity and callbacks in a book series are what make them extremely enjoyable and small textual errors are like pricking needles to me.

My main issue was Annabeth and then Percy. Look in know in this fandom there are many Annabeth antis and that's fine, I accept that. But now the worst part is that what they have said about Annabeth is to some extent true in this current Annabeth version we have. Look Leah is great and I love her with all my heart but Rick please don't mingle both of them together. Let show cannon be separate and book cannon to itself. Let Annabeth in wottg be her book character like please. She has friends? Great! The main thing we know about her friends are that they think Percy isn't GOOD ENOUGH for her? Awful! She is the mom friend? Okay(though I personally believe it should be Grover but fine if people are okay with it this is just a personal opinion guys)! BUT that should not make Percy 'alley boy.'

This brings me to the second part. We love Percy and love his humor. Well I recently reread the Battle of the Labyrinth (don't ask why I don't know I just had the sudden urge to read it). He isn't very confident and does underestimate himself often but it wasn't taken this FAR. Every single next line was describing how Percy sucks at everything while Annabeth is here in all her perfect glory and believe it or not this is coming from me, who loves Annabeth. I love Percabeth because it's a balance. They balance off each other soo well. They both comfort each other. They both know that they are smart. They both know that the other person has flaws. But in wottg it's just downright annoying because the dynamic is just "ooh look my gf is soo amazing, totally flawless with no error and here is me who sucks at any and every thing possible." This isn't the Percy we know nor Annabeth nor Percabeth.

LET ANNABETH BE IMPERFECT! AND PLEASE GIVE PERCY THERAPY because he needs it. For the next book Rick please just hire a better editor because I am not going into the MISTAKES in these books. You can hire me if you want because I swear I can do a better job than your editor. Seriously literally any pjo fan would do a better job. Wottg felt like maybe the second draft of the work which required maybe 3 more drafts to be published. It felt like an unchecked fanfiction and believe me that I have seen better fanfictions on AO3. The pjo fandom is an extremely loyal fanbase which is an extremely cool thing. But the problem here is that people like m even though I didn't really enjoy wottg, I would still hope for a better sequel because gaaahhhh optimism. I am actually wary of the sequel to tsast but that's for another post.

Whew! Talking so negatively about something was a new experience for me because I absolutely love pjo and will always keep it close to my heart. Rick please for the sake of advertisement please don't publish uncooked gibberish because it actually breaks my heart too see the hate and for once I understand it. Anyway, wottg wasn't all that bad. To balance out this post, I'll make one on the portions I liked because there were a few moments that were worth reading. Extremely sorry for the scattered thoughts and the rant but thank you and have a great day everyone !

[disneyprincemuke]

long story short * fem!driver

the aftermath of best dress

(series masterlist) | (📂 a day in the life)

the door swings open, revealing the girl in her pajamas, hair in a ponytail with her makeup completely wiped off. “seriously? you couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?”

“nope,” logan says, pushing past her to enter the hotel room. he slips his shoes off and immediately jumps into her bed where the phone is. “what do you think they’re serving? think they’ve got nachos?”

“no,” oscar shakes his head.

“why not?” logan frowns. “what kind of food will they have?”

“it’s 2 in the morning,” oscar rolls his eyes, “normal people don’t order room service for food at 2am.”

logan simply shakes his head before looking at the girl again. “you didn’t invite him up with you?”

“we’ve got a race,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes as she closes the door behind oscar. “and hey, i’m not like that on the first date!”

oscar shrugs, grinning at her. “we never assumed that. why are you so defensive?”

he kicks his shoes off and rips the duvet from her queen size bed, crawling under before he takes a pillow into his arms.

she stands back, absolutely shocked at her friends. even after being friends for almost a decade, their audacity never fails to throw her offguard.

“well, this is my room,” she mutters, pushing the boys’ legs to separate ends of the bed. “make some space.”

she crawls in the small spot between them, only for oscar to reach forward and push her back gently. “you sit at the foot of the bed. you’re doing the debrief,” oscar giggles, wrestling away her hands fighting him back.

“you wish!” she shrieks, reaching forward to flick his forehead.

she squeezes herself between the two, climbing under the duvet and resting her head on logan’s shoulder. logan adjusts slightly, trying to slowly read the menu in the dim environment of the room.

oscar just sits back, eyes closing. “i’m going to fall asleep if you don’t start talking.”

“he’s very sweet,” she beams, largest smile on her face that they’ve seen on her in a while. “a gentleman.”

“that’s good,” logan mutters.

“and very tall,” she sighs. “he’s almost too tall.”

“for you,” oscar corrects her.

“for me,” she agrees with a small nod.

“anything for you guys?” logan offers, holding the menu out to the other side. “i’m getting chicken wings.”

“chicken tenders.”

“just a coke for me,” she answers.

logan swiftly turns, reaching for the phone, dropping her head in the process. she frowns at the sudden movement, shuffling around to comfortable rest her head on oscar’s arm now.

“seeing him again?” oscar asks.

logan’s whispers consume the dimly lit room with her breathing steady and soft. oscar lifts his head, looking at the girl staring into the room blankly.

“no,” she says just barely above a whisper, shaking her head.

“i’m sorry, kid,” oscar sighs. he reaches over to pat her head and ruffles her hair. “how come?”

“i don’t have the time to be dating around right now,” she shrugs, pressing her lips together. “i’ve got more important things; i’m too busy.”

logan puts the phone down, lying back down with them. “did you at least have fun?”

“of course,” she grins. “it was a long distance relationship, anyway. i don’t have it in myself for that. i need me a wag who can follow me around.”

“that’s not a wag, that’s a personal assistant,” logan states, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“okay, then retire faster so i can hire you as my pa,” she jokes, smacking his thigh lightly. “can’t leave you without a job.”

“how considerate,” oscar mutters. “seriously, though. i’m sorry it didn’t work out. there’ll be better guys than jacob elordi.”

she nods as silence now engulfs them. oscar slides down the bed, resting his head on top of hers as he slowly drifts off the sleep. logan’s now on his phone, scrolling on instagram while she’s stuck underneath the australian’s heavy head.

the decision to reject jacob elordi’s prompt for a second date wasn’t easy, but it’s a much expected response. with her rookie career finally kicking off in formula 1, the added pressure of upkeeping a relationship is too much.

she feels a weight on her arm, logan taking it upon himself to rest his head on her.

“if harry styles were younger, i bet he’d date you,” logan mutters suddenly. “just like if i’d been born earlier, i’d definitely be megan fox’s boyfriend.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhbhcavanagh @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @inejismywife @2bormaybenot

[blakeswritingimagines]

Sleeping All Alone

Summary: Reader who always teases bodyguard, named Daemon, to keep you safe both in public and in private situations. However, as the two spend more time together, an undeniable attraction and chemistry starts to develop between you.

Warnings: Power imbalance, Teasing, PWP, Begging, Choking, Use of Darlin, brat, tease, minx, Dom Daemon, and Sub reader, no real gender used for the reader.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Word count: 6.0k

Daemon Targaryen sat in his usual spot at the back of your concert venue. He watched as the fans went wild for the pop star on stage. He was there for one reason and one reason only, and that was to protect you. As you sang and danced on stage, he scanned the crowd, searching for any potential threats. He had been hired by your management team to be your personal bodyguard, and he took his job very seriously. Despite his best efforts, Daemon couldn't ignore the fact that the fans were going crazy over every move you made. It was obvious they were smitten with you, and he couldn't blame them. You were good-looking and talented, and he found himself distracted by you on stage more times than he'd care to admit.

As you strutted across the stage, you could feel a pair of eyes on you. You knew who it belonged to, your bodyguard Daemon. While most people found his intense stare unnerving, you couldn't help but feel a little thrill every time his eyes bore into yours. You tried to focus on the performance, but his presence was distracting. He was like a magnet, tugging at your attention even when you were supposed to be focused on the music. You finished the final song of your set, panting and wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead. You gave a final wave to the adoring crowd before returning backstage, only to find Daemon waiting for you with his arms crossed. “Another successful show,” he said as you approached. Daemon's voice was cool and measured, betraying no hint of the attraction he felt towards you. He had been your bodyguard for several months now, but he had managed to keep his feelings hidden from you. He knew that it was unprofessional to become involved with his client, but that didn't make the attraction any less strong. "But I have to say, you're slacking on your security. You're supposed to be paying attention to your surroundings, not getting distracted by me."

You rolled your eyes at his comment, but secretly a part of you was flattered. It was true, you had caught yourself sneaking glances at him during performances, but you weren't about to admit that. "Oh, don't flatter yourself," you replied with a smirk. "I was just making sure you were doing your job properly." Daemon chuckled softly at your words, his eyes never leaving yours. He knew that you were trying to maintain a veneer of indifference, but he could see through it. He could sense the spark between you both, no matter how much you tried to downplay it. "I'm always doing my job," he said in a low voice. "Just make sure you're not distracting me too much with those pretty eyes of yours." You felt a hoard of butterflies in your stomach at his comment, but you forced yourself to keep your cool. Two could play at that game. You stepped closer to him, using your height and platform shoes to your advantage. "Oh, trust me, my eyes aren't the only part of me that's distracting," you purred, fluttering your eyelashes innocently.

Daemon's breath hitched at your response, but he kept his expression cool. He wasn't about to let you know just how much you affected him. "Is that so?" he said, taking a step forward to close the distance between you. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, and it was driving him wild. "Careful now, little one. You might be playing with fire." You grinned, reveling in the effect you seemed to be having on him. It was rare for him to lose his cool exterior, and the fact that you were the one to make him falter was quite pleasing. "Oh, I can handle the heat," you said with a shrug. "But can you?" You stood on your tip toes and reached up, gently tugging on the lapel of his jacket to pull him closer. Daemon's eyes darkened as you pulled him closer, his resolve wavering slightly. He could feel the heat and electricity between you both like a tangible force. "You have no idea what kind of heat I can handle," he said in a low voice. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. He could feel your heart racing in your chest, and it only made his own beat faster.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as he drew you closer, your body pressed against his. Being this close to him was intoxicating, it was like he was a drug and you were already addicted. "Oh yeah?" you murmured, your voice husky with desire. "Prove it." The concert ended and you managed to get through the mandatory pleasantries and goodbyes without incident. Finally, it was time to leave the venue. You bid goodbye to your friends and colleagues and stepped out into the cool night air. Daemon was by your side immediately, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he ushered you toward the car. As you made your way through the crowded parking lot, Daemon kept a watchful eye on your surroundings, his hand resting lightly on your lower back. He could feel the press of your body against his, and it sent a jolt of electricity through him. He knew he should keep his distance, but he couldn't help the way his body responded to you. Once you reached the car, he opened the door for you and waited until you were safely inside before shutting it and walking around to the driver's seat. You watched him through the window as he walked around the car, the muscles in his shoulders rippling beneath his shirt. You couldn't help but admire his powerful physique, and the way he moved with such calculated grace. When he finally settled in the driver's seat beside you, you turned to him, your expression coy. "Where to next, sir?" you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Daemon stifled a smirk as he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. He could feel your eyes on him and it was driving him wild. "Are you always this cheeky, or is it just for me?" he asked, his tone neutral. He glanced over at you, his eyes raking over your body. He had never wanted anyone quite like he wanted you at this moment. Daemon gritted his teeth at your tone, but he couldn't deny the effect it had on him. "Home," he said curtly. "It's late, and you have an early morning tomorrow." You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played at the corners of your lips. "Oh, come on, you love it," you teased. As the car pulled away from the venue, you leaned back in your seat and let out a sigh. "You know," you said, breaking the silence in the car, "I don't know how you manage to stay so stoic all the time. It's a bit disappointing, really. I was kind of hoping I could break through your icy exterior by now." Daemon let out a soft laugh at your words, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You think I'm icy, huh?" he said, stealing a glance at you. "I guess it's just part of the job, little one. Can't have me getting distracted while I'm supposed to be keeping you safe."

You pouted at his response, leaning your head against the window. "Boring," you drawled. "You can't just blame it on the job. I think you like to act tough because you think it makes you look cool and mysterious." Daemon chuckled again, shaking his head slightly. "Maybe it's a bit of that," he admitted. "But you have no idea how hard I have to work to keep my cool around you." He flicked his eyes to you, taking in your pouty expression. "You drive me absolutely wild, you know that? But I have to keep my head straight when I'm working." Your expression softened at his admission, and a small smile tugged at your lips. "Well, I'm glad to know I have that effect on you," you replied, your voice tinged with mischief. "But I have to say, keeping your head straight seems like a pretty tall order. I can guarantee you I'm not making it easy."

Daemon's grip on the wheel tightened as he heard the sultry tone in your voice, his mind racing with all the things he wanted to do to you. "You have no idea," he said gruffly. "Every time you look at me with those big pretty eyes of yours or touch me with those delicate little hands of yours, it takes everything I have to stay professional." You couldn't help but feel a thrill at his words, the fact that you had such an effect on him only made you want to push his buttons more. "Maybe I like seeing you struggle," you said, leaning closer to him and placing a hand on his thigh. "Maybe I like knowing I can break through that tough exterior and leave you a mess." Daemon's breath hitched as your hand landed on his thigh, his muscles tensing under your touch. "You're playing a dangerous game, little one," he warned, but there was no denying the hunger behind his words. He glanced over at you, his eyes dark with desire. "You keep testing me like this and I won't be able to hold back for much longer."

You grinned, enjoying the way you were making him squirm. "Who says I want you to hold back?" you purred, leaning even closer to him, your lips almost brushing his ear. "Maybe I like the idea of you losing control with me." Daemon clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to pull you into his lap and ravish you right there in the car. Your proximity and your words were driving him wild, and the sound of your sultry voice in his ear was quickly eroding his self-control. "You are the most infuriating woman," he said through gritted teeth. Your grin widened as you heard the strain in his voice, knowing you were causing him to lose his grip. "But you love it," you said, moving your hand further up his thigh. "You love the way I get under your skin and make you feel things you try so hard to keep locked away." Daemon let out a low growl as your hand inched higher up his thigh, his knuckles white from gripping the wheel too tightly. "You're playing with fire, darlin'. I've been good so far, but you keep pushing my buttons like this and you're gonna see a side of me you can't handle." He shot you a warning look, but the lust and desire in his eyes betrayed him.

You chuckled, not intimidated in the least. "Oh, I can handle you," you teased, squeezing his thigh for emphasis. "And as for that side of you, you keep trying to keep hidden, I think it's about time you let it out to play." You moved your mouth to his ear, your lips brushing against his skin as you whispered, "I can take whatever you throw at me, big guy." Daemon let out a guttural moan as your lips grazed his skin, his control slipping further away. The sound of your voice in his ear was like a siren song, making him crave you more than he ever thought possible. "Damn you," he muttered, his voice rough with barely contained desire. "You think you can handle me, huh? I'll show you just how wrong you are, you little brat." You felt a thrill at his words, the way he was struggling to keep his composure only made you want to push him further. "Bring it on, big guy," you teased. "I'm not afraid of you." You continued to tease him with your hands and your voice, wanting to see just how far you could push him before he snapped. The car finally pulled up outside your home, and Daemon cut the engine with a flick of his wrist. The air was thick with tension between the two of you, the electricity crackling with every look and touch. As the two of you sat just outside your home, Daemon sat for a moment, trying to regain his composure.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of the thoughts and desires you had stirred up in him. After a moment, he turned to you, his expression a mixture of lust and frustration. "You're a damn tease, you know that?" he growled. You smirked at his words, loving the effect you were having on him. "And you're a stubborn control freak," you retorted, still not backing down. "It's about time you realized you can't always be in charge." You leaned closer to him, your lips only inches from his. "But we both know you like it when I challenge you, don't we?" Daemon gritted his teeth, your proximity and your words making his restraint wear thin. He wanted nothing more than to give in to the desire that was building inside him, but he was a man of control, used to being in command. "You're driving me wild, you know that?" he muttered. "You're like a storm, beautiful and dangerous, and I can't resist your pull." He reached out and grabbed your chin, pulling you closer. "But make no mistake, darlin', I'm still the one in charge here."

You let out a soft gasp as he grabbed your chin, the rough handling sending shivers down your spine. "Oh, is that so?" you purred, your lips only millimeters from his. "Why don't you prove it, then?" Even though you were the one in control of the situation so far, your pulse was racing and your breath was coming in shallow gasps. Daemon's eyes darkened with a mix of lust and determination as you challenged him, your proximity and your sultry tone igniting a fire within him. "Don't tempt me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "Once I start, I won't be able to stop." He held your chin in his hand, his gaze burning into yours. "Are you sure you're ready for this, darlin'? Because I won't be gentle." Your heart hammered in your chest as you met his intense gaze. You were playing a dangerous game, teasing and challenging a man who was known for his self-control, but you couldn't help it. The way he looked at you with such hunger and intensity sent a thrill through you, making you more reckless than ever before. "I'm sure," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can take anything you dish out, big guy. Bring it on…. how about you come inside?"

Daemon's self-control finally snapped at your words, his restraint lost in a wave of desire and need. "You asked for it," he growled, his voice thick with hunger. Without waiting for a response, he quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed open the car door. He strode around to your side of the car and yanked open the passenger door, pulling you out of your seat with a firm grip on your wrist. "Inside," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "Now." You gasped as he yanked you out of the car, the force of his grip making your heart race even faster. You followed him obediently, almost feeling like a pet being led on a leash. As soon as you stepped inside your home, he slammed the door shut and pushed you up against it, pinning you there with his body. His eyes glittered with a dark intensity that made your stomach flutter. "Now you're mine," he said, his voice hot against your ear. There was no going back now, you had pushed him past his breaking point and now you were about to see just what he was capable of. Daemon's body was taut with tension and desire as he pressed you against the wall, the weight of his body pinning you in place. His hands came up to cup your face, his touch rough and demanding as he held you in place. "You've been pushing my buttons all night," he muttered, his voice a low rumble. "Now you get to see what happens when you drive a man wild." Without warning, he slanted his mouth over yours, claiming your lips in a bruising kiss.

You couldn't help but moan into his kiss, your body reacting to his touch with a mind of its own. He was overwhelming your senses, his grip on your face and his body pressed against you left you feeling helpless and yet utterly desperate for more. You returned his kiss with an intensity that matched his own, your hands gripping his shirt and pulling him closer. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, his desire like a flame that threatened to consume you whole. Daemon groaned, his kiss becoming more urgent and desperate as he tasted you. He released your face, his hands wandering down to your waist as he pressed you harder against the wall. His hips rocked against you, grinding his growing arousal against you as he deepened the kiss. "Damn you," he muttered, his lips moving against yours. "You drive me insane." Your breath hitched as his hips pressed against you, the feel of his hardness making your body respond with a wave of heat. You gasped against his mouth, your mind lost in a fog of desire. "Daemon," you panted, your voice pleading and desperate. "Don't stop, please. I need you, more than air."

Daemon growled low in his throat at your pleading words, the sound sending shivers through you. He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin. "You beg so pretty, darlin'," he murmured, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them tightly. "And I'm going to give you exactly what you need, but it won't be gentle." You arched your neck back, offering up more of your skin for him to claim. His words sent a thrill through you, making you shiver with anticipation. "I don't need gentle," you gasped, your hands moving to tangle in his hair. "I just need you, all of you. Take me, any way you want." Daemon let out a low hiss at your words, his control slipping further with each passing moment. He nipped at your neck before pulling away slightly and looking down at you with darkened eyes. "You won't be able to walk straight tomorrow," he promised, his voice rough with desire. "I'm gonna make sure you feel me for days." Without warning, he picked you up easily, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you towards your bedroom.

You let out a gasp as he picked you up, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. You could feel the heat and strength of his body as he carried you, and the knowledge that he was in complete control both terrified and excited you. "I don't care if I can't walk," you gasped, your mouth hovering just above his ear as if not even thinking of the full day ahead of you. "I just want you. Now." Daemon grunted in response, the huskiness in your voice only fueling his own desire. He kicked open the door to your bedroom and strode towards the bed, dropping you down onto it with a soft thump. He followed you down, his body covering yours as he looked down at you with a mixture of hunger and possessiveness in his eyes. "You're mine," he growled, his hands roaming your body as he started to remove your clothes with rough, needy motions. "And I'm going to make you scream my name." You let out a gasp as he tore away your clothes, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You could feel the need and desire radiating off of him, and it only served to heighten your own feelings. "Yes," you gasped, your voice thick with desire. "I'm yours. I'm all yours. Do whatever you want with me, just please, don't stop."

Daemon's breath hitched at your words, his eyes darkening further as he looked down at you. The sight of your exposed body beneath him only served to stoke the fire of his desire, and he quickly shed his own clothes. "I won't hold back," he muttered, his hands roaming over your skin, claiming every inch of you. "You asked for this." Without warning, he claimed your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss, his hands continuing to explore your body with urgency and hunger. You moaned into his kiss, your body responding to his touch on instinct. His hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere at once, and you felt like you were drowning in a sea of sensation. You arched your body up to meet his, desperate for more, more contact, more sensation. Your hands roamed over his back and shoulders, feeling the strength and power coiled just underneath his skin. "Don't hold back," you panted, your voice hoarse with need. "I can take it, I want it, I need it." Daemon groaned, his body shuddering with need as you writhed beneath him. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing a path down your neck and collarbone, leaving behind a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses. "You're so damn responsive," he muttered, his hands roaming over your body, tracing every curve and contour. "It's like you were made for me." He nicked at your skin, his teeth grazing over the sensitive flesh. "I want to taste every inch of you."

You gasped and arched up to meet him as he kissed and bit his way down your body, your hands fisting in the sheets beneath you. The feel of his mouth and hands on your skin was driving you wild, and you could feel your body responding with a primal need. "Please," you panted, your voice thick with desire. "Don't tease me, I can't take it. I need you, now." Daemon growled, his restraint crumbling as your words and body reacted to his touch. He knew he was driving you wild, and it only made him want you more. He pulled away slightly, his eyes meeting yours, darkened with a feral hunger. "You don't get to tell me what to do, darlin'," he said roughly, his voice thick with desire. "And I'll tease you as much as I want." Without warning, he pressed his body against yours, his weight pinning you to the bed as he claimed your mouth in a hot, possessive kiss. You tried to suppress a moan as he pressed himself against you, the feel of his body and his lips on yours sending a wave of heat through you. He was in complete control, and you both knew it, but you couldn't help but push back against him, a little bit of defiance still left in you. "Don't be a tease," you managed to gasp between kisses. "I need you, now, please."

Daemon's body tautened as you spoke, his own need becoming almost unbearable. He broke the kiss, his lips hovering millimeters from yours as he looked down at you. "You want me, huh?" he muttered, his voice rough with desire. "You want me to give you exactly what you need, right now?" He leaned back slightly, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you, vulnerable and desperate beneath him. "Beg for it." You swallowed hard as he pulled back, his eyes raking over you, taking in every inch of your exposed flesh. You were already a mess, your body craving his touch with a need that bordered on desperation. The fact that he was still in complete control, holding himself back just enough to drive you wild, was maddening. "Please," you panted, your voice strained with need. "Please, Daemon, I need you. I'll do anything, just please, give me what I want."

Daemon's eyes darkened further as you begged him, the sound of your need and pleading driving him wild. He leaned back in, his body once again pressing heavily against yours. "You're so damn beautiful when you beg," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. "And I can't resist when you look at me like that." He cupped your face in his hand, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip. "But I think first I wanna hear you say it." You let out a soft gasp as he cupped your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. You could feel the heat and desire radiating off of him, and it only served to fuel your own need. "Say what?" you asked, your voice breathless and needy. "What do you want me to say? I'll say anything, just please, don't make me wait any longer." Daemon's eyes darkened even further, his gaze locking onto yours. "Say you're mine," he muttered, his voice rough and possessive. "Say you belong to me. That I can do whatever I want with you, whenever I want. And that you'll take whatever I give you, and you'll crave more. Say it."

You felt like your entire body was on fire, your need for him almost painful. You let out a shuddering breath, your eyes locked with his. "I'm yours," you gasped, your voice thick with desire. "I belong to you, completely. You can do whatever you want with me, whenever you want. I'll take whatever you give me, and I'll always crave more. I'm yours, Daemon, only yours." Daemon let out a low, guttural moan, your words sending a rush of heat through him. He claimed your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, seeking, claiming, consuming. His hands roamed over your body, touching, claiming, possessing. "You're mine, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice rough with desire, as he broke the kiss and nuzzled your neck. "All damn mine." You melted beneath his touch, your body responding to his every move with a mix of need and surrender. "Yeah," you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly. "All yours, only yours. Just please, I need you, now." Every touch, every kiss, only served to fuel the fire that was burning inside of you, a fire that only he could extinguish.

His eyes darkened with desire as he watched you unravel beneath him, your pleas igniting something primal within him. He didn't need to be told twice. With a growl, he lifted you effortlessly, positioning you so that you were straddling his hips. The tip of his throbbing member teased at your entrance before he thrust into you with a force that left both of you gasping for air. A loud cry escaped your lips as Daemon's thick length filled you in one powerful stroke, stretching you deliciously around his girth. Your nails dug into his chest as you adjusted to his size, the pleasure-pain sending sparks through your nerves. "Oh god…" you panted, your head falling back as he began to move within you, each thrust driving deeper, harder. The wet sounds of your coupling echoed through the room, mingling with your ragged breathing and moans of ecstasy. "More…please, give me more!" You begged shamelessly, lost to the overwhelming sensations consuming you whole. Daemon gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, holding you steady as he pounded into you with ruthless abandon. Each deep, punishing thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins, pushing you closer to the edge. "Take it all, little brat," he snarled, his voice raw with lust. "Every inch of my cock is meant for this sweetness."

He reached up to wrap a hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp and arch into him. The dual sensations of his fingers on your pulse point and his thick shaft splitting you open had you teetering on the brink of climax. The roughness of his grip sent another wave of heat coursing through you, making your entire body tremble with anticipation. You threw your head back, exposing the tender column of your neck, a silent invitation for him to explore further. "Yes, yes, just like that," you whimpered, feeling the coil within tightening dangerously. His thumb pressed against your throat, cutting off your breath momentarily before releasing it in a rush, intensifying the sensation of being completely owned by him. "I'm close…so fucking close," you confessed, your inner walls clenching around him instinctively. He felt your body start to tighten around him, signaling your impending release, and it spurred him on even more. His thrusts became erratic, driven by pure, unadulterated lust. "Come for me, love," he commanded, his voice dripping with carnal intent. "Show me how much you want it."

Your body convulsed as the first wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you gasping and trembling beneath Daemon. Your inner walls clenched around his throbbing length, milking him for everything he was worth. "Oh fuck…Daemon!" you cried out, your body writhing uncontrollably under his touch. The pleasure was so intense, so overwhelming that it brought tears to your eyes, blurring your vision as you rode out the orgasmic waves crashing over you. Daemon groaned deeply as he felt you come undone around him, your tight sheath rippling along his shaft. It was almost too much to bear. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you and let go, spilling his hot seed deep within your quivering depths. "Fuck, yes," he hissed through gritted teeth, his body shuddering with the force of his own climax. As the last tremors subsided, he collapsed back onto the bed, pulling you down to lie atop him, still joined intimately. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as they both struggled to catch their breath. As the aftershocks of your orgasm slowly faded away, you lay there, panting heavily against Daemon's chest. The warmth of his cum filling you made you feel complete, and cherished. You turned your face towards him, pressing a soft, satisfied kiss to his lips. "That was incredible," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're amazing." The feeling of being held tightly by him after such an intense experience was soothing and comforting, and you found yourself not wanting to pull away anytime soon.

He smiled against your lips, a rare moment of tenderness breaking through the usual facade of dominance. "And you, little minx," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face, "are utterly bewitching." There was a contentment in his voice that hadn't been there before, a satisfaction that came from having fulfilled a deep-seated craving. Slowly, he rolled you onto your side, keeping you nestled against him, his arm draped possessively across your waist. "We'll do this again," he promised, already plotting future encounters in his mind. You woke up the next morning feeling sore and tired, but blissfully satisfied. The memories of last night came back to you in a flood, and you smiled as you realized that you were still in bed with Daemon. You turned over to look at him, only to find that he was already awake, watching you with a lazy smile on his face.

Daemon's eyes took in the sight of your satisfied smile and messy bed hair, he felt a mixture of pride and contentment. He reached out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and tender. "Morning, darlin'," he said, his voice gravelly with sleep. "How you feelin' this morning?" You leaned into his touch, a contented sigh escaping your lips. "I'm feeling sore," you admitted with a small laugh, "but absolutely wonderful. Last night was… incredible." Your eyes met his, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight of his satisfied expression. "How about you? Did I wear you out?" He chuckled, a roguish smile playing on his lips. "You damn near killed me," he said, his words punctuated by a lazy stretch. "But I ain't complainin'. I could get used to seeing you like this every morning." He leaned in closer, his voice growing huskier. "All disheveled and satisfied, and all mine." You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, your body responding to his possessive tone. You reached out to touch his chest, feeling the heat and strength of his body beneath your fingers. "Careful," you teased, a smile playing on your lips. "I might just have to test that theory."

His eyes darkened at your touch, his body responding instantly to the feel of your fingers. "Is that so?" he said, his voice dropping even lower. "You think you're up for round three already?" He shifted closer to you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. "Or do you need a break first, darlin'?" Your morning reverie is interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by your assistant's voice from the other side. "Knock knock," she calls out cheerfully. "I've got a list of things that need your attention-" The door swings open, and she stops mid-sentence as she takes in the sight of you and Daemon, tangled up in the bedsheets. "Oh?" Daemon stiffened as the assistant barged in with no warning, quickly trying to keep the sheets covering his and your mostly exposed bodies. He couldn't help but scowl at her intrusion, his arms instinctively tightening around you as if to shield you from her gaze. "Ever heard of knockin' and waitin' for a damn response?" he snapped gruffly. Your assistant blushed profusely, her eyes widening as she realized the situation fully sunk in. "I'm sorry," she stammered out, her voice high-pitched and embarrassed. "I didn't realize- I'll just-" She quickly turned and tried to exit the room, but in her rush, she tripped over the rug near the door and crashed to the floor with a loud thump.

Daemon rolled his eyes at the sight of your clumsy assistant, but his grip on you didn't loosen. If anything, he held you even tighter, pulling you closer to him and the safety of the bed. "For the love of God…" he muttered, his voice an annoyed grumble. "She's a walking disaster, ain't she?" You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of your assistant sprawled out on the floor, clearly embarrassed and flustered. "Yeah, she's a bit clumsy," you admitted, your voice full of fondness. "But she's loyal and hardworking, so I keep her around." You looked up at Daemon, a sly smile on your face. "And she knows when to make herself scarce, thankfully." Daemon chuckled, his mood somewhat brightened by your fond words for your assistant. He leaned back against the headboard, pulling you with him so that you were half-reclined on his chest. "Yeah, I think the poor thing got the message," he said, his tone dry. "But I can't deny she's got great timing. Or lack thereof, in this case."

You snuggled up against him, enjoying the feeling of his warm, solid chest beneath you. "I guess we should count ourselves lucky," you joked. "Otherwise, we'd probably never get anything done." You glanced over at the clock on the bedside table and sighed. "Speaking of which, I do actually have things to do today…" Daemon groaned lowly in response, his arms tightening around you possessively. He nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling deeply as if trying to commit your scent to memory, before pulling back slightly. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered, his tone resigned. "You've got a business to run. But can't a man just hold his brat a little longer?" You chuckled at his words, touched by his possessiveness. "Of course you can," you reassured him. "And I would love that. But I really do have to get up. We can always pick this up later, though…" You reluctantly started to extricate yourself from his embrace, planting a quick kiss on his lips before standing up. He lets out a huff, watching as you reluctantly untangle yourself from his arms and rise from the bed, already missing the warmth of your body against his. He props himself up on his elbows, the sheets pooling around his waist and revealing his bare chest. "Promises, promises," he mutters, a roguish smile playing on his lips. "I'll hold you to that, you know. And I aim to collect, darlin'."

[canonizzyhours]

I'm a professional screenwriter. I know nobody reading this has any reason to believe that, and I work pretty hard to keep my fandom activity separate from my professional identity, so I'm not going to offer any proof that would doxx me here, believe me or don't. But it's true and I don't just mean I'm trying to get hired as a screenwriter, I mean I am pretty well established in the industry and I've worked on some stuff big enough you've probably heard of it. I've also been active in OFMD fandom for about two years now, since nearly the beginning.

The canyon really freaks me out because seeing it up close makes me worried I've drastically underestimated audiences' empathy gap around characters of color and tendency to sympathize with and excuse the actions of white characters. I've always tried to be conscious about that sort of thing in my work but now that I'm seeing the whole process up close it's so much worse than I always thought.

I think a lot about what I would have done during season 1 of OFMD, if I were in the writers' room and I'd wanted to make sure it would be clear to the audience that Izzy was Ed's abuser and wasn't acting out of secretly sympathetic motives and we're supposed to be genuinely horrified by his actions. I'm in writers' rooms workshopping issues like this all the time. I know the kinds of suggestions I'd make.

Like, if we were worried that the audience would think Izzy's hostility toward Stede was about class instead of homophobia, I might have suggested we make sure Izzy's dialogue never has any reference to Stede's class at all, and that we might do a subplot in one episode where Izzy is equally hostile toward Lucius, since Lucius clearly isn't rich but is extremely gay. But that already happened, and it didn't help.

If I wanted to make sure the audience understood that Izzy is bossing the crew around and screaming at everyone to work harder because he's a petty little bully on a power trip and not because the work actually needs to get done, I might have suggested a scene where Izzy deliberately makes a mess on purpose just so he can order the crew to clean it up. But that already happened, and it didn't help.

If I wanted to make it clear that Izzy has always been awful toward everyone around him -- especially his colleagues of color -- since long before the show started, I might have suggested we repeatedly emphasize throughout the season that while Fang is willing to work with him, he doesn't like or respect Izzy and this is because Izzy has always treated Fang very badly. Have him pull on Fang's beard for no reason and have Fang explicitly say he hates that but knows it wouldn't help to complain. Have Fang tell strangers jokes about times Izzy humiliated himself in public. Have a scene where everybody unanimously VOTES TO MURDER IZZY and someone explicitly stops to ask Fang if he's cool with this and Fang explicitly says yes this is absolutely fine with me and then he actively participates in the murder plan while smiling. But all of that happened and I still see the canyon insisting that Izzy was a much nicer person before the events of s2 when he wasn't under so much stress and has always been liked and respected by the PoC around him, including specifically Fang!

If I were worried that the audience might take seriously the idea that Izzy is motivated by "loyalty to your captain" -- well, honestly I don't think it ever would have occurred to me to worry about that, since he says that in a scene where he's in the middle betraying his captain and I'd probably assume people are capable of picking that up and understanding that when someone says they're abusing you for your own good you should not believe them. But if someone else insisted we address the concern, suggestions I'd make would include: make sure some of the first interactions we see between Ed and Izzy involve Izzy complaining about how he doesn't want to do the job Ed just gave him, then half-assing the mission and lying to Ed's face about it. Show Izzy deliberately undermining Ed to the crew by telling them he's half-insane, then insist to Ed that he's the only one keeping the crew loyal when they're worried about his judgment. But they did that stuff and we still have people thinking Izzy's central motivation throughout season 1 is selfless devotion to Ed.

The show did every single thing I would have suggested, and none of it worked. So what does it say about all the stuff I've already worked on, whenever I've written a scene where a white guy was being a dick to characters of color? Have I just been embarrassingly naive this whole time? Have I undermined my own work by not getting this?

You can't control audience reactions, I know that, that's part of what's great about art, you have to let go and accept that people will interpret things in ways you never intended, I get it. But if it's THIS impossible to choose words that will create the kind of feelings you meant to, what's the point? Is it even possible to write about the kind of abusive relationship Ed and Izzy have, where the white guy thinks he's entitled to control a brown man's life "for his own good" and that the brown guy is obligated to be grateful and reciprocate his "love" and not have a huge group of people creating elaborate justifications for the white guy? What else could they have done? What else can I do, when I'm writing about characters of color? I'm seriously asking. If anybody reading this has advice I want to hear it. What could I do?

#408.

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Family Video

steddie, omegaverse, mdni 🔞

Eddie’s putzing around in the horror section at Family Video when the bell over the door jingles. He glances without thinking, shocked to see Robin Buckley lead Steve Harrington inside.

He’s nosy, wants to know what the hell is up with that. But he also doesn’t want to attract Keith’s attention. Eddie’s taking his time to hang in the A/C as long as possible, nearly an hour already.

Not that Buckley is capable of being quiet, so he hears plenty.

How they’re job hunting and how Robin probably knows more about film than Keith does. How Steve Fuckin’ Harrington likes Return of the Jedi! Even if he can’t remember the title and calls ewoks teddy bears. 

Color Eddie surprised.

Add in Steve’s bright, colorblocked outfit and his swoopy hair, the way he absolutely takes out the Fast Times promotional standee and hurries to fix it, resume in his mouth like an enthusiastic labrador retriever.

Embarrassingly, Eddie realizes he’s been pumping out his campfire and marshmallow scent, too charmed to lock down his sudden interest, subconsciously trying to draw in the stupidly endearing omega.

He figures he should go before he actually catches any attention, dipping around the counter and out the door, but not before he hears Buckley and Harrington get hired on the spot.

It’s easy enough for Eddie to memorize Steve’s schedule, only going to rent movies while he’s working. Sometimes he drags the guys with him, or maybe just Jeff, giving more cover to surreptitiously stare at the moles on Steve’s neck.

“You aren’t being nearly as sneaky as you think,” Jeff mutters on more than one occasion . “Just go talk to him.”

“Can’t.” Eddie keeps Jeff between himself and the counter, eyes on the slasher movies like he’s agonizing over his decision.

“Why not?”

“Cuz I’ll say something stupid like, ‘Please, sit on my face, I wanna drown in your pussy.’ That’s why,” Eddie whispers, risking a glance towards Steve.

“What? Seriously!”

“Have you seen what a mess he is now? And add in that apple pie scent—my mouth is watering and my dick is—”

“Christ! I’m sorry I asked. But I still think you should talk to him.” Jeff turns his attention to the shelf in front of them. “Nightmare on Elm Street?” he asks, reaching for the case.

“Yeah…” Then Eddie stares as Jeff brings the tape up to the counter, his best friend effortlessly making small talk and laughing as he rents the movie. Like a coward, Eddie hurries out of the video store, waiting for Jeff in his van.

When Eddie goes to return the tape the next day, he’s surprised when Steve looks at Robin and says, “I’m going on my break,” even as he accepts the tape from Eddie, their fingers brushing.

“Yeah, whatever,” Robin answers, flipping through a magazine.

Broad fingers wrap around Eddie’s wrist and drag him back to the Family Video break room past the “Employees Only” sign.

Steve smiles at him as he closes the door behind them. “Sorry. Just got tired of waiting for you to make a move.”

“What?” Eddie has never known Steve Harrington to be the kind of omega who waits for an alpha.

“You aren’t doing a very good job of controlling your scent.”

Eddie gulps, cheeks heating.

“And your friend said you were super into me, which… Yeah, definitely picked up on that.”

Nodding, Eddie waits for his tongue to untie, pretty sure he’s gonna die first when Steve steps closer, presses his hand to Eddie’s chest. “You surprised me,” he manages to say.

“Sorry about that.” Steve doesn’t look sorry at all as he leans in, sniffs at Eddie’s neck. “I’m too used to Robin, bad at personal space with pack.”

“Not what I meant—the ewoks—I mean. Shit. Wait.” Eddie closes his eyes, Steve’s scent filling his nose and making him warm. He smells safe. Familiar.

“Yes?” Steve murmurs, hand moving up to touch the skin above the collar of Eddie’s shirt.

“Not pack, what do you mean bad at personal space with pack?”

“Can tell you should be pack.” He nuzzles at Eddie’s cheek and whispers, “Want to be your pack.”

Eddie gives into his instincts then, whining and holding Steve’s face still, bringing their mouths together. He has no idea what he’s doing, but Steve clearly does as he gentles the kiss, grinning as he pulls away.

“My shift ends at seven. Meet me at my place at seven-thirty.”

Eddie nods. “Uh-huh, yep, whatever you say.”

Steve glances up at the clock. “But we’ve still got six minutes before my break ends, and you need to practice,” he teases, pulling Eddie back in for another kiss.

[ivyblossom]

In the last 10 years or so my library career has involved a lot of hiring committees, and I've gotten pretty good at sussing out great candidates. I swear it's been like 70% of my job or more at some points, writing job descriptions, reviewing applications, interviews, evaluating candidates, arguing with committees, etc. Hiring the right candidates for a role has a huge positive impact on work and work culture, and hiring the wrong ones is so detrimental for everyone involved including the candidate, so I take it very seriously.

I have become an industrial strength implicit bias detector (people's biases never come out as strongly as they do on hiring committees, omg, the racism, the sexism! The preference for the comfort of the shitty known over the fear of change! The respect I have lost for colleagues because of serving on search committees could feed a village for a year).

I have a ton of weirdly specific experience and tools for this work, and I have a series of favourite interview questions the answers to which can tell you how a candidate is going to blow up your org (in a good way or in a bad way), and my track record for being right about that is still spotless after 10 years.

But in spite of the fact that everywhere I've ever worked hires a lot of students into student jobs, I have never been involved in student interviews and hiring. These are 10 hour a week jobs. This week, I'm standing in to help with student interviews because one of my teams is down a person. After all that experience hiring, you'd think I'd be primed for this, but no.

I am useless interviewing undergrads for student jobs, useless. I am charmed by all of them. I think they're all wonderful. They's so smart and thoughtful and earnest and have the potential to change the world, I love them all. Hire them all. They're perfect.

[lbulldesigns]

Proof that Jinx Ziggs has a heart

I'm currently writing the first chapter of my Jinx!Ironman AU fic ❤️❤️❤️

I don't have an estimate of when it will be finished just yet because I keep going back and rewriting and editing as I go, but as soon as I finish I'll be announcing it here on Tumblr.

In the meantime, here is a list of character that I've come up with so far:

Powder "Jinx" Ziggs -

Jinx is obviously playing Tony Stark. There are some diversions from Tony Stark's character. For one, Jinx will still have her family and is a single mother to Isha. She is somewhat estranged from her family because of her busy lifestyle.

She also has a history of struggling with psychosis and is prone to auditory hallucinations but has made leaps and bounds in handling her condition.

Another diversion is that she built up her wealth independently, unlike Tony, who came from generational wealth.

Her company is called Jinx Industries, and even though her legal name is Powder, she prefers to be called Jinx.

She also prefers to go by her birth parent's names, because she's scared that their name will be gone forever if she doesn't go by it.

Isha Connie Ziggs -

Is Jinx's biological daughter, she was conceived by accident when her mother's gynecologist messed up their schedule and impregnated Jinx instead of inserting an IUD. Jinx used the settlement from suing the clinic to invest in her company. She also doesn't know who the sperm donor is, but that information will be coming to light later on in the story.

Jinx does what she can to keep Isha out of the public eye, for her own safety and to try and give her a somewhat normal childhood.

Isha absolutely loves her mother, and bugs ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Sevika Wafiya -

Sevika was a close friend to Felicia during her pregnancy with Jinx, and became Jinx's godmother when she was born.

She has been by Jinx's side her whole life, and they act more like sisters than mother and daughter. They are constantly butting heads. However, when Jinx needs advice or needs help cleaning up a mess, Sevika is who she'll go to.

When Jinx started her business, Sevika was the one to step in and help her get it up and running.

Her role in the company now is basically as a Jack of all trades. She runs the security in Jinx Industries, steps in and fills in for Jinx when Jinx isn't available such as when she doesn't turn up to claim an award or just decides to skip an important interview, and keeps things running smoothly alongside Lux.

When Jinx went missing, she organized for Isha to be sent to her family for safekeeping and got to work making sure that some of the more greedy board members didn't take Jinx's absence as an opportunity to grab the CEO seat.

She is loyal to Jinx.

Yasuo Hiraoka (I don't know Yasuo's full name in LoL, so I came up with one myself) -

Yasuo is Isha's personal bodyguard, Jinx hired him after a kidnapping attempt when Isha was four. Jinx and Sevika didn't play around with Isha's safety and sought out a former assassin to keep the little girl safe.

Yasuo is a very patient man and has developed a mild obsession with Animal Crossing. He and Isha play together often.

He is extremely protective of Isha.

Luxanna Crownsguard -

Lux is Jinx's personal assistant, she basically plays the role of Pepper Potts but isn't a romantic interest. Her and Jinx are best friends, and she is Isha's godmother.

Lux was disowned by her family for being an Inhuman and was given a job by Jinx, she takes her duties seriously and is one of the only people who can handle Jinx.

Vi Kirraman -

Vi is married to Caitlyn, and is a former Enforcer. She quit after a near death experience on the job and realized that she actually really hated her work and wanted to do something different with her life.

She opened her own gym that mostly caters to Enforcers, soldiers, MMA fighters, and so on.

She's currently working from home, due to reasons.

Caitlyn Kirraman -

Caitlyn is the Commander of the Twin City Forces and basically plays the role of Rhodey in this AU, she was previously an Enforcer but transferred over to the Twin City Forces when it was established as a means to draw Zaun and Piltover closer together.

She works quite a bit with Jinx, they used to be at each others throats but have somehow managed to form a solid friendship over the years. Caitlyn is Jinx's only real connection to the rest of her family.

She is career-driven and a bit of a workaholic but tries to make time for her family as they are extremely important to her.

When Jinx goes missing, she jumps right into action and is determined to bring her sister-in-law home to her family.

Mylo Lanes -

Owns several businesses in fashion, locksmithing, and even a dive bar.

He is currently single but is in the process of courting Gert, a DJ who works closely with The Chemical Sisters.

Claggor Lanes -

Is a botanist, who is working on improving Zaun's air quality using plants (much like his S2E7 AU self). He works closely with Ekko.

Claggor has his own daughter, named Cleo who is four-years-old. Cleo's mother is Sona Buvelle (I read a Star Guardians fic once where her and Claggor were sweet on each other, and just had to get them together for this one <3).

Sona Buvelle -

Is a virtuoso, and Inhuman. Who is engaged to Claggor Lanes, who she shares a four-year-old daughter with. She plays in the Piltover Grand Orchestre, on the high harp and grand piano, and is well renowned for her beautiful music.

Ekko Bennett -

Is Jinx's ex-best friend and ex-lover, they were never actually official but were close enough. They had a falling out due to miscommunication, and some meddling from Ekko's birth parents who thought knew what was best for their son, despite not being very present in his life. Due to this meddling, Ekko and Jinx had a falling out resulting in Jinx moving overseas, to Bilgewater, and cutting contact with Ekko.

When Ekko found out about the meddling he cut contact with his parents, and tried to get in contact with Jinx but it was too late.

He threw himself into his work in physics, engineering, and bio-engineering. He works tirelessly to improve the environmental status of Zaun with Claggor, and spends a lot of his free time working with the community and following Jinx's work even though he doesn't approve of her weapons manufacturing.

He suspects that Isha might be his daughter, and is pissed with Jinx for keeping him away.

There's still a bit more world-building to be done, but here are a few things to keep in mind:

The AU is set in Runetrra not Earth

Yordles, Vasteyans, Chireans, and other magical beings in LoL are citizens

Magic is a thing, but it isn't commercialized

Hex-Tech is a controversial technology

Piltover and Zaun are separate states but Piltover is constantly working on trying to merge with Zaun again

And, Vander and Silco's relationship is a great big question mark to everyone, they keep calling each other brothers but live together and raise four kids together and are always touchy-feely.

Anyhoo, this is what I have so far. I tried not to give away to much here because I want to leave some mystery for the actual story.