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caffeinewitchcraft · 2 months ago

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Ghost Eater

Summary: You don't like exorcists. They don't much like you either.

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You’d always thought big restaurants like the Brownie Industry only did well in small, midwestern towns like the one you came from. A year working in LA has taught you that, no matter where you go, people will always love garlic bread and sugar.

It’s your day off which means you’re pulling a double shift. You haven’t had time to wash your hair for the past two weeks so it’s frizzing out of your claw clip and flying wild around your face. The lighting is so dim that you’ve tripped over two black purses already, luckily not while you’re running food. The big dining room sounds like an apiary with the tittering laughter of the later adult crowd that’s filtered in from the theater across the four lane road. The main difference between the Brownie Industry here and the one back home is size. The ceiling soars overhead, supported by a series of concrete pillars separating the dining area into three sections.

Normally it would be three servers per section. Today, it’s just you in yours.

One more hour. That’s what the manager promised you. It might even be true if the host stand quits seating you after the table you’re approaching.

There are three people at the table. A woman whose hair might be light blonde or gray in the light of day, her eyes light and piercing. Her face is soft from age, emphasized by the tight, lace collar of her off-season sweater. She reminds you strongly of your mom’s nemesis on the HOA board. The man couldn’t be more out of place next to her despite their equivalent age. He’s wearing a leather jacket – again, it’s not cold here – and a Norwegian metal shirt underneath. His hair is definitely white, so white it almost glows. He’s frowning at the teenager across the table as if she’s touched his motorcycle without permission.

The teenager might be the first you’ve seen all night who doesn’t have their phone out. She’s decked out in what you consider grandma florals – a t-shirt scattered with daisy chains, a bucket hat made out of nana’s carpet bag, and a hand-crocheted scarf in pastel. You can’t really see her face under the shadow of her hat and there’s an odd, blurred quality to the way she fiddles with her napkin. You let your eyes skip past her and back to the two adults. Teenagers don’t pay the bill.

“Welcome to Brownie Industry!” you chirp. You’re sweaty and red but the faded yellow light hides that. You’re a service industry pro so none of your exhaustion shows on your face when you ask, “Is this your first-time dining with us?”

If you weren’t so burned out, you’d have noticed before you introduced yourself.

“Are you Grady?” the woman asks. Her voice is more posh than you expected even with her lace collar. “Grady Pace?”

Fuck. There’s a noticeable temperature differential now that you’re close to them. The restaurant is warm from the number of bodies, maybe even warmer than the summer air outside, but stepping up next to their table feels like walking into an ice rink.

“I’m your waitress,” you say. You don’t have time for this conversation. You’ve got five minutes in your cycle to take their order and then you’ve got food to run. “If you need any other services from me, I have a website.”

“We messaged you,” the man says. His lips thin to the point his thick mustache covers them entirely. “You never responded.”

Because you’ve been making more money at the Brownie Industry than your other job. “I’ll take a look at it tonight.”

“Wait,” the teenager says, sitting upright. She looks from you to the adults and back again. When she smiles, there’s no humor in it. “This is why we drove eight hours to have dinner at the Brownie Industry? For her?”

“Katie, be polite—”

“I’m sorry,” Katie says, “It’s just—I found a priest, you know? An actual exorcist priest and you guys want to trust a waitress over him?”

“Ugh exorcists,” you say. The memory of sour cabbage is so heavy on your tongue that you stick your tongue out in disgust. When you see Katie’s look, you backtrack. “Effective! Definitely effective.”

“Your mistakes have cost us too much already,” the man says, shaking a finger at her. “We are not converting just for an exorcism.”

“I normally don’t agree with your father,” the woman tells Katie, “but in this case I would like to leave conversion as a last resort.”

“We wouldn’t actually convert,” Katie says, rolling her eyes.

“Pretty sure exorcists can tell when you lie,” you tell Katie. When her scowl deepens, you clear your throat. “Did you all need another minute to think about the menu?”

“We need you to help us,” the dad says. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, I know you’re at work and I’m sorry we’re bothering you.”

“We’re desperate,” the mom says. She reaches for her purse. “We’ll pay you. Triple the rate on your website or even quadruple. We need that thing gone by tonight.”

Katie covers her face. “Mom. You’re embarrassing me. Terry isn’t that bad.”

“Oh, he’s bad, young lady,” the dad says sternly. “A bad influence.”

“We caught her trying to perform another séance yesterday,” the mom confesses to you. She leans forward with a pinched expression. “So Terry’s friend Larry could visit too.”

“Interesting,” you say. The food bell rings, but you think you can ignore it for another minute. You study Katie’s blush. “Why did you do that?”

If she was being compelled, she won’t have an answer to your question. You’ve dealt with a lot of ghosts in your time, but so few are sentient enough – or powerful enough – for compulsion.

“Go on,” the dad says, gesturing at you. “Tell her.”

“Leroy, she’s embarrassed enough,” the mom says.

“No, she’s not, Sarah.” The dad – Leroy – gestures to you again. “Tell her.”

Katie huffs, clearly resistant. But when her dad huffs back, she caves. “So,” she says, “I have this YouTube channel—”

“I’m off in an hour,” you interrupt. You don’t care that you’re being rude. Your patience ran out as soon as she said YouTube. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” You turn to go.

“A moment!” Sarah shakes out her menu. “How’s the nicoise salad?”

Of course they’re going to order. They’d better tip too if they want you to help them with their ghost problem.

----.

“You said an hour,” mom Sarah says when you leave out the employee entrance. She’s shivering next to her daughter. Leroy is off smoking behind his motorcycle, parked next to the Tesla Katie is leaning on, but he stubs out his cigarette on the asphalt when you walk up. “It’s been two.”

“I had side work,” you say instead of it would have been one if not for you. You rub your bare arms when the familiar ghost chill washes over you. You want nothing more than to go home and wash the scent of garlic and brownie batter out of your hair. “Was there something wrong with my service?”

“No?”

You try to make your voice light. “I see.”

Sarah frowns at your tone anyway. “Why?”

“You tipped five dollars.”

Katie jolts like a scalded cat. “Mom!”

Leroy scrubs a hand over his face. “Sarah…”

“What?” Sarah throws up her hands. The parking lot lights catch on her Swarovski charm bracelet. “I tipped!”

“Like ten percent,” Katie says. She pulls her bucket hat over her eyes for a beat and then peeks at you from under it. “I’m so sorry. It’s not you, she’s always like this.”

“It was actually a six percent tip,” you say. You’re getting a clearer picture of this little family now. It’s becoming more and more understandable why Katie might have started summoning ghosts. “If you want to be precise.”

Leroy reaches for his back pocket. “Let me.”

Sarah swats at his hand. “We’re about to pay her a lot more than that!”

“For a completely separate job,” Leroy says. He pulls a twenty from his wallet and hands it to you with a grimace. “Sorry, Grady, I should’ve checked.”

“You should’ve paid if you cared so much,” Sarah retorts. She folds her arms over her chest. She taps her cheek and widens her eyes. “Oh wait… you never pay.”

“Sure,” Leroy says. This time it’s his turn to throw his hands in the air. “Sure, Sarah. I don’t pay for anything to do with our daughter’s private school or her dance classes or her health insurance—”

“If the court hadn’t mandated—”

“You make twice as much as me—"

“Guys!” Katie says loudly. Her mouth is a thin line of upset when she says, “Argue about what an expensive burden I am later when we don’t have an audience, okay?”

Her parents speak at the same time.

“You’re twisting my words,” Sarah says. “I never said—"

“Sweetie, you’re not a burden—”

“Can you just get this ghost out of me?” Katie asks you. She goes for nonchalance and falls short. “My parents haven’t been in the same room for the last five years for a reason.” She fakes whispering. “They don’t play nicely with others.”

Sarah bristles. “Katie.”

“God, I know how that is,” you say. The whole interaction is giving you the worst case of sympathy for Katie. Before her parents can say anything else, you change the subject. “How long have you been haunted?”

“Six months,” Katie says. She fiddles with her bucket hat so that you can see her eyes for the first time. They’re brown, like her dad’s, and have heavy bruises underneath. She shrugs. “They only noticed a month ago though.”

“I noticed your behavior had changed,” Sarah defends. Like her daughter, she fidgets. She plays with her bracelet and clears her throat. “I thought it was a teenage thing.”

“What signs did you notice first?” you ask the parents. They glance at each other and then away.

“Let’s just say we noticed different things,” Leroy says dryly. He pulls out his phone.

“Moodiness,” Sarah says. She ticks them off on her fingers. “Laziness. Disrespect. Over-sleeping.”

“Those are just teenager things,” Katie says with an astounding level of self awareness. She shrugs. “I’m a senior now. They’re lucky it didn’t start sooner.”

“I,” Leroy says, “noticed this.” He turns his phone towards you.

“Ah,” Sarah says, “Yes. That.”

You examine the picture. It’s of Katie on a small dirt bike. She’s wearing a helmet in the picture, but you recognize the fashion sense in the floral boots she’s wearing. The scene behind her is of the hills, low scrub brush recognizable to someone who’s lived in LA for the past five years. On the bike behind her is a smudge. It could be a cloud of dirt blown into frame or maybe a camera glitch. It could be if it weren’t for the leering face emerging from the cloud right behind her head.

“I just want to say I did not agree to getting her a motorcycle,” Sarah says.

“Mom, not the point,” Katie says.

“Look how close that creep is to my daughter,” Leroy says. He jabs a finger at Katie’s waist in the photo where you can see a ghostly hand. “I want him gone.”

“Dad, he didn’t mean anything by it!” Katie turns to you earnestly. “Terry never rode a bike before and I thought, like, what if he moved on after he got a chance to? It was a philanthropic effort!”

“Plant a tree if you want to be a philanthropist,” Leroy growls. “I want this guy away from my daughter.”

“He doesn’t mean any harm really,” Katie says. “He would move on if he could! He says he’s stuck to me because of how I summoned him. He’s like, really sorry. He even spelled out Sorry in the bathroom mirror once.”

“What,” Sarah says in a dangerous voice, “was Terry doing in the bathroom with you, Katie?”

Katie splutters. “Mom, don’t be gross!”

The family descends into bickering. You have heard about ghosts being stuck to a person before, but usually that’s when the person has some sort of psychic powers. Katie’s wearing crystal in her ears, but they aren’t charged. She might develop some talent later in life, but right now she’s a normal girl.

The parking lost is nearly empty now. You recognize a few employee cars, but very few customers. The kitchen will be cleaning for another half hour before they’re ready to go home. The reality is that, if Terry is stuck, you might not be the best way to handle the situation. If he’s not…

Well.

It’s time to talk to Terry.

Opening your ghost sense is hard to describe. Some psychics liken it to a third eye, right in the middle of their forehead. You’ve always thought that sounded really cool like maybe the world gets cast in a blue hue when they do it and the dead appear like they do in movies. You’ve met other psychics who say it’s like a sixth sense. They know where the ghost is and it’s like they download all that information until their minds can just sort of conjure their image.

For you, it’s like letting your body remember it has a second mouth. Cats have an extra sensory organ on the roof of their mouth that lets them detect scents better. Your second mouth is a bit like that. You can still smell brownies and garlic and the city air of LA, but you can also smell/taste something else.

Something like…pepper?

Your eyes water and you sneeze so viciously that your eyes close. When you open them again, four people are staring at you in surprise.

“Gesundheit,” Leroy says.

“You sneeze like Dad does,” Katie says.

“Did no one ever teach you to cover your mouth?” Sarah asks in disgust.

“I wish you would’ve sneezed on her,” Terry says, nodding to Sarah. “She’s such a bitch.”

“Thank you for the commentary, everyone,” you say. You wipe your nose with the collar of your shirt as you consider Terry. It’s dirty anyway. “Terry. Interesting name for a ghost.”

Terry hasn’t noticed that you can see him yet. He’s floating behind Katie, one arm casually flung over her shoulder. It’s hard to place when he died based on his appearance alone. His hair is chin length, emphasizing the width of his jaw. Squire cuts have been popular for several decades and the bowling shirt he’s wearing could either be a modern fashion statement or a dated uniform. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, sun-kissed and with the air of someone who tells a lot of jokes at the expense of others. His arm around Katie strikes you as possessive, the glare he gives her parents venomous.

“I didn’t name him,” Katie says. “He said it’s short of Torrance.”

You blink. “Wouldn’t he be Torri then?”

“That’s a girl’s name,” Katie and Terry say at the same time. Their cadence is so close that it actually sounds like Terry’s baritone comes out of Katie’s mouth. For a moment, his arm flickers, clipping into her shoulder like a bad animation. When it does, Terry’s form grows brighter, more solid. Then Katie shivers and he’s forced out of her.

You and Terry click your tongues at the same time.

You remember how Katie’s hands seemed to blur at the dinner table. Terry’s not just haunting Katie. He’s trying to possess her. You wonder if that’s why Katie looked up an exorcist rather than a simple spiritual cleansing. Did she know how much danger she was in?

“Okay,” you say. You tear your attention away from Katie and Terry for a moment. Business first. “Sarah. Leroy. Who was it that found my site?”

“I did,” Sarah says. She raises her chin when you can’t hide your surprise. “When Katie was looking up exorcists—”

“She didn’t mean it,” Terry says. He pats Katie’s hat. “Right?”

“—I looked up alternative solutions,” Sarah says, not having heard Terry. Her confidence falters for a moment and she rubs her arm. “I have had some… negative experiences with exorcisms. I don’t want my daughter to go through that.”

Katie’s head whips towards her mother. “What? I didn’t know that.”

“It was a long time ago,” Leroy says. For the first time, he reaches out and hugs Sarah with one arm. You don’t know what surprises you more; Leroy hugging Sarah or Sarah leaning into his side. “When Sarah told me, we decided to put our differences aside. I vetted you through some of my contacts and they all agreed you’d be a safe bet.”

“I am,” you say. You’re not bragging either. You’re probably the safest bet in half the western states besides your older sister. “There are some…peculiarities in my method.”

“Charlatan,” Terry whispers in Katie’s ear. He’s grinning now. “Only charlatans are that confident. Look! She can’t even see me!”

Katie looks doubtful.

Usually, you’d try to talk to Terry at this point. Sometimes spirits can be negotiated with. They can be encouraged to move on or to take on a less aggressive form of haunting. Those that are truly stuck can be helped with the right sort of ritual work. But the way Terry’s affecting Katie’s mood and that fucking arm around her shoulders…

You don’t really want to talk to Terry.

“We can ask Terry to move on,” you tell the family.

“Nooooooo,” Terry says and flips you off. “Pass!”

“Sometimes spirits don’t realize how deeply they’re affecting their hosts,” you say.

“You don’t even know how deep I’m about to be,” Terry jeers at you.

“Many ghosts are confused when they’re called to interact with the living,” you say. “It can blur their understanding of death and, as a result, they cling to life. If they stick around long enough, their presence will affect the living like what’s happening to Katie. It’s not always malicious. It can be a symptom of that confusion.”

“Katie, tell her to piss off,” Terry hisses in the teen’s ear. “I’m not confused, I’m bored.” His voice deepens. “Tell her we don’t need her help. Tell her we’re going home.”

Katie opens her mouth robotically. “That’s…” Her brow creases as she tries to figure out what she was going to say. “It seems like we don’t need help then. Terry will move on when he’s ready, like I thought.”

“We aren’t paying you for a ghost therapy session,” Sarah snaps. It’s only because you’re really focusing that you can see the unease under her anger. She’s noticed something wrong with Katie. “Katie, Terry is going away today.”

“Fuck you,” Terry says.

“Fuck you,” Katie says.

Leroy��s head rears back. “Katie, you don’t use that language with your mother!”

“Fuck you too,” Katie and Terry say. The parking lot lights flicker.

“No, fuck you, Terry,” you say, stepping between Katie and her parents. Leroy starts like he’s going to pull you out of the way, but he doesn’t.

“Terry?” Leroy asks. He looks scared. “Terry said that? Is Terry possessing my daughter?”

“Not yet.” You eye Terry’s arm and the way his fingers are sinking into Katie’s arm.

“Oh fuck,” Terry says. He doesn’t look scared. Not yet. Instead, he grins. “You can see me.”

“Not every ghost is malicious,” you tell the parents without taking your eyes off Terry. “But some are.”

“I’m not malicious.” Terry runs a hand through his hair, still grinning. The parking lot lights flicker overhead again. “I care about Katie a lot.”

“Terry’s never hurt me,” Katie says.

You ignore her. She’s not even shaking Terry off now. Her gaze is dull on your face when you say, “I don’t mean to sound like I’m some sort of ghost therapist. However, it’s important to differentiate between malicious and non-malicious hauntings in my practice. My methods are unconventional and, if used indiscriminately, I can get in a lot of trouble.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Leroy says. He steps into your periphery. His gaze flicks from you to the spot you’re staring at over Katie’s shoulder. “We want Terry gone.”

“Not a soul,” Sarah promises. She comes up on your other side. “Please help our daughter.”

“Terry,” you say. Your second mouth is yawning wide somewhere in the back of your brain. The taste of pepper isn’t as overwhelming now. “Last chance. Renounce your claim on Katie’s soul and slither back into whatever hole you came out of.”

“We’re soulmates,” Terry says. He bares his teeth at you. “Go on, Charlatan. Call on your God to banish me. I’ve been around for decades and no exorcist has ever been able to put a scratch on me. And when they manage to push me out?” He laughs and the temperature drops another ten degrees. An unholy light flickers in his eyes. “I just come right back.”

“Then I guess I won’t feel guilty,” you say.

“Guilty?” Katie asks.

You walk forward two steps and grab Terry’s face. Terry’s skin is soft and jelly-like. His facial bones undulate like rubber under your grip. “Hi, Terry.”

Now Terry’s afraid. “What the fuck, you can touch—?”

“Bye, Terry.” You drag him towards you. His fingers pop out of Katie’s arm with a wet sucking sound, and he claws at your wrist.

“Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait--”

You eat Terry.

People come from all around to eat at the Brownie Industry. They love the density of the desserts and the heaps of garlic spread over home-baked (shipped frozen) rolls. It’s a treat to know you’re always going to enjoy the meal even if you’re far from home or eating at the same location a hundred times. It’s consistency, sugar and butter. An easy addiction to have.

Eating ghosts is like that for you. They fizz in your second mouth like champagne and melt like fudge. It’s hard to describe and the ephemeral quality of it sends shivers down your spine. Somewhere Terry is screaming in anguish, maybe crying. You think that the family you’re helping is screaming something too, but the sensation of eating is so consuming you can’t hear the words.

Terry is younger than other ghosts you’ve eaten. He doesn’t have the depth of flavor you’d once been addicted to back in Illinois. The best ghost you’ve ever eaten had been like a six-course meal with all the centuries she’d been carrying. In comparison, Terry is like a bag of pepper chips. Interesting, but gone in a moment. Still, he hits the spot.

When you’re done, you burp a purple cloud of ectoplasm into the still night air.

Leroy is the first to speak. His eyes are so wide you can see the whites all around them. “Pay her, Sarah,” he says breathlessly. His hands shake as he reaches for Katie, steadying her on her feet. “Now.”

You smack your lips and graciously accept the wad of cash Sarah hands you. You raise your eyebrows. “This is more than three times my rate.”

“Consider it a tip,” Sarah says. She’s more composed than Leroy, but still pale. She studies you. “That was…revolting.”

“You didn’t have to watch,” you say. You put your money away and then perk up at a sudden thought. “Hey, if you can, can you leave me a review on my site?”

“I thought you didn’t want us to tell anyone?”

You wave your hand. “Secrets are bad for business. Besides, Terry deserved it. I’m sure they’ll understand if you write that in your review.”

“They…?”

You smile and don’t answer.

The family don’t ask many more questions after that. The parents promise to leave a review and Katie just stares at you as if concussed. You assure the parents that she’ll be back to normal as soon as the soul-shock wears off.

“And if it doesn’t?” Sarah asks.

“Message me,” you say.

“You don’t check your messages,” Leroy says.

“Oh,” you say, patting your stomach, “I’ll be checking them a lot more often now.”

You’re hungry again.

---

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#my writing #ghosts #second person #it's spooky season #long post

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rafeandonlyrafe · 26 days ago

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5 acts

words: 2k

warnings: soft!rafe, very fluffy, insecurity from rafe, reader is described as having curly hair, established relationship, brief nudity but very sfw (reader is topless while getting a massage but no descriptions)

5 acts of service to spark romance between you and your partner

make their morning easier: make them breakfast, or their coffee just as they like it

take care of their vehicle: get it washed, filled, and oil changed if needed. it'll feel like a weight off their shoulders

organize something meaningful for them: go through an old photo album or set up a space in the home that caters to them

pamper them after a long day: draw a bath, brush their hair, give them a massage

set up their favorite movie night: get their favorite snacks, light some candles, and turn a simple movie night into a romantic evening

rafe frowns as he reads over the list again.

“baby!” your voice rings out, and he's quick to jump to his feet and rush down the stairs.

“oh!” you stop as he lands on the hardwood in front of you. “you came down so quickly.” you giggle. “i was just going to tell you dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”

“ill get the table set up.” rafe leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving you to look at him in confusion as he walks away, a certain amount of pep in his step you're not used to seeing.

you get even more suspicious when you bring the dish into the dining room and see that rafe has a candle lit.

“is there a special occasion i forgot about?” you question as rafe pulls your chair out for you.

“nope, just treating my girl.” rafe swallows thickly, surprised and disappointed in himself that you're already noticing his change in behavior.

it all started last weekend when rafe overheard you talking to your girlfriends about love languages. he didn't mean to eavesdrop, truly, but he found himself quickly locked in when you said yours was acts of service and quality time, but that you couldn't think of any acts of service rafe has done recently.

you didn't sound that upset about it, and even immediately clarified that rafe makes up for it in other ways and you weren't even sure what he could do for you, but rafe was determined to change the tides of your relationship.

act 1

rafe shuts his alarm off quickly before looking over at you, making sure the beeping didn't wake you up as well.

he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees your eyes are still closed before carefully sliding out of bed and tiptoeing out of the room.

rafe makes it to the kitchen keeping his steps quiet as he looks around at the various cabinets. he's not sure where to start, so he begins with unloading the dishwasher and putting everything away, when he opens up a cabinet to see the waffle maker and an idea sparks.

rafe opens up the pantry, stepping in to find the mix as well as anything else he might need for the breakfast, and just like that, rafes plan sets into motion.

he makes a stack of waffles, but not before turning on the coffee machine so you can wake up to a fresh brew. he makes a good portion of eggs for you to split before checking the clock, figuring it's about time to check to see if you're awake.

rafe pours your coffee in your favorite tumbler before adding ice and syrup, smiling at himself for remembering just how you like it.

rafe is about to head out of the kitchen when he hears your footsteps coming down the stairs.

“good morning ba-”

“oh my god, im so late for my nail appointment, why didn't you wake me up?” you squeal, grabbing your purse and adjusting the outfit you threw on quickly.

“i didn-”

“i got to leave, like right now, sorry babe.” you run up to rafe and press a quick kiss to his lips, about to rush away when you realize the two plates of breakfast.

“it's okay.” rafe shakes his head. “i'll make you breakfast a different day. forgot you had a nail appointment. but here-” rafe grabs the tumbler and thrusts it into your hand. “at least take the coffee i made you.”

rafe can see the conflicting emotions going on inside your head.

“hey.” he says softly. “it's okay. go. you and i both know how ridiculous those late fees are.”

“okay.” you nod, pouting and looking back at the plates as you leave.

act 2

“do you have any plans today?” rafe asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

“nope. just hanging with you.” you smile up at him, snuggling closer to his side, not yet ready to leave the bed when rafe is keeping you so warm, occasionally pressing kisses to your face.

“im gonna go take your car to get it serviced.” rafe says. “since you don't have anything going on.”

“oh.” you hum. “okay.” you were secretly hoping you could just have a lazy day in bed with rafe, maybe even force him to watch some trashy reality tv, knowing it'll only take a couple minutes for him to get fully invested in whatever drama starts up between the couples.

“you stay in bed though.” rafe smiles at you, sliding out from under the covers, leaving you to pull the blanket tighter around yourself and inhale his fleeting scent.

rafe heads down the stairs, a pep in his step at getting this task done for you. he grabs your keys before heading out the door, taking it to the service center first for an oil change. it's not very dirty on the inside, but rafe decides he'll still vacuum the inside after taking it through the wash.

you really only use your car when rafe is gone or you have an appointment, so it doesn't get used often.

rafe finishes everything he wants to get done for you, filling up your tank before driving back home.

rafe is whistling and happy as he returns home and heads back up the stairs, and just like he expects, you're still in bed, but sat up, watching the television.

“hey baby.” your smile widens as you see him. “i missed you so much.”

“sorry, doll.” rafe changes quickly before climbing into the bed. “but i got everything done on your car.”

“thanks.” you hum. “really appreciate it.” you press your face into his chest, throwing one leg over his hips as you return to a lying position, no longer caring about what's on the tv now that you've got your boyfriend back.

“you don't have anything else you wanna get done today, do you?” you ask. “i thought we'd have all day together.”

rafe sighs as he looks at the clock, realizing just how long it took him to service your vehicle. “well, we have the rest of the day at least.”

act 3

“um, rafe?” you call out as you open up a drawer in your closet, expecting to see the tangled mess of necklaces and earrings just as you left it.

“honey?” rafe walks into your bedroom before realizing you’re in the closet.

“where’d all my jewelry go?” you ask confused.

“oh, i organized it for you.” rafe moves to the drawers, sliding open the two underneath to reveal jewelry displays and every piece neatly put away. “i also got you a display for your favorite necklaces but i wanted you to choose what ones go up there.”

“where at?” you ask, noticing the necklace rafe got you for your first anniversary in missing from the drawer.

rafe doesn’t respond with his words, taking your hand and guiding you out of the closet and into the main bedroom, where you notice the necklace stand shaped like a tree with two chains already hanging from them.

“oh my gosh, whats this?” you squeal, pulling the new necklace off the stand, admiring the diamonds that glitter back at you in the shape of an r.

“for you, baby.” rafe kisses your cheek.

“what has gotten into you?” you ask, but before rafe can worry too much about you figuring out he’s following a guide on how to treat you better, you turn and pull your hair off your neck for him to slot the necklace on.

act 4

“oh right there!” you moan out as rafe rubs at your back, hands smoothing up and down against your skin, gently kneading into your muscles as he does.

“love pampering you baby.” rafe leans down to press a kiss against your shoulder blade.

“you’re so sweet.” you smile and turn your head. “i’m gonna have to make it up to you.”

“you already treat me better than i deserve.”

you frown and turn over onto your stomach, bringing the blanket with you to keep your chest covered. “not true. you’re an amazing boyfriend.”

“thanks, doll.” rafe doesn’t want you to worry about his insecurities in this moment, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “stay there.”

you get comfortable on your back, eyes sliding shut as rafe starts some gentle music. it flows from the speakers as rafe hums along to the instrumental version of a popular song, grabbing your hairbrush from off the dresser.

you are only vaguely aware of rafes movements, when suddenly a hand is placed on the top of your head, massaging against your scalp that has you moaning out again.

you hear rafe chuckle at your reaction, the sides of your lips also quirking up, when you suddenly feel a hairbrush running through your strands.

you scrunch your face up and give it a moment, hoping rafe would stop when he suddenly brushes through a tangle, making you cry out.

“shit.” rafe drops the brush with a clatter onto the hardwood. “im sorry.”

you can hear the defeat in rafes voice and you turn over onto your stomach to face him, frowning. “baby? whats wrong?”

“i just can’t do anything right. i try to make you breakfast, you have to leave. i take your car to be serviced, and i miss out and spending time with you. i can’t even brush your hair all romantically like the guide said.”

“guide?” you question, grabbing your shirt and putting it back on as you pull rafe up to sit on the bed next to you.

“i… i read something online. about acts of service you can do for your partner. i just want to be a good boyfriend.”

you don’t mean to, but a laugh falls from your lips. “rafe, that’s ridiculous. you’re already the best boyfriend without even trying. did i say or do something to make you feel like you needed to try harder?”

“no-” rafe sighs, knowing he has to admit it. “i just heard you talking with your friend about love languages. i’m trying to make it up to you.”

“and the guide told you to brush my hair?” you scoff. “im guessing whoever wrote that did not have curls.”

“you're probably right.” rafe lets a smile come to his face.

“i love you for you, not because of the things you do for me. besides, you do enough without even trying or following some guide. you take out the trash, you stock up on my favorite treats, you get me anything i want whenever i feel the slightest bit ill.”

“so… you don’t want me to do the last thing on the guide?”

“depends what it is.” you shrug. “if it involves you leaving and doing something for me, then absolutely not. or at least you can take me with you.”

“i set up a romantic movie night in the living room.”

“that sounds much better for both of us than you brushing my hair.” you giggle.

act 5

you tuck yourself further into rafes side, smiling as your favorite scene finishes, turning your attention to rafe.

“thank you for doing all this for me.” you whisper, keeping your voice soft. “i love you so much.”

“i love you.” rafe says earnestly, ducking his head to press a kiss against the top of your head, but you’re quick to reposition so your lips can meet.

“now we have to figure out your love language so i can do things for you.” you tell rafe.

“my love language is you.” rafe says, squeezing you tightly. “my everything is you.”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @cameronswiftie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

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fangirl-dot-com · 5 months ago

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🤨Everyone is Convinced that You Aren't Together

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x FerrariDriver!Reader Genre: Fluff/SMAU Warning: Name calling? Summary: What is your love language? Acts of service? Quality time? Physical touch? Let's just say that you and Logan have a very different type, and no one thinks that you could actually be together.

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

“Hey dickwad!”

The sound of the not-so-nice name had people in the main hospitality turning in your direction. However, the person whose attention you were trying to get kept on eating his lunch, making you more semi-annoyed than you already were.

You huffed rather loudly before sitting down across from him and whoever he was eating with. The table, comprising of Lando, Oscar, and Alex, was filled with pairs of wide eyes except for two. When the blond still didn’t look at you, you reached over and grabbed a fry off his plate.

Then, and only then, did he finally look up to glare at you. Oscar just kept eating.

“Did you seriously just take my last fry?” Logan questioned, eyes squinting in a glare.

You raised an eyebrow in retaliation. “Yes. And?”

“It was my last fry, fat ass.”

“Like I said: yes, and?”

Logan huffed, knowing that this was a losing battle already from the start. He put his head back down and started to finish his chicken sandwich. You had momentarily blanked at what you were there for, before quickly remembering.

You looked to the man on your left. “Are you using this?”

Lando, with wide eyes, shook his head as he watched you take his spoon. You reeled your hand back and threw it at Logan. When it hit him in the head, he looked back up at you.

“What the actual heck was that for, whore?”

You shrugged. “I remembered why I was here.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “And you decided to throw a spoon at me?”

“Yes. You forgot your jacket again at the hotel.”

Alex, who had been in fear of a giant argument breaking out, watched as Logan’s eyes visibly softened. He had been confused for the entire thing.

“Did you bring it here?”

“No.”

Then Alex watched the glare of annoyance come back to the blonde’s eyes while you smirked.

“Y/n!”

You turned around at the sound of your teammate’s voice.

“Yeah, Charles?”

Charles could see that Alex and Lando were getting uncomfortable at the table and wanted to subtract you from the equation (even if that meant taking you away from your boyfriend). He could sense Logan’s “playful” glare from outside the hospitality.

“We have a meeting in five minutes.”

“Oh shit.”

You quickly stood up and rounded the table, stopping right in front of Logan’s chair. The American looked up at you. Lando and Alex watched as you stooped down. A sigh of relief was on the cusp of Lando’s lips, hoping that you’d kiss the American before you left.

However, you just flicked his forehead. “Don’t forget to drink water, bitch.”

With that you left with Charles on your right, conversation already flowing due to the race that weekend.

Alex and Lando looked at Logan with wide eyes and were still surprised to see a pretty neutral facial expression as he ate a bite of his sandwich. Next to him, Oscar seemed unbothered as well. Logan was just finishing his sandwich when his eyes landed on something by Lando.

“She left her water bottle after telling me to remember to drink water. What a cunt.”

With a sigh, Logan stood up, grabbed the bottle and his plate, and walked over to the door. He put his dish in the return station before walking out the door. Alex’s and Lando’s eyes were glued to Logan’s figure before he went out of sight. After they turned to Oscar who was looking at his phone.

The Aussie could feel the pair of eyes on him, but decided against it. There were a few moments of silence before George came over and sat in Logan’s empty seat.

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” he asked, fork stabbing his food.

Lando blinked a bit. “George, would you call Carmen a cunt?”

George’s face twisted in disgust. “No?”

“Would Carmen call you a bitch?”

The Briton shook his head. “I hope not.”

Lando’s head hit the table in a thunk, making George turn to Alex. “What’s wrong with him?”

Alex rubbed his face. “What’s wrong with Logan and Y/n is the better question. They must be messing with us, because there is no way that they’re together.”

George took a bite of his salad. “They are a bit . . . odd. Pretty mean to each other if you ask me.”

“They’ve been like this for forever. It’s nothing new,” Oscar finally decided to add his piece. “It’s their love language.”

Lando scoffed. “Like words of affirmation?”

“More like words of insults. I could never insult Lily like that,” Alex muttered, taking a sip of his drink.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Y/n grew up with brothers and so did Logan. It’s romantic teasing if anything. You saw how Logan grabbed her water bottle. He probably took it to her.”

Lando held his arms out. “But she didn’t bring his jacket! Is it one sided love from Logan?”

The Aussie just huffed, before he turned around. “Benny, did Y/n bring Logan’s jacket by Williams this morning?”

The personal trainer, who had been silently laughing at the whole ordeal, smiled. “Yep. And she brought him his protein shake since we were out.”

Oscar pointed. “See? And Ferrari doesn’t even carry those types of shakes.”

Benny shook his head. “Nope. She would have had to go out to get it.”

Lando was still unconvinced. “There is still no way. Maybe they can be best friends, but a couple? It’s not happening.”

Alex winced. “I think I have to agree with Lando on this one.”

Oscar wanted to refute once again, but he noticed it was time to go. He only hoped that maybe this weekend, Lando would be able to see that you and Logan were together. He knew that the fights between you two were good jests, and the insulting nicknames started from an inside joke that he didn’t even know the extent of.

When it came time for the drivers’ parade, Oscar pointed out how you and Logan were practically joined at the hip. He took his designated spot to Logan’s left, while you stood to the right. He gestured for Lando and Alex to join him.

But with a group, it seemed like you and Logan wanted to amp your antics.

You waved to the crowd with a dazzling smile; however, your words to Logan were not as nice. Your elbow connected with Logan’s side.

“Think you can actually finish the race today, loser?”

Lando winced at your harsh words. Alex just stared with wide eyes. Oscar just sighed.

Logan kept his smile sharp as he also waved. His finger shoved your face back. “You think you can maybe win a race, asshat?”

From behind you two, Max and Lewis had their mouths open as Charles giggled. The Monegasque was well aware of yours and Logan’s fun nicknames as he had heard many phone conversations since you became his teammate.

Max leaned over to Charles. “Did she really just say that?”

A nod from the Ferrari driver confirmed that the Dutchman did, in fact, just hear you say that. Not wanting to hear any other comments, everyone else left you two to be. But doing so, they missed Logan’s arm wrap around your waist and your head resting on his shoulder.

The race, for you, went surprisingly well. You had, once again, finished second behind Charles, who had managed a second race win of the season in Barcelona. Max finished the podium placers. You had been too busy to try to find Logan right after the race, but you wished deep down that he had at least finished.

After the podium, you had been on your way to media when Ellie, your PR manager pulled you to the side.

You cocked your head. “Is everything all right?”

The girl bit her lip nervously. “Well, Logan finished in points today. It was P8 actually. But he had some issues with Lance during the race.”

Well, that had your blood pressure rising.

Your eye brows scrunched. “Did something happen?”

Ellie looked down at the floor, not wanting to be on the receiving side of your anger. Everyone knew that you, and only you, could mess with Logan about his racing.

“Stroll mentioned something about Logan’s racing style and made some snide comments.”

You took a deep breath before turning to walk toward the media pit. “I’m guessing you have something for me to say?”

The poor girl tried to keep up with your bigger strides as she thrust her phone near you. You had barely glanced at the words before deciding that you didn’t want anything to do with what Ferrari had written out.

You were a bit out of breath as you approached the microphone. You licked your lips before glancing over at Ellie, a pitiful look on your face. You wanted to say sorry for what you might say during the interview.

“I’ll say what I want,” was picked up by the mic, making the journalist wince a bit.

You looked at the journalist as you put your hat on. The man tried to smile before he asked you some questions about your race. He could tell that you were disinterested in the questions, so he steered the interview in a different direction.

“We watched Logan, your boyfriend, finish the race in P8. It was a really nice race on his part. Have you been able to watch the finish?”

You shook your head. “I wanted to see him after the race but I had to be on the podium. I’m sure he did a very great job, and I’m proud of him getting points.”

Both Ellie and the journalist saw a sliver of a smile on your face. Too bad it was about to disappear.

The man clinched his teeth before speaking again. “After what Lance Stroll said on the radios and after the race, do you have any plans to speak up on that?”

Your head cocked in a slightly annoyed manner; smile wiped from your face. Around, you, some drivers went silent as they waited for your words. Charles had been behind you, waiting for his turn. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, and his eyes kept glancing to your back.

Oscar, who had been talking to Alex, also went quiet before they were called to do their own interviews.

“I can’t speak on something I haven’t heard him say. Do you want to do the honors of telling me?”

Your hands rested on the barrier, shoulders hunching. Everyone was bracing for impact.

“He said some choice words over the radio, and then said, ‘Sargeant is lucky that his driving style is cowardly. He’s a dumb ass for trying to pull that move, which inevitably ruined my race. He’s just a total idiot. Next year will be nicer for sure’.”

You pursed your lips as you mulled over Lance’s words. He was definitely insinuating that Logan wasn’t going to be on the grid next year. Something that no one knew for sure. Your eyes flickered around, trying to find some shade of green. However, you couldn’t see any, and maybe that was for the best.

You gave a very fake smile as you said your response. “Well, Lance is just a cunt, and he can learn to keep his mouth shut. I haven’t seen anything about his contract renewal, so he should really focus on his races. I can show him cowardly if he would like?”

Your smile was sickening as you slightly threatened the Canadian. It was then that you decided the interview was over as you thanked the man before turning around to leave. Ellie gave him an apology as she trailed behind you.

On the way to Williams, you had managed to lose Ellie. On the inside, you were apologetic for how you acted today, but Logan needed you. You really weren’t expecting to see Lance on the way, but somehow fate was in your favor, and against his.

Oscar, who had finished, was behind you and saw the moment you made a bee-line for the Canadian.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, picking up his pace to possibly stop you from hitting the brunet.

When he got there, your finger was pressed against Lance’s chest as you berated him in front of the paddock.

Alex and Lando, who had joined Oscar in trying to gently redirect your attention, were wanting to start laughing as how scared Lance was. They had finally started to drag you away, but you were still not done with Lance.

“And if you think that you’re safe on the grid, then you’re a bigger dumb ass than I thought. You better watch out Stroll. Your head is getting too big for your body. A beau cave is what you are, and yes, I can speak French you insolent fool!”

Oscar snorted as they finally got you into the Williams garage, Lance out of sight. You were puffing still as you tried to calm down.

“Are you done now?” a voice sounded, making everyone’s head whip around. There Logan stood, now out of his race suit and into more comfortable clothes.

You pouted. “Yes.”

Logan affectionately rolled his eyes as he walked over. He put his arm around your shoulders and brought you in. “You didn’t have to do that you know. Ferrari might get mad.”

You huffed again, sticking your head into Logan’s chest. “No one gets to call you dumb ass except for me.”

The American hummed before kissing your forehead and then your lips.

While you two were caught up in the moment, Alex and Lando had their mouths open. Oscar had a smirk on his face as he looked at two others.

“Now do you believe me?”

Lando blinked for a moment. “I do now.”

Alex rubbed his chin. “They’re actually quite cute.”

You knocked yourself out of Logan’s arms before punching his shoulder. Logan gawked at you as he rubbed the hurt spot.

“What the hell was that for you bitch?”

“That was for getting points and not telling me you swine!”

Oscar smacked his forehead. “And we’re back.”

logansargeant has posted

liked by sargeant4president, y/nferrari, logan2sargeant, and 74,039 others

logansargeant finally putting it the points! thanks you all for the love and support 💙

see all comments

f1slay LOGAN MY MAN

y/nxlogan the couple that stays together, slays together

americanf1fan YEE HAW LET'S GO 🦅

y/nferrai I love you bitch, I ain't neva gonna stop lovin you bitch

logansargeant love you too ass hat 🎩

alex_albon I liked you two better when you were nicer

oscarpiastri let them love the way they know best

y/nferrari awww thanks loser 😗

oscarpiastri HEY

y/nsworld Logan and y/n are the power couple of the grid

y/nferrari has posted

liked by y/nsworld, daddysmoney, logansargeant, and 1,204,395 others

y/nferrari another day, another p2, another day of Logan calling me a fat ass (but I love him) ❤️

see all comments

y/n.nation the caption is everything

logan4president the matching team colored hearts was a nice touch

Ferrari you'll get Charles in Austria 💪

charles_leclerc no she won't 🥰

logansargeant but you're my fat ass 🤤

y/nferrari maybe you'd get more points if you stop staring

logansargeant maybe you'd win a race if YOU stopped staring at charles's or max's ass

maxverstappen1 I knew it 😌

y/nferrari SHUT UR MOUTH

trustthefund I'm still worried about Lance, he looked shooked

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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eupheme · 4 months ago

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j i gotta know, do you have sfw and/or nsfw headcanons for logan?

hi anon! 💖 ooh, thank you so much for asking! i have a couple I’d love to share (and i also have an ask for sfw/nsfw alphabet hcs that i am planning to do, if you are interested in those as well!)

logan howlett x f!reader

sfw/nsfw headcanons | 800 words

SFW

— For years he’s been seen as a weapon. Something unstoppable. When he encounters your softness he doesn’t know how to take it. So sure he doesn’t deserve it - he’ll take a compliment about his looks with a smirk and a quip, but it takes him a long time before he truly believes that you think he’s a good man.

— When it comes to love languages, his giving is Acts of Service. Logan will go out of his way to bring you your favorite food for dinner. Will wake up early to fix That Thing in your house - his love shown in these physical gestures, and how he’ll do just about anything to keep you safe.

His receiving language is Quality Time. A lot of people are pushed away by his gruffness - he’s happy that you’ve stuck around. A soft fondness for early mornings and late nights together - it means a lot that you want to be with him. Another is Physical Touch. He probably won’t admit but he loves when you reach for him. How you feel safe in his presence, seeking him out - he loves to throw an arm around you and tug you close. (Words of Affirmation are another - he’ll brush them off, but secretly hoard and pick them apart when he’s alone.)

— Massive papa wolf vibes. If you’re out together, his eyes are on you. Will definitely step in before anything has a chance of happening. It tips towards overprotective - but he’s lost so many he’s loved that he can’t help it. Jealousy will weave its way in too, he will insert himself into a conversation if he thinks someone is trying to get your attention. Not above leaving a little mark on your neck, lingering from the night before.

— Logan takes a while to warm up to anyone. That scowl is almost permanently fixed in place. His irritability a defense mechanism - he can’t lose anyone else if they don’t get close. He absolutely softens for you before he ever shows it, and definitely before you ever know.

— Loves to hear your voice. At the end of a long day, he’s coming home to you. Logan probably won’t confide in what’s truly eating at him (though he is quick to give his opinions on lighter topics), but he will seek your touch and is content in listening to you talk about your day until the tension eases.

NSFW

I fully subscribe to the classics - that he loves seeing you in his clothes, has a bit of a breeding kink, and can smell when you’re aroused around him. But I have a few more as well…

— Those words of affirmation weave their way into a bit of a praise kink in the bedroom. Might try to distract you with a messy kiss if you’re trying to sweetly compliment him - but if you’re telling him how good he’s making you feel, how much you need him - he’s going to make sure he gives you exactly what you want (as well as holding himself back from coming before he can)

— Pussy-eating king. Loves getting his head between your thighs, preferably for hours. Teasing you about how wet you are for him, making you squirm with his fingers while he edges you with his tongue. Might be a bit lazy on the cleanup so he can smell you on him all day.

— Logan is an ass man. Loves the way it jiggles when he fucks you from behind, or when you ride him reverse-cowgirl. Bending over in front of him absolutely works - a little wink his way and he’ll have his hands at your waist, pressing his hips right against the soft curve of your ass.

— If he’s given the option, he’s coming inside you. Mouth is nice, pussy is preferred. Doesn’t like pulling out, wants to feel how you get all tight and wet around him before he’s spilling inside you. Bonus points if he can keep you full for a little while, shooting you pointed look or a smirk from across the room while he drips out of you - your shared little secret.

— He recovers quickly, and his applies to his refractory period as well. Second (or third) rounds are to be expected when you both have time, though he’s always going to put you and your comfort first.

— Dirty mouth. Not super loud in bed but will pant, moan, grunt in your ear. Asks (sometimes condescending) questions when you’re fucked out, knowing he has you too close to the edge to fully answer. “You can be louder for me, can’t you? Come on, that’s my girl.” / “Just needed my cock, didn’t you sugar?”

— Isn’t above using his enhanced strength to his advantage, especially to make you squirm. Will catch hold of your hips and watch you try to fuck yourself back on him, or pin you down and make you take what he gives you.

thank you again for asking! 💖

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x f!reader #xmen x reader #logan howlett headcanon

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snowave · 4 months ago

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Just another brainrot of mine regarding Zayne, but then again, what's new?

Zayne who...

...is the type to play with your hair idly.

...enjoys quality time with you, no matter how busy he is with his shifts (or how tired he is).

"Dr. Greyson said you came to visit but you almost immediately left when you saw me napping. I told you, you should wake me up, my time with you is considered as resting."

...is the type who makes his presence known despite of being away from each other from time to time.

...always tries to understand you and your quirks, and grows to love them as they makes you, you.

...who subtly leaves his things in your place to have the perfect excuse to come and stay over whenever he feels like it.

"I can't find my tie, I think I left it on your couch. Can I pick it up and maybe see you as well?"

...is the type to keep track of your schedule, so that he can match his time with yours.

...is the type to give you space, and give you silent encouragement when you feel down, because sometimes, we all just need a presence to hold onto; something to keep us grounded instead of words that we usually hear.

"I'm here, don't worry. I'm not going anywhere, cry your heart out."

...thinks of you before himself. He always talks in a way that will cater you, your interests, your needs, your wants, etc.

"Hm? What am I doing here? Well, my day is free so it's all yours. What do you want to do?"

...scolds you for not having self-preservation. The man just wants you to see healthy and well all the time.

...probably does not makes you lift a finger whenever you're with him. Zayne isn't a vocal person, but his affection can be seen at the way he delivers through acts of services.

...lets you make fun of him, and you'll get away with it. It amuses him to no end how the gears in your brain work, and how you always manage to think of things that you tease him about.

...talks to you in the most gentle way. Despite his image, Zayne always talks to you softly, and probably never raises his voice even though he's upset or mad.

...gives you space when you get into fights or arguments with each other. It gives you both the mental capacity you need to talk everything out in a proper way, without the need to throw useless and hurtful words to each other.

"I'm sorry. Are you in the right headspace to talk about it now? Or do you need some more time? I can wait."

...probably keeps a photo of you, or photos of both of you in his office and home, framed and delicately placed somewhere he could see immediately.

...becomes clingy in the morning. He relishes in the feeling of you wrapped in his arms, the feeling of your body pressed against his, and the calming beating of your heart. He loves it when you snuggle closer to him, like a cat seeking for warmth.

"It's my day off today, I can stay more in bed with you. Just let me be, hm? Let me hold you much longer."

...the type to look at you with eyes filled with so much longing, yearning, and love, that sometimes you feel like you'll be lost when you stare at him.

And finally, Zayne who loves you more than you think. Lore-wise, he really does. But in general setting, if he can, he'll do everything just to make sure that you're always happy, that you always feel loved, cared for, and needed.

Feel free to add more, I really, really just like talking about Zayne. I guess, it would be nice to have someone to yap with about him.

#love and deepspace #lads zayne #lnd zayne #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #dr zayne #l&ds zayne #zayne x mc #zayne x reader #zayne x y/n #zayne fluff

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lordprettyflackotara · 4 months ago

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habits || bloody painter

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: descriptions of gore, murder, abusive/toxic relationship, stalking, service dom!helen, borderline yandere helen, overstimulation, praise

Helen considered himself to be a poised and intelligent young man.

He had never considered himself lowly enough to crave romantic affairs, nevertheless develop a full fledge obsession.

He lived his life on a scheduled routine. The only variable he allowed to change was in which victim he selected. His creativity was shown through out his art pieces, he didn’t need tons and tons of action to keep him mentally satisfied. After all, he was an artist. A painter. One with methods society disapproved of, but a painter nevertheless. Helen considered himself to be content with life.

He came and went from the Trenderman mansion as he pleased. On Tuesday’s he spent quality time with The Puppeteer. What else could he possibly need?

That question became answered, once he saw you.

Helen hadn’t even meant to see you. Your neighbor had been his choice for his routine victim. Middle aged man with a habit of watching the neighborhood kids play in the street. One would normally find that endearing, but the contents Helen found in the mans household were not so much. Helen thought he had done a fine job, turning a scum of the earth pedophile into a work of art. He was spread like a starfish, pinned to the wall by his hands and feet with the handy kitchen knives. His chest of course was ripped open, the contents of his organs fallen onto the floor below. Helen's favorite part, the one he deemed to make this a masterpiece, was the removal of the mans genital's. Helen found it very appropriate to cut that off and staple it into the wall beside him.

As Helen admired his masterpiece, he couldn't help but overhear yelling coming from the direction of your house. Normally he would take this as his sign to leave. After all, his work here was done. But then he heard your voice. He was drawn to you like a sailor to a siren. Curiously he peered through the deceased mans curtains, looking over at your house. Your white curtains were closed, but he could make out the shadows of you arguing with a taller man. Helen wasn't a fan of domestic violence. He had witnessed all of that and more during his childhood stay at the psychiatric hospital. During that time he trained himself to stay neutral. To pretend what he was seeing didn't exist. But the pain in your voice intrigued him. Cautiously he slipped out of the mans house, dying for a closer look.

Using the shadows of the night to his advantage he slipped out of the neighbors backyard, hopping the fence. Helen creeped over to the window, peaking inside. That's when he saw you. Your face was red with anger, your eyes widened, and mouth running a thousand miles a minute as you argued with your presumed lover. Helen had never seen anyone like you. With your curves, feisty attitude, and bright eyes. You were something a man could only dream of. He felt himself frown at the sight of your oblivious and angry boyfriend, whose veins were popping out of his head from anger. Helen then made himself a vow, one he took very seriously. He was going to be your guardian angel, whether you knew it or not.

Helen didn't have obsessive tendencies. He had never spent his time stalking someone before. He didn't live at the Slenderman mansion, he wasn't sent on missions or anything absurd. He felt out of place as he studied you, becoming accustomed with your routine. You lived a simple and peaceful life, outside of your toxic relationship. Helen decided to study up on your lover as well, since he seemed to be such a massive issue. His name was Liam. Occupation: unemployed. If Helen had to take a guess he would assume that is why the two of you were arguing. Helen deemed Liam to be a useless slob. One that didn't do much of anything with his time, nevertheless tend to you and your needs. How you ended up with such a useless partner Helen could not figure out.

He enjoyed how modest you were. Your spare time was spent in libraries, curled up in the most secluded corner with a good book. You only ordered from small businesses, even if it meant going out of your way to attend them. All and all you were perfect. Helen thought of all the ways he’d introduce himself to you. Maybe he could run into you at the local book store. Or maybe he’d accidentally brush into you on the street. After all, Trenderman’s mansion was at least four states over from where he was wanted for being a serial killer. Showing his face in public was too much of a risk though, he feared. Especially with the cops now on high patrol in your neighborhood since the murder of your neighbor. If he could go back in time he wished he could’ve seen you first. He would’ve at least changed his victim to someone a few streets over.

The more Helen watched the more he noticed Liam’s violent tendencies. It all came to a screeching halt for Helen once he saw him put his hands on you. Now that. That did numbers on his mind. Who did he think he was? Stomping on such a delicate flower like yourself? If it wasn’t for the patrol car parked outside of your neighbors house he would’ve slit his throat and mutilated him for as long as possible. It took every ounce of self restraint he had to not interfere. The look of despair and sorrow you had written all over your face resonated with Helen more than he would’ve liked to admit. It stayed in his head rent free.

The next day Helen saw the bruises that littered your arms. It was in your character to modestly try to cover them. He expected that of you, even if he didn’t approve. What he hadn’t expected of you, was for your night life to become so social. You previously had proven yourself to be introverted and borderline antisocial. Yet, he watched you through your window as you put in earrings. You were dressed up more than he had ever seen. A tight dress and strappy heels clothed you, his mind going to rancid filth at the sight of your exposed thighs. So Helen did what he thought to be the best course of action: he followed you. This time however, he had different plans.

He planned to finally meet you.

He was surprised your location of choice was the local club, crowded with local college students and overbearingly loud with music. Even as you paced through the door he could sense how uncomfortable you were with the bass booming. Straightening out his collar he trailed behind you, the bouncer not glancing at him twice. He followed you through the never ending sea of swaying bodies, your hips ones that Helen would recognize anywhere. You approached the bar, sliding up on the bar stool like you had done this time and time again. Helen tried to appear casual as he sat beside you, the bartender approaching him. “Whiskey, neat please,” He ordered. You hadn’t glanced in his direction, your fingers aggressively typing against your phone screen. The overworked bar tender looked at you, your gaze not meeting his.

“Ma’am?”

Embarrassed you looked up, eyes widened. It then occurred to Helen why you chose the club. Subtracting the alcohol from the equation, your bruises were practically invisible strobe lights. “I’ll have a sex on the beach, sorry,” You gushed, face flushing with heat. Helen tried to avoid looking at you as to not seem obvious, but it was so hard not to. You were so darling, a ball of nervousness as you sat in a location you felt so out of place in. “Come here often?” Helen finally said, the words escaping his lips faster than he meant them to. Your eyes finally met his, soaking in his blue eyes. They were so striking, even in the inconsistent lighting. You awkwardly laughed, not having expected to indulge in a conversation with someone new. “Who? Me? Pfft, no. Absolutely not,” You rambled, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear. Helen didn’t fail to notice this, giving you a polite smile. “I don’t come here either. I’m Helen, lovely to meet you,” He greeted. He stuck out his hand for you to shake.

You flashed a small genuine smile, before shaking his hand. “Y/n. Nice to meet someone like me. Everyone here seems to know what they’re doing besides us,” You say, side eyeing a group doing body shots at the opposite end of the bar. The bartender set down both of your drinks, nodding before walking off to help another customer. “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you in?” Helen pried. He sipped his drink, the firey liquid slithering its way down his throat. You slipped the little pink umbrella out of your glass, setting it aside on a napkin. “Just needed to get away from life, you know? I want to feel something absolutely liberating instead of the norm,” You say. Technically you were telling the truth, but you were smart enough to not spill your guts to a stranger. Helen liked that. He liked that you were smart enough to be cautious.

“How about you?” You asked, taking a large gulp of your fruity drink. Helen gave a slight chuckle. “Troubles at work. You know how that goes i’m sure,” He said. He was dancing along side you in the tango of word play. His occupation was untraditional surely, but the cop outside of your house was most certainly a thorn in his side. “Definitely. So do you live around here?” You asked, attempting to stir up conversation. You hadn’t expected to converse with anyone, nevertheless a handsome man. Helen was quick on his feet with an answer. After all, he had prepared conversation topics and answers for all of the different ways he could converse with you. “I’m new to the area actually. Been here about a month. You?” He replied slyly. You nervously pulled your short dress down before setting your drink on the counter. The obnoxious music seemed to be bothering you.

Helen had learned all of your nervous habits. Strike one was pulling down or picking at your clothing. “Dont freak out but I may live next to the murder house,” You replied. Helen raised an eyebrow, now curious. “Murder house?” He asked. Of course, you figured sharing something so frightful to the normal man would be safer rather than lying. Oh how bright you were. “Oh cmon i’m sure you’ve heard. It’s the most talk we’ve had in this town for ages. Creepy old Gary got torn apart by some serial killer,” You explained. Helen was intrigued by what you thought. If things were different he’d ask so much more. Maybe when he got to know you better he’d ask what you thought of his work. “Oh my. Sounds quite brutal,” Helen commented. You nodded, finishing off your drink. Huh. You seemed awfully desperate to get drunk. The bartender approached the two of you again, going to pour you another one.

“Oh no no just one please. Do you guys accept cash?” You rambled. You began digging in your clutch, searching for the crumbled up bills you had shoved in there. Helen knew this to be because of your lack of funds. He suspected Liam had some sort of control over your finances. “Put anything she wants on my tab please,” He intervened. Wide eyed you turned to Helen. “You didn’t have to do that,” You told him. He shrugged and sipped his drink, watching the bar tender deliver your drink before walking away. “The pleasures all mine. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be paying for her own drinks,” He said truthfully. Your blush may have not been visible because of the lighting, but you best believe Helen knew you were. You couldn't help but feel hopelessly attracted to him. Maybe it was desperation. Or maybe it was nice being treated with respect for once.

The clubs music switched to a different song, one with more bass. Helen noted you nervously glancing over your shoulder, staring at the DJ booth. Strike two was the way your eyes darted around when you were nervous. Helen decided distracting you might be the best course of action. “So, may I ask you on a proper date? What fun activities are there to do around here?” He asked. You became incredibly flustered, the sight definitely one for sore eyes. “There’s an art museum down the street. It’s the only gallery I haven’t seen in this town,” You suggested. Oh how little did you know that suggestion secured your fate and locked it in place. Helen then had mentally deemed you to be his perfect match. You both would make a delightful pair.

“Thats a splendid idea. Truthfully I adore the arts,” Helen answered. It was then you delivered the third strike, the biting of the inside of your cheek. Helen wasn’t quite sure what set you off, but the room was overstimulating to say the very least. “How about we take this party elsewhere? Your place perhaps?” Helen asked. He knew that wasn’t possible, but curiosity lingered about what your answer would be. “Oh um, no mine it’s very unorganized right now. What about yours?” You asked. You were now gnawing on the inside of your cheek. Oh dear, had you developed a new habit? “I have the most obnoxious roommate. Here, take my hand,” He proposed, setting a neat pile of bills on the counter. Your soft hand took his, the painter leading you through the crowds of people. Truthfully he was searching for more of a supply closet, something more secluded and private. But he supposed an unoccupied handicapped restroom would do. “I apologize for the lack of cleanliness that’s surrounds us, but your well being is more important,” Helen said, locking the door.

It wasn’t terribly filthy, but he much rather would’ve taken you somewhere nicer. “Helen I- I must be honest, I have-” You began. He knew where this was going. And if he was being truthful with himself he did not want to discuss Liam at your first meeting. So instead, he decided an alternative. “I apologize if this is a little too straight forward,” He said abruptly. Helen towered over you, cupping your cheeks before planting your lips against his. His lips were soft and warm, the faintest taste of whiskey still lingering. You melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. Stumbling you fell back against the wall, your head spinning. “You are so beautiful and you deserve to be treated as so. May I show you how beautiful you are?” He asked. You nodded profusely, watching him drop to his knees. His slender fingers pulled up your dress, revealing your lacey black panties. Helen couldn’t help but feel like you had worn them for him.

It only made his cock harder as he pushed them to the side. Your slick was already wet, your folds begging for attention. “This wet already? You poor thing, does no one tend to your needs?” He asked, a hint of taunting lacing his tone. You were desperate, the double meaning of his words flying over your head. “N-no, please, please touch me,” You whined. Who was Helen to deny you of that? He licked a stripe up your cunt, sending a shudder down your spine. You grabbed onto his jet black locs for support as his large hands settled onto your thighs. He lapped at your cunt like a starved man, devouring every drop of juice your body was producing. His eagerness to please you only made you wetter. Truthfully you couldn’t recall the last time Liam had ever done foreplay with you. Your moans were loud and shameless, the clubs music overpowering the sounds anyways. You grinded against his face, whining as you approached your high. His lips attached to your clit, sucking at the sensitive bud harshly. His ocean eyes watched your facial expressions intently.

You were like a divine art piece that came to life.

Helen kept your thighs apart as they trembled, his name falling off of your lips as you came on his face. Shamelessly he lapped all of the juices away, licking you until he deemed you clean. You went to drop to your knees to return the favor, Helen stopping you. “A lady such as yourself does not belong on this filthy floor. Where you do belong, is with my fingers buried in your cunt until I make you cum again,” He said. Your head was spinning as he picked you up, setting you on the sink. He nudged his way between your thighs, plunging two fingers into your eager cunt. “Oh my- fuck- holy shit,” You whined, tilting your head back. Helen curled his fingers inside of you, your gummy walls clinging to him. “Such a tight cunt, what a masterpiece,” He praised, licking his lips. He began to curl his fingers faster, placing sloppy and uncoordinated kisses onto your neck. “D-don’t leave marks,” You pleaded in between pants. Helen knew why, but agreed to your request.

“I would never mark such a beautiful masterpiece my love,” He agreed, his voice hoarse. He pulled down your dress, exposing your breast. He was pleased at your lack of a bra. With one hand he toyed with your nipple, the other abusing your g spot as it pleased. “Feels so good Helen, you make me feel so good,” You whimpered, pawing at his button up. You grabbed handfuls of the fabric, Helen more amused than anything else. How long had it been since someone had truly pleasured you? He concluded it must’ve been an entirety, based on the way he could feel your second orgasm coming. “Someone close again? Wanna make a mess on my fingers?” Helen asked, a sly grin dancing across his lips. You managed to meet his gaze, your mouth fallen open in the shape of an O. “So close, wanna cum for you,” You whined. Helen twisted your nipple painfully, triggering your second orgasm. You didn’t have time to process it, your vision going white as you creamed around his fingers.

Helen enjoyed watching you ride out your high, your body convulsing as you experienced euphoria. He removed his fingers from your cunt, licking them clean. “You taste divine my love,” He praised. You gave him a dazed smile, hopping off of the sink. Helen guided you to turn around, studying the mounds of your ass as he pulled your dress up to your waist. “Such a gorgeous body. Truly a walking goddess,” He mumbled, undoing his belt. It wasn’t long before you felt him rub his tip up and down your slick, earning desperate moans from you. You gripped the sink as he began to push inside of you. Your face told Helen everything. That truthfully Liam was no whereas big as him or as coordinated. That you had not had a good fuck in a longtime. Your body was the snitch to everything you were attempting to hide. Helen was quick to bottom out, your gummy walls clinging to him. “You’re so perfect,” He grunted, beginning to pick up the pace. Helen thrust were slow and powerful, each one hitting your g spot just right.

It was like he knew what your body needed, your sounds sinful and pure filth as he rammed into you. Your cunt told him everything he needed to know, the sound of his name falling off of your lips one he wanted to hear forever. He relentlessly snapped his hips into yours, your orgasm growing closer and closer as he fucked you. “I’m going to make you mine my love, my perfect masterpiece,” Helen huffed, his slender fingers digging into your hips. You babbled an agreement, your mind too far gone. Helen slithered one of his hands down to your clit, drawing fast circles. You stood upwards, your back colliding with his chest as you felt yourself coming closer to your final orgasm. “Thats it, cum for me. Make a mess on my cock,” He praised, his breath hot against your ear. His name rang off of the bathroom walls as you creamed on his shaft, your orgasm triggering his own. Helen was quick to pull out of you, bending you over and cumming on your ass.

He watched his white seed paint your skin, creating a beautiful work of art.

Your fate was sealed, you were to spend entirety as his canvas.

#creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta lemon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta smut #creepypasta #bloody painter #the bloody painter #helen otis #helen otis smut #helen otis x reader #helen otis x you #bloody painter smut #the bloody painter smut #bloody painter x reader #bloody painter x judge angels #bloody painter x puppeteer

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studioaudio · 1 year ago

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High-quality professional voiceover services and emerging Talent

Over several years of experience in creating voiceovers, we have identified four things that define the essentials of great voiceovers.

Audio Clarity and Volume

Pacing

Vocal tone and inflexion

Pronunciation

The essential part of great audio is a comfortable volume and the clarity of voice. If the voice recorded is fuzzy or muddy sounding, it will be difficult for people to comprehend. There will be distractions in the audience, and one will not absorb the information resulting in people going wayward. The consequences of all these are people fail to engage with you, and the marketing effort fails.

Audio with high volume may annoy and distort the message, while a low volume message may be challenging to interpret.

Pacing a story is vital as experts know the correct speed to narrate an account to impact the audience. If narration of a story happens at a rapid pace, the audience won’t know what hit them. On the other end, people are likely to get bored if it is said slowly. Pacing also includes taking thoughtful pauses to take a breath and enables the listener to process information.

Inflexion and vocal tone refers to speaking in as natural a manner as possible. While sounding friendly and engaging is essential, you must not declare fake. It’s not advisable to say like a game show host while avoiding a robotic and monotone voice should be the top priority.

The last element of great voiceover is clear pronunciation. The voice over artist should not mumble or over-enunciate. In today’s world, regional marketing assumes prime importance. Hence voiceovers should adequately represent regional accents. One thing to remember is there are no universal accents and universal pronunciations.

Recommendation for Voiceover Actors from Studio 52

Studio 52 has worked in the Voiceover industry for years. The industry is ever-growing, and with regional voiceovers assuming more importance nowadays, a career as a voiceover artist is booming. These recommendations are for those budding professionals who want to make it big as Voiceover Artist.

The Script is the most vital component of a Voiceover.

Let’s face it- a script makes a voiceover professional. Nothing ruins a good voiceover than a lot of hemming and hawing or 25 umms in a row as one tries to remember what you wanted to say next. The best scripts are those that include word-for-word everything you intend to say. It would help if you had everything written before so that you do not meander into unrelated topics. Write a full script on a pre-planned outline. With a hand in front of you, you have the chance to practice. It would help adequately rehearsed before going for the final recording while mindful of words and phrases.

Do a test recording before the final recording.

You should always do a test recording to ensure that your equipment works properly and your audio levels are excellent. Even if you deem that nothing has changed from the last time you completed a voiceover, it’s still a great practice to test first! You do not require the complete Script for a test recording – a few paragraphs are sufficient to check whether the audio is clear, is at an adequate level and does not involve any stray and ambient noises.

Check the test recording with a headphone to determine the audio quality. Computer speakers are not the correct device for this. Headphones catch weird room noises and such and allow you to spot anomalies in the recording. Many of your viewers will listen via headphones, so it is better to ensure an optimal experience.

Placement of the microphone

It helps if you never place the microphone too close to the mouth as it will be subject to all weird mouth noises and air puffs. Don’t place it too far away. It might sound lost in a large room. The ideal position of the microphone is six to eight inches from the mouth and slightly below the chin. It applies the same to a clip-on mic. It is also advisable to be mindful of the surface as some microphone stands pick up noises from the desk or table they are sitting.

Check for volume levels.

The correct volume levels for your voiceover ensures it’s heard and there is no distortion. If it is low, people have trouble hearing what you say. On the contrary, too high an audio will blow out your viewer’s eardrums. Starting at the ideal audio level is always your best bet. For the most part, that is between -10db to -20db. The peak should be around -6db. Distortion happens over 0 dB.

Also Read : 10 Features of Voice Over Services that Make Everyone Love it

Record your Voiceover

Once you are satisfied with your microphone placement and audio test, you should go for the kill! Yes, record your voiceover. You should speak slowly and clearly but not like a robot. Don’t sound too overjoyed-instead sound pleasant. Consider smiling while reading the Script, as it will help you communicate happier and more natural. Never stop if you think you have made a mistake. You can always edit it later. If the Script seems too challenging to continue seamlessly, take a pause. Rewrite the portions that are giving you trouble, and then start over again. Voiceovers get easier as you do it over and over again. So, could you not give up easily on it?

Edit the Audio

Even for the perfect voiceover recording, one can spot portions for editing. Trim the beginning or end, for example, to remove dead spaces and achieve a compact form. Edit any abnormally long silences between sentences and statements and any weird sounds that don’t belong to the Script.

The audio now needs to be imported to the video editor

While doing this, please ensure that you do caption and audio transcription for those viewers who will see the video without sound.

Studio 52 and Voiceover Services and Talent

Studio 52 is the premier Voiceover services company in the region and has worked for multiple companies across multiple industries. We search for the best Voiceover talent and then get them trained by our experts on tonality, voice, accent and diction to deliver quality voiceover services for our discerning clients.

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please visit https://studio52.tv/audio/voice-over-artist.

Talk to our Voiceover Expert Now.

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i-am-lifeform24 · 5 months ago

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Curated Companions: Part 2

--------------🔞Masterlist🔞Part 1🔞Part 3🔞Part 4🔞---------------

---------[ IVE Wonyoung - @okaylikesmomo ]----------

Were clocks always this loud? Every tick, every tock, each one reverberating against your eardrums. The cacophony of time passing did nothing to help make it pass quicker - every second felt like a minute. Did hotel rooms typically have analog clocks? Was that a perk of being placed into a more boujee room? This evening was going to be filled with many firsts.

It didn’t matter. What did matter was that your palms were getting clammy. That needed to be addressed - you wouldn’t want this girl thinking you were nervous. Would she even notice? Do girls offering this service care if you’re nervous? Unfortunately for you, the glass of water you just spilled while reaching for some tissues would probably be a dead giveaway.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath, quickly reaching for some more tissues to wipe the mess.

As if things couldn’t get worse, the sound of knuckles on wood filled the room. After wiping as much of the water as you could from the coffee table, you rushed over to the door. The ticking and tocking that was bothering you just a moment ago was inaudible now over the thump of your heart slamming into your chest.

“H-Hello,” you answered the door, hating yourself for stumbling over a single word.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Wonyoung,” the goddess of a woman introduced herself while holding out her hand. Her voice was dripping with this unexplainable air of quality. She smiled warmly at you as you shook her hand, so much more beautiful in person. The pictures absolutely did not do her justice. “May I come in?”

“Oh right, of course, yeah, come in!” you stammered, stepping aside for her after you realized that handshake went on for far too long to be considered socially acceptable.

The two of you walked over to the couch where Wonyoung took off her coat and placed it next to her purse on the side. You sat down next to her, unable to stop staring at her beautiful body - every inch of her was perfect. Then, as she stared at you with an expectant smile, you realized you never even introduced yourself.

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot, I’m-”

“Relax,” she hushed you with that same voice of allurement. The beautiful girl leaned forward, giving you a peek down her top which you absolutely could not avoid, and picked up the glass you spilled earlier off the floor. “It’s completely natural to be nervous, is it your first time using a service like this?”

“It is,” you answered after taking a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“No more apologizing,” she whispered, moving closer to you on the couch. “I’m here for you, to make you feel good, to fulfill your desires.”

She was good at this. In just moments she calmed you down significantly. However, just as your heartbeat began to ease, it spiked again at her next words.

“You’re allowed to touch them if you’d like.”

Was your staring that obvious? Before you could think about it, the answer shot through you as her hand grabbed yours gently and guided it towards her chest. You gave her an instinctual little squeeze, relishing in the softness of her chest.

“We can go as fast or as slow as you want,” she continued while unbuttoning her top, letting her cleavage peek out just slightly. “You get to decide,” she added, putting one hand on your thigh and gently rubbing up and down.

The invitation to take her top off was right there for the taking, but you didn’t have the courage - not yet at least.

“Do you want to talk about what you want to do?” she asked innocently. “Tell me what does it for you, we can do anything.”

“I…” you hesitated again.

She simply giggled before sticking her chest out, nonverbally begging for you to open her top. Finally, you found the conviction to reach forward with both hands, freeing her tits from the fabric. The act alone awoke something in you - a clear reminder that this girl was here for you to do anything you wanted.

“There we go,” she whispered as both your hands began squeezing her chest. “Can I touch you?”

A nod was all you could muster as you fixated on her tits, and that was all she needed. Within seconds she had unbuttoned your pants and freed your already stiff shaft.

“So, want to tell me what you’re going to do to me tonight?” she asked again as her hand gently stroked your cock, lacking the innocent tone from before.

“I want to… cum on your tits… and in your mouth…” you answered breathily, overwhelmed by how soft her hand was. “I want to fuck you, I want to hear you moan.”

“There we go,” she smiled warmly, picking up the pace of her hand. “Keep going, where are you fucking me, tell me how you’re fucking me.”

“Anywhere,” you gasped as she sped up again. “I’m going to fuck you hard, right before I cum on that pretty face.”

“Is that what you want? You want to cover my pretty face?” she moaned, leaning even closer to you.

“I want to kiss your pretty face.”

“What’s stopping you?” she whispered, holding her lips out right in front of your mouth, stroking you as hard and fast as she physically could.

Your mind was going hazy as your cock was burning in warm sensation. Without hesitation you pushed your lips against hers, closing your eyes and letting your other senses take over. You kissed her tenderly for only a few seconds before gasping and leaning back as you felt your cock ready to explode.

“Fuck,” you gasped as your cock abruptly began shooting ropes onto Wonyoung’s slender fingers.

She slowed down the stroking, smiling brighter than ever proud that she made you bust so quickly. “It’s going to be a very long night,” she giggled, squeezing the last few drops of cum out of your shaft.

-----[ Le Sserafim Chaewon - @gangplanksorenji ]----

“Why were you even here?”

The silence was loud, ringing in your ear as her black orbs darted towards you, demanding an answer. You know eliciting something that can fulfill her is utter stupidity, because it was clearly something that shouldn’t end like that—

“Because I did so—and you’re still keeping that scar, huh?” And so you answer.

She grits her teeth as her eyes fire with annoyance, visibly frustrated with what you said on the latter, then clearly becoming apathetic towards you. “I hope to god you would never do this again—”

Catching her off-guard, you grab her right wrist, pulling her petite figure towards you without a sweat, making her lock her eyes and steam her anger out and you smile mischievously. “I don’t appreciate your tone, Ms. Kim Chae-won.”

You clearly don’t, and this isn’t part of a deal you knew with her. She knows it herself yet she chose to be a selfish hypocrite—well, in your own, observatory words.

“And I don’t appreciate—”

You grip her wrists tighter, making her wince in a hint of pain, further igniting that fire in her. “Try me.”

You stare straight to her soul, and she couldn’t afford to do the same for god knows why as her eyes darted towards your body. Her antics bore you, but you like the fact that it’s something that fulfills your own wants, writing up the history books. “Fucking want me?”

You’re smug and hubristic, knowing that if she lied to you, she’d just be eating up the words and shattering her ego. She hates your current demeanor but she can’t lie, and she wouldn’t dare to as your hotness permeates the air between the both of you. “I wouldn’t deny it, honestly…”

Maybe this was a little too fast, but there’s no time to waste as spun her, her back flat against the concrete wall and eyeing every inch of her body. “You never fail to impress me, Chaewon.”

“Of course I always do, now…” She has her eyes on the prize, within her hands reach as she pulls your denim jacket, dangerously close to her. “You gotta give me what I want—”

Well, not anything goes on her way and you’re tired of it, and at this moment, it just fits so well that she’s not the one in authority. Your hands stop her as she advances towards your lower abdomen, knowing that this is out of bounds on what she should have been. “I’m sorry but this is out of what you’re capable to—” You pinned her harder against the wall, smelling her floral scent and latching your lips onto the scrumptious, porcelain skin of her neck, the muttered, “—I’m the one does the talking—you obey.”

Like casting a spell on her, Chaewon’s iron walls collapse, giving in as she moans almost inaudibly, hitching a breath and fighting the urge of gratification she’s feeling. “You don’t need to suppress it, Chaewon—I know you wanted them since the last time we met—”

“God, don’t you ever s-shut—oh—up? But fuck—” Even her own hubristic self shatters periodically, as she gives in with her desperations and frustrations of being deprived for who know how long. “—y-your lips, they’re good.”

As she finds satisfaction with your actions, is your answer to further tease and deprive her since you’re under control. You didn’t care if she’s even enjoying it because as selfish as this sounds, you’ll make it stay that way because you paint your own series of events—she knows every action is within your accord, and as much as she hates it, she wouldn’t dare and complain. “Of course they always do, but now...” You pull away your lips from the porcelain skin of her neck and collarbones as you stare at her intimidatingly, letting your demeanor puzzle her and the commanding prowess be the one to start the long-anticipated show.

“You better get that thing inside me later.”

“You’re ambitious, Chaewon.” With her petite frame, it wasn’t a challenge to grab her and pull her towards you, then, your lips muttered against her ear, “On your knees first.”

After you finish the sentence, you can just see her smirk, confidence evident within her as she scoffs, knowing how you’re in the scope of her field of expertise. “You’re daring, huh? You’ll get lost to the point you’ll think it’s my tight cunt.”

You squint your eyes ephemerally, hesitant with her words since you reflect your beliefs on such a famous saying. “We’ll see what those slutty lips have to offer.”

If it means to test her limits, then so be it…

------------[ ALICE Sohee - @sparklingblu ]-------------

The night is silent except for the steady click click resonating around the room as your finger travels from one key to another.

Your eyes sting from being exposed to the bright screen of the laptop for two hours straight. Somewhere far away, a clock tower chimes. It's already 1 am.

You misclick a key and bite back another curse to your boss. For Christ's sake, it's Christmas eve and you are stuck in your hotel room with a report that must be finished by morning. You chug down the third cup of coffee, throwing your head back. Even with your eyes closed, there's no rest. Colorful spots dance across your vision from the long exposure to the laptop screen. You are starting to doze off when a loud knock interrupts your peaceful slumber.

Who could it be at this time of the night? You don’t remember ordering any room service. Maybe you are starting to hear things because of your deprivation of sleep. You are going to leave it at that and go back to your drowsy sleep when the sound appears once more, this time louder.

Grunting, you walk to the door groggily and swing it open, not even bothering to check the peephole. If this is a robbery, you can’t care less. Even better if they take the laptop so you can make up an excuse and get some well-deserved rest. It’s not a robbery, unfortunately. Or is it?

On the other side of the door stands the woman of your dreams and you mean it quite literally. Sohee, your obsession, gives you a sly smile as if she knows how crazy you are about her. It doesn’t matter because the boner that’s slowly growing in your pants after seeing her perfect figure in that black one piece dress has already given you away.

“Can I come in?” She doesn’t need to ask, you have already move aside to make room.

You close the door and turn, only to get your eyes blessed with the view of Sohee’s fat ass that millions of people fantasize about going to town on. If her clothed ass already gets your blood rushing you wonder what will happen if you see it bare.

Sohee meets your gaze, shifting her body to turns towards you. “The money first”

You have no idea what she’s talking about but in the presence of Sohee, your own will crumbles and before you know it, you are handing her every cash in your wallet. Sohee sets the money on the bedside table before closing the distance between two of you.

Her fingers move to your underside, unbuttoning your jeans until it’s pulled down all the way and you are standing in your boxer. She kneels, taking a moment to admire your bulge before pulling the piece of fabric down. Your rock hard cock springs up instantly and she wraps her slender fingers around the base, giving it a single pump. That simple movement already have you yearning for more and Sohee obliges by wrapping her soft lips around your tip while keeping both of her hands busy by stroking the unattended parts. Her tongue flicks over your leaking slit and you let out a moan, then another, then a couple more. Sohee continues her masterclass, her head bobbing in harmony with each stroke of her hands and each movement extracts a thought that’s not about her lips, her tongue or her fingers. Sohee speeds up her movement, now twisting her fingers each time the warmth of her oral hole engulfs your shaft. The whole act is messy, sloppy and most importantly, addictive. If she goes a minute more, you are going to blow your load down her throat and you quickly order her to stop before you can enjoy the main course.

Sohee releases your shaft, now glistening with her saliva, and wipes her mouth. “Need something else?” she asks.

“I need to see that fat ass of yours” you demand and Sohee lips curve into a smile.

“Of course, dear. Anything you want”

Sohee gets on the bed on all fours, wriggling her ass. “Don’t keep a lady waiting”

And you don’t plan to because you are already pulling up the black fabric covering your way to nirvana desperately. The dress knots into a tangle around her waist and you spank each of her now exposed cheeks. Sohee lets out a yelp which soon turns into a moan.

“Gonna pound that phat ass of yours Sohee. Gonna breed you” You mutter like a madman before you thrust into her glistening folds. Surprisingly, the entrance is smooth and your whole length glides in easily. “Fuck” Sohee curses and you take it at a signal to start bucking your hips. There’s no need to start out slow, she’s already so wet that the rapid thrusts come out naturally.

“Fuck fuck just like that. Pound my huge ass” Sohee begs and you smack those baby making hips of hers some more, marking it red. Her ass jiggles with each thrust; a view panoramic than any you have seen before. Her walls clench and squeezes, threatening to milk you dry and you are barely holding on the will not to end the experience early. But it’s getting increasingly difficult with how tight she’s getting each time you enter, gripping you like a snare until-

“Fuck” You are emptying your balls into her deepest depths, the tightness still unyielding. Sohee’s back curves gracefully as she feels your fertile seed paint her walls white. You empty your last few drops with shallow thrust and pulls out of Sohee’s worn out pussy. A steady stream of white drips down to the bedsheets and Sohee pants, her body trembling.

But you are not done yet, you are advancing to make use of her unused hole when-

The whole world turns upside down and an empty glass, a half-finished report and the rays of sunlight greet your sight.

“Oh shit”

-----------[ Everglow E:U - @smuttysabina ]-------------

It wasn't about the money, really, it wasn't. EU was not serving as a cheap whore in a deserted playground for some noble goal of funding a comeback, or because her greed was greater than her morals; no, EU was spreading her legs for a few thousand won because she was an unrepentant pervert. Nothing aroused her more than have her nubile body used to satisfy the depraved lusts of whichever degenerate so happened to be walking by, there was little she would refuse to do. EU was as perfectly happy cleaning her filthy ass-juices off some preening socialite's cock, as she was getting squished by some fat slob as he pumps her pussy full of his goopy seed; so long as she was getting fucked, she didn't care. She had tried simply being free-use, but unless she ensconced herself in a gloryhole, men were too wary to accept free sex from a beautiful girl like her; even if they had no idea she was an idol. So now EU plays the pampered girl desperate for money, getting bent over in back alleys by the dregs of society, her petite body violated in every way imaginable until dawn, her well-trained holes defiled with rancid semen. On more than a few occasions her sordid gangbangs have lasted days, as she happily services every smelly cock in the area until all of them have been utterly drained by this perverse pixie. And the best part was, none of them knew that in a few hours she would be prancing on stage in front of thousands of adoring fans, her holes still clogged with turgid jizz; well, perhaps not none of her "clients"...

Like any man, your brain was hardwired to breed any available woman, so when you heard rumors of a gorgeous girl offering sex for a pittance in the old abandoned playground, you had hurried on over without delay. And it was a good thing that you had, since there was already quite the line by the time you arrived, with seemingly every gormless virgin and portly husband on the block gathered for this. With such a crowd, it took some time before your destination was revealed, and imagine your shock when you realized that the cheap escort you had come to fuck was none other than your beloved EU! She was your favorite, you had spend endless hours watching her fancams, she had disturbed your dreams for years now, and you had spent yourself for her more often than you could count. So to see EU now being spitroasted by sweaty men was nearly enough to make you pass out; you had imagined sex with her in many different ways, but never like this... You are forced to watch then, as your favorite idol is manhandled and used like a disposable fleshlight, your heart sinking further as every fresh degenerate takes their turn and mounts her tiny body. Depression grips as you trudge forward, watching EU getting every hole filled at the same time, watching her gorging upon buttery semen, watching her take the greasiest fat cocks and the tinniest members without distinction, watching her exclusive pussy getting polluted by inferior seed.

Tears are falling down your face by the time you reach EU, filled with despair from seeing your adorable bias being merrily violated by dirty scum; you had never been harder in your entire life. The idol notices that you recognize her, and can tell from your appearance what toxic stew of emotions must be roiling inside of your chest. With a serene smile EU undoes your pants, allowing your staggering erection to grace the air, before a nasty grin slashes across her cherub-like face; and she spreads her stained legs in welcome for you. Gazing upon her used pussy and soggy anus, you realize that you no longer cared that your favorite idol was a depraved pervert, because you had realized, you were one too. EU groans with delight as you join her in the filth from her previous couplings, as you fulfill your wildest dreams and fuck your perverse bias until your balls have been emptied.

EU relishes every moment of your corruption, after all, she wasn't doing this for the money, she was doing it to turn her fans into degenerate perverts to slake her own depraved lusts. And if she so happens to spend her hard-earned cash on a burger during the subway ride home, why, that was merely a happy coincidence...

-------[ BLACKPINK Rose - @passingnotions ]---------

“So these would be the terms and the amount of money and all that—”

A message bubble appears next to her camera feed. Rosé resumes packing.

“This is triple my rate,” you state, unbelieving.

“Your profile reads exclusive.” Rosé approaches her phone again and takes up most of your screen. A lollipop rounds her cheek. “I’d like to ensure that.”

“The regular amount is fine.” You scroll. It’s terms that read everything privacy and non-disclosure—the usual, though the wording seems overly eloquent. “You get a lawyer to draft this?”

“Duh.” She slides the bright red sweet over her tongue while gauging your reaction to the document. The thought of her needing to pay you for all this seems a little superfluous when the camera’s aimed at the back of her throat like that. “Your higher-ups do the same.”

“Right, but that’s a company.” You reach the very end, save a copy to sign and send back. “This is freelance.”

“I’m worth more than your company. Got more to lose.” She gets back to tackling her closet.

So, sure, Rosé as your independent, temporary employer and client: no corporate middleman; triple the usual; a week’s worth of your face between her legs—plus a finger or three—and making her ride the mattress springs with your cock pistoning inside her wet, sloppy cunt, ankles dangerously hooked up and over your shoulders where the angle feels like it might kill you both and then some, all before having that familiar throat wring you dry in some abroad, high-end hotel suite. Any other client and you wouldn’t even entertain the idea (read: glaring red flags). Rosé, however, is a regular—

“Hold on. What does it mean I can’t leave the room?”

Her voice is barely audible from where she stands off-screen. “You know how many people will surround the hotel just to get a picture of me or any other celebrity? Staff like their gossip and their coin. No, you can’t leave the room.”

You laugh. “I’m getting paid to get kidnapped.”

“Could tie you up, too.”

Virtual ink scribbles your signature on the dotted line and you mail back the file. “You only get the wrists.”

“I know,” she says, tossing a cluster of outfits into the carry-on.

You hear the brittle lollipop crunch when Rosé approaches the camera again—pretty navel framed by a blue baby tee above, gray sweatpants below. There’s an abrupt shake to the image as she grabs the phone and throws herself onto her queen-size. Subtle waves of blonde fan over the pillow, the mess of clothes. She bites that last bit of candy and discards the stick on her nightstand.

“You get the email?” You ask.

“Yeah.” A lull. You would’ve ended the call a minute or two earlier, after getting the details in order, but Rosé is not someone you hang up on. And that’s not simply due to contractual obligations. “Any client I should be getting jealous of tonight?”

“It’s against company policy for me to tell you this, but you might be getting too attached.”

“No therapy addons for tonight, please.”

“Just the extra time?” You smile.

She sits up to rest against the headboard. “So you aren’t seeing anyone tonight then.”

“I do have to get up earlier than usual tomorrow—”

Your phone vibrates and an hour’s worth of pay displays on the banner. It’s superfluous, really, with the way that tight top begins to peel off her figure.

“Just the extra time.”

----------[ ITZY Chaeryeong - @chunksworld]----------

“My name is Serena and you will follow my rules tonight, do I make myself clear?”

It’s wrong. Everything about it is wrong. You have a loving girlfriend that you go home to every night and you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You just had an argument with her, that is all—something about how you don’t take her out on dates anymore and that even worse, you don’t love her anymore. You vehemently denied her allegations, so why in the world did you decide to take up your friend’s offer to hire an escort?

Maybe she is right, maybe you are starting to lose feelings for her. Well it does not matter because you already clearly knew the answer when you specifically requested that the escort make you “forget everything” for tonight. I mean, what faithful boyfriend would do that? And why are you worrying about those things now?

You’ve already wasted a paycheck booking this woman for the night, much more so when she requested that you conduct your business in a five-star hotel. Sure, you might have to survive on bland packets of ramen in the meantime but that’s how you survived college anyways. The only thing occupying your mind is how good everything feels when you are deprived of your eyesight.

It’s true what they say about your other senses heightening because you can feel her hot breath lingering on your neck, her perky tits pressing down on your toned chest as she torturously rides you at a snail’s pace, and her thighs grinding against yours with every movement of her hips. “Shit, Serena. C-Can you go a bit faster?”

The stinging pain of a hand striking your face is the response you got. Right. It’s her rules that you need to follow. Maybe you shouldn’t have given her as much freedom, it’s you that’s paying her bills after all. But that point is moot when she has somehow sunk herself deeper onto your cock and you are gripping the satin sheets with how tight she is, as if she doesn’t do this for a living.

You fight the urge not to thrust up into her, to just hold on to her waist and go balls deep. You haven’t had sex with your girlfriend in weeks because of how busy you two are and you could use an orgasm or two to let everything loose. But everything about her pussy is inviting and it’s only thirty minutes and you can already feel your cock throbbing.

She senses this as well because her lips have now moved down to your shoulders and she’s leaving kisses there while a hand reaches down to your balls to fondle it. It’s really becoming hard to breathe, with how her entire body is completely pressed up against you and with how suffocating her pussy is. “Cum for me.” And you do. You are surprised to hear her speak again and the timbre in her voice and the overwhelming sensation of everything causes you to shoot your semen deep inside her.

She doesn’t stop riding you even as you are barely coming down from your high. Seconds turn into minutes and everything becomes a blur. Round after round of Serena riding you to completion, making you shoot more cum even if there wasn’t any more space left in her womb. Even when you can feel your load dripping back down your cock and balls, she continues to ride you and not at a single point did you even consider what your girlfriend would say if she caught you. Everything is a fucking mess, including your life.

There is a brief moment of solace when she mercifully removes the blindfold, finally. It takes you a couple of minutes to get used to the bright lighting and the first thing that greets you is the perfectly sculpted body of Serena, and the big mess you two have left on the satin sheets with your cum and her juices. Your eyes travel upward, studying every feature of the woman that has drained you and the way her pale white skin glisten with her sweat.

From her defined abs, to her tiny breasts you wish you have gotten a taste of, her broad shoulders, and finally you get a glimpse of her face. Wait, why does she look familiar? That smile that can light up a room, the way her eyes and nose crinkle as such, the way she brushes her hair back and—why the fuck is she winking at you? She looks a mighty lot like your girlfriend and you think you’re hallucinating. It might have taken a few seconds but everything hits you at once and panic immediately strikes down on you like lightning.

Fuck. That’s your girlfriend’s sister.

“Chaery—“

She places a kiss on your lips to keep your mouth shut and the sudden revelation horrifies and turns you on at the same time. You need to make a decision and you need to make it quick because otherwise your cock is doing it already for you with how quickly her cum-filled pussy rides you back to full erection, with your creampie overflowing between the gaps where your bodies meet. It is hard to formulate a thought when her tongue is sticking deeper down your throat. Screw everything. You wrap your arms around her waist possessively when you sit up to meet her at eye level, deepening the kiss to turn it into a proper makeout session. “Chaeyeon unnie doesn’t have to know, oppa.” Damn right, she doesn’t. You dive in to kiss her again, the risk and debauchery making you want to savor everything even more.

“Plus, we have six hours left and there’s two more holes you still need to fill. You gotta get your money’s worth, right?”

Damn right, you do.

----------[ BINI Aiah - @octoberautumnbox ]------------

It came easier than most with him, she could even say it came easy, period. His gaze was always soft, his touch always gentle, his tone always sweet when it came to her. Of course, she only knew the him that texts her every first Friday at 5:30 p.m. asking if she's busy that night. And she never is, or always is, because first Friday nights are blocked off by default for her favorite patron.

It was a broken record that she never tired of: she dresses pretty, he picks her up, they get dinner and drinks, and he takes her back to his place. He and Aiah are so used to it at this point that he keeps telling her to stop dressing too nice but she just can't help it, she has to look good for him!

~~~

It's the most predictable thing in the world, hopping into his car and letting him rub her inner thigh as he drives. It's absolutely no surprise when he orders the steak for himself and the large poutine for the both of them to share. It's the normalest occurrence when the violin guy hovers over their table with a heart-wrenchingly beautiful melody as he admires her eyes over the candlelight. And it sure as hell isn't anything special when she offers his left arm to cling to as they walk back to his car, so much so that the wine he holds with his right arm makes its way to Aiah's instead.

“Nice, 2020?” She looks over the label, finding a pinot noir brand she couldn't recognize. “Get me drunk, pass time with me, throw me away when you’re done. I know your type exactly,” she teases.

“When did I throw you away? I feed you good food, nothing but love in my bed, I get you home safe every week,” he retorts with a chuckle, counting each one on his fingers. He opens the door for her, and she plants a sweet peck on his lips before settling elegantly back into the car.

~~~

It's all the same game to her, yet she can't deny it's exhilarating every time. Her grip is tight around his back and shoulders, her pedicured nails digging into his skin as he parts her pussy lips apart for him. She moans sweetly, “Fuck, more, please…” as he diligently fulfills each of her prior requests. He does everything she asks of him: in front of the mirror, against the wall, in the bathtub, but Aiah's favorite and the one that absolutely has to end each night, bareback missionary on his fluffy bed while she holds him close to kiss, to hug, to whisper her sweet nothings into his ear.

“You’re so fucking good, Aiah, I’ll never get tired of you,” he says back, and he kisses her neck gently, driving her wild.

It's all the same game to her, and it's so easy to predict: the neck kisses come when he's close. She feels him throbbing inside her as he pounds her into the mattress, he's going faster, deeper, and she fires a prayer up to whom it may concern that he goes rougher and rougher still, until–

“Fuck, fuck, FUUUUCKKKKK!!!” she screams loud, giving herself up in service to his pleasure. He erupts in between her velvet walls, shooting his thick and warm seed into her womb, all the while her pussy milks him for everything he's got. He shuts her up with his lips on hers, and Aiah can't help but return his love; she takes his head in her hands, locking him in her embrace.

And once it's all over, he falls to her side to let her breathe. An arm underneath her head, a cursory “good night,” and all the warmth of the world in him are all it takes to rob her of her consciousness. As the world fades around her, he pulls her close to his chest, and the last thing she remembers, like always, is the aroma of his sweat evidencing his satisfaction with her services.

~~~

Albeit a bit wobbly, she's able to make her way downstairs. Like clockwork, there he is, finishing up a congee and packing it safely for the car, and she makes her way to the sofa and rubs the sleep out her eyes. She wants to say something, but holds back. Her lips form the shape for the first word, but no air comes out. She repeats in her head again and again, “Can we stay a bit?” knowing the answer, so she never tries. Why go against the program? Why ruin such a good thing?

~~~

She takes a careful bite of the hardboiled egg, and noticeably he slows down before the speed bump at the entrance to her subdivision. In no time at all they arrive outside her house, and Aiah sets her dirty dishes on the dashboard in front of her.

“Take care,” she whispers, avoiding his eyes. The usual white envelope falls onto her lap, and it breaks her again. She hears his seatbelt unclasp and fly back taut, but without giving him a chance, she undoes her own seatbelt and pushes her door open, leaving him behind. She runs back to her privacy, swinging open the door and shutting it hard. Aiah holds her breath, before finally letting go when his engine roars to life and grows progressively quieter the farther away he gets.

Finally, the tears fall. She buries her face in her hands and screams a world-ending scream, then composes herself while she wipes the liquid pain from her eyes. She opens the envelope: fifteen blue bills and a blister pack of her usual birth control. The sight rips her chest apart, and the envelope and its contents are thrown to scatter all over her foyer. Aiah crumples into a fetal position and tumbles to her side, hugging her knees and wallowing in the dread of missing him not even five minutes after they part for another month.

-------------[ Kwon Eunbi - @rosiesmuts ]---------------

Water Bomb. The festival that revitalized Eunbi's career. Sure it meant getting on stage wearing a bikini top while pretending she couldn't feel everyone's eyes on her tits, but it was worth it for the chance to be seen and heard.

It shot up her fame, gaining her hundreds of thousands of followers and even fielded numerous phone calls and offers. In public, she said she rejected every single one of those guys, when in reality, Water Bomb increased her side gig to unforeseen heights.

In person, Eunbi's way shorter than she appears on TV, barely reaching up to your chest. But, you remind yourself that she's the real deal: her little bikini accentuates her thick curves like a lewd fashion statement; her tits are so round they push back against the thin fabric, and you could almost imagine her nipples pebbling just from you staring.

"There's only one rule..." Eunbi pushes you down on the couch and settles in-between your legs. You groan out when she kneads the tent in your pants with a smug smirk on her face. "...It never goes inside of me..." She frees your cock, wrapping a hand around it and pumping her hand from root to tip, rolling her thumb over the leaking head. "...Just between my tits."

Shit. That's a pretty massive rule for what amounts to your weekly salary. It sounds unfair, and it sort of is. But that's the kinda thing you have to expect when you're with an idol, a walking, talking brand.

Any kind of protest get lost on the tip of your tongue when Eunbi lowers a strap, freeing her breast to the open air, and fuck—her tit is bigger than you imagined, so thick and round and squeezable, topped off by the dark peak of her puffy areola and her stiff nub of a nipple.

"You can touch before I begin..." She grabs your hand and plants it atop her pillowy breast. You can't hold back. The fat fills your hand, overflowing in your palm when you squeeze. The firm yet supple skin is fucking heavenly. There's a halfway sound mixed of a giggle and a moan, and when you look up, Eunbi stares back at you with lust darkened eyes. "Excited aren't we? There's another one too, you know? Feel free to set it free yourself."

You brush the strap aside and Eunbi's top slips over her second breast and off her body, falling down to the floor along with your inhibitions.

For the low, low price of 40 hours of work, Eunbi isn't an unapproachable, untouchable, perfect entity on-screen. With her tits exposed, all natural and bouncing just slightly whenever she moves, there's something intimately real about the way she lets out breathy quiet moans as you massage her breasts in tandem, thumbs circling her pointed nubs.

"Careful... They're sensitive." Her chest juts towards you with every pass of your hand, and you're having the time of your life watching this behemoth of an idol turn into a whimpering wreck. Your gaze naturally strays from her chest to the subtle ripple of her belly and the sakura print triangle of her bikini bottoms.

Eunbi holds up a bottle of liquid and squirts out a decent amount, drooling down her tits and onto your cock. You hiss out, twitching up from the chill, and then moan out when Eunbi runs her dainty fingers over your length, spreading the viscous liquid all over until her palms grip onto your throbbing member.

"Shall we begin? I'm curious to see your expression..." She scooches closer, breasts jiggling against the inside of your thighs and her hands slipping off the sides of her chest, pushing her boobs together, around your pulsing dick.

Her plump flesh surrounds you on either side of your shaft, her breasts massaging your hardness. The lube makes it so hot and slippery, you can almost imagine it's her soft pussy instead. She interlocks her fingers and starts to bounce the soft pliable flesh up and down, the liquid squelching out.

"Ahh~ What a lusty expression..." Eunbi sees the look of euphoria written plain across your face. There's never been anything like the sheer softness, the overwhelming sensation of this world-renowned idol jerking you off with her heavenly tits.

As much as you want to close your eyes and fall in-tune with her movements, the sight of her breasts wrapped around you forces you to continue to stare.

Then something unexpected comes into play. Eunbi pauses her movement on a downward motion. You groan, missing the hot pleasure that just sent you to cloud 9. Until suddenly her cute little peaks out and gives the tip a lick.

'It never goes inside of me...'

The one and only rule re-enters your mind. Then the mischievous sparkle in her eyes leaves you with one conclusion.

"Technically licking it doesn't count... Right?~" Her tongue once again peeks out and wets your engorged, blushing head, the warm and wet, gentle touch shooting pleasure through you. It only lasts a moment until she starts sliding up and down your shaft once more, adding her cute licks as the icing on top.

This must be heaven. This must be what going to heaven is like—having the Eunbi jerking you off with her thick, soft tits and having her pink tongue pepper your cock with gentle kitten licks.

"Ah—!" she gives you a surprised little yelp when the pre-cum bubbles up from the slit of your dick, the salty liquid instantly greeted by the flat of her tongue.

'It never goes inside of me...'

That was the only preamble. The only thing forbidden by the deal. Her lips come dangerously close, puckering open and—

Eunbi is a fucking liar. She wraps her lips around the head and sucks, tongue swirling and lips pursed tight against your swollen cock. You grunt out a curse at the sudden change in temperature, hot and wet. In an instant, you lose yourself, cumming in spurts in her warm mouth, painting her tongue white.

"Mmmph!" She feigns shock and panic, closing her eyes tight and sucking on you in earnest. All the while she maintains her tits wrapped around the bottom of your shaft, squeezing up to catch the last remnants of your release.

With her lips still wrapped around the head, she swallows—you hear and feel the distinct gulp.

Eunbi pushes her bangs back as she finally pulls off your softening, limp shaft. Her hand wanders to her jaw, wiping away any leftover bit that spilled out her lips.

"Oops~ look like I broke my own rule..." she hums, playfulness and mock innocence threading together in her tone.

'It never goes inside of me...'

Bullshit.

---------[ (G)I-DLE Minnie - @svndaysaweek ]----------

Once in for all. You head to the bar you’re regular at. Everytime you tip a glass there, you experience a weird dream and when you wake up you’re in your bed, no memories of how you even made it there.

It’s happened several times already. To the point where you start to doubt if it really is a dream.

A charming bartender, nice drinks, and the addictive dream-like scenes you fragmentarily see like a deja-vu.

There are different versions of it, but all follow the same sequence: sit down, empty a glass or two, a little chirpy chit chat with the bartender and the very next blink she’s riding you in a frantic manner.

What haunts you the most is that you lose old memories too. The damage is disturbing, since even at work you don’t remember major events that happened. You really should stop drinking, and you're aware of it more than anyone.

You can’t explain, but you feel like you should just go there again. It’s an addiction, maybe. You know you should stop, but you don’t.

******

The door swings open with the little bells on it quirkily ringing. It’s a dim bar, with the calm noise of people talking and laughing with clinking sounds. Over the counter she’s wiping glasses, not in a tuxedo but in a white sleeveless shirt, long blonde hair over a shoulder and a pair of orbs in her eyes with the aura that a quartz gemstone would exude.

Hot, but not red-hot. Erotic, but not foul.

The very eyes in your dreams that you made roll back.

“Hi, long time! The usual?” Minnie’s grin blooms quickly as if she’s been waiting for you. Then she fixes it the next second, recognizing how unusual it is for a bartender to be as turgidly excited as her.

“I’d love to.” With a bite on her lip she turns around, takes a bottle of whiskey. Then enters a room in the back for a glass.

Your hand automatically takes your phone out of the pocket. You see a message from an unknown number saying ‘Hey we need to talk’, but before you can check Minnie returns with the glass and serves it to you.

“Are you shifting soon? Never seen you in that shirt before,” A sip, and another. “Ah, this? How do I look?”

Gorgeous!

Gorge-

Gor-

…

******

“Yeah, that’s it…” Minnie’s hands are planted on your chest while her hips are senselessly grinding on your cock. The pace skyrockets and her nails dig into you deeper and deeper.

But dangerously you don’t feel the pain. You can only feel how tight she’s squeezing your cock, how sweaty her thighs are, how hot her breath is and how good she’s fucking you.

“Fuck, it gets better everytime… How can I stop fucking you like this…” Her hands are now in her hair, arms open and messing her own hair a bit.

She squeezes her own breasts before slightly choking you with both hands. You try to reach for her hands, which are cuffed to the bed. Minnie seems to enjoy the surprised look on your face, as her face descends to be just above yours with a pearly giggle.

“Bet Miyeon is all too vanilla to do this stuff to you in bed,” She whispers it right at your left ear before nibbling on it, making you flinch a bit.

“Miyeon? Who is-“

“Never mind, boy. I have only you and you—oh, god I’m close—have only me.” Minnie’s teeth leave a deep mark on your under lip. Her glance is now beyond enrapturing. It’s a poignant hypnosis with a tinge of coercion.

Only when she cums and squirts on your cock with a rather lunatic moan is the bewitching scrutiny alleviated. The sound of heavy breaths and the tickle of her fingers stroking on your chest is all that you can sense.

And you’re sprawled on the bed, exhausted, with your consciousness fading out. “I have only you, Minnie” is what you lethargically repeat until all becomes dark.

******

You have no idea how you ended up on your bed. Again. The last place you remember you were at last night was the bar.

Was it the whiskey after all?

Before you could even get out of your bed a headache swirls inside your head.

I had intense sex with Minnie again in the dream again.

She mentioned someone.

I received a text from someone who wanted to talk with me.

What could all this mean?

All of a sudden, a loud knock on the door shakes you awake from your thoughts.

“Who’s there?” You shout, and you hear a frustrated, urgent female voice.

“Honey, it’s me! Please open the door and let’s talk!” On the other side of the door there’s a woman standing. Anxious, upset and unfamiliar.

“Do I know you?” It’s a genuine question, because you don’t recognize her at all. “Honey, this is not funny. At all. Why the hell have you been ignoring all my-” The girl tries to grab your hand which you swiftly evade.

“Sorry, but what are you talking about?”

You’re gazing at her eyes then you’re forced to shut your eyes because of a headache like being shot in the temple.

“Babe!” Down the hallway is Minnie. You are so confused by her calling you that, but it must’ve been the drink. Should’ve drunk less.

“Babe?! Excuse me, but do you know him? Honey, do you know her?” Miyeon looks shocked, terrified, even. “I do. Why are you asking me that? Who are you?”

Disbelief shades her face. “H-honey… What are you talking about? I’m your fiancé! I’m Miyeon, don't you remember?” At the same time there’s a victorious grin on Minnie’s face.

You’re gazing at her eyes then you’re forced to shut your eyes because of a headache like being shot in the temple. Then all senses fuzz out.

******

“Don’t go too fast, Miyeon! It’s dangerous!” You’re on a bicycle following her, on a riverside road with cherry blossoms fluttering along the breeze. She briefly looks back at you, and the way her hair streams in the wind takes your breath. “You’re saying that because you can’t pass me!” She smiles playfully and speeds up ahead.

“What are you listening to?” She takes one of your earphones after sitting down next to you on the bench. “Just some classics. Autumn is a season of classics for me.” You turn your head in her direction and are stunned at how her look matches the color of the trees and sky ever so perfectly. She can only chuckle at your face.

“Oh my god, sweetheart, yes!” You’re down on one knee, putting a ring on her finger. She’s shedding tears with the happiest smile. “I love you, Miyeon.” You rise and hug her. Your hands are still shaking. Her shoulders shake from her crying.

“I love you too. I have only you. And you have only me.”

******

-------------[ WJSN Bona - @fiorituramara ]-------------

The elevator ride took forever, enough for you to think you were getting up to the heavens (maybe you were); or at least, enough for you to start focusing on the garish marbles inside of the booth finely sculpted with golden inscriptions of the hotel’s logo—you never were particularly interested in interior design especially the pompous branch of it.

You wouldn’t say you were used to all of this—the high-end hotel with all its lush finishes, the highly competent personnel following you around for every little inconvenience, it was all a bit too much, even if it certainly wasn’t your first time in the midst of all this luxury.

After all, your business model as a professional companion thrived on the lonesomeness of the wealthiest. Business women, successful lawyers, rich heiresses; all of them had similar needs and you were ready to profit on them by selling your version of love: an illusion.

But this time was different and you knew it, just by feeling.

Kim Jiyeon wasn’t like any other customer you had before—she was an award-winning actress, a model and an idol. But Jiyeon wasn’t just wealthy, she was absolutely breathtaking, a rare beauty worthy of praise from fashion brands and magazines.

As soon as you walked through the suit’s door a sly smile welcomed you in the warmest way “I hope the reception didn’t make you wait for too long,”

You smiled back, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss Jiyeon”

Here she was across the room, sitting on a modish sofa, legs crossed dully waiting for your arrival. She wasn’t wearing anything particularly elaborate: an ashen tailleur leaning on a striped shirt, and a colorful skirt that did quite the poor job at covering her slender legs. A simple fit yet effective at emphasizing her striking beauty.

“Have a seat, please. Get comfortable,” she said as you happily complied, joining her.

“Wine?”

You nodded thanking the steward as he tinged a chalice in red.

As you sipped on your drink Jiyeon handed you some documents from an agenda

“Formalities, you know” she downplayed it, of course “I just need your sign.”

You quickly scanned the papers in front of you, faking interest. Legal stuff, stamps, authorizations and permits. It was a detailed NDA warding your customer in every possible way, nothing unusual when dealing with well-known personalities, something you knew you would have need to sign.

“I just have one question, a little curiosity of mine” you said, as the pen in your hands swiftly traced the initials of your name sealing the contract. “Why? Why would someone like you even look for my services?”

A sly smile painted on Jiyeon’s face, as if she knew you would’ve asked something similar.

She took your hand in hers, it was warm and soft, and guided it towards her thigh.

“The easy answer would be that I lack the material time,” you listened carefully to every word of her speech as your hand wandered forward, daringly massaging her smooth skin “just getting to know someone is a serious commitment,”

“I can’t afford to waste occasions with the wrong person with the little time I have for myself,” she continued. Were you moving a little too fast? Maybe. Ten minutes since you met her and you were already with a hand on her thighs and she looked like she didn't mind.

“But if i’m being honest, there’s more to it” as she said that her hand moved to the top of your shirt, slowly undoing a couple buttons, “I’m tired, tired of being what people want me to be, I’m tired of pretending I’m perfect when I’m not. I wanna be flawed.” you dared even more, your fingers traced a ticklish spot on her inner thigh eliciting a whimper. Her hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you in place.

“I wanna be me.” She looked right into your eyes as she said that, more serious than ever.

Then she got up, right in front of you, raised her legs to discard her boots before climbing directly on top of you.

You let her go on with her act, too stunned to speak up, as she continued with her answer. “Why you, you say? I need professionalism, I need discretion,”

She pulled on the collar of your shirt and whispered in your ear “but more than everything, I need a good fuck, and I need it now.”

The hot breath on your skin elicited a shiver in your back. “Does this satisfy your little curiosity?”

There wasn’t really a need to answer that.

You seized her cheeks, leaned in and locked lips. You were dreaming about kissing those pretty full lips the moment you entered the room and now it felt heavenly. You could taste the sweetness on her tongue, as she explored your mouth and you explored hers, a hint of wine still lingering around intoxicating you even more. Your hands instinctively moved to her back, helping her slipping her now impractical jacket to the floor in anticipation of something more.

Only the need for air was able to break the kiss.

“Dazzle me.” she whispered.

#kpop smut #male reader smut #ive smut #le sserafim smut #gidle smut #itzy smut

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waitingonher · 11 months ago

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ELECTRIC TOUCH — [jason grace dating headcanons]

author's note: i need 2024 to be THE year. 2023 did me soooo dirty. im praying

dating JASON GRACE would be like dating someone from a regency era romance novel…he’s just SUCH a hopeless romantic but he would rather die than admit it.

in the initial first few weeks of dating, jason was sosososooooo shy about pda/physical touch. it’s not that he was uncomfortable, he LOVES physical touch, but he had just gone so long without it that he wasn’t used to it. but eventually, he warms up to it…and now he can’t go without having at least one part of him touching you 😭

when it came to things like hugs, kisses, handholding, etc. jason would always wait for you to initiate it because he was so anxious about making you uncomfortable ?? fjsldfjs

but when you communicated that he didn’t need to ask/wait for you all the time, jason started initiating things more. even still, he occasionally gets nervous to even hold your hand? like wdym you’ve been dating for over six months and you still get nervous doing simple couple things 😭 it’s very endearing though

chivalry is NOT dead,, and it’s because of jason LMAO. he’s the type to swap shoes with you even though you’re wearing heels that are 3x too small for him, but hey, at least your feet don’t hurt anymore!

jason’s also hellbent on carrying things for you, opening doors for you, pulling out/pushing in chairs for you, etc… GOD HE’S SO CUTE.

since dating him, you don’t think you’ve ever touched a single door or car handle when he’s with you.

jason is NOT afraid to advocate or stand up for you, especially if you’re more on the quiet & non-confrontational side. if you’re in a group setting and someone interrupts you, he’s making sure you get your chance to say what you wanted to say. and he doesn’t do it in a way that leaves you embarrassed, he’s very very classy with it!

if you’re a big music person, jason will literally learn your favorite artist’s entire discography so you guys have another thing to talk about.

you guys also have a shared playlist of “your songs” and he’s so serious about it 😭 if jason hears a song that even remotely reminds him of you, he’s going to the ends of the earth to figure out what it’s called.

rip to anyone around him if shazam doesn’t work! he’s gonna send voice messages to your big group chat humming the tune, but he’s so tone deaf that no one knows the song…and his search history is just variations of “song that goes du du ooh du ooh du du ooh” a for effort though babes…

jason’s love languages are definitely acts of service and quality time. over the years and throughout the many battles he’s fought, he’s come to realize that all he wants to do when he comes home is just spend time with his loved ones.

after a busy day, you’ll come home to find your laundry folded, bed sheets washed & freshly made, along with a sweet little note from jason <3

your guys’ thing are writing notes to each other. considering his and your busy schedule, you’ll write and leave tiny notes around the house for each other to find. it’s one of the many reasons why jason gets up in the morning.

he loves coming home to you after a long day to simply melt in your arms. there’s just something so soothing about cuddling with you after a busy day.

it does not matter where you are, you guys could literally be cleaning the camp toilets and he’d still be able to find the fun in it. you’re his home, and he’d follow you wherever you go.

if you play sports, you already know he’s showing up to ALL your games. it doesn’t matter if it’s pouring rain or if it’s hours away, he’s absolutely determined to show his support. jason even makes posters with your jersey number and when you have big tournaments he’ll show up with posters of your face 😭 the refs are SO tired of jason help

i feel like if he really tried, jason would be a good cook.

one day you sent him a recipe you saw online saying you wanted to make it with him, but then he decided to make it himself to surprise you. and it was actually so good???

JASON IN A “KISS THE COOK” APRON OMFG. that’s what you got him for his birthday and every single time without fail, he’ll wear it when he’s cooking.

one of his hidden talents is that he’s super good at origami. he originally picked it up because he heard it was a good stress reliever, but now he also does it for you <3

he loves your reaction when he gives you little paper rings or an origami version of your favorite animal!

this guy DREAMS of domesticity. he’s always been the type to date to marry, and that’s just what he intends to do with you! even though you guys are still young, he’s been planning your proposal sfjfls

tell me why he already knows what kind of ring he wants to get you… omg.

he really wants to just settle down with you in new rome. but honestly, he’s willing to do anything as long as you’re at his side.

expect flowers from jason at least once a month! he even keeps one flower so he knows when it’s time to get you a new bouquet. and if he’s away, he’ll get one of his friends to deliver it!

i have this headcanon that the aphrodite cabin teams up with the hephaestus cabin to throw a really elaborate party, essentially like prom. anyways, jason would go all out for your promposal jfdsls i feel like he would either do a super funny poster/proposal like y’know that one guy who did that medieval promposal 😭 yeah well jason would do something like that but like...more roman... LMFAO him pulling up to your place in a chariot

or he would do something super super intricate and planned out…like a fancy picnic and then he’d have the fauns arrange fireflies to spell out “prom?” when it’s dark out.

ugh! jason grace the man that you are… <3 best bf ever,, i can confirm btw

#jason grace #jason grace x reader #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x you #jason grace fanfiction #jason grace fanfic #jason grace fluff #jason grace fic #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #rick riordan #riordanverse #percy jackson fandom #percy jackson headcanon #percy jackson fic #percy jackson fanfiction

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miguel-owhora · 11 months ago

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simon 'ghost' riley who behind the walls and masks and secrecy, is actually not the monster those he works with - outside the 141 at least - paint him out to be.

simon who has a collection of mesmerized dad jokes that he'll pull out with the most monotone and flattest voice ever, whose eyes twinkle in mirth when you groan at him and go on a rant about how bad his humor is, who'll crack a smile and chuckle. simon who doesn't necessarily find them funny, only likes dad jokes because of the reaction he gets from others.

simon who has a soft spot for animals, especially dogs. who'll always stop to pet them, to call them 'good lass/lad' even if they're just sitting there and letting him pet them, who probably ends up getting a dog or two of his own, his black clothing laced with dog hair. he'll complain when you eventually drag him to the petting zoo, but he goes quiet when you find him surrounded by lambs, all bleating at him. and it makes your heart flutter at the image, of this large, hulking man with blood and death on his hands, gently petting a lamb, the very animal of pure innocence.

simon who doesn't like mornings and will refuse to get up if it's the weekends. oh, you're busy that day? cancel all plans because simon will roll over and wrap himself around your body and drag you underneath the blankets. he'll smile, eyes crinkling in mirth and affection, and hold you tighter when you try to wiggle free. simon who fiddles with your matching wedding band, feeling a surge of warm affection flood through him at the idea of being married to the love of his life, that this is his reality, and it's one he wouldn't change for the world.

simon who doesn't cook because he'll burn his neighborhood down, and instead opts to watch you. he'll be your guinea pig for any new recipes, and surprisingly, despite how fucking white he is, his stomach is made of steel and can handle pretty much anything. still, he'll give his honest opinion and tell if it needs more seasoning or if it's good. and while he doesn't cook, he'll do his part and clean up afterwards.

simon whose love language is acts of service and/or quality time. he's more than happy to clean up after a good meal, and he finds the other chores grounding. it's repetitive and it's familiar, and there's something safe about it, yk? and something as simple as sitting next to you or watching you cook, or even sitting outside the bathroom whilst you do your skincare makes him feel warm and happy. he just likes to be around you, even if he doesn't talk sometimes and goes nonverbal, and well follow you around like a puppy. he enjoys going with you whenever you're out doing errand runs.

simon who's a passenger princess. this mf cannot drive, so you're the one who takes up the drive. but he's a passenger princess and whenever one of the other boys come to visit, he'll literally haul them out of the seat because that's his. he won't let anyone take it, especially not when you're driving.

simon who finds life after retirement calm, who enjoys the domestic life with you. he finds comfort in the smallest things. he finds comfort in you.

#simon ghost riley x male reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon x reader #simon ghost x you #ghost riley #ghost.txt #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x male reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x male reader

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connorsui · 12 days ago

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“I trust you…I promise you that I trust you, and nothing will come in the way of that…but you can’t tell me this isn’t ridiculous, right?”

You stand in the middle of your snowy driveway, gazing with a mix of exasperation and amusement at Johnny and your twin sons as they create a battlefield out of the morning’s snowfall-- Instead of the simple snowmen you might have imagined, the boys are busy crafting a fortress, with underground paths, tall mounds as shields, and small stockpiles of snowballs for their so called ... “ammunition.”

You’d pictured the morning so differently: hot chocolate by the fire, maybe a bit of decorating? or Johnny sharing tame, kid-friendly stories from his time in the service—with the casual violence out of the way. But instead, here you are, cup of coffee warming one hand, the other resting on your hip as you watch Johnny instruct the boys in how to "properly" make a shield.

“Ohh, c’mon, lovie,” Johnny calls out, dusting the snow from his gloves with a playful shake of his head, “Let the lads enjoy themselves a bit, eh?” He straightens up, strides over to you, and presses a kiss to your cheek. The cold on his lips contrasts sharply with the warmth of his smile, and you feel yourself smiling back, twirling your coffee idly in the mug.

Johnny steps behind you, wrapping his arms securely around your waist, resting his chin atop your head. “I meant it when I said I wanted to spend every second with the boys,” he murmurs softly. “Been too long without ‘em, you know?”

“Oh, I know you said that,” you chuckle, a warm puff of air slipping into the crisp winter morning. “Don’t think I forgot so quickly... But taking on our boys in an early morning little war wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when you promised ‘quality time,’ Johnny.”

He laughs, his deep chuckle vibrating against you. But before he can reply, one of the twins rushes over, his cheeks flushed with excitement, snowflakes clinging to his coat.

“Mum! Mummy! Look! We did it!” He points eagerly to their snow fortress, an impressive structure for something built by two kids and their overly enthusiastic dad.

The other twin, standing guard behind a snowy barricade, grins mischievously before launching a snowball toward his brother. It narrowly misses, skimming past you, and you instinctively step back, laughing as you bump into Johnny’s chest.

“Oi! Careful with yer aim,” Johnny calls out, unable to hide the pride in his voice. He lets you go and grins at the boys. “Ye want to join me inside for a while, love?” he asks, lowering his voice, a playful warmth in his tone. “I’ll make you somethin’ nice, your favorite.”

“Hmmm,” you hum in mock consideration, pretending to think it over. Finally, you give a quick nod, and the two of you make your way back to the kitchen, where you begin preparing a warm breakfast for the boys. The house feels cozy, the warmth from the stove and the sound of laughter just outside filling it with a sense of peace that feels almost too perfect to be real.

As you look out the kitchen window, you see the twins giggling, a flurry of snowballs passing between them. One boy dives behind a mound, trying to evade the other’s shot, only to trip and collapse in a heap of laughter and snow. You watch, smiling to yourself, feeling that rare, unfiltered happiness that fills every corner of your heart.

“What’re ye thinkin’, hmm?” Johnny asks, catching the look on your face as he leans against the counter, his gaze soft.

You blink, as if just waking from a daydream. “What? Nothing… Just happy, is all.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Sure about that?”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“Oh, nothin’,” he teases, feigning innocence. “Just wonderin’.”

You lean back against the counter, eyes drifting again to the scene outside. “This is everything I could’ve ever wanted with you, Johnny. I remember imagining this life with you back then, maybe one little one in tow… but now, with two boys, and you… it almost feels ...dream-like,... you know?”

He slides closer to you, his hand resting over yours. “No, darlin’. I don’t know,” he says softly, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar, grounded warmth. “Because this here? It’s all real. Me, the house, our boys… us.” He gestures around as if to make his point clear. “This is it. All of it’s real.”

A smile spreads across your face as you meet his gaze, unable to hold back. Leaning up, you place a soft kiss on his lips, savoring the moment, the crisp air still lingering on his skin.

“And ye know what else could be real right about now?” he murmurs, a glint of mischief in his eye.

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“Leaving the kids with yer mum while we take apart that new lovely present you left out for me.”

You gasp, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Johnny! Don’t tell me you’ve already seen it?”

He smirks, tapping the side of his head. “Oh, don’t think I didn’t spot it, all prettily wrapped with a bow.”

Lowering your voice, you whisper, “That was for later!”

“How much later?” he teases, a mischievous sparkle in his eye that sends your pulse racing.

You glance away, hiding a grin, cheeks warm as you try to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

Johnny lets out a laugh, his deep voice filling the cozy kitchen. But before you can respond, the boys come bounding in, their noses red from the cold, eyes wide with excitement.

“Mum! Mum! Can you make our favorite breakfast?” they ask in unison, looking up at you with hopeful smiles.

You sigh playfully, shaking off the blush that had crept up your neck, and nod. “Alright, alright. I’ll call you back when it’s ready!”

With twin shouts of “mmkay!” they scamper back outside, their laughter echoing through the yard as they dive back into their snowball war.

Johnny watches you, a familiar, mischievous smile still on his face. “Well?”

You tilt your head, chuckling, “I'll call her.."

A laugh escapes him, and he pulls you close, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. As you continue with breakfast, he stays by your side, keeping an eye on the boys through the window. You realize that this—Johnny beside you, the kids laughing outside, the warmth of your home wrapping around you—is the happiest you’ve ever felt.

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hgfictionwriter · 4 months ago

Text

Discretion

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Vacationing with Jessie’s family is great, but it has drawbacks as well. When Jessie and you just want some ✨ Quality Time ✨ together, frustrations and tensions build and you both try to find relief.

Warnings: Smut. Sexting, edging, fingering, possessive language/sex, service top!Jessie.

A/N: Tension. Wanting. Needing. And not being able to do anything about it until you’re desperate and lose control. Emotional and loving though.

“Morning, baby.”

You stirred from your sleep as you felt Jessie’s weight partially on top of you and her lips on your cheek.

“Good morning,” you mumbled as you awoke. You blinked, seeing her face framed by the rays of light flowing in from the hotel window.

“Time to get up,” she told you gently as she continued to lay soft kisses along your face. “Elysse is just finishing getting ready.”

You nodded, closing your eyes once more as you wrapped your arms around Jessie. She was fully clothed and ready for the day. It was her off season and you were on vacation with her parents and sister. They were lovely people, however sharing a room with her sister had its drawbacks.

“I was just having a good dream, too,” you told her as you squeezed her to you. You moaned quietly as she kissed along your jaw.

“Tell me,” she urged, now intrigued, as her hand settled on your hip and her thumb snuck under your sleep shirt to idly caress your waist.

The scenes from your dream immediately flooded your mind. As they did, a lazy smile crossed your face as you pulled Jessie into a kiss and grasped her hand, intertwining your fingers before slipping her hand into your shorts and underwear.

You grinned as Jessie’s body tensed over you and she let out a low gasp, her breath hot on your face.

“Jesus, babe,” she whispered. She shifted over you, her fingers slipping easily through your slick folds. “You’re so wet.”

“Hint enough?” You teased as you rocked your hips up into her. She let out another small grunt.

"Not at all. I want to know more now," she said as she continued to stroke you. Her fingers settled on your clit and began to rub small circles, drawing a light gasp out of you.

"Baby," you whispered as you tilted your head into her, your lips brushing against her skin. "We shouldn't - your sister's going to be out soon."

"You started this," Jessie replied, a smirk in her voice as she moved her hand down and dipped a finger inside of you, then two. Your head fell back into the pillows as she kissed your neck slowly, but greedily. "Tell me more, baby."

“I-”

Your words died in your throat and you both stilled as you heard her sister finishing up. Jessie growled into your neck.

“Mm. Sharing a room sucks,” she grumbled, slowly pulling out of you. She exhaled heavily as she sat back, cheeks rosy already as she looked down at you. She gave you an affectionate shake of her head.

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the bathroom door hadn't opened. Turning back, she locked eyes with you and slipped her fingers into her mouth, sucking you off of them, steadily holding your gaze as she did so. Your mouth fell agape and your center pulsed at the sight.

She gave you a wink. "Tell me more later?" You bit your lip.

"I promise."

-----------

The group of you were walking through an exhibit at the local natural history museum. Jessie was in her element, taking keen interest in numerous displays, thoroughly reading descriptions and reciting facts for you as you wandered through.

You were interested, sure. But frankly, you were distracted. You couldn't get this morning off of your mind. You did your best to be engaged, but it was hard to focus when Jessie gestured with her hands and all you could think about is how good it would feel to have those fingers inside of you instead.

When you found yourself checking out a separate display from the Flemings you couldn't help yourself. You opened your messages with Jessie.

"You and I were at a private beach. Your skin was sun-kissed and freckled and you were laying back on a day bed. I was straddling you. You looked and felt so good under me, I'd soaked through the bottoms of my bikini as I ground myself onto you. You must've had a strap on - or, who knows - because even though your hands were gripping my hips, you were suddenly pressing up into me through our swimsuits. I was begging you to fill me. You pulled my bikini aside - it felt so fucking amazing when you sunk into me - so hard and thick, my legs shaking as you started to pump into me."

You glanced over at Jessie with her family, taking a quick breath before sending it.

You rejoined them and watched Jessie carefully out of the corner of your eye. She was chatting with her mom when she opened the message. You watched as her voice faltered mid-sentence, her eyes fixed on the screen. It took her a second, her mom inquiring, before she snapped to attention and tucked her phone away with a quick laugh and a tight smile. Her face was red.

You were still watching her when she fell behind the group and locked eyes with you. Giving you what someone else might have interpreted as a glare. You gave her an easy smile.

You were leaving the museum when you got a text from her.

"Baby girl. WTF. I want to be mad, but the way I'm pulsing for you right now is distracting me. God, I wish I was inside of you right now. I'm still thinking about the way you felt around my fingers this morning. You were so wet and tight. You feel amazing. Wish I could've had you cumming on my fingers, into my hand and making a mess of those sheets."

At lunch, you returned from the bathroom, taking your seat across from her and catching the lingering look she gave you. She must've gotten your text.

"My panties are soaked, babe. You fucking me in my dream, your thick fingers inside of me this morning, your text. God. I need you so badly. I need you stretching me tight around you - your fingers, your cock - I love them both. I just need you inside of me where you belong. I'm so wet and ready for you."

You conversed happily with her family over the meal, biting back a smirk at how you could feel Jessie's eyes boring into you between discussions. Her stern expression breaking into a friendly smile as soon as someone turned to her.

You were all walking through a city park after, Jessie lagging slightly behind when your phone vibrated.

"It's like you want me to pin you to the wall of the nearest bathroom stall and take you. God, what are you doing to me? I feel like I can't even walk properly because of how hot I am for you right now. I can't even stand near you because I want my hands and my mouth all over you. Sitting there charming my family while you have me absolutely throbbing for you and driving me feral."

The day went on like that. Teasing, wanting, and hungry texts flying back and forth between you with increasing frequency and intensity. Longing, lustful but mostly fleeting glances between you two as you both played your parts to act normal and unbothered around her family. Your face felt flush even though she hadn't laid a finger on you.

"I'd be moaning your name. Cum dripping down my thigh and onto your pants while you fuck me. I swear I can feel your hands on me. I know your touch so well. Your hands, your mouth, your everything. God, I need you."

"Baby. What I wouldn't give to be knuckle deep inside of you. I can imagine how easily I'd slip inside, your slick pussy pulling me in and gripping me. I'd love your cum staining my pants - let everyone know how much I turned you on. Babe. I'm so wet for you right now."

"Oh my God. I can't concentrate. All I can think about is having you deep inside of me. Your body on top of me. Me begging you to make me yours again and again."

"Fuck, babe. You know what that does to me. I love making you mine. Reminding you of who you belong to. You whimpering and moaning beneath me, so needy for me. I wanna wear your scratches down my back."

Finally, you found yourselves back near the hotel after a late dinner. You had one more stop for the day, but Jessie had other plans.

“Hey, my head is pounding. I’m getting a migraine. I think I’m just going to call it for tonight. Get some rest,” she said.

After some quick notes of concern from her parents and a generous, selfless offer from you to take her back, Jessie and you were leaving together. That’s when Elysse piped up.

“I’ll come too,” she said, already walking towards you. “I’m beat.”

You felt Jessie physically tense up next to you and saw the way her jaw clenched, but you both obviously had to play along.

Back at the hotel, you and Jessie got ready for bed and climbed in. You almost would’ve believed Jessie wasn’t feeling well with how quiet she was and the frown she wore. Elysse announced she was showering and retreated to the bathroom.

A heavy sigh came from Jessie the moment her sister locked the door.

“Well that backfired,” she muttered in frustration.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you said as you laid next to her and ran your hand up and down her thigh.

“Mm,” Jessie voiced, discerning eyes flitting over to you. “The way your hand is moving I don’t think you’re very sorry.”

“It’s hard to be next to you and not touch you, especially after today,” you said in a hushed tone, turning onto your side, lifting a leg to rest over hers and kissing her neck. “I mean, when I start my morning with your fingers inside of me, how can I not want more?”

She puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled and looked up at the ceiling.

“God, you’re not making this easy,” Jessie said, her gaze dropping back down to you.

“You make that seem like a bad thing,” you teased as your hand played with the waist of her shorts.

“Fuck, babe,” she said, hips already lifting off the mattress in search of relief. She closed her eyes momentarily before gently cupping your face. “You’ve had me aching for you all day. I cleaned up before I got into bed but I’m soaked all over again because I can’t stop thinking about being inside of you.”

Your mouth fell open in want as she rocked her hips up into you again before shifting and rolling you onto your back, all while looking deep in your eyes.

“God I want you so bad,” she said, her voice almost weak as she rolled her forehead against yours and ground her hips into you. "I’ve been picturing fucking you on nearly every surface we’ve seen today. You have no idea how desperate I’ve been for you all day."

"So do something about it," you urged teasingly as you kissed her and ground your hips up into hers. She moaned low into your kiss.

"You have to be quiet. I'm serious."

“I’ll be quiet,” you said quickly.

“Baby girl, I know you’re anything but quiet when my fingers are deep inside of you,” she whispered.

You bit the inside of your cheek - hard - smothering a moan in your throat. “I’ll be quiet tonight. I promise.”

“I should be able to control myself more,” she said softly and kissing you. “I don’t know how you do this to me.” She rocked her hips into you and her hand held the back of your head, fingers digging in slightly.

“Don’t you want to feel me come undone around your fingers?” You leaned in and whispered in her ear. “You can’t tease me all day and leave me like this, aching for you and unsatisfied.” You spied a look. She was crumbling. “I thought I was yours, baby.”

She grit her teeth together, hips subtly grinding against you. “You are mine,” she ground out.

“Then show me,” you pleaded softly. “You said you’d take care of me.”

She growled deep in her throat, but it didn’t hold an ounce of anger. You knew it well. Her fingers found the band of your shorts tugging them down roughly and discarding them before running two firm fingers along your slit, the outside of your panties slick with your arousal.

“Fuck, baby,” she ground out again as her hips pushed her hand harder against your core. “You’re so fucking wet. God, I’m so weak for you. I’d do anything you want me to.”

“Take care of you,” she growled again as she pushed your legs further apart with her own and breathed heavily into your neck. “Of course I will. Anything for you.” You ground your hips up into her fingers as she continued to stroke your swollen lips through your underwear. She spoke softly. “My pretty girl. You’re mine. I’ll always take care of you.”

She pushed your underwear aside and sunk inside of you as she finished speaking. Both her mouth and yours fell agape at the sensation. You stifled a moan, and she pressed her lips to your cheek to lull you.

“I know, baby. I know,” she cooed as she curled her fingers inside of you. She then rest her forehead against yours and you wrapped your arms tightly around her shoulders, desperately so. “It feels good for me too.”

She drew her fingers back and pushed them back inside again, the motion effortless with how wet you were.

“God, I could cum right now with how you feel around me,” she whispered in awe. “You have no idea how incredible you are.”

Another moan threatened to escape you, and she muffled it with a kiss. She continued to pump in and out of you, slow, but purposeful. You broke off the kiss and leaned into her ear.

“How do you expect me to be quiet when you fuck me as good as you do,” you whispered, a smirk tugging at your lips as you felt her body shiver.

“Need to make sure my baby is satisfied.”

“I’m always satisfied with you.”

“You weren’t a moment ago.”

“That’s true. That’s your fault for getting me so worked up to begin with. And you’re the only one who can fix it.”

Jessie grunted lightly into the kiss. “That’s right. Only me.”

“Forever,” you told her. Her back arched into you at the response and her breathing quickened.

“Gonna make you my wife,” she declared into your kiss as she stroked your cheek while she continued her deep, slow thrusts.

You released a moan into her mouth and she tightened her grip on you, causing you to dig your fingers into her back.

“I’ll take your name.”

“Please. I want everyone to know you chose me,” she said. “You’ll wear my ring.”

“Always.”

Jessie grunted softly over you as she gently rocked you into the mattress with each stroke. She kept kissing you deeply.

“I want to give you everything,” she proclaimed as she continued to her curl her fingers inside of you and her thumb circled your clit.

Another moan was escaping you as the shower turned off. You both stilled, eyes locking on each other, her fingers still sheathed by your fluttering pussy.

The stillness only lasted a few seconds before her thumb started to rub your clit again and you tightened around her fingers.

“I can’t stop fucking you,” she said, voice low. “You feel too good.”

You pushed your head back into the pillows as she began pumping in and out of you again, somehow feeling even deeper this time.

“Need to feel you cumming on my fingers." She arched into you again, her voice breathy in your ear. “I can’t sleep if I know I didn’t give you what you want and need.”

Your wet sounds, though muffled by the blankets, still filled her head.

"Hear how much you missed me, baby? I can feel you dripping onto the sheets, my love. Wish my head was between your legs, tasting you. I want you in every way. I'd make love to you all night," she told you as she rocked you both gently, but firmly into the mattress once more.

You adored when she was like this. She was so reserved and not a naturally flirty person, so to hear the words pouring out of her mouth all day and night just for you, combined with the way she was moving in you and over you, sent you to your peak. Your jaw fell open repeatedly as you were tempted to cry out. It came out a strangled whimper that she sealed with her lips in a hard kiss. Your core tightened and your gripped her desperately as she held you close.

Your body had just started to relax and she was tenderly kissing your neck when the bathroom door unlocked. Jessie was off of you in a flash and swiftly settled next to you. You took a few deep, quiet breaths and a few seconds later the door swung open.

"Oh, you two are still up," Elysse commented lightly as she came around to her bed. She glanced at you and a light frown crossed her face. "Are you getting sick? You look really flushed. Do you want the AC on tonight?'

You ignored how Jessie's fingers sunk into your hip.

"I'm okay, thanks," you told her, your voice initially hoarse and dry, much to your chagrin.

"Alright, well you just let me know. Happy to turn it on."

----------

The next morning Jessie and Elysse were talking in the room as you got ready in the bathroom.

"You're feeling better?" Elysse asked.

"Yeah, much better. Thank you," Jessie replied, offering her sister a smile. Her smile faltered as her sister's look of concern switched to a teasing smirk.

"I'll bet. Sorry to crash your party last night. If you wanted privacy, you should've really just said so. I am happy to give you two your space so I don't have to hear that again."

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #jflem #canwnt x reader #smut fic #wlw smut #woso smut

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