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#honey has the mic
honestlyhiswife · 6 months
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oh my god.
“oh i’m a feminist. i wanna put a woman on top. and on the back, on her knees”
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heffrondriving · 2 years
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oh well, at least seeing my fave boys re-recording paralyzed in the studio instantly cheered me up ahh ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა they just sound so good and never miss with those stunning vocals!!! 💖 istg if this song doesn't happen bc of all this brainrot tomfoolery abt it i'm going to throw hands >:((
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sturnskiss · 12 days
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pretty voice ! ᥫ᭡
pairing: matt sturniolo x popstar! reader
word count: 1.7k
summary: you’re a singer and your tour has made its way to boston where your boyfriend and his brothers attend your show. matt is sure to let you know how well you did after the show
warnings: smut duhhhh, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap his willy!!), p in v, throat fucking, dumbification, dacryphilia, stomach bulge, swearing, creampie, use of “y/n”, probably more that i can’t think of! :)
authors note: fair warning, this is my first time publishing smut, so don’t have insanely high expectations! i’ve written it before but never shared so keep that in mind. however, i can assure you this isn’t completely horrible and i did my best to make it seem realistic but hot at the same time :) hope ya like it!
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you had been counting down the days until your sold out world tour made its way to boston, massachusetts. your boyfriend, matt, and his brothers were set to attend the show which made you feel slightly uneasy.
the triplets have never seen you perform live, which is what makes this show so special. you wanted matt to know you were good at what you do. so, you paced around your dressing room doing vocal warmups and eating tablespoons of honey to help your throat.
a stage worker knocked on your door twice before coming in and attaching your mic pack to the back of your dress. tonight, you wore a black strapless mini dress from versace that had hearts of many colors scattered across. you paired this with knee high black boots, which your friends referred to as your “stripper shoes”. you fixed your hair, spraying some dry shampoo on your roots and mentally said a prayer before walking out of the dressing room.
you received your cue to enter the stage, walking up 4 steps before you were greeted with hundreds of screaming teenage girls. you forgot about needing to impress matt.
that was, until, you locked eyes with him. he was standing on the second floor of the venue, the balcony, resting against the railing. watching you so intently, mouthing the lyrics to your songs. nick was singing along to all the songs he knew, while chris just knew the popular songs. but matt knew almost all of your songs. he was your biggest fan. and you were his. most times, you would be spotted attending the triplet’s shows when your schedules aligned. you’d stand backstage, just barely out of the crowds sight. all decked out in blue attire to support your boy, and even the things the rest of the world couldn’t see were blue, too. but matt got to see them after the show. your blue bra and matching blue panties; it drove matt crazy how he got to see you like that after the show, especially if he was the one winning that night.
the show came to an end and you said your goodbyes to the boston crowd, exiting the stage. you walked into a lounge area where the triplets were, along with members of your team. you were swarmed with the usual compliments: “you sounded so good” or “you look great” and you were grateful for them, but tonight they didn’t matter. the only person who’s input you cared about was matt.
he approached you, draping his arms around your neck and you wrapped yours around his waist. he whispered in your ear, “you did so good. ‘m so proud of you.”
you blushed at this, pulling away from the hug. “thanks,” you gushed.
since your next show wasn’t until saturday, you had two days to kill here in boston. you were going to stay with the triplets until you had to get back on your tour bus and depart from matt, so you had to make it count.
matt drove you all home, you took chris’ place in the passenger seat, still in your performance outfit. the drive home was filled with conversation about the concert; what their favorite part was, what songs they liked, etc. and while you were a decently known singer, you never felt famous. until now. matt made you feel famous, like you are on top of the world. you have everything you’ve ever wanted; friends that support you, a successful singing career, and a hot boyfriend. what more could a girl ask for?
you walked through the door barefoot, matt holding your unusually heavy boots. he sets them on the floor by the door as you make a run for the couch, laying down and sighing. while it may be just a simple couch, it feels pretty damn good after wearing “stripper shoes” and prancing around on a stage for an hour and a half.
nick and chris go to their own rooms, knowing you and matt need alone time after not seeing each other for a couple weeks. matt joins you on the couch, he lifts your head up and places it on his lap. his legs were your pillow and the only thing missing was a blanket, still in your tiny dress.
“you cold?” he asks, almost as if he can your mind.
you smile, “how’d you know?”
he reaches to his side and grabs a big blue blanket and tosses it over you, it’s big enough that it covers your whole body.
matt lightly strokes your hair as you lay there in the comfortable silence.
the way your head rests is so close to his dick and he can’t help it if it slowly is getting harder, which it is. you tease him, nuzzling your head deeper into his lap, a.k.a. his dick, which causes him to speak up.
“the fuck are you doing?” he laughs.
you play it off, “just getting comfy!”
“yeah, comfy my ass.” he rolls his eyes playfully.
you press a small kiss to his clothed bulge, he’s wearing baggy jeans and his dick still stands out. he sighs, not complaining.
“you gonna do this right here? in the living room?” he questions.
“mhm..” you hummed. he helped you unbutton his jeans, his black calvin kleins peaking out through the zipper of his jeans. he pulled his boxers down, revealing his dick. he was packing a very pleasant 8 inches that wasn’t too shabby in girth either.
you licked the tip first, then you licked from shaft to tip. matt closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the couch. he placed his hands on the back of your head, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail.
“voice sounded so good tonight, y/n,” he breathed. “bet it would still sound good if i fucked your throat.”
he pushes your head down all the way to his pelvis, feeling you gag against his cock. he thrusts into your mouth, the wet sounds like music to his ears.
as he fucked your throat, you felt tears forming in your eyes. you hollowed out your cheeks and looked up at him with doe eyes, laying on your stomach on the couch. you admired the way his eyes fluttered shut everytime he hit the back of your throat, how he’d let out small breathy moans.
“fuck,” he whispers, pulling away. he pulls his boxers down farther so his thighs are exposed. you climb on top of hip and he rolls your tight dress up to your waist, pulling your panties to the side.
“easy access, huh?” he remarks.
you whine, “put it in already…”
his dick enters you and he wastes no time slamming you down on it, his hands firmly gripping your hips. “want it so bad, yeah? you want it so bad?” he taunts, lifting you up and slamming you back down fast.
you are shocked with the speed he did that, not able to form a full sentence. “i- uhm- mhm,” you mumble.
“use that pretty voice of yours, y/n. such a pretty voice… let me hear it,” he rasped.
you bounced on his dick, the couch shaking. “mmmmm, i love your dick so much,” you moaned.
matt smirked, “there’s that pretty voice. so, so pretty.” he continued helping you bounce on his dick, his tip repeatedly hitting your g-spot.
he pulled the top of your dress down, revealing your bra-less tits. now your dress was basically like a belt, just covering your waist. your boobs bounced perfectly in front of his face, he was mesmerized.
you brought your hands up to his hair, running your fingers through it and pulling it when he’d hit your g-spot.
you let out a moan that was almost melodic, matt moaning after. “love hearing you moan on my dick.” he spoke. he gripped your hips tighter, slamming you down harder onto his dick every time.
“i’m gonna- oh god!” you whined.
“do it.” matt instructed. “cum for me.”
you nodded, babbling incoherently as you came undone on top of him. his right hand left your hip and found it’s way to your clit, rubbing you through the orgasm.
“fucked ya dumb, huh? damn,” he said.
you hummed in response, and once your orgasm passed you started bouncing again, desperate for more.
matt turned you around and pushed you onto the couch, in missionary now. now he can pound into you way easier, which is what you’re trying to ask for but you’re unable to speak.
“i— oh—“ you try.
matt smirks, “words, baby.”
this fucker, you thought. there are no thoughts inside your head other than how good his dick feels inside you, there’s no way you can speak.
“oh god… so, umph,” you sobbed as he thrusted into you with an insane amount of force. “so good,”
his thumb found its way to your clit again, rubbing it fast. your eyes rolled back as another orgasm approaches you.
“uhhh- uh—“ you babble. your brain is mush at this point, you don’t notice the bulge in your stomach. but matt does, as his hand leaves your clit and presses on the bulge his dick makes in your tummy with every thrust.
“look at that,” he says proudly. you squirm beneath him, cumming yet for the second time.
his thrusts don’t slow down, and neither do the tears running down your pink cheeks.
“can i cum inside you?” he asks as if you can even answer him. you let out a bunch of moans in response.
you let out a bunch of moans, “i’m gonna take that as a yes.” matt groans before thrusting into you once more. you lay on the couch with your dress still pulled over your pussy and your breasts pulled out.
matt stands up and pulls his boxers and pants up. he plants a kiss on your forehead before he picks you up and carries you to his room. he lays you down in his bed, his silk bedsheets feeling good on your overheated skin.
you’re exhausted, you feel like you melt into his bed. you’re on the verge of sleep but you’re startled when you hear either chris or nick’s bedroom door open.
you lift your head up, and matt opens the door to see what is going on. matt laughs and closes the door.
“what’s he doing?” you ask sleepily.
“nicks wiping the couch down,” matt giggles.
you hear nick through the walls, “i’m gonna fucking cry. never do that shit again.” he whines.
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lxclerc · 5 months
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𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ─ 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔
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summary... a reunion between old lovers after five years and charles can't keep his eyes off of you. or his thoughts for that matter. faceclaim... christina nadin pairing… charles leclerc x reader warning… none so far. petty charles.
note... this is going to be part of a series that includes both one shots and smau but can be read as a stand alone
series masterlist
main masterlist
part two → current (part three) → part four
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charles is a mess. truthfully this is to be expected but after five years, he thought he would be better than this but alas, you’re still as magnetic as he remembered you to be – even more so, if he’s being completely honest with himself. 
you look different – older. where they used to be rounded, baby face is all sharp bones. your hair looks different, longer and styled. and you smell different too, no longer the floral scent you’ve been using since you turned fourteen. 
you’re a stranger, he thought. he no longer knows your favorite color or your favorite meal or if you still like strawberry yogurt. he doesn’t know your favorite show or what perfume you use. he doesn’t know you. you’re a stranger and yet your eyes still do that thing where it creases to the point of being close when you smile and you still run your hand over your hair in an attempt to subtly fix it and your eyes still looks like pooled honey when the sun shines on it. 
you’re so different, a practical stranger and yet so familiar, like going back to a childhood home finding everything in the wrong place yet still knowing your way around with your eyes closed. 
he’s staring. he knew he is and he knew the amount of trouble he’d get from his team for it. he knew that everyone on twitter was probably already freaking out about it. he had clear instructions to act like nothing had happened and that the leaked pictures didn’t exist all. he’s supposed to act like you’re just another interviewer and this is just another media obligation he’s forced to do and you’re no one to him but he can’t help it. he can’t pretend like you’re a stranger when you left such a big imprint in his soul and he doesn’t have every freckle and skin tag and every inch of your skin memorized. 
and so he stares. he stares at the way you shift in your seat in an attempt to get comfortable. he stares at the way the long sleeved white dress hugged your curves. he stares at the way you smile, the way you laugh. he stares and tries to remind his heart the way you’d left, the way he’d begged you stay. with you a few feet in front of him, closer than you’ve ever been in years, charles reminds himself the things he had to do to put himself back together after you broke him. 
he tells himself that he hates you the same way he has been telling himself for five years now. he hates you and the way you walked away from him so easily. he hates you and the way you moved on so quickly. he hates you now for the way you’re not even affected. he hates you for loving him only to leave him. 
“and that’s all for today, everyone,” you say with that dazzling smile that makes him dizzy. he needs to get away from you. you’re clouding his judgment and messing with his emotions. 
after making sure the camera has stopped rolling, charles quickly removes the mic attached to him. the smile drops from your face as you see him so desperately hurried to get away from you. though you supposed you deserved that. 
“mate, you good?” carlos asked him quietly as charles practically slams the mic on the table. he seems worried and charles hadn’t even realized how angry he looks right now. he glanced at you, watching as you discussed with the producer, the wind blowing at your hair and the careless smile on your face. he hates you but you’re also the most beautiful person he’s ever met. he hates you and he’s so fucking tired of wanting you. 
he forced a smile on his face for carlos’ sake. “fine.” 
he’s already walking away when you called his name, not like you had in the show – filled with fake friendliness. this time, his name rolled off your tongue effortlessly. you called his name like you had a thousand times before, like nothing has ever changed. the entire set was calling to him but he didn’t seem to hear. 
“charles,” you called and immediately, he stopped in his tracks. he only heard your call and somehow that made him angrier at himself than he ever could be at you. 
his face is empty and void of any emotions as he turns to you and you swallow down the lump in your throat as you force a smile at him. you hoped it doesn’t look as fake as it feels. “we need to take a picture. for social media.” 
he may as well have spat at you with the look in his eyes. it made you feel small. he makes you feel small and suddenly you’re eighteen again, so small and insignificant next to him. 
as you and the two ferrari drivers posed for the photo, both charles and carlos respectfully wrapped an arm around you. you can feel the heat of charles’ body next to you, seeping right through your dress and spreading across your skin. his cologne is different – more rich and expensive but somehow still so him but his aftershave is the same as it has been since he was fifteen, so familiar and comforting to you  and you almost can’t help but lean into him. 
he’s pulling away before you can gather your thoughts, already walking away from you. 
charles should be celebrating. he finished on the podium which is pretty much a miracle nowadays. in fact, it’s a miracle to even be finishing the race with how his season is going but he’s been pretty distracted the whole weekend, seemingly only ever able to get you out of his head whenever he’s going two hundred miles per hour. he almost wants to laugh if he doesn't feel so pathetic. it’s somehow still exactly like before - with him needing to find some ways to risk his life just to be able to get you out of his mind. 
drinking the night away as he wallowed in self pity due to the thought of you is also entirely too familiar. 
“mon pote, comment peux-tu encore la laisser te faire ça ?” hugo asked, watching him. “cela fait des années” mate, how are you still letting her do this to you?... it’s been years. 
charles only gave a sarcastic smile. he doesn’t entirely know the answer to do that either. apparently the years between the two of you didn’t matter because you still have the exact same reaction to him. you make him lose his fucking mind, unable to to think straight. he does things he says he never will when it comes to you. he becomes desperate and weak and unable to handle his own emotions. he doesn’t understand himself when you’re around. 
maybe that’s why you left in the first place. the two of you affected each other far too much. it’s entirely too easy to get lost in each other and forget about everything else. 
“elle a l'air différente. elle a aussi une odeur différente,” he says before taking another shot. you’re so different and he hated it. he hates that there are things in your life he doesn’t know anymore. he hates the fact that you changed your perfume and that you can so easily pretend like he’s no one to you. if you can act like he’s no one to you so easily then perhaps he didn’t mean as much to you as he thought he did. she looks different. she smells different too.
you were his lifeline, the air in his lungs. you were everything and he would have given up anything just to keep you. he would have given up racing and his dreams – everything so he didn’t have to lose you. 
joris rolls his eyes. he knows this entirely too well unfortunately, he’s seen this exact scene before. “cela fait cinq ans, charles. bien sûr qu'elle a changé.” it's been five years, charles. of course she's changed. 
that only makes him laugh bitterly. 
— 
on the other side of the city lies you, cocooned in your fleece blanket as you stare at the wall. 
throughout the years that you and charles have bumped into each other, it had mostly been just surprise in his eyes – as though he could never quite believe that you’re in front of him. usually, you’ll be gone before it can change. 
today was different. there’s no surprise in his eyes nor was there any of the familiar warmth you’re so used to. today, he was filled with anger and indifference. he looked at you as though he hated you. and the worst part is that he probably does. the entire time it was as though he couldn’t get away from you fast enough, like he couldn’t stand even being in the same room as you. your entire life, charles has only ever looked at you with adoring and devoted eyes and now he can’t even stand to look at you. 
“il ne vous déteste pas,” arthur says over the phone with a roll of his eyes as though you’re being ridiculous for even suggesting such things. he doesn’t hate you.
but arthur wasn’t there. arthur didn’t see how charles practically ran away from you. still, you say nothing to the matter, far too upset to even bother trying to defend yourself. 
“i’m going to go to sleep, art,” you say softly instead. “it’s pretty late here.” 
you and arthur say your goodnights before you shut off the call. but just as you’re about to place your phone down for the tonight, it lights up with a text message. your eyebrows knit together in confusion. who’d be texting you this late anyways?
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creepy-friday · 1 year
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Can I make a request? Headcanons or a little Oneshot idk of Alastor x Wife!reader? Both being couple goals like Morticia and Gómez. Being evil together, like a good old classical couple 👉👈🥺
Alastor x Wife!Reader
I can see the reader symbolic animal being a crow/bat,and being able to manipulate/manifest them in both physical and shadow form
they would get along with Alastor's manifestations,sometimes he would pet them,have them around whenever you're not since he craves presence
both of you play spooky little tricks on the other demons such as making things levitate,opening the doors,flicking the lights,it's truly amusing seeing the undead fear the ..well..undead
you would give "soft nightmares" to someone then said someone would think they're prophetic and Alastor would further convince them they are just so that they make a deal with him to keep them safe from absolutely nothing
both of you give each other the side eye everytime something happens that both of you don't agree on
he has a shadow attached to you and inevitably the said shadow would try to woo you every chance he has
the "microphone" he has also has to be a little bit oblivious at times.
Both of you sit in complete silence,just enjoying each others presence while doing your own thing then suddenly his mic opens his little eye "what a lovely couple both of you are,what were the odds for both of you to be silent in bed!" Alastor chuckles and you let out an annoyed giggle "did you hear that,dear?" you ask him,putting your chore aside.
"Of course,just don't mind him,but for real now,what were the odds?" he continues to joke about it."No.That was the sound of a fucking divorce." you joke in return making him even more flustered and talkative,getting him all touchy feely with you
for real now,the word "divorce" makes him a top comedian,cook,lover and everything in between,even if it's in the context of a joke,he wouldn't want to lose you
if your personality tends to be more introverted/melancholic he would 100% take it as a challange and would do everything in his power to get you to do something completely out of your character
he never calls you by your name(except for serious occasions/spicy ones,if you know what I mean) but rather uses pet names such as "Honey";"Dear";"Darling"; "Cara mia"
uses every opportunity to dance with you whenever a good song is playing
you don't have to be shy with him,his mischievous personality will totally use it to his benefit and tease the living hell out of you
I have this lil' headcanon that if the both of you are listening in to a conversation and if you can't hear,he would manifest some old headphones to hear better "here you go,darling"
"Husk is adorable" you sing,trying to pet the man in question "Well,I say he looks completely utterly miserable!Of course you find him adorable!" Alastor laughs,bringing his one sided friend closer to your reach
asks your opinion on every important decision he has to make even if he is already sure about what to do.If you have a different view on it he will definitely reconsider
Angel Dust would be all sighs,puffs and "get a room" just because the two of you do simple romantic gestures such as Alastor's gentlemanly behaviour of kissing your hand and such
Vaggie's tolerance of Alastor drops to 0,but she adores enjoys your presence.She wishes both of you would have more time together but your husband always needs to barge in and annoy the living hell out of her.Alastor doesn't really likes her so he wouldn't want you around her that much
dark humour that leaves everyone poker face except the two of you
he doesn't except much from you tbh,just the same old love to be reciprocated
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I have! My own! Apartment!!!!!!!
Okay I'm exhausted from the whole process, because I got accepted and then six days later I moved into the new place. I moved in on Monday!
Oh my god yeah Monday I paid rent, picked up the keys, picked up the moving truck, loaded up my life, and then moved it all into a new apartment thirty miles away. After a full day of work. I got everything unloaded around 1am, then went shopping for garbage cans, hand soap, etc. I finally went to sleep at 6am! I called off of work on Tuesday because I couldn't do that to myself. On Tuesday I went to IKEA for dishes and a dresser and a mattress!! My little car could barely contain it all.
Now my apartment is full of boxes and boxes and boxes and some plants, and a nice new mattress!!
One of the loveliest features of this apartment is the loft. It's your normal studio apartment, but then you go up six steps and there's a tiny room, just big enough to fit a queen sized mattress. That's where I sleep! I lined all sides with pillows, so I have a cozy little sleeping nook!!
My kitchen is adorable and has a windowsill that's the perfect size for four plants. One side of cabinets is old and has funky little latches on all of the doors. The other side has modern cabinets. I love it.
God I love it and I love living alone so much. I bought pink grapefruit scented soap! My bathroom garbage can is teal!! I hung a cute painting that I bought at an estate sale in the entryway!! Eventually I'm going to have a dresser and a kitchen table, and I'm going to fill the windowsills with plants. I'm gonna go home and cook something in my working oven, with food out of the fridge that I don't have to share with anyone!!!!!!! I can lay on the kitchen floor whenever I want. I don't have to worry about someone going into my room without permission, or eating my ice cream, or stealing my towel, or moving any of my shit. It's just me! I'm the only person that can go in my room or eat my ice cream or use my towel or move my shit! I am so fucking happy oh my god!!!!!!!! What a life I'm leading. I'm about to go to a cafe!! Then I might take a nap, and I don't have to worry about anyone making noise while I nap!!!!!!! I love everyone and everything!!
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🍆 So you can feel me even when I’m not there… 🍆
✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader
✎ Genre: Sad smut
✎ Summary: Chan’s on tour, but he’s found a way to be attentive even when he’s overseas.
✎ CW: Phone sex, FaceTime sex, dirty talk, sex toy use, swears, praise kink, daddy kink, general sadness
✎ Word count: 3,604
✎ Song recs: “Baby I’m Yours” - Arctic Monkeys & “Even When I’m Not With You” - Pierce the Veil
❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥
Two days.
It had only been two days since you saw him last, when he dragged himself out of bed at 3 in the morning to head to the airport.
He’d made you come four times before bed that night — once for each day he’d be gone — and held you tight while you slept. He even kissed you goodbye four times before leaving in the morning. But it wasn’t enough; nothing could ever be enough.
Even on his busiest days, you could at least look forward to him crawling into bed at night. He’d slide in behind you, pulling you into his chest as he drifts off, or maybe lightly pressing his hips into yours to see if you’d be down for a quickie. Sometimes you’d both be so tired he’d just slip his cock into you and gently roll his hips until he found release or simply fell asleep.
But the nights he was gone were almost unbearable. You’d wake up just before dawn to a dark room and an empty bed, immediately filled with fear that something happened to stop him from coming home to you. Then it hits you that he’s not supposed to come home, and somehow that’s even worse.
Two nights in a row waking up with that feeling has you losing it. The ache in your chest and your cunt only grows, and there’s nothing a weighted blanket or vibrator could do about either sensation. You need him.
Hey, baby
Malaysia is only an hour behind, but he’s probably sleeping after the early morning trip. He’ll reply later.
You try to go about your morning routine as best you can, but you can’t take your mind off his absence. Coffee, oatmeal, an empty seat at your table for two. Movie, blanket, a cold cushion on the loveseat. His scent is fading from the sweatshirt you haven’t taken off since the morning he left.
He needs his rest, but you need to hear his voice, see his words. Anything from him at this point.
Baby…
Luckily, he answers quickly this time.
Yeah love ?
I miss you…
I miss you too sweetheart
No I mean I…
I MISS you
I see hahahaha
:( don’t laugh
A voice message comes next.
“Naur, I’m sorry baby,” his silky voice pours out of the speaker. “Didn’t mean to make fun. You’re just cute… and predictable. Hehehehe.”
It takes a few listens to comprehend what he’s actually saying to you. The sound of his words and his laugh and his breath are exactly what you needed. And you’re sure he knows that, because he sends another text before you can compose yourself enough to reply.
Doing ok over there?
As best as I can… thank you
I wanna hear you too ㅠㅠㅠ
“Hiiii. I love youuuu. I miss yooouuuu,” you coo into the mic and send it off.
Adorable
Hey… what are you doing now?
Watching a movie
Ok if I call… ?
Of course :)
The Arctic Monkeys’ rendition of “Baby I’m Yours” plays and his goofy smile pops up on your screen. You almost always spend a few seconds distractedly staring at this photo you took before answering his calls.
“Hi, honey.”
Your voice is soft and sweet, matching the expression on your boyfriend’s face. One hand is pressed between the hotel pillow and his messy hair, and his sleepy, cinnamon eyes look right into the camera.
“Just woke up, thinking about yooouuuuu…” he croons, dragging out the last word just as you did in your voice note. “What are you watching?”
“I don’t know, I just clicked on whatever Netflix suggested,” you reply. “Just trying to distract myself.”
“Is it good at least?” he asks, still gazing at you in complete adoration.
“It’s fine, I don’t care,” you insist, more interested in listening to the beautiful boy on your phone talk about literally anything. “How about you? Tell me about the tour.”
“Ahhh,” he starts, shifting his glance offscreen. “First show went well, another today.”
His eyes are pointed just under the camera now, and a tiny smile spreads across his lips.
“It’s beautiful here,” he says. “I keep thinking about experiencing all of this with you, though. We’ll have to come back.”
“Yeah, sure,” you answer dazedly. Hearing him say romantic shit with those lips… looking at you with those eyes… it’s mystifying.
When you started dating, his excitement would turn to concern when you zoned out like this, but now he knows better, and his smile only widens.
“I love you,” he says softly and stifles a giggle. “But hey, I gotta go. They need us for some press thing soon.”
You can’t hide the frown that pulls at the corners of your mouth.
“I know, I know,” he consoles. “I’ll be free later, and I’ll text you, yeah?”
“Ok, have a good day, talk to you later,” you answer weakly.
“Hey, 힘내. I’ll make it worth it,” he winks.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Love you.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.”
He blows a kiss and then he’s gone, leaving you to stare at your sad reflection on the black screen.
The minutes, then the hours pass. True crime episodes, supernatural thrillers, nothing can hold your attention. You’re drowning in thoughts of him, and every tiny chime from your phone sends your heart rate to the moon. It’s never him, but it doesn’t stop you from hoping.
A characteristically slow episode of this week’s hottest dating show has you half asleep, and you almost miss the alert you’ve been waiting for. Luckily, it’s followed by his ringtone a minute later.
“Hiiii??” you answer groggily.
“Hey, baby, enjoy your nap?”
Chan’s voice is barely louder than a whisper, and you decide a low grunt is enough to answer his question.
“Hehehe, I can’t talk but wanted to make sure you were up. Check your texts. Byyyeeee!”
He’s gone again, and you muster enough strength to navigate to your messages just in time to see the original text before a new one pops up.
Still filming, but I miss you too much
Get any deliveries today?
Not that I know of but let me check
You pad to the door, feeling the cool wood on your feet for the first time in hours. A quick peek into the hallway outside of the apartment reveals a medium-sized, plain cardboard box.
You bring it back to the couch — today’s haven — and drape the blanket back over you before placing the box in your lap and checking your phone.
흠…
Come baaccckkkk
There’s a box… what did you do
Did you open it?
The tape breaks easily, and inside is a note stamped with three small hearts sitting atop delicately folded tissue paper. Underneath, you find some lingerie, a mask, and two boxes varying in size.
Inside the first is a small suction toy, and the second contains a silicone dildo packaged with another note.
So you can feel me even when I’m not there…
A closer inspection reveals ridges and curves that seem almost familiar. You close your fingers around the base and slowly drag your hand toward the tip, feeling the same veins press against your fingers. How did he…
Is this…
Akskdnsnsksjsjskdjdnskskdjdnd
It was supposed to ship before I left I’m sorry it’s late
How the fuck did you do this
Will you try it out for me later?
I want to know how close it is to the real thing and you know it best
Chan oh my god
I’ll call in an hour when I’m back in my room ok…?
See you soon!!!
Of course he’d do something like this without warning you, but the timing couldn’t be better. What better to fill the hole left by his absence than, well, him.
A quick shower and trash run later, you settle in on the couch right as your phone rings for the third time today.
“Hey, sexy,” he hums. “Do you like your gifts?”
“Waited for you to try them out, but they do seem promising,” you tease, angling your phone down just enough to get some cleavage in frame. One corner of his mouth pulls back in a smirk, putting that dimple on full display.
“Cute… I’ve wanted to see you in that for weeks. But I do have a question, a proposition I guess…”
“Yeah? What would that be?”
“Can you prop up your phone so I can see you, and put the blindfold on?”
Hot, but also…
“So… I can’t see you then?”
“I want it to feel like I’m there, like I’m the one touching you, making you feel good,” he says as a light blush spreads across his cheeks. “I read somewhere this helps.”
“Oh, well, ok, yeah. You’ll keep talking though?”
“Of course, baby. I’ll talk you through it all.”
“Ok, hold on.”
You make quick work of leaning your phone against one of the many glasses on the coffee table, ensuring the whole couch is in clear view before stepping back and slowly sitting down. The suction toy rests on the cushion to your left, and the dildo on the right.
“Perfect, ok, now put the dildo on the floor,” Chan says. “There’s suction on the bottom, you can just stick it to the wood.”
You secure his cock on the ground between the couch and the table, and everything in you screams to just sit on it now and never take it out ever again. But he has other plans, so you’ll save that fantasy for later and sit back on the couch.
“Blindfold time, sweetheart.”
A deep breath in, and you slide the silk down over your eyes and place your hands on your knees, awaiting further instruction.
“All good?” Chan asks, excitement and concern laced together in his voice. “You can hear me ok?”
“Mhm, yeah. Ready when you are.”
Another giggle fills the space, and it’s clear he was right. In the dark, it’s easier to pretend he isn’t hundreds of miles away. Like he’s here, standing above you.
“I love that you got all dressed up for me,” he says, slow and low. “Can I see your pretty panties, too?”
Hands still on your knees, you gradually spread your legs until your calves hit the couch.
“That’s perfect, baby. They look so good on you, on your skin. I wish I could touch your skin,” he rambles a bit, then pauses before continuing. “Can you describe it for me?”
“My skin?”
“Yeah, touch yourself. Tell me how it feels.”
You place your fingertips just under your chin, lightly dragging them along your neck, down to your chest.
“It’s…. soft, smooth. I put that lotion you like on after my shower.”
“You did? Where else did you put it?”
“On my chest, my stomach, my thighs…” you respond, running your fingers down your body as you go.
“And your inner thighs? There, too?”
“Of course.”
He lets out a shuddering breath as your hand travels down to your legs, moving out to your knee via the top of your thigh and heading back on the soft, sensitive skin on your inner thigh. Fingertips stop just between thigh and crotch.
“What about between your legs? Can you tell me how it feels there?”
You slide a finger under the fabric, gliding across the freshly shaved skin with help from the slickness of your arousal. You make a point to bend your finger so your knuckle presses outward, making it clear exactly where you’re touching yourself — for the yearning viewer’s sake.
“It’s wet, silky… delicate.”
“Silky, huh? And how do you feel when you touch yourself there?”
“Good,” you reply a little too quickly, revealing the truth behind the calm, composed roles you’d both been playing. You’re sure he’s chuckling at you right now. If only you could see his face…
“How does that compare to when I touch you there?”
Thoughts immediately snap to him, his fingers, doing what you’re doing. Emulating his typical movements in the dark has you almost, almost convinced it is him. Him teasing you, tormenting you before unexpectedly dipping a finger or two inside. Asking how badly you want him, want his big cock…
“Baby, tell me what you’re feeling.”
“You,” you admit. “I feel… you.”
“Yeah?” he chirps, a hint of pride in his voice. “What am I doing? What do you want me to do?”
“Fuck me.”
“I don’t know if you’re ready for me yet. Gotta stretch you out first, play with your clit a little. Can you grab that toy for me?”
You reach for the suction toy on your left, hovering just over it until he confirms that’s what he wants.
“Yeah, use that for me. On your clit. It should feel like my mouth...”
You raise your hips to slide the thong down, giving yourself a better chance to use this correctly. Pointer and middle fingers spread your folds as you try your best to aim in the darkness.
The suction feels… strange. Interesting? You reposition it a few times and it’s nice, but not like oral, though. And you must look frustrated, because…
“Wow, it is really like I’m there…” Chan muses.
“Huh? How?”
“It’s just… taking you a bit… to find…” he giggles.
“Oh, shut up, you’re so… oh…”
Yep, there it is. The silicone circle surrounds the sensitive nub and pulls inward. It’s just like lips… and tongue… and Chan… relentlessly sucking and pulling with his face buried between your thighs and his hands gripping your hips and your fingers lodged in his hair…
It’s so good but it’s so much. Your head is spinning and your heart is racing and your toes curl down into the wood trying to ground yourself in any way you can. Your free hand alternates between squeezing the life out of the couch cushion and running along your skin — down your thighs, up your chest, through your hair. Nails dragging and leaving marks like you would on him, on his chest, on his back…
“Baby, come for me.”
His voice breaks through the haze like lightning cracking down from the sky, sending electric tingles through your veins. A strained cry escapes your throat as you do exactly what he said, what he ordered.
The high is short but intense, and you’re shaking well past the end. You let the toy fall to the couch and lean back, enjoying the aftershocks.
“You look so beautiful like that,” he hums.
“Mhhhmmm,” you sigh. “Hope you enjoyed the show.”
“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” Chan whispers, but it’s louder now. Like his mouth is right next to the mic. “I want you to ride me.”
Finally.
You maneuver down to the floor and feel for the rigid silicone. You position your knees on either side and slightly in front of the dildo, then lower your ass down toward your feet until the tip brushes against your folds.
“Want daddy to spread you open? Split your walls around my cock?”
“Please,” you beg, reaching down to play with your swollen clit while rolling your hips forward and back, just rubbing the head against you.
“Spit in your hand and rub it on me.”
You do as you’re told again, coating the dildo in your saliva. It’s amazing how much it feels like him.
“Put me in… just a little.”
You angle the head into you. It’s just as big as him, and just as much of a shock when the tip disappears inside your body. You have inches to go, but you’re already starting to feel whole again.
“How does it feel?”
“Amazing, it’s so real. It feels like you.”
“It is me, baby. You feel so good, too. Can you pull your hair for me?”
The thought of it makes you moan, and the tug on the back of your scalp only increases the volume. You inch down slowly, giving yourself time to adjust to his size and appreciate every single vein and curve as it forces your walls apart. He stretches you out so well…
“Take me all the way. Now.”
A pained groan sounds out as you force yourself down to the floor, burying Chan’s cock in you down to his balls. The sound of them slapping against your soaked pussy makes both of you moan.
“Fuck yourself on my cock.”
You carefully raise and lower your hips, still not fully acclimated to his size. Each lift-up is bittersweet relief, and each push-down is delicious torment. You go faster and faster each time, urged on by his groans.
“Take off your bra. I wanna see your tits bounce for me.”
Fingers undo the clasp and you slide the garment over your shoulders and down your arms, still rolling your hips up and down, angling him into every inch of flesh inside you.
“Play with your nipple… wet your fingers and pinch it like I do. I want to hear you whine.”
This time, You use the wetness from your pussy to dampen your fingers before running one hard nipple between finger and thumb. His moans encourage you to reach down to gather more, but this time, you slide three fingers into your mouth and close your lips. You drag them out slowly, knowing it will drive him wild.
“Wanna taste me, baby?” you ask.
“More than anything in the world. What is it like?”
“Hmmmm,” you muse, taking time to wrap your tongue around each individual finger in the lewdest way possible. “Sweet… and salty.”
“Mmm, I want to lick you clean,” he confesses, “eat you for every single meal. I wanna live between your thighs.”
You fuck yourself faster now, bouncing up and down on his dick. He fills you up perfectly and completely, like he was made to your exact specifications. And this was made to his.
“Feels so good… so big…” you exhale, placing one hand behind you to steady yourself and using the other to twist and tweak your nipple.
“Yeah… and you feel so tight, you take my cock so well. Can you roll your body how I like?”
Shoulders back first, you wind your torso forward and back, taking extra care to roll your hips on his cock. Back and forth, back and forth. His name on your lips.
“That’s it, just like that. Good girl.”
Skin slaps from both ends of the call, and your shaky exhales happen almost in perfect unison. He must be close, and so are you.
“Ch… choke yourself. Squeeze that pretty neck.”
Fingers leave your tit to grip your neck and force your head back, just like he does when he leans in, hot breath on your skin, sucking hickeys into any flesh not hidden by his long fingers. Biting your ear, pulling down at the lobe and letting it snap back as you grind into his lap. Fucking yourself on his big cock at your own pace, tits bouncing in his face. He’ll catch a nipple between teeth if he can, biting down hard and letting go quickly. Just kissing and sucking and nipping at your skin like an animal… like a…
“Oh fuck!” you cry out, washed over by a wave of unstoppable pleasure. “I’m… Chan… I’m…”
“That’s it, come for me, come on me,” he hisses.
His cock relentlessly slams into you throughout your orgasm, so rhythmically you forget it’s not really him fucking you to pieces in his lap.
“Oh god… oh fuck, you… oh fuck…” he moans, finishing right after you in typical him fashion.
Vision blurs until you come back down, slowing your vertical pace until you’re sitting on him, motionless. He’s quiet now, too, undoubtedly recovering from his own orgasm.
“You are, that was…” he starts then trails off, opting to focus on breathing instead.
The tinny sound of his voice is almost a surprise. You practically forgot he wasn’t there. Forgot he wasn’t lying in ruins in the dark next to you.
You pull the blindfold off and toss it to the floor. He’s in a similar position as you, sitting at the foot of the bed looking wiped as hell.
“So… what’s the verdict?” Chan asks between deep breaths and sighs.
“It’s great. Not as good as the real thing, but close,” you decide.
“You look so amazing using it. Watching it slide in and out of you… god. It felt like a dream.”
Your eyes meet — as much as they can over FaceTime. You’re captivated by the image of him: shirtless, cock taut against his toned stomach, half hidden by the elastic waistband of his shorts. Eyeshadow is smeared around his wide, caramel eyes while a soft smile plays at his lips.
“I love you,” he says softly, breaking the silence.
“I love you,” you echo.
A few more seconds of quiet admiration, then he makes the face. The one he breaks out just before delivering bad news.
“Hey, I gotta get ready to head to the venue,” he says, glancing down at his watch. “I’m already a little late, oops.”
“That’s ok, thank you for… everything. Really,” you reply, still too far up in the clouds to be sad about yet another goodbye.
“I love you, I’ll text you after the show, yeah?”
“Perfect. Oh, and just so you know, I will be sleeping with this inside me tonight.”
His sullen expression fades into that famous smile, and it’s aimed at you.
“Oh, I’m sure you will,” he says with a chuckle and a wink. “Now I just need a replica of you…”
“We’ll make one when you get home.”
“Perfect.”
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r0ttenhearts · 9 months
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it isn’t you (wasted on you II)
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idol scaramouche! x reader
warnings: angst, no comfort
part I
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how many months has it been since you’ve seen him? 5 or maybe 6? you believed time apart would heal the aching in your heart he had left you with but there it was. that aching dullness squeezing at your heart as you watched him.
you thought you were ready for this. ready to put an end to it once and for all. you did leave without a word, not so much as a goodbye between you both. but this was a different type of pain.
you watched as he danced on the stage with his friends, honey-like voice perfectly executing the lyrics to their latest song. he was still without a doubt perfect, a perfect idol as he always wanted to be.
it tasted bitter in your tongue as you watched him from the crowd. this was the life he had chosen. the life he had chosen over you. that smile didn’t seem to hide any guilt or sadness, it was pure as ever.
it made that feeling itch in the core of your body. knowing he was happier without you, happier doing something he had chosen over you.
a scoff left your pink lips, eyes trained on his figure. that wide smile on his face seemed to falter for a second and you could have sworn he met your gaze.
he started stumbling over his part of the lyrics. his choreography becoming bumpy, knocking into kazuha as he missed a step.
he wasn’t reacting like this after seeing you, was he? there’s no way he still held any sort of feelings towards you. right?
scaramouche’s face suddenly crossed with worry, his eyes widening as he ran backstage. the rest of the 4nemo group stood there awkwardly, looking back to where scaramouche had disappeared to.
“give us one moment, you guys.” kazuha spoke softly into his mic before taking it off, handing it to heizou as he ran after scaramouche.
you didn’t get to see the vulnerability on scaramouche’s face when kazuha found him. he was slumped over, his indigo hair covering his face, shoulders shaking with what seemed to be sobs. “what happened out there?” kazuha gently asked, putting a hand on scaramouche’s shoulder.
“(y/n)‘s here. i can’t face her.” he whispered, tears dripping onto his lap. kazuha’s eyes widened in realization. the very reason for scaramouche’s decline was because of the girl he once thought he would marry. he still remembered how different scaramouche became after the breakup. before, he was still snarky but he made time to hangout with the members just as friends. but after.. he’d show up to practice earlier than everyone and leave the second it ended, no longer bothering to attend any after practice activities.
kazuha called over a stage member, whispering something in their ear that scaramouche couldn’t hear. a tender smile graced kazuha’s lips as he patted scaramouche on the shoulder. “i think it’s time scara. it’s been long enough.”
“i agree.” your voice came from behind kazuha. scaramouche’s head whipped up from his fixed position as he looked at you. you looked as beautiful as the day he left you. and that hurt. were you happier than ever without him? was someone else giving you the things he was lacking in the last few months of your relationship?
kazuha left you two there, an awkward silence enveloped you both. it had been so long since you’d seen one another. it felt unnatural to be in each others gazes.
“i guess, i’ll start.” you said calmly, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of scaramouche. he was so so quiet. you never thought he’d react in such a way towards you but, life had it’s surprises.
you yanked on a familiar cord that hung around your neck, gently placing it in scaramouche’s palm. a silver ring dangled from the cord in his grip. a promise ring he had given you both as teens, yours in the form of a necklace, and his in an earring that he still wore.
you dug into your jacket pocket, pulling out a familiar black box. you placed the box in his hand, squeezing it gently with a sad smile.
“i figure you should have these back, seeing as there is no longer an us.” you spoke softly.
scaramouche shook his head harshly. this was the last of your relationship that was proof of what once was. what could have been. if you had these things then it never could have died. but now it was in his hands. it can’t be over. it can’t be over with you.
“no, (y/n). please. i want you to have these things. so you can remember me, remember us.” he pleaded, his dark eyes shining with what seemed to be a warning of tears.
“there is no us anymore, scara. i wouldn’t want you to waste these things with someone you don’t even talk to anymore.”
“don’t say that (y/n). please. we can try again, i’ll be better this time. i swear it. i’ll make time for you, we can do more things together. there’s so much we didn’t get to do.”
a warm hand rested on scaramouche’s cheek, caressing it gently. you swore you hated him but seeing him like this, so vulnerable, reminded you of a when he was a child. still crying out for his mothers attention, finding solace in your arms on warm summer nights.
“you know we can’t do that. i only wish for your happiness now.”
your hand slowly left his cheek, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he watched you walk to the door that led to the exits of the venue.
“(y/n)..! please.”
“goodbye, scaramouche.”
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part III
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taglist: @seternic @onmywaytoteyvat @ayameei @randomnl @xyvsstuff @scaramoucheswifeee @heykaiiz @keju-fhw @grxmgrxy @lxkeeeee
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beenbaanbuun · 3 months
Text
wearing his hoodie w/jongho
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words - an amount
genre - smut…
warnings - fingering, degradation (slut), nicknames (baby, honey, good girl), manhandling because of course, cutie patootie jongho, dom!jongho
jongho likes to pretend he doesn’t like it when you wear his clothes
like, you’ll be walking around in one of his hoodies and he’ll just sit and watch you with a disinterested look
or what he assumes is a disinterested look, anyway
everyone bar him can see the cute little smirk that he’s trying so desperately, and yet failing so miserably, to hide
sometimes you’ll ask him what’s wrong and he’ll just respond with ‘that’s my hoodie’ as if trying to insinuate that you shouldn’t be wearing it
but when you suggest (threaten) that you take it off, he just insists that you keep it on
“you’re already wearing it now, baby,” he tries to keep his voice level, but you can hear the panic behind it, “may as well just keep it on, right?”
sometimes you leave it on, but sometimes you don’t
you just like to see the disappointed pout he wears once he realises you’re not wearing it anymore
but if he struggles to hide his true feelings when you’re fully dressed, imagine wearing his hoodie with nothing but a pair of panties
this man will not be able to take his eyes off of you
there’s a cushion that has taken permanent residence over his crotch and when you ask about it he just says he wants to hold something
“well, why don’t you hold onto me instead?” you tease, keeping an innocent lilt to your voice, “i’m sure i’m nicer to squeeze than a measly bit of fabric.”
his already glazed over eyes go wide and he shakes his head
“no! i’m, uh… mad at you,” he stutters out
you take a few steps closer
“mad at me?” you grab the bottom of the hoodie and begin to play with the fabric, completely ‘innocently’
it’s your your fault if the material lifts up a few times to reveal the purple lace
it’s also not your fault that it’s jongho’s favourite pair you’re wearing - the one that matches his mic
jongho does a few slow blinks as he tries to keep his gaze on your face and not on your soft thighs that you keep exposing more of every time your hands pull as the hem
“you’re wearing my hoodie again,” his voice is suddenly more breathy than it was moments before
you can’t help but wonder how close he is to snapping and ripping the hoodie off you himself
not because he doesn’t like when you wear it - you both know it’s a lie when he says that - but because he’s desperate to get to what’s underneath
“it’s comfy,” you shrug, “and i didn’t want to wear trousers.”
his eyes trail down your body at the mention of your bare legs and they finally settle on what he’d been trying to hard to avoid
“i can see that, baby,” he grunts, rubbing over his face with his hands, “any reason?”
you shrug, trying to think of an excuse
it only takes seconds for you to realise that the truth would be better
“you were too focussed on work,” you get even closer as you speak, until finally you’re stood in between his open thighs, “i thought if i misbehaved you’d pay attention to me.”
he groans, tipping his head back as his final piece of resolve floats away
“what, so you thought if you come down here, half fucking naked with nothing on but my hoodie and your panties, i’d fuck you?”
well, yes… of course you did
still, you didn’t dignify his obvious question with an answer
“how do you know i have nothing on under here?” you pull at the bottom of the hoodie once more
then suddenly there’s hands on your hips and you don’t have time to think before you’re being pulled onto your boyfriend’s lap
the cushion is gone, now - he must have pushed it away just moments before he grabbed you - and you can feel his hard-on sitting pretty against your clit
if it weren’t for the iron-like grip he still had on your hips, you’d push your luck and grind down on it
“because i can see your fucking nipples, baby,” he grows into your ear, gently nipping on the lobe before pulling away, “poking through my hoodie and teasing me, hm? i bet that was all part of the plan, wasn’t it…”
you wriggle a little in his grasp, wanting to get some friction against your core, but he grips you harder and his fingers dig into your hips
“stop moving,” he glares at you, “i’m not finished talking, and i can’t focus when my little slut is busy rubbing her wet fucking pussy all over my dick.”
by the tone in his voice, you know there’s no room for argument
you sit still for him, trying to ignore the ever-growing ache that sits at the bottom of your stomach
“good girl,” he says, although he doesn’t quite sound like he believes it, “now, you’re going to sit there and take what i fucking give you, hm?”
you nod desperately
he chuckles as he reaches down and slips a finger inside of the soft lace, making you gasp
“but don’t even think about cumming until i say so, sweetheart,” he begins to rub circles against your clit, every stroke growing in speed as he works you towards an orgasm, “baby needs to learn her place, doesn’t she.”
you nod desperately, whimpering away as he works his expert fingers against you
you grow closer by the second as after just a minute or so, you can feel that familiar knot at the bottom of your stomach
you hold your breath, ready to explode and then…
nothing
he pulls his fingers away right at the last second, bringing them up to his mouth to suck the juices off with a smirk
he keeps eye contact with you as his tongue darts out from between his plush lips to lap at his fingers
you whine
“oh hush,” he mumbles in between licks, “you brought this on yourself, honey. now be a good slut and suffer the consequences.”
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honestlyhiswife · 3 months
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holy shit biblically accurate simon riley dropped
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aesthetic-bbyg · 9 months
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HEY EMO BOY - Bill K.
In which you dedicate your performance to your celebrity crush, but he doesn’t know until the press gets ahold of it.
Bill Kaulitz x fem!reader
AUTHORS NOTE: this idea may be floating somewhere on somebody else’s blog but this I just came up myself so I’m not trying to copy nobody! I also had to change some of the lyrics for the sake of the story! Thx bbyg’s <33
Pt 2!
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YOU LET OUT A HEAVY BREATH, finishing up the song, you reached down for the bottle of water by your feet, chugging the last of it. The concert has reached it’s final song, and you’ve got an idea that you’ve been planning for weeks. The crowd is still booming with shrieks, practically making the whole place rumbled. A grin appeared on your lips as you walked over to the microphone.
“Can you guys keep a secret?” You questioned as the crowd yelled in return, you giggled and a felt an overwhelming feeling of joy fill your body. “Well, I have a huge crush on this guy who totally doesn’t know I exist.” A string of boos followed after. “You guys may know him, he’s German, he’s the lead singer of a band, I believe he has a twin brother.” Within moments the crowd began to screamed, realizing who it was, there weren’t many German lead singers who have a twin brother, well..not that you knew of. You had a proud smirk on you face, bitting your lip to contain more nervous giggles from slipping out. “I think he suuper hot, so I decided to make a song about him, you guys ready?”
“Yeah!” At the sound of their approval the song immediately began to sound through the massive speakers scattered through the stage. You gripped the bedazzled microphone in your neatly manicured hands, the lights flickered with pretty pink colors, radiating your signature color as it reflected off your diamond studded belt. You couldn’t contain the large smile as you lifted the mic to your mouth.
“Saw this boy at the mall last week, got the kinda look to me me freak!” You skipped around the stage, your denim mini shorts riding farther up your thighs then it already was. “That long ass hair with the tightest jeans, my chemical romance on his tee.” You ran a smooth hand down your body, exaggerating your attraction towards him. “He looked so sick like he was dying, if I said he wasn’t hot then I’d be lying. Please, handsome, don’t be coy. Come on fuck me emo boy!”
The repetition of the lyrics echoed throughout the large stadium, it was actually hilarious how such a large crowd of people jumped and shouted come on fuck me emo boy, over and over again. You giggled, raising the microphone back to your lips, “This boy just unlike the rest, one look and I bitch I loose my breath. Wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? Lift me up and then I drop it. He’s with his band, goin on tour. Should I go? Well, bitch, for sure!” Your favorite was coming up, it was a little explicit but what would be the fun if it wasn’t? “He might not look he gets bitches but honey that dick is eleven inches.”
With your pearly teeth out, your lips stretched into large smile you bounced around the stage, hearing the the beat blast into your ear drum. A collection of things were thrown onto the stage, it was a common reoccurrence during all your concerts. People would launched flowers, letters, bras, sunglasses, and far to many things that just piled up on the floor until you finished your set list and had all the gifts delivered to your dressing room. You admired your fans, the way their wristbands glowed in the dark night, the creative posters that were raised above their heads, it was hard to grasp onto it sometimes but the feeling never failed to make you proud.
“Hey, hey, hey emo boy!” The song had concluded, though the fans were far from quiet, you gave them a polite bow as the crew behind you began to pack up all the instruments. You were stuck in your spot, waving to all the giddy people who nearly broke down the barricade in excitement. “Thank you! Hugs and kisses to all of you who made it here tonight, I love you guys!” Your feet began to move towards the backstage, a part of you absolutely devastated that the show ended, but also relieved to get some rest. Although, before you could fully leave you jogged back over to the microphone. “And make sure to keep the song a secret from the emo hottie.” With that, you walked towards your assistant, Teresa, who held a bottle of water ready for you.
“You looked amazing, baby!” The dark haired girl giggled as you took the cool liquid and let it run down your sore throat.
“Thank you, I felt amazing!” You smiled, “Was the song good? It wasn’t too much, was it?”
“Absolutely not, the song was great, and I’m proud that you finally got around to preforming it.” Your assistant grinned, “It’ll definitely get his attention.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the goal.” You mumbled, looking over at your dressing room, ready to go in and remove all the makeup and heavy accessories you had on till you noticed that your name tag was gone from the front door. “Hey, what happened to my name tag?”
Teresa looked over, “Oh, they’re replacing it because Tokio Hotel is preforming here tomorrow.”
“What!” You nearly chocked on your water, eyes practically bulging out of your face as you stared back at your assistant. “Why didn’t you tell me that they were literally preforming here the day after me?”
“To be fair I didn’t know until they started moving stuff around.” Right as the words left her mouth a random man came over and slipped in a paper to the plastic cover on the front door. It wasn’t a mistake, the bold letter stated back at you: TOKIO HOTEL
“Well, I’m most definitely fucked.”
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“BILL!” TOM PRACTICALLY ran across the tour bus, holding his baggy pants up in one hand while the other held a laptop. His twin sat on the couch, munching on a pack of sour candy. “Bill, you have to look at this!”
Bill stared at his brother with furrowed brows, wondering what has gotten him so giddy and grinning like a child. That was until the laptop was shoved in his face, some random article pulled up with some dramatized title that he didn’t even want to read. “What is this?”
“Read it!”
POP STAR, Y/N L/N WRITES EXPLICIT SONG TO GERMAN LEAD SINGER, BILL KAULITZ; COULD THIS BE THE START OF A NEW ROMANCE?
Bill’s fingers slid on the mouse pad, scrolling the through the article as his eyes quickly scanned the words in front of him. “This surely isn’t about me, Tom, it’s just fake news that they’re trying to shove down people’s throats.”
“Don’t be stupid, Bill, the y/n l/n is crushing on you and dropping subtle hints, hence, the song about wanting to fuck you.” Tom shook his brothers shoulders proudly, his grin wide.
A hue of red spread on Bill’s pale skin, clicking on the attached video that gave him the whole performance. Sure enough, there you were, singing a song about wanting to fuck an emo boy. “I don’t know, Tom.”
The oldest twin let out a groan, “Bill, she wants you, think about it. She’s our age and she says that the song is dedicate to a German lead singer who is touring with his band.” He had a good point, and that’s what made Bill smile a bit, it made a puff of pride filled his chest. “That’s what I’m talking about.” Tom laughed, “She wants you, Bill, and I wouldn’t want to pass up on that.”
“Enough.” Bill sheepishly smiled, closing the laptop and shoving into Tom’s chest, curling up on the couch as he felt a wave of heat wash over him. If the song was about him, and you meant what you said, then it really turned him on. He couldn’t help it, his already tight skinny jeans grew tighter.
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“BILL, WHAT ARE YOURE opinions on y/n l/n new song about?”
“Bill is it true that you are y/n’s baby daddy?”
“Bill look over here!”
“Are you and y/n a couple?”
A flood of questions and bright, flashing lights came his way as he made his way towards the doors of the venue. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, attempting to move past the paparazzi and avoid there strange questions. His band mates followed behind him, struggling to keep up with him due to the crowding. He finally let out a breath of relief as he made his way inside. The flashing cameras replaced with colorful lights and the screaming substituted with the shaky bass of the music booming from the dance floor. Tom had already separated himself from the group, going off to the bar to try and find a new girl to bring to his hotel. Georg had dropped out, opting on talking with his girlfriend through phone all night instead. Gustav had also followed Tom to the bar, craving alcohol in his system.
The crowd of people were familiar, he had seen some of them at the event from before, there were many famous faces. Yet he stood by a wall, eyes looking around awkwardly, despite the many times he’d been to these events he always had to ease his way in throughout the night. After a few drinks he’d start getting loose, but for the moment he’d just scan the dance floor till he caught someone he knew.
That’s when he gaze was in trapped by a spark, a beautiful glow that confidently bounced on the dance floor, happily dancing. It was you, you were dancing with your friend, a half drunken drink in your hand while your swing your hips and shimmy you chest with a surge of confidence. The short dress having to constantly be tugged down your plush thighs, as you giggled, you felt something. A sense of being watched, but there was hundreds of people around, and a lot of them liked to stare.
You leaned into your friends ear, excusing yourself to the bathroom, you heels carried you to through the crowds of drunk people and to a small opening where you could go to the bathroom. Bill’s eyes watched your every move, were you coming towards him or was he fucking crazy? He nervously stared at you, your features became more clear, it was you. Y/n l/n. You were getting closer, he felt his breath hitch, what was he going to say? Well, he didn’t have to worry since you walked right past him, eyes not sparing him a glance as you rushed into a hallway. He furrowed his brows, staring as your figure disappeared, it was then that he noticed many people exiting and passing to enter the same hallway you just entered. He glanced up and saw the clear sight that read. RESTROOM.
He huffed, crossing his arms with a frown, maybe it was a sigh that he should talk to her but now it he had to wait till you walked back out. Finally, you left the restroom, shoving the lipgloss back into your bra and strutting out. You were excited to go back to dancing, a big smile on you lip, that was until a large hand wrapped itself around your wrist, tugging you back before you could go any farther. You looked back with furrowed brows, you had to crane you eyes up to look at who was the man behind the touch. You mouth went dry, eyes widening, your knees nearly giving out and dropping you on the dirty floor of the venue.
It was Bill fucking Kaulitz, the emo boy you made a whole song about. The song in which was leaked and slapped on every article with your name in the title. You were so happy that the lighting covered the blush that warmed your face. He leaned down, lips brushing you ear, hand still wrapped on on your wrist.
“Hey, I’m Bill.” His hot breath fanned against the shell of your ear, he could smell the faint scent of your perfume, it was intoxicating. “I like your music.” He pulled away, a smug smirk on his face as you swallowed the lump in your throat. His accent was much more hotter in person then it was in the interviews you watched on TV.
“T-Thank you.” You replied, but he simply gave you a confused look. You sighed, attempting to reach his ear, “I said thank you, I like your music as well.”
He nodded, “Thank you, it seems as though one of your songs has gotten quite popular, people have told me all about it.”
You needed to pull yourself together, this was a moment you’ve been waiting for and you couldn’t back down. So you rubbed your lips together, spreading the shiny, sticky gloss. You gazed up at him through your lashes, a flirty smile on your face. “Yeah, I was hoping you’d say.”
“Yeah?” He raised a pierced brow, “Why’s that?”
“You’re the only one I wrote the song for, of course.” You giggled, watching his expression change, he was surprised on how upfront you were about it. You were proud, cocky almost, it turned him on. “So, did you like it?” He nodded in response. “You wouldn’t mind doing what the lyrics say, do you?”
“No.” He replied, watching your smile widen. “I can take you back to my hotel and do exactly what you want me to do, schatz.”
You were getting giddy, you running a hand up his arms, staring up at his smoky eyes with lust. You bit your bottom lip, “Can you kiss me?” A small smirk played on his lips as he leaned down, leaving a slow kiss on your lips. Your hands were on his cheek, leaning up and desperately kissing his lips. His hands wandered, feeling you up in the tight pink dress you were in. Though his same hands seemed to favor a spot in particular, you ass, they ran up and down your sides before they eventually planted themselves there. His head was titled to the side, neck curved down to reach your height and to continue kissing your additive lips. He pulled away, lips sticky with you gloss before he trailed it down to your jaw and neck, his cheeky hands squeezed the flesh. You gasp, allowing him to suck lightly while the music blasted in your ears but it was all tuned out as you focused on the sensation of his tacky lips kissing your skin.
You were most definitely gonna fuck this emo boy tonight.
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Y’ALL WANT A PART TWO W SMUT? Either way I’ll probably write one bc this game out better then I expected🤭🤭🤭
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chrollohearttags · 7 months
Note
sassy ass ej the don being the most serious dragging y/n around to the renaissance show in his all chrome fit posing for the cameras 😭 don’t let beyoncé acknowledge him cus it’s over
SCREAMING!! Cause honey, best believe he was there, eating the girls up. Told (y/n) she better come correct or she can’t ride with him. 😭😭 Giving TinMan realness with a fur coat, shades and HELLA ice on, (you know he an Aries chile LMAO) Mind you, he had a concert himself that night but as soon as he heard The Queen was in town, he suddenly came down with a touch of bronchitis 🌚 baby is front row, knows every word and don’t let ‘em fuck up the Mute challenge cause now the whole row gotta catch hell. Like y’all don’t get it, he despises half the industry and never shows up to anything. So imagine everybody’s shock when he’s literally fanboying and falling all over himself for her. Like he’s soooo happy to be there. Him and (y/n) singing every word together, just having a time. One of his favorite songs is Love on Top and she sees him in the crowd just belting the lyrics to his girl so she shouts y’all out on the mic like ‘y’all look so good.” And mannnnn, can’t nobody tell him SHIT! He done came back and bragged to all of his boys, using it as leverage. Let Jean say some slick shit to him and it’s forever ‘well Beyoncé said I’m cute. What you got, Jean? Besides a foot for a face.” 😭 insufferable as hell. For days after, he carries one of those hand fans around and just opens it up right in front of you. Insufferable as hell. Bey has no idea the monster she’s created.
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stylesharrys · 7 months
Text
put it on me
summary: you’re a little horny and harry’s the musician of the night.
word count: 2,452
warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, teasing, swearing, somewhat semi-public sex, protected sex, dirty talk, harry making you watch yourself in the mirror hehe
a/n: the idea of harry being a small town musician and doing local gigs with his band is something i love the idea of too fucking much, so this is literally just porn with somewhat of that plot (not really) but yeah. enjoy my angels!
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//
You’ve needed a night out for ages, the stress of your job and the fading heartache of your ex-boyfriend sitting heavy on your shoulders. You knew your friends were right and meant well when they told you to quit your childish moping and get back on the wagon. And you also knew you should’ve listened to them sooner because now you’re having a wail of a time.
You’ve been at the bar for two hours already and finally beginning to feel the high and surge of confidence from your drinks. You’ve lost count of how many shots and cocktails you’ve had, but you blame that on the brown-haired beauty that’s been singing on stage for the past hour.
Gorgeous brown locks, dazzling green eyes. You can tell how pink his lips are from across the expanse of the bar and in the dim lights that sits overhead, he looks like a fucking Greek god. He can sing, too. A silky-soft voice but he growls certain lyrics of a rock song and your panties have been soaked for the last forty minutes.
You meet eyes halfway through Sex on Fire and you’re sure something erupts in your stomach that’s akin to a burning flame. You’ve learnt his name to be Harry after asking the bartender for it and after the first time of catching sight of you, Harry apparently can’t get enough.
He’s been eye-fucking you all damn night and you’re beginning to grow increasingly impatient. No man has ever had such an effect on you, especially with one look. When his set is over, you buy him a drink, tell the bartender to buy him another of whatever he’s been drinking all night.
Harry disappears for a while after his little gig and you’re thoroughly disappointed to not find him as you lean up on your tiptoes in search. Another three drinks have slid down your throat with ease by the time he makes another appearance and you have gone past the point of fear of rejection.
You came here for a good time, no insecurity is going to ruin that.
He finds you before you find him; swaying your hips deliciously on the dance floor and he chugs the rest of the drink you’d gotten him. He knew it was from you when the bartender said it was from the cute chick with the dark pink lips and mini skirt and he was eager to go and talk to you.
He struggled hiding his semi behind the thin mic stand while he performed and he had to shuffle his hips awkwardly as he danced so as to not thrust his erection in the faces of the partygoers in the front of the dance floor. He’d much rather thrust it in just yours.
Harry makes his way through the crowd to you, a cheeky grin on his lips and he has enough liquid courage to go over and talk to you. You lock eyes when he weaves through your friends and a more than excited smirk glimmers at the corners of your lips.
Finally.
“You get your drink?” You speak first and fuck, his mind is spinning. Your voice drips of pure honey and sex and he wonders what you’d sound like crying his name, begging you for more, for it harder and faster.
Harry blinks, cheeks flushed and not just from the drinks. “I did, thank you…” he pauses, head tilted and it’s the most least-awkward way he can think of to ask you for your name.
You grin. “Y/N,” you tell him your name but you don’t ask for his, you’ll gladly let him know you already know it.
Harry nods, pink tongue swiping to lick across his bottom lip and your eyes are glued to the sinful sight. What else could that tongue do? You don’t bother to chastise yourself for the sinful thoughts of the stranger, instead, you let the idea excite you more and your knees almost buckle.
“And you’re welcome,” you sip on your drink, tongue circling the straw as you gaze up at him through your lashes. He almost has an entire foot on you. “Must’ve been a little thirsty after that performance,” you flirt back, head tilting and you gnaw on your bottom lip.
Harry feels his entire body flush, feels the blood rush to the swollen tip of his aching cock. Before he can say anything, Mitch taps on his shoulder, whispering something incoherent in his ear. Harry isn’t listening, too busy trying to turn around again and talk to you, so he doesn’t feel Mitch slip the little foil wrapper in his back pocket.
When Harry finally pushes Mitch away and spins back around, your drink is gone and your empty hands are up in the air, body moving and head rolling. Your eyes are closed, every inch of you feeling the beat of the music and Harry finds himself gravitating closer to you. His hands find purchase on your hips, his tented crotch pressing against your plump ass as you move against him.
Your head falls against his shoulder, hands reaching around the back of his neck as your fingers tangle in his curls, tugging gently but just enough for him to feel it. Harry’s grip on your waist tightens and he guides the movement of your hips to his and before long you’re swaying and grinding in rhythm, heavy breathing in your ear and you tilt your head, nose bumping his chin.
Harry leans down, connecting those pink lips with yours and everything feels 10 times better. His tongue slides between your parted lips and dances with yours, hands on your waist twisting you so your chest clashes with his. Neither of you hear your friends cheering and spurring you on, too caught up with the taste of the other.
His hands are on your ass, grabbing and squeezing and you’re not dancing anymore. Your fingers are tangled in his hair still, pulling and tugging harder and whimpering into his mouth when he pinches the bottom of your thigh.
When you pull away, your lipstick has smudged across his mouth but neither of you care. Your miniskirt has ridden up, the bottom of your ass hanging from it and you can feel his hardon poking at your abdomen.
With his hand in yours, you wrap his arms around your waist, and lead him off the dance floor with your back pressing to your chest. Harry follows, nipping bites and kisses to your neck and breathing messily in your ear. Your eyes are fluttering but upon seeing the disabled toilets, you shove him inside and lock the door behind you.
Harry stands across from you, chest heaving and panting and you both look thoroughly fucked; hair a mess, lips swollen, eyes intoxicated. You both step closer at the same time and it’s as if your minds are in sync. Your legs wrap around his waist, skirt bunching around your middle and he shoves you against the door as soon as he catches you.
His lips are on yours and your barely clothed pussy grinds against his hardness. Everything is frantic, eager. Harry’s hands are on your ass, yours tugging at his hair again and he suckles your bottom lip into his mouth, nipping as he releases it and assaults down your jaw and neck, sucking bruises on the soft skin and your mind is reeling.
“Fuck, Harry,” you shudder breathlessly and Harry pulses in his pants.
Knew you’d sound so fucking good whimpering his name. One hand leaves your ass and grabs your jaw, tilting your head to the side for better access to your collarbone. You whimper, desperate and eager.
“More, need more. Want your cock,” you pant out.
Harry groans into your neck, nodding his head and he releases your jaw, reaching down between your bodies and his thump swipes up your clothed cunt. To Harry’s utter enjoyment, you’re soaked through; thighs trembling at the well-needed sensation.
“Want my cock, baby? Want me to fuck your tight little pussy?” You whine at his words, eyes rolling and you’ve never been with someone who spoke so filthily and he’s barely touched you. You nod your head frantically, clawing at his scalp and he pulls your little panties to the side, middle finger circling your dripping, puckering hole.
You shudder at the touch, Harry grunting in your ear as he smears your wetness all over your swollen cunt. “Yeah, I need it so bad,” you coax him, hips rolling, legs trembling. He pushes a finger through your folds, curling against that spongy spot and you cry out, a frantic ‘yes, yes, yes’ tumbling past your lips.
He pulls away too soon for your liking and sucks his fingers clean, humming at your taste — but as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a condom, you’re more than happy to let it slide. While your legs are still wrapped around his waist, you unbuckle his belt quickly and unzip his jeans. Your hand reached into his boxers, retrieving his thick, long cock and pumping it generously in your hand, spitting down on it and spreading the wetness.
Harry’s head falls back, grunts and groans ricocheting against the walls of the bathroom and you hum at the delicious sight, reaching forward to suckle at the column of his thick neck and littering small purple bruises to the pale skin.
“God, need to fuck you,” Harry’s deep voice strains and you gnaw on your bottom lip, squeezing his cock and releasing it.
He slides the condom on with ease, slapping his tip against your clit for extra measure and sliding into you in a quick thrust. You gasp and claw at his shoulders, hands grabbing his head and tugging it down to the crook of your neck.
“So fucking tight,” he whimpers, nipping at your collarbone but you’re busy with something else.
Behind Harry stands the sink on a counter and a large mirror behind it. You can see the sweat dotting at your hairline, how each snap of his hips has your jaw slacker each time. There’s something so dirty about watching yourself through pleasure that has you gushing around him.
You don’t realise he’s talking until he pulls his head from your neck and notices you’re staring straight ahead, in a pleasure-filled haze. He follows your line of sight and everything is red. You’re really watching yourself get off.
Harry turns back to you, wrapping his arms back around your ass and pulling you off the wall. You shriek at the sudden movement and let him carry you, spin you both around so you’re by the mirror. He pulls out all too quickly, leaving you gaping and turning you around to look in the mirror.
As quickly as you make eye contact in the reflective glass, he’s bending you over the sink, your hands bracing either side of the counter and he bunches your skirt higher up your middle and tears your little lace panties from your core, shoving them in his pocket. Harry palms at your perky ass, spanking and rubbing. He looks back to the mirror, the sight of his blown eyes and set jaw is too much for your cunt.
You dip your head, almost falling into the sink but Harry isn’t having any of it. The bass from the music thumps outside of the bathroom and muffles the noises of your frantic moans and whines. He thrusts back into you all at once and with one hand, he reaches for your curled hair in a makeshift ponytail and tugs, forcing you to look in the mirror.
Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and jaw slack. You’re a gorgeous fucking mess and Harry’s cock is throbbing between your walls.
“Watch yourself, baby. Watch what my cock does to you,” he seethes through gritted teeth, lips nipping at the shell of your ear. Your pussy convulses around his length, squeezing and clenching as pornographic moans tear through your throat.
Harry reaches around, rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit and he eases his hold on your hair, too caught up with how tight you are around his thick cock and your head falls, eyes fixed on the sight of his slender fingers touching your little nub.
“Oh shit, I’m gonna cum!” you shriek, voice high and music to his ears. Harry soon realises you’re not watching yourself and reaches for your jaw, forcing you to look in the mirror.
“Want you to watch yourself cum all over my cock, Princess,” he growls, teeth gritted and hips frantic. You cry out, eyes hooded but you watch, just like he demanded.
Your makeup is ruined but you don’t give a shit. The sight before you is unholy, his fingers gripping your jaw and your lips parted. You look like such a fucking good girl and remembering that it’s a complete stranger that has you feeling this way only pushes you closer to the edge.
In a burst of confidence and desperation, you reach for his hand on your face and guide it down your throat, stretching your fingers around his gentle hold and squeezes. Something even darker than before swims across Harry’s eyes and his pounding becomes relentless, his hold on your throat tightening and your eyes are rolling back.
Everything is heightened and all you can smell and feel and think is him. Your legs begin to tremble, entire body shaking and with a long string of profanities and desperate whines, you come all over his cock, panting and shaking and throbbing. He quickly follows, bottoming out and his hold on your throat releases as he hunches over your smaller frame and comes in the condom, grunts and cries spilling off his pink lips.
You both remain still for a few moments, trying to catch your breath and keep your legs from giving out on you. Harry pulls his softening cock out slowly, allowing you to lean your hands on the sink counter as he removes the condom and shoves it in the bin, cleaning himself and you up gently with some tissue. Your heart flutters at the action… Do one night stands usually do that?
Biting back a grin, his hands on your hips slowly spin you around to him and as you loop your arms around his neck and smile lazily up at him, he reaches down and covers you back up with your skirt, hands resting on your waist. His nose bumps yours, softly pressing open-mouthed kisses to your lips which you’re just as eager to return before he pulls back.
“So... “ he pants, a post-orgasmic grin on his lips. “Can I get your number?”
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bits-and-babs · 1 year
Text
✰ 𝐖𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐏 — 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 ‘𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓’ 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘
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↳ summary: prompt: "Call me that again" — A solo op takes you away from 141 and away from Ghost. You're both at your wits end.
↳ pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader (Delta)
↳ [1k] content: 18+ MDNI. Coms sex (I knowww, how original), inevitable dirty talk, masturbation, reference to size kink, a little dom-sub vibes, a little twist at the end because I can’t help myself. 
ghost masterlist I| main masterlist |I join taglist
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The coms crepitates loudly, bleeding into the silence of the safehouse room and ringing in your ears as you await that familiar, soothing voice that consoled your adrenaline-whipped body. Running for hours, you'd launched yourself towards the sanctuary of the safehouse once you finished your solo reconnaissance mission. Offering to work this mission single-handedly, you're separated by your 141 colleagues. You aren't sure if Vargas is alive or if Soap has thrown himself into the face of danger once again, but a dogmatic conviction grips your mind that Ghost is safe. He's always safe. 
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Crackling, distorted sounds shock you from your disassociation, grabbing your heart and squeezing its chambers so hard you're sure it wheezes beneath the pressure. It throbs, the possible presence of your Commanding Officer on the end of the coms like a defibrillator, sparking it back to life. 
"Simon?" Your voice is hoarse as you call for him, your almost embarrassing desperation leaking into your tone of voice despite your best effort to portray nonchalance. 
"Delta."
His gruff Mancunian accent distorts through the headphones placed over your ears, distance scrambling the soundwaves. A rush of oxygen exhaled through your nose no doubt sends a burst of unpleasant sound through Ghost's eardrums-- but he doesn't complain. 
"I wondered if you were ever going to contact me," you whisper, closing your eyes and finally allowing yourself to relax into the sofa at the sound of Simon's voice. "Was beginning to think you'd had trouble." 
"The only trouble I have is a 6'2'" Scotsman that fucks my eardrums with his god-awful jokes," Simon grumbles to himself, the sound of him settling onto a cot sneaking its way into the mic in the form of straining springs. "His codename is trouble." 
"Funny, I thought it was Soap," you muse, and can't help but grin at the exasperated sigh that sounds at the end of the line. 
"Better start cleanin' up his act if he wants to keep it." 
Silence creeps between you both, laden with a heavy longing that crushes your chest. Of course, you'd never admit to missing him, but something about the way your heart seizes just at his mere presence, even from miles away, tells you that you're yearning. Aching for something as simple as laying eyes on him. 
"Delta."
His voice drips like molasses down your spine, inching its way down to your abdomen and swirling warmth between your legs. There's a hint of suggestion in his tone, the kind he'll offer on late paperwork shifts to relieve some tensions. 
Simon 'Ghost' Riley is dangerous. He doesn't give you butterflies— he detonates atomic bombs in your stomach. Obliterates any sense of propriety you have and compels you into a jittery, timid mess. It's something only Simon can do, and it's mortifying. 
"Yes?" You don't mean for it to come out the way it does, drawn out and breathless. He knows. He knows his voice alone has put you right where he wants you. 
"Been thinkin' of you." 
Swallowing thickly, you focus on the growing arousal blistering between your thighs. You're sure they're slick already, arousal triggered by the conversation's shift in tone. 
"Yeah?" You whisper, the single syllable catching in your throat like it's a honey trap. 
"Been thinkin' about how well you take my cock, love." The sudden crassness makes your heart lurch against your sternum, your hand diving beneath your waistband to start touching yourself to the sound of his voice, "Your little cunt stretches so good around me, fuckin' squeezes me just right."
You gasp as your print brushes your already throbbing clit, the buzzing arousal arcing up your spine and lifting it from the sofa. A quiet, gravelly hum sounds at the end of the coms, followed by the clinking of a belt as Ghost sheds the clothes from his lower body. 
"Filthy girl," he muses, listening to your sharp inhalation, "I've barely started talking, and you're already playin' with your clit. Couldn't even wait for my order. Is it throbbing for me, love?"
"Y-Yes-" you whimper, rocking your hips up to meet your touch. Waves of bliss drag from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, eyes rolling back as Simon groans. 
"I bet it is. You gonna use your fingers for me? Go on," Simon urges. He barely has to ask, though; you're already sinking your fingers into your entrance, moaning his name. 
"Ah-Ah," Ghost scolds you gently, his voice strained, "What did you call me?"
"S-Sorry, Lieutenant," you whine softly, eyelids fluttering when you push your fingers against something devastating. You rock your hips again, grinding your clit against the heel of your palm. 
"That's right," Simon growls, breath hitching as the quiet sounds of him working his cock in his fist filter into the mic from the background. "That's what you fuckin' call me. Go on, call me that again." 
"Yes, Lieutenant Riley." 
"Ugh- fuck," Ghost groans out, and it rattles in his chest. He sounds fucked, as desperate as you are to sink his cock into your wet heat. It's been too long; you've almost forgotten the stretch. 
"You workin' that clit how you like it?" Ghost asks, a little breathless now as he quickens the pace of his fist to match the speed at which your orgasm approaches. It's been too long. 
"Y-Yes, Lieutenant- Oh fuck-" 
"Gonna cum already?" A chuckle breaks through Ghost's huffed breath, amused by your inability to last much longer than a few minutes after only a couple of weeks separated. "C'mon, darlin', give it to me, nice and loud—" 
                            ✰
Hanging your head between your shoulders, you try not to mind the heat burning in your cheeks as Price finally stops the recording playing loudly from his laptop. Mercifully, he pauses just before you truly amp up the volume of your whimpers as you cum. 
"Did you even stop to think how this could affect the mission if the targets got ahold of these coms?" Price's eyes flit between you, frustration evident by the creases in his t-zone. 
"Would'a distracted the enemy," Ghost points out like he's serious. 
"Shut up, Ghost." 
"Yes, Sir."
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sereneres · 9 months
Text
“parentz/minyn’s ‘honey mo…” ¹˙⁵
kim minji x 6th member!reader / 1.5k
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summary. — “parentz/minyn’s ‘honey moon’, ‘parents’, and ‘divorced’ eras in 7 minutes and 22 seconds.”
warnings. — this is formatted like a youtube video, similar to this by @/jihyoruri / all of the members are in this
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🎬 — honeymoon era
“wow.” hanni said, shaking her head in mock disappointment as she clicked her tongue at the sigh before her. “we’re in public, guys, try to have some decency.”
the camera panned to you sitting on minji’s lap, the latter’s head on your shoulder.
[ayo?? 🤨🤨🤨]
“i’m only sitting on her lap, unnie.” you told the girl, exasperated. “and besides, you were sitting on minji-unnie’s lap literally a few minutes ago.”
“yeah, but she wasn’t holding me like that.” the vietnamese pointed at minji’s arms, which were around your waist, and her hands, which were folded on top of your stomach.
[parentz caught in 4k 📸]
“that’s because she kept sliding off.” minji argued, readjusting her hold on you. “she’s taller than you are, hanni, and her pants are more slippery compared to yours.”
“my pants and her pants are literally made out of the same material, unnie.” hanni said, rolling her eyes. “if you’re going to make up an excuse, at least make up a good one.”
“i think it’s less about the pants and more about our height, hanni-unnie.” you said, smiling innocently at the older girl.
“hey, i’m not that short-”
“but you are, unnie – you’re literally the shortest member of our group.”
[yn was not playing around whatsoever 💀]
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“just let me pay for it, minji-unnie.”
the older girl scoffed, gently pushing your hand away from the cashier. “as your unnie, yn, i can’t let you do that. let me pay for it.”
[she really used the ‘i’m older’ card lol-]
“this type of thing happens all the time.” hyein commented, shaking her head. “you’d think that one of them would cave and just let the other pay, but that never happens.”
“yah, you guys are holding up the line!” hanni said, gesturing to the growing line behind the group. “hurry it up already!”
[those people do not look happy lmfao]
“why not do do rock paper scissors?” danielle suggested. “whoever loses can pay the next time.”
[danielle is newjeans’ angel, both figuratively and literally]
“alright. rock, paper, scissors-”
you, having closed your eyes, peaked them open to see that minji had picked rock and that you had picked paper.
“ah…”
“woo!” you cheered, turning to the tired-looking cashier and handing him the money. “thank you! sorry for holding up the line!”
[he looks so tired of them 💀]
“i should’ve picked scissors.” minji pouted as the six – seven, including the cameraman – of you walked out the store. you giggled, linking your arms together and resting your head on her shoulder. “don’t be sad, unnie, you can pay next time, like dani-unnie said.”
[ngl, this makes me feel single asf 🫠]
“by the way,” haerin said to the camera, her voice low and barely being picked up by the mic. “it’s not even their money they’re spending. it’s manager-unnie’s.”
[oop- 🫢]
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🎬 — parents era
“-and that’s a wrap! good job, yn-ah. you nailed it today.”
“thank you.” you murmur, taking off your headphones. “oh, and before i leave, i’d like to tell you that hyein currently has a cold, so please be patient with her today.”
[aaaaaaaa yn &lt;333]
“yes, i’m aware, minji also told me about her cold while she was here.” your ceo told you, clearly amused.
“ah, she did?” you asked, cheeks flushing a light pink. “she didn’t mention doing so.”
“yes, she did.” the older woman said as she chuckled. “she even told me to be patient as well.”
[hyein’s parents love her so much lol]
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“have you guys eaten yet?” (hanni)
“du-du~ bam-bam-baaa~ *insert opera singing here*” (danielle??? in the background)
“…most of them are saying that they have.” (haerin)
“that’s good! it’s almost, like, 8 o’clock right now, so it would be pretty worrying if they haven’t eaten yet. for those who haven’t eaten, make sure you eat something soon!” (danielle)
[danielle is an angel x2]
“‘have you eaten?’”(haerin)
“not yet. we just came back to the dorms like, an hour ago from practice, so…” (danielle)
“we were going to get some take out, but then minji-unnie and yn said that we’ve already gotten take-out three times this week.” (hanni)
“both yn-unnie and minji-unnie are currently in the kitchen making food for us to eat, and hyein is helping them, i think.” (haerin)
[i don’t think i need to say much about this lol]
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soon after that, yn also went on an audio live.
“‘you take care of your unnies and younger members so well that they probably think of you as their mom.’ really?”
[yes, really.]
“huh, i never realized i was like that. if anything, i thought you guys would say that about minji-unnie. she’s the one with all the ‘minji being newjeans’ mother’ videos…”
[oh shit, has she seen my videos?? *insert shameless self plug here*]
“anyway, i never saw myself as a ‘mom’ figure to anyone. hyein, maybe, but she’s our maknae, so…”
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🎬 — divorced era (which didn’t really last long tbh)
“they’re asking what we did earlier today.” haerin reported, moving back from the camera so that your fans wouldn't just be looking at her eyes and nose throughout the entire live.
“well, we had practice of course,” danielle said, lips pursing as she tried to remember what the six of you had done. “and after that…”
“we went out to eat for the first time in like, months.” hanni finished, smiling cheekily. “it was soooo good.”
“we ate went out to eat just last week, hanni-unnie.” you said, smacking the older girl’s arm playfully. she laughed before jokingly rubbed her arm, mouthing the word ow to the camera.
[hanni and yn, the second tom and jerry of newjeans lol]
“oh, and this was the first time yn-unnie and minji-unnie didn’t argue over the bill!” hyein remarked, scrolling through the comments on her phone. “minji-unnie just gave the money to the cashier and yn-unnie didn’t even say anything.”
[trouble in paradise?]
“oh yeah, that was pretty weird.” hanni said, discretely nudging hyein. “it’s like, never happened before, so we were all pretty surprised.”
“well, there’s always a first time for everything.” danielle murmured quietly, glancing at both yn and minji before saying in a louder voice, “the food was really good though. it was sort of pricey, but good.”
[smooth dani to the rescue.]
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“man, we saw so many binky light sticks at the music show,” hanni said, sighing happily. “we really enjoyed seeing you guys there, and i hope you guys managed to get some of the gifts we gave out!”
“oh, someone asked, ‘what gifts?’.” danielle said, pointing at the comment on her phone and showing yn and haerin, who were sitting beside her. “yn-ssi, why don’t you tell us about the gifts hanni-nim was talking about?”
amused, you decided to play along, even going so far as to grab your water bottle and place it under your mouth as if it were a mic.
“well, danielle-nim, the gifts hanni-nim was talking about are distributed at a certain location near the venue of our music shows.” you say, picking up your phone. “and if you follow our twitter, newjeans-underscore-ador, you will get tweets on where these locations are, like this one.”
you raise your phone to the camera, showing off the tweet that had been posted that morning.
“…what kind of broadcast is this?” hyein asked from behind the two of you, staring judgementally at you and danielle.
you both laugh, startling haerin which made the two of you laugh harder. behind you, minji was spaced out, a undiscernible look in her eyes. hanni sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder with a sympathetic look on her face.
[there is no heterosexual explanation for either of those actions lmfao]
“moving on,” you say, pulling your phone back as your laughter gradually turned into giggles. “hanni-unnie is right. seeing all your binky light sticks really made my day!”
“‘they looked like hearts’.” haerin read out loud before nodding her agreement. “they did look like hearts – tiny, colorful, glowing hearts.”
“hearts…” you repeat, mindlessly raising your hand and creating half of a heart with it. instead of completing the heart with her own hand as she normally did, though, all minji did was stare at it blankly.
[oh- that’s not good.]
fortunately, haerin noticed your hand awkwardly hanging in the air and shifted towards you subtly, looking at the camera as she moved her hand to yours to complete the heart.
you smile at her thankfully, though it's obvious that you were a little upset by minji’s actions, or rather, a lack thereof.
[ㅠㅠ]
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🎬 — and here's a bonus clip of just the two of them talking about their ‘divorce’ lol
“some people are asking about our… divorce??” (yn)
“we had a divorce?… wait, we were married????” (minji)
[am i the only person who thinks minji asking that was funny?]
“i think it’s our ship name, unnie. y’know, ‘parentz’?” (yn)
“oh yeah, that… why are they saying we got a divorce??” (minji)
“apparently, we looked upset with each other last week during the live.” (yn)
“ah, yeah, last week…” (minji)
“sorry guys, we can't talk about it too much ‘cuz it was pretty personal and not something we’d like to share, but don’t worry. we weren't angry at each other or anything, minji-unnie was just worried about me.” (yn)
“worried is an understatement.” (minji)
“anyway, as i said, don't worry. minji-unnie and i are perfectly fine now!” (yn)
“describe ‘perfectly fine’.” (minji)
“…”
“okay, okay, sorry, honey, i won’t joke about it again, stop glaring at me like that.” (minji)
“…”
“*ahem* moving on…” (minji)
[lol someone’s sleeping on the couch tonight – AND DID YOU CATCH WHAT MINJI SAID?? ‘honey’?!? anyway, thank you for watching, make sure to like and subscribe, and i’ll see you next time <3]
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previous. / pairz. / next.
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harleehazbinfics · 3 months
Text
Home is where my Heart is.
Chapter 1: A New Home Table of Contents | Profile
Word Count: 1395 A/N: aaaa im so happy i can finally post it. pls enjoy~ it's hazbin hotel guys, that's a warning in itself
(edited as of Feb 20)
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I hopped off the bus clutching my hat in one hand and my bag in the other. Lifting my hand off the hat, I reached inside my coat for a piece of paper.
“Angel Suites, 123 Bullard Avenue,” I muttered reading the paper then looking at the tall building in front of me. I sighed and went inside and was then greeted with a stench of tobacco from the clerk in the front smoking reading a magazine.
I grimaced and knocked on the wooden desk to gain his attention, from the lack of a bell. He lifted his eyes from the paper and narrowed his gaze to glare at me, causing me to break in nervous sweat.
 “Hi, I-I’m Miledy Calliope. I called you yesterday for an apartment room?” I tried to say out cursing at myself from my stutters.
He rolled his eyes, folded his newspaper to the side and opened a small drawer to his right, muttering curses as he looked for my keys. When he finally found them, he threw them at me to which I hastily caught, causing me to drop my belongings.
“The stairs are to the left,” he groaned in annoyance, opening his newspaper again and turning on the radio on his left increasing the volume, seemingly to drown me out if I had any more questions and then taking a drag from his tobacco.
I huffed and drudged to my now apartment room, it was cold and damp inside. It has a somewhat worn-out couch and bed, an empty kitchen. To save myself from a migraine, I plopped down on the bare bed and collected my thoughts to stay calm.
“This is better than nothing at all. Better than staying at that damned place for sure,” I complained quietly looking through the glass window in melancholy. I sat up and rummaged through my bag to find a little rabbit stuffed toy, squeezing it for comfort for being in a new environment and an entirely new life.
For a while, I did as much I could do to make the place cleaner than I found it and homier for me. As the sun went down, cleaned up myself. I wore a glittery loose dress, the length all the way to my ankles, accompanied by bright earrings and a fur coat.
After locking up the door, I headed towards my first gig.  I breathed out a sigh as I tried to shake off my nerves, I stood at the half-filled club. I turned my head when I heard a shrill call for my name.
“Miledy!” I see a short woman theatrically calling my name.
“Miss Mimzy!” I replied excitedly, “Thank you so much for having me!”
“Of course, no problem! Just bring in some bills, yeah?” she joked with her thumb and pointer together to sign for money while winking.
“I’ll try!” I shrugged with a smile.
After a while of talking someone gave me a cue to get on stage. “Good luck, honey!” Mimzy cheered.
As soon as I got on stage and sang in front of the mic with a sudden boost in confidence, I didn’t notice a fine gentleman sitting next to Mimzy greeting her and talking with each other.
“Mimzy! Good evening, my dear,” the brunette greeted tipping down his hat. “A newcomer I see.”
“Hi, Al!” she replied enthusiastically, “Yeah, I scouted her from the city down during my trip. Lovely, isn’t she?”
Alastor merely hummed amused and answered, “A pleasing voice indeed. Would you mind introducing me after the show? I'd love to get to know this new talent of yours.”
Mimzy raised her eyebrow a bit skeptical, “Sure, no problem.”
The further the songs went on the more Alastor was enchanted, barely able to take his eyes off her. However, he noticed that he wasn’t the only one to take interest in her, his face contorted into a sneer when he lustful stares the men had in his peripherals, as they enjoyed their liquor.
When I finished my stage, the place erupted in cheers, whistles and applause making me feel overwhelmed with the attention. I smiled and waved my hand at them, thanking them for enjoying the show. I bounded to Mimzy and her company, where she counted her money.
“That was fantastic, darlin’! Look how much money you raked in!” Mimzy cheered.
“Given how clear and beautiful her voice was, I'd say it's quite deserved!” the gentleman with a glasses complimented. I blushed and replied with a small thank you which he smiled at.
“Miledy, this is my friend Alastor, he works as a radio host right here in New Orleans.”
“Miledy, Miledy Calliope. I just arrived in town today actually,” introducing myself to him and shaking his hand, his grin subtly growing deeper.
“Well, I have to go check the schedules and see when I can squeeze you on stage again. Toodles!” Mimzy smiled with an obsessive glint in her eyes.
Alaster faces me once again, “Can I offer you a drink?”
My smile froze a bit, thinking about it. He analyzes me a bit before adding with a laugh in his tone, “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything to harm you! I’m a frequent patron here and a very well-known voice and face here, you know? I neither don’t want to put my reputation to be at risk nor do I want you to have a bad time around here. Just think of it as a welcome gift as friends.”
I thought over what he said and smiled as he went on. I conceded to him, “Alright, why not? Sorry about being so skeptical.”
“No worries at all! It’s great that you’re on your guard. Not a lot of people are like me,” he teased bringing us to the bar.
“What? Tall and charming?” I retorted getting more comfortable around him.
He chuckled charmingly making me blush again, he then joked “Well, I was going for a kind respectable gentleman. I guess that can work too.”
I laughed at his not-so-subtle attempt to improve his self-image while his smile seemed a bit more genuine as he finally heard this woman laugh. He seemed to be enthralled with the image of me laughing and giggling at his remarks that he fished for more reactions out of me while we enjoyed a bunch of drinks.
The night grew colder, we started to gather ourselves and got out of the establishment.
“You sure can hold your liquor, darlin’,” Alastor remarked, he himself flushed red.
“I can say the same to you for a lanky figure like yours, sir,” I teased, “This was fun. Thanks for tonight, Alastor.”
His gaze softened and reached out pat my head which I indulged, finding his touch comforting. Oh, dear was I drunk.
“No problem. It was a fantastic night for me too. Do you have any plans anytime soon?” he asked keeping his hand on the top of my head.
“Mmm. I think I have to buy a few things for my apartment, why do you ask?” I answered, somewhat hopeful raising my eyes at him doe-ishly.
He breathed out a chuckle from my actions and replied, “Allow me to accompany you then. I’ll show you a fantastic store, one where your money’s worth spending to. I’ll free some time in a few days to show you around.”
“I’d like that. Thank you,” I smiled.
“Great! Now come, I’ll escort you back home. These streets are crawling with criminals at these hours,” he explained offering his arm out to me which I latched onto, growing creeped out as we strolled down to my place.
When we were half-way there, I heard a blood curdling scream as clear as day. It seemed so close to me, as if they were screaming in my ears, causing me to freeze and hold onto Alastor tighter. His perked up in alert as he circled his arm around me protectively, unbeknownst to me of the sadistic smile he had in the sick pleasure of the sound of suffering.
Reminding himself of the damsel in his arms, he rubbed had over my back and led me faster. “Don’t worry, doll. It’s nothing, just some pesky crows,” he lied.
I didn’t question further and walked briskly right next to him, blocking my ears as the screams slowly quieted down leaving it to my imagination.
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