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ᝰ things i wont write
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𖡼 if you send me a request, please be patient with me. ill get round to it eventually but, the more you pester me about it, the less likely ill be to actually write it
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💬 it's time for your massage and you're getting just a little more than you bargained for.
✧ read below or on ao3 ✧
The morning light in the Martín kitchen is almost clinical, bouncing off the Carrara marble with a sharpness that makes Josh's head ache. He's sat, nursing a double espresso, his thumb hovering over his phone screen, a Pavlovian itch blooming in his crotch. He shouldn't. He's already jerked off twice since waking up — once in the shower and once while Lindsay was downstairs turning on the coffee machine — but the mental loop of you...is a high-definition haunting. Fuck, maybe this is what those young, dumb interns mean when they say they're 'down bad'.
For the first time since his mid-twenties, he's waking up with his heart pounding in his chest and his boxers sticking to his skin; the kind of visceral, teenage hunger that makes his expensive life feel like a cardboard set.
The silence is broken by the sharp clack of a ceramic mug. Lindsay is standing across the island, her workout gear pristine, her face set in a mask of exhausted disappointment. She doesn't look like a woman whose marriage is failing; she looks like a forensic accountant about to deliver an audit.
"You still have your Cloud sync on." She says, her voice is terrifyingly level. He freezes. The espresso suddenly tastes like battery acid. He goes to stand.
"Listen, I'm running late for the greens committee—"
"I saw the folder. 'Site Inspections'?" She lets out a jagged, mocking laugh. She slides her iPad across the marble. On the screen is a familiar set of pictures of you. You, making your way to the jacuzzi in that slutty, little bikini. You, enjoying the bubbles in said jacuzzi, your tits gloriously buoyant. "You're stalking a client's daughter. In between jerking off in the bathroom like a degenerate. It's pathetic."
The shame should hit him but instead it's a hot, prickly defensiveness. The poison in his blood bubbles to the surface. He looks at the photos of you and, instead of guilt, he feels this frantic possessiveness.
"It's not stalking, Linds." He snaps. "I'm managing the atmosphere. I'm aware of who's on the property, doing my Goddamn job."
"You're vibrating, Josh. I can practically smell the desperation on you from across the room. It's embarrassing. If the Phipps find out their golden boy GM is taking creep-shots of their daughter, we lose everything." She hisses and Josh stands up, the chair screeching against the tile.
"Everything? You mean the house you barely sleep in? The sex life you've been 'outsourcing' for the last eighteen months?" He bites back and Lindsay flinches, then narrows her eyes.
"Don't you dare make this about me."
"Why not? We're playing the 'honesty' game now, yeah?" Josh steps closer, his pulse thrumming in his throat. "I've stayed civil. I've signed the papers for the mediation. I've ignored the fact that you smell like Versace Pour Homme every time you come back from 'tennis', which is funny because I've never worn that cologne in my fucking life." The air in the kitchen turns static. The score is finally on the scoreboard, the numbers glowing neon.
He stalks toward her. "I stayed for the optics." He spits, his voice dropping to a hiss. "Because the club needs a GM with a stable home life. But, if I'm a 'degenerate' for just looking at someone who actually does something to me, then what're you?" She just stares at him, her lip curling in a mix of fury and genuine shock. She hasn't seen him this unhinged, this hungry, in years.
"You're losing it, Josh. This girl... She's gonna be the thing that finally breaks you."
"God, I hope so." Josh whispers, grabbing his blazer from the counter.
He doesn't look back as he storms out to the Audi. Slowly, he sinks into the drivers seat. The anger is still hot in his throat but, beneath it, the obsession is still there, humming like a live wire. He looks down at his phone. The screen's timed out and gone black. He taps it. You appear again. Sitting by the pool; untouchable and gorgeous and all his. A slow, dark smile creeps onto his face. The bridges are burned. The masks are off. There's no civil marriage left to protect, no reputation to gingerly balance.
Lindsay can go to hell; the marriage is dead wood anyway. But, looking down at his phone, he feels this terrifying, electric sense of life. He knows the score now and he's fucking ready to play the back nine.
When you finally reach Monte Vista, it's a balmy 86°. The sun is out and you've just driven over from having brunch and catching up with your girlfriends. You haven't seen them for a few months so it was nice to find out what they've been up to and get up to date on the latest scandals in town.
You sweep past reception, wearing this breezy sundress which feels just right for the temperature today. Tapping your membership card, you practically float past the barriers and into the clubhouse itself, turning the corner into the spa. Instantly, the sound of running water and soothing piano music drifts through the air and the tension begins to seep from your bones.
Stopping in the changing room, you pull on your swimsuit — making sure to shut your bag and clothes away in one of the lockers — wrap yourself in a complimentary robe and head toward the spa lounge. You stop by lounge reception to check in. A girl, with a name tag reading 'Christine', is manning the desk and you give her a smile.
"Hi. I was just wondering if you could let me know when I'm booked in for my massage?" You ask her and she nods, turning her eyes to the screen and clicking her mouse a couple times.
"Could I take your name?" She asks and you give it to her. She nods and her long nails tap away at her keyboard. "Let me just have a looook..." She pauses and her brows knit for a moment before she looks back up at you with a smile. "You're booked in for 3PM. Please, feel free to pass the time in the pool, steam-room and sauna. I'll let you know when we're ready for you." You give her a polite smile and a nod before continuing on; getting a mimosa from the bar, situating yourself in a comfortable lounger and scrolling through your phone.
You spend the next few hours milling between the sauna, the steam-room and the indoor pool, patiently awaiting your allotted slot. You've been really looking forward to this.
Josh adjusts the collar of his polo as he stands by the reception desk. Of course, someone was going to check the Goddamn schedule and suss him out.
Note to self; mistakes get made, when you think with your dick.
"Mister Martín, maybe we shouldn't—"
"Shut it, Christine. I'll give you a raise if you keep this quiet." He whispers and she hastily turns her eyes back to the screen, uneasy but not about to turn down the prospect of extra money. Christine stands, smooths out her uniform and walks primly into the lounge, approaching you.
"The therapist is ready to see you." She tells you, her voice somewhat tight, and you turn off your phone, following her out of the lounge and down the hall. She directs you to a room a few doors down and opens it for you. The lights are dim and the sound of Tibetan singing bowls rings through the small space. "If you'd just like to take off your clothes and lay down on your stomach." She gestures to the padded massage table in the centre of the room. "There's a towel on the bed to cover you." You thank her and she takes her leave, shutting the door behind her.
Christine stops as she closes the door, finding Josh right outside, breath coming hard and fast, cheeks a little flushed. She walks past him to make her way back toward the reception area. And Josh is just giddy with excitement; all alone with you, no-one around, no-one to stop him if he does something incredibly, incredibly stupid.
In the therapy room, you untie your robe and hang it on the hook before pulling off your swimsuit and toeing off your sandals. With a sigh, you pick up the towel from the massage table and lay down on your front, draping the towel over your backside as instructed.
And there's a knock at the door.
"Hey there. Are we ready in here?" Josh is praying you don't remember his voice from when you first spoke to him a few weeks ago.
"Mhmm." You respond, face comfortably wedged into the circular pillow at the head of the table. He slips into the room, closing the door silently behind him. His throat grows tight when he sees the silhouette of your body on the table even in the low ambient light; the curve of your waist, the dip of your lower back... He clears his throat, trying to keep at least his voice professional.
"Great. I'll be your therapist today. Just — uhh... — lie still and relax, yeah?" You give a hum of approval and he steps closer.
Your body is just laid out for him, like a feast; your hair loose and pulled over one shoulder to expose your smooth back. His eyes trace along the soft lines of your body until they're blocked by the towel and he curses the thing mentally. He walks around to the side of the table, blindly picking up something he assumes is massage oil and pouring some into his hands.
As he starts to warm the oil, his eyes linger on the towel covering your rear. He imagines sliding his hands underneath, gripping your ass, spreading your cheeks... His mind is completely blank except for processing just how good your skin looks in this light; like silk and satin. He's already hard in his pants again and he hasn't even touched you yet. Fuck. "So what're we looking at here? Lower back pain, high stress or just...general maintenance?" He knows jackshit about massages. Well, outside of those cheesy pornos he watched in college.
"I get a lot of tension at the base of my neck and between my shoulders if you can help with that?" You ask and Josh nods, humming in the back of his throat.
"Mhm. Definitely." His hands hover over your shoulders for a moment before he places them down gently, slowly working his way up your neck.
Oh, he's touching you now. Actually physically touching you and your skin is just so warm and soft, like velvet in the sun. He gingerly presses his thumbs into the knots at the base of your neck, working in slow circles. He leans down slightly, close enough to catch your scent; floral, light, sensual. His cock strains in his tailored chinos, begging for attention. He's just glad you can't see it. "You're holding a lot of tension here." He murmurs, voice dropping lower than intended. He's absolutely bullshitting his way through this but it's the best he can do.
"Yeah, I've never been the same since college." You laugh softly, almost musically, and it makes his chest flutter with warmth. "All that sitting and staring at textbooks."
"Mm... I can tell." He rumbles in return, his hands moving slowly across your upper back, kneading the muscles between your shoulders. His hands are ever so slightly rough, unlike most massage therapists you've experienced in your time. It's not unpleasant though; large, warm hands working across your skin, thumbs grazing a tender spot between your shoulder blades and making you melt under his touch.
"Mmnnn... There... Just there..." You moan softly and a shiver rushes through him. He presses harder, feeling the tension give way beneath his fingertips.
"That's the spot, huh?" He rasps. He shouldn't be enjoying this so much; noticing how your breathing's gotten heavier or how your body sinks deeper into the table with each passing second. But he is. He's enjoying this so fucking much.
"Mhmm..." Josh continues to work that spot, his fingers digging deeper into the muscles. He can feel himself getting lost in the moment, hands moving lower and lower until he's pressing into the small of your back, where the towel lies.
"What were you studying?" He asks. Anything to keep you talking, to hear that pretty European lilt from your lips that sends electric shocks up and down his spine.
"I was at Intituto Marangoni? In Milan?"
"Fashion school?" His fingers trace along your spine and he watches the way your skin pebbles slightly under his touch, goosebumps rising. "Guess that explains everything." His palm slides down deliberately, pressing into the soft flesh of your lower back. He doesn't move to slide back up. Just...leaves it there.
Dark eyes sweep down the length of your legs; starting at your dainty ankles and slowly tracing up your shapely calves and delightfully supple thighs. He can see the slight muscle definition from years of wearing heels and walking around city high-streets. His hands move down to your calves, feeling the muscle there, encased in sleek, silken skin.
There's a lull in conversation now and he's torn. He wants to know everything about you; every moment of creating this wonderful, sirenical creature which has captured him. But he also wants to draw more of those lewd, filthy moans from your mouth, sounds that make his balls swollen and heavy...
Eventually, he choses the former, fingers inching higher and higher. "So what did you study?" It's a fucking FASHION SCHOOL, dumbass! What else is she going to study?!
"I got my BA in fashion and design." You tell him easily as his thumbs press into the yielding flesh in the back of your thighs.
"Impressive. Milan must've been beautiful." His voice is low, almost too low, as his hands work their way higher on your legs. The towel is shifting with each stroke and he can see the faint outline of your ass beneath it. That ass which left that Goddamn imprint on the bench in the squash court. Sit on my face. Sit on my face. Sit on my face. Sit on my— "You still design?"
"A couple sketches here and there but I'm taking a break for a while."
"A break's good." He murmurs as he continues his slow, deliberate journey up tour thighs. He can feel the heat radiating from your skin and sinking into his fingers. His thumbs are dangerously close to the towel now. "You deserve it." The words slip out before he can process them but he has to cut himself some slack; his restraint is dangling by a thread here. "Hey, you a little warm under there? The towel, I mean?" You make a noncommittal sound.
"A little, I guess."
"Let me get that for you." He says too quickly, eager hands grabbing the edge of the towel and pulling it away.
His breath catches in his throat.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Your ass is just...perfect; round and firm but with just enough give to make a man want to sink his teeth into it. The low lighting casts shadows that highlight every curve, every dip. He's leaking in his pants now, soaking them really. "Okay, just gonna focus on your lower back now. Your — uhh... — glutes gotta be a little sore after all that sitting and studying, right?" And you let out this soft, airy laugh that tickles the base of his tailbone.
"I suppose."
You're totally onto his game... Aren't you? No-one can be this oblivious... Right?
Doesn't matter. Either way, he's getting his hands on that perfect fucking ass of yours.
"I'll take care of it for you. Don't you worry your pretty, little head about it." His hands hover for only a second before he finally — finally — lets them land on your ass. Ohhh, fuck, yes...
He squeezes gently at first, feeling the firm muscle and the softness that lies above it. He's never been more turned on in his life. He presses the pads of his thumbs into the dimples just above your ass and you sink deeper into the table, sighing softly. And he's creeping lower and lower, fingers brushing the creases where your ass meets your pillowy thighs. He spreads his fingers wide, thumbs brushing the very edge of your cheeks. He's trying so hard to keep this professional but, fuck, he's failing miserably. "Spread your legs a little for me..." You actually fucking do it and—
Right. Okay.
He can see everything, even in the low light; the perfect pink between your thighs, the way your plump pussy lips are slightly pouting. He swallows hard, oil-slick fingers tracing along the outer curve of your ass., getting closer and closer to that perfect glistening view. "Told you; lots of tension here..." He manages, voice thick. "Gotta work it out..."
He's so close to where he wants to bury himself; his face or his dick first? He isn't sure which. God, having your tight, fucking pussy all over his face sounds like a dream but pushing his cock right in there — raw, no condom — is almost enough to get him to cum on the spot.
Thumbs press into the soft fold where your ass meets your thighs, spreading you open just slightly. His palms are slick with oil, yes, but his hands are trembling now. He's been thinking about this for weeks, dreaming about getting just this view, waking up sweaty and covered in his own cum. And now he's here and he's touching you and you're so soft and warm and your pussy is right there and it's taking everything in him not to dive right in.
Maybe Lindsay was right; maybe he is a degenerate. But, fuck, if being a huge pervert hasn't been the best thing he's done since he turned thirty.
Josh tries to catch his breath. "Breathe for me." He orders softly, voice dropping to something darker, hungrier. You take a slow breath and he curls his fingers around the soft meat of your ass. "That's it..." He murmurs, more to himself than to you. "Just relax. I'll take care of everything." Daddy's gotta take care of his princess. He digs his thumbs deeper, spreading you wider without actually touching that sweet, pink pussy. He's close though. So fucking close.
And you let out another relaxed sigh, then this cute moan, making heat prickle from his toes all the way up to his cockhead. "Shhh, baby." He coos. "Let me just...ease this tension for you." He's shaking with restraint, his cock aching, throbbing, fucking hurting at not being inside you right now.
Pull your hands away, man. You're so close to creaming your fucking pants. You either gotta go balls-to-the-wall with this; get up on that table and fuck that sweet, little cunt before your nuts explode or you gotta pull away NOW because, if you did a single bit of what you're imagining, you are in for a world of hurt. This is the TOP INVESTOR'S DAUGHTER, man.
His hands shake as he forces them away from your body, cursing under his breath. He's so hard and his balls are heavy, desperate to dump his load in you. But he can't do this. He shouldn't do this; not to a client, not to a woman half his age.
Humming curiously, if a little drowsily, you go to sit up, confused about the sudden lack of contact, but Josh lays a hand on your shoulder before you can turn and see his face. "Easy." He soothes. The last thing he needs is for you to turn around and see that feral look in his eyes. Or the huge bulge in his pants. You ease yourself back down onto the massage table. "Just relax, okay?" The words come out stilted and hurried. "You let all that oil sink in. I'm gonna go get the— The stuff for— For your face." He manages eventually.
Josh practically stumbles out of the room, his hard cock leaving a visible wet spot at the front of his pants. Once he's outside, he leans against the wall for support, light-headed. It's like every ounce of blood has pooled right between his legs and there's nothing going to his lungs. Or his brain, for that matter. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." He hears a sound to his left and his eyes dart to the end of the corridor. The supplies closest. It's not much but it'll have to do.
He slips inside and closes the door behind him. It's certainly not the nicest place he's ever blown a load but, right now, it's the perfect place for him to shoot the massive amount of cum that's been building up in his balls for the past twenty minutes. He leans against the shelves, fumbling to open his pants. Finally, he gets himself free, his dick slapping up against his belly with a heavy thud. A low groan escapes him as he wraps a hand around the base, stroking slowly at first before giving in and picking up the pace.
He knows he won't last long — he never does when it comes to you — but he's certainly not winning any awards for stamina right now. He just spent the better half of an hour touching you, squeezing your ass, staring at your pretty pussy and— God, he can't stand it anymore. His hand flies over his cock in rough, eager strokes, precum oozing from the slit and dripping onto the floor. He's bucking up into his hand before he knows it, fingers coiled tight around the shaft.
He's red in the face, huffing like a bull, sweat beading at his hairline when his head jerks up. He needs napkins or towels or...something — fucking anything — to catch this when he blows. His eyes dart around the shelves; nothing, nothing, nothing. Before his gaze lands on a refill stack of paper cups to restock the water cooler by the reception desk. It'll have to do. He practically lunges for them, grabbing one with a shaking hand and positions it under his throbbing cock, his other hand quickly jerking up and down as he speeds towards release.
His cock pulses violently in his hand and then he's cumming ungodly hard. Thick, hot ropes of white splatter into the paper cup, each shot hitting the bottom with a wet slap. He rumbles out a low groan, hips bucking as he empties himself completely. One, two, three— His vision goes white and, for a moment, he think he might just pass out...
Somehow, he manages to hold on and now he's stood in a supplies closet with his dick in one hand and a cup of cum in the other. He stares at the cup, filled up a good way; an optimist might say it's half full. Jesus Christ. He needs to find someplace to get rid of it.
Then. Joshua Martín has an idea. He has an awful idea. He did tell you he was going to get the stuff for your facial, didn't he?
Back in the therapy room, Josh walks in, cup in hand, lips curled up into this evil, evil grin.
"I'm gonna dim the lights, okay? Turn over for me?" He turns the lights right down, until he can just about make out the silhouette of your body. He can't risk you seeing his face after what he's done, what he's about to do.
You lift yourself up, arching your spine, and flip over onto your back. Your naked body is just as gorgeous from the front, if not more so, as his eyes adjust to the low light. Your tits are soft, nipples pert, and there's the slightest little patch of downy hair on your mons, leading down between your thighs. His fingers tighten slightly around the cup. "Close your eyes for me." You nod, letting your eyes drift shut and resting your hands on your stomach, rising and falling slowly.
He moves to stand beside the table, staring down at your sweet face and innocent expression. He pours the warm, sticky contents of the cup onto his fingers. Hesitates for a moment, debating whether or not he's really going to do this.
Fuck it.
Josh takes a deep breath and starts spreading the cum all over your pretty face; over your forehead, your closed eyelids, down your soft cheeks, along your nose and across your lips. It's warm and thick, dripping slowly from your skin. Your features gleam in the light and his spent dick is already twitching weakly at the mere thought of doing this. It looks so damn good on you.
"What is this?" You ask curiously and he bites his lip for just a second.
"It's a... A protein mask." He tells you, thumb moving back and forth across your bottom lip. The smell is unmistakably masculine, musky. "All-natural ingredients. Super nourishing for the skin." You just hum in understanding.
The sight is almost hypnotising; watching his cum drip slowly down your temples toward your hairline. He spreads more and more until the cup's empty and he tosses it into the small garbage can in the corner. "Alright, now, you just sit back and let that soak in. I'll leave you to get dressed at your own pace, yeah? No rush." He tells you, a slight self-indulgent lilt to his voice. "You just take your time and check in with reception when you're ready."
Slowly, Josh backs away from the massage table and makes his way to the door, casting one last glance back at you — naked, oiled up, face covered in his cum — before he steps out into the hallway. His heart is racing and his dick is already throbbing again and there's this thrill buzzing through his body, like he just got away with doing something absolutely reprehensible. Well, he might have gotten away with it. He'll have to check in to make sure if he still has a job tomorrow.
Even if he doesn't? Worth it.
🍒 author's note: im honestly having a blast writing josh because, in my mind, hes just an absolutely unhinged pervert (as you can probably tell). but im honestly lost as to where to take things from here. and im obviously glad so many of you are liking these! id love to hear what people want to see from the next chapters to get the gears turning so please dump them in the comments or whatever!
and if you got this far, it'd be lovely if you dropped me a kudos or a comment (whatever you have time for) on ao3. thanks for reading 💛✨
an optimist might say it's half full. <- SNORTS . no stoppppp .
Then. Joshua Martín has an idea. He has an awful idea. <- NOOOO STOPPPP !!
can i just say that after reading your story , i’d actually hoped that the show is as unhinged as this — and i was slightly disappointed it wasn’t ? 🤣🤣🤣
glad you beat them to the punch !
some people don’t deserve fanfics, much less for free.
also even if authors didn’t tag any specific warnings but they used the “creator chose not to use archive warnings” tag, then that is your warning.
“omg you should’ve —” no one forced your entitled ass to read anything. fanfic writers write for themselves and their own enjoyment. if you don’t like what you’re reading, quietly leave. ao3 is not an airport. no one cares about your departure so no need to announce it.
explicit ✨ tony baddingham x ftm!reader✨ rivals ✨ 16m
🔖 age gap, boss/employee relationship, creampie, daddy kink, desk sex, established relationship, infidelity, not beta read, older man/younger man, period sex, period sex, pov second person, praise kink, tony is a freak, trans character, trans male character, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex.
💬 a period isn't enough to stop lord baddingham from getting exactly what he wants from his favourite office pet.
✧ read below or on ao3 ✧
If you had any common sense, you might be the first one to call Lord Tony Baddingham a bastard. After all, what's redeemable about him? He cheats on his wife, he's short with his employees. He's scheming, conniving, Machiavellian, some might say evil. He's a liar, a manipulator, a hedonist, a tyrant, a shark. He's also your employer. And your lover.
You're his pet and you're glad to be because, on top of all the bad things the man is, he always knows just what to say when it comes to you. A little praise and a hand on the small of your back and you're just putty in his hands, melting like butter on a smoking-hot pan. He's experimental and he doesn't shy away from exploring that with you. Whatever he wants, you let him take. You're powerless; you could never deny him. He scares you. You love it.
It's a regular day in the Corinium office; nothing notable has happened and you've just gone about your job. Apprentice seems to translate to general dogsbody so you've been running messages throughout the building, sorting through scheduling timetables and keeping the pantry of the break-room fully-stocked with Bourbons. You sometimes catch a glimpse of Tony out of the corner of your eye and he'll give you that sly wink of his or a smirk and your cheeks flush pink. You hate how just the way he smokes his cigar makes heat pool between your legs, tobacco smoke curling from his lips like a serpent. He's awful, awful, awful but you'd crawl on your belly through broken glass if he'd just pet your hair and call you his 'good boy'.
As always, as the office empties out, Tony stands in the doorframe of his office, giving people nods as they leave for the night. But you know better; he's waiting for you. When he catches your eye, he gives you a knowing grin and slinks back into his office. And you follow him, despite yourself.
When you get into his office, dusk is settling. The blinds are drawn and he looks up from his desk, loosening his tie with deliberate casualness.
"There you are. Lock the door." You do and he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs and taking a long sip of his single malt. "Come here." It's not a request.
You seem hesitant today as you round his desk. You tell him so.
"It isn't a good day today, Tony." You wring your hands in front of you, the sleeves of your jumper almost covering your hands. Thank God for the high neckline of it or everyone would be able to see the myriad of dark hickeys he left on you last Friday.
Instead of pulling you into his lap as he usually does, he reaches out to grasp your wrist, long fingers coiling easily around it.
"What's wrong?" His tone softens ever so slightly, just that little bit, to give you the impression that he actually cares about you. But who really knows if Tony Baddingham is capable of such a thing.
"It's just...not a good day for this, that's all." You repeat vaguely, unable to meet his gaze as heat rises to your cheeks. His grip on your wrist doesn't loosen but his thumb follows the tendons and veins there, feeling your pulse fluttering under the skin. He gently pulls you sideways to lean on the edge of his desk, standing and coming to stand between your knees.
"Why?" His voice drops lower, fingers tilting your chin to meet his gaze. "Tell me everything, pet." His arms wrap around your shoulders and you're enveloped in the scent of bergamot, leather and expensive tobacco. The scent of his cologne permeates your sheets, your settee, every piece of clothing you own. You can't escape it. Or him. "Talk to me." He sounds stern, almost paternal. He knows just voice, the words, to crack you open.
You pause for a long moment.
"... I'm on my period." You relent and he makes a face; not disgusted or disappointed, more...offended?
"Is that all?" He asks hands dropping to your hips, slipping just under the hem of your jumper to rub his thumbs into the skin above your waistband. "Does it hurt?"
"No, not really." There's another long pause before he pulls you closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. You melt against him.
"Then what's the problem, pet?" Large hands roam across your body, you feel your tension dissipating but the anxiety still gnaws at the back of your mind.
"It's just messy." You reply and he let out a low, reassuring chuckle, arms tightening around you securely.
"And? You think I can't handle a bit of blood?" He pulls back just enough to look at you, cupping your jaw and lightly thumbing your cheekbone. Your eyes widen.
"It's not just 'a bit'!" His grip on your chin forces you to maintain eye contact as the other hand slides between your thighs, pressing firmly against the fabric of your trousers. Your breath catches in your throat.
"Show me." He commands. It's quiet but there's no room for refusal. He leans closer, lips grazing your ear, breath hot on your skin. "I want to see just how messy my special boy is." A shiver rattles down your spine.
"O-Okay..."
Tony steps back and gives you space to move. His eyes are dark with curiosity and...lust? He collapses back in his chair, taking another sip of whiskey.
"Don't be shy; over my desk, trousers down." He orders and you nod, turning around to pitch yourself over his desk. Your fingers fumble with the button and zip of your trousers but you manage to push them down, your cheeks burning with embarrassment and anticipation.
He notices first the fact that you're wearing women's underwear. He's never seen that from you before; only loose boxers. Next, he spies the wings of the sanitary pad curled clumsily around the gusset. You don't see it but a savage smirk curls at his lips as he rolls up his sleeves. "Christ... Pull them down." You swallow thickly and do as he says, hesitating a moment before pushing down your underwear. When he looks, there looks to be barely any blood but his eyes lock onto the string visible between your thighs. "So this is what all the fuss was about? A bit of blood and a tampon?" He asks and his warm hands slide down your thighs, making your knees buckle before you catch yourself, pushing your trousers and underwear down to your ankles. Your voice wavers as you speak, his touch distracting you from even the simplest of words.
"But it means we can't... We can't do it today." You repeat again.
"Can't do what exactly?" He asks, bracing his hands on the back of your thighs, thumbs inching dangerously close to your cunt. He stands slightly, pressing a kiss to your tailbone. "You think a little blood'll stop me from playing with what's mine?" He sounds almost amused by your assumption. You should've known that nothing stops Lord Baddingham from playing with his toys, especially not a pesky trick of nature like menses.
You can't help but let out a quiet moan. What's his... Yes, of course, who were you to assume that him, of all people, would be put off by blood. Of course not, the man's a pervert.
He spreads you open, inspecting you thoroughly. "Relax..." And his tone drops to that low, possessive hum he uses when he's educating you. "Step out of these." He lightly tugs at your trousers, pooled around your ankles. "And take off your shoes and socks."
You obey before you can think about it, stepping out of your trousers and underwear so he can move them out of the way before toeing off your shoes and socks so he can do the same with those. "Good boy." That familiar heat coils in the pit of your stomach and you press your face against his leather desk blotter, catching your lip between your teeth. His hands immediately resume their exploration, spreading you open again, gaze fixed on the white string, stark against the nest of hair between your legs.
One hand on the small of your back keeps you steady while the other reaches between your thighs, fingertips sliding either side of your cunt, teasing either side of where the string is nestled. "See?" He murmurs against your skin, peppering the back of your thighs with feather-light kisses. "Nothing to be frightened of, pet."
When you whine, he hushes you, a finger curling around the string and pulling it taut. You feel the tampon slowly inching out but his other hand remains a firm yet comforting weight on the bare curve of your lower back.
"Don't..." You whisper weakly but he ignores your protest, continuing to pull it out with agonising slowness. It drags against your sensitive nerves and your whole body tenses with anticipation.
When it finally comes free, Tony holds it up, a prize, drenched with deep red, dangling from a flimsy string. Somehow, the saturated cotton plug in his hand has his cock twitching in his tailored trousers. Just how much the thing has absorbed from your body makes him breathless with a kind of primordial lust. He groans, low and hungry, a sound you feel more than hear.
He drops the tampon in the bin beside his desk his hands return to your hips and thighs. You start to leak already, blood oozing out to coat your swollen clit and drip down your inner thighs in thin, crimson rivulets.
"There's a good boy." He praises but you can feel the warmth running down your thighs, calves, ankles and seeping into the carpet.
"Tony..." You go to object but he grips your thighs firmly, brooking no argument.
"Stay still." His voice is thick with arousal, one hand moving down to spread the blood over your tender folds of your cunt with his thumb. "Let me see." He murmurs and you let out another quiet moan, trying to stay quiet as he works.
Eventually, he slides two long, slender fingers inside you and you stiffen slightly, taking in a sharp breath. Your walls are tender, swollen and slick with blood. "Christ..." He breathes. His fingers curl inside you as he begins to slide them in and out. He's unexpectedly gentle, almost testing to see if it's hurting you. It isn't. Honestly, you're halfway in shock that he'd even do this, that he'd want to do this.
His fingers make you squirm as more blood oozes out, swelling around his fingers and dripping down your thighs. You arch your back and he adds a third finger with surprising ease. "That's it." He praises again as you present yourself to him. You begin to grind back on his fingers subconsciously. "Greedy boy." He murmurs approvingly. He twists his fingers inside you, making you grab the opposite end of the desk. "Look at the mess you're making on my carpet. Absolutely filthy." He purrs, beginning to pump his fingers just that little bit faster, finding and deliberately targeting your sweet spot.
"Mmnn... Sorry, sir... Didn't want to...make a mess..." You pant out as he curls his fingers again, adjusting his techniques to draw only the lewdest of sounds from you.
"'Sorry'?" He chuckles darkly, fingers now moving in that perfect rhythm that has you gasping and moaning for him. "Don't be sorry, pup. This... This is exactly where you belong; spilling blood all over my expensive carpet because addy's got his fingers buried inside your messy. little cunt. Understand?" God, you love it when he's crass, when that proper, businessman façade falls away and you finally see the man — the devil – you're truly dealing with. He's old enough to be your father and he fucking loves it.
"Y-Yes, daddy..." You sigh but he's had enough.
He stands, jaw set, as he unbuttons his trousers. He pulls his fingers free with a wet pop, the digits stained and dripping with red. In one swift movement, he's stood and freed, lining up at your entrance and pressing the thick head of his cock against your blood-slick folds.
"Tell me you want it, boy." He demands, and you writhe on his desk, hips bucking back in an unsuccessful attempt to get him inside you.
"I want it. Want it so bad, daddy. Please..." You plead with him and he doesn't hesitate.
Tony pushes himself in with one, long trust, groaning deeply as your swollen walls immediately squeeze around him. You're impossibly tight and unbearably wet; the blood making every drag obscene, every inch of him coated in crimson.
"Jesus fucking Christ..." He gasps, hands folding around your hips and holding you bruisingly tight. You whimper in kind, nails digging into his desk blotter.
"Fuck...! Ahh... Mmmnn..." He's never heard you so vocal. He takes a moment to revel in the strange new sensation before he starts rocking his hips, moving in slow, deep thrusts.
"That's it. Looks like a fucking crime scene back here." The comment makes your cheeks burn but you can't find it in you to care anymore, not when he's keeping that same, deliberate pace. Every stroke has you pulsing around him, gripping him, drawing out lewd, wet sounds as blood coats his cock. A hand slides along your spine, pressing flat between your shoulder blades to keep you pinned beneath him. Then his eyes hone in on the sight of his cock coming out a deep red. It's filthy, hypnotising, and he's entranced. "Jesus..." He huffs, watching himself disappear inside you again.
Moving his hand from your back, he grabs a handful of your hair and twists your head to the side, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a deep, red mark that should be blue and purple by morning. He growls against your throat, rutting into you like an animal, sucking bruises into your skin. He's a fox and you're the rabbit caught between his jaws. "Good boy." He grits out again and it makes pleasure shoot from your toes, up your legs and along your spine.
"Thank you, daddy. F-Fuck... Ohhh, fuck..."
"Language, pet." He chuckles breathlessly, biting and sucking harder as he picks up the pace a little. The sensation is overwhelming; blood coating him liberally before dripping down onto the carpet. You're gripping him tighter with every pass and he's loving every second of it. "Look at this mess." You don't have a chance to reply because he's sucking another mark into the bend of your neck. He's claiming you as his, over and over.
His thrusts are getting faster again, lips just by your head, heavy breaths hot on the shell of your ear. "Getting close, pup?" He asks and you nod jerkily.
"Yes, daddy..."
"Good lad." His tongue snakes out to soothe the sting of the latest mark and he snaps his hips forward just that little bit harder, grinding deep against your swollen, bleeding cervix. It has you whimpering, begging to cum. "Give it to me. Fucking cum on my prick like a good, little boy." He snarls and you push yourself onto your toes, changing the angle slightly, until his cockhead jams against the side of your cervix and into your sweet spot. He reaches around, fingers sliding over the hood of your clit, coated in blood, making it sticky and wet. He rubs faster and faster and you can feel the tension building, coiling, boiling in the bit of your stomach. "That's it... Cum for daddy, pet."
Your nails leave crescent indents in his desk blotter as you push back against him. Your moth falls open. He takes advantage by twisting your head further to the side and sliding his tongue into your mouth. The kiss is filthy and desperate, his tongue fucking your mouth in the same rhythm his hips are pistoning at. You cum around his cock and swell around him, a rush of slickness as your whole body clenches, squeezing the blood from deeper within.
You whimper, shudder and whine as he fucks you through your climax, sending you into overstimulation that borders on pain. You chant his name over and over like a mantra and he doesn't let up, fucking your oversensitive cunt like his life depends on it. Your name becomes a curse on his lips as he groans into your mouth, hips stuttering. "Fuck— Going to— Fuck—" His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing in hard circles. It earns him a sob as you clench down around him again, gripping the other edge of the desk. "Going to fill you up, pup. Going to pump this ruined cunt full of—"
And his control snaps. He buries himself to the base and sinks his nails into the soft skin of your hips as he unloads inside you. Thick ropes of white paint your bleeding walls and he still doesn't stop. He grabs one of your thighs and hitches it up on the edge of the desk so he can get even deeper, fucking his load deeper into you. You manage a hoarse whisper of his name again and he shushes you, holding you open as he empties himself into you completely.
When he finally stills, chest heaving, he wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you bent over his desk, his softening cock still buried inside you. He's not ready to let you go just yet. You turn your head to face him again and he claims your mouth in a slow, deep, claiming kiss. His hips shift slightly and you moan into his mouth as he moves inside your messy, overstimulated hole. "Let's take a look at the damage."
Carefully pulling out, he inspects the mess he's made, watching blood and semen seep out to coat your clit. "God, look at this mess. You'll be sore tomorrow." He says though you can very clearly hear the smugness in his voice. He reaches for the box of tissues on his desk. "Now, let's get you cleaned up." You turn slightly to look at him.
"What're you going to tell the cleaner?" You ask and he laughs.
"I had a very violent nosebleed. That's all. Now, don't you worry your pretty, little head about a thing. Daddy's here to take care of everything."
if you got this far, it’d be lovely if you dropped me a kudos or a comment (whatever you have time for) on ao3. thanks for reading 💛✨
explicit ✨ simon 'ghost' riley x afab!reader✨ call of duty ✨ 11m
🔖 creampie, established relationship, not beta read, pov second person, shower sex, vaginal sex.
💬 simon's supposed to be off-duty, in bed with you. instead, he's punishing himself in the base gym at 2am. you're only there to collect him but he's never known how to let you go easily.
✧ read below or on ao3 ✧
He's supposed to be off-duty. Supposed to be at home. In bed. With you.
But he isn't. He's still in the gym on-base; running miles, doing crunches and burning the candle at both ends.
You walk quietly into the deserted gym, inwardly sighing. You hate to see him burying all his anger in this; in overworking himself.
You're still in your pyjamas. You waited up for him but he never came. You didn't care enough to change; you're only there to collect him.
"Simon?" You call out to him. He doesn't stop. He's at the functional trainer doing pull-ups, facing away from you. You see the muscles in his back through his sweat-soaked shirt; he's so tense, wound up tight.
"What do you want?" His voice is low, rough. He still doesn't turn but his rhythm falters just slightly. You hear the exhaustion in his breathing. Who knows how long he's been in here.
"I want you to come home." You tell him simply. "It's past 2AM." He does a final pull up and then just stands there, heavy arms falling by his sides.
"Can't." He replies. "'m not done yet." You slowly walk toward him and reach up to place your hand on his shoulder. His shirt is thoroughly wet through.
Simon jerks away from your touch and spins around to face you. His dark eyes are wild and dangerous. He's breathing heavy under his mask and the muscles in his shoulders and chest are tight, like a trapped animal preparing to fight tooth and nail. But you know that isn't meant for you. He'd never hurt you. Never.
You step forward and wrap your arms around his middle. His sweaty shirt presses to your cheek but you don't mind. He smells like gunmetal and gasoline and sweat.
He freezes, going rigid as you wrap yourself around him; a sun-drenched butterfly landing on cold rock.
For a moment, he just stands there. Then his arms wrap around you tight, one large hand going to your hair and tightening in it, like he's afraid you'll disappear. He presses you against his chest and you feel the way the tension slowly leaks from his body.
"Come home, honey. Have a shower and just...lie down, even if you don't sleep, alright?" You ask him. He lets out a sigh, heavy and bone-tired. Finally, he relents.
"Alright..." He leans down to rest his chin on the crown of your head. "Alright." You give him a moment before pulling back slightly to look up at him, your eyes meeting his.
"You've barely been home since you touched down. We only get so long together." You remind him and he looks away, guilty.
"I know." He should be at home with you and he knows it. Instead, he's working himself to the bone in here, punishing himself for something or other, like his life depends on it. He moves his hand from your hair to cup your cheek, skin rough but touch tender. "I'm sorry. I'm bein' selfish. I-" You suddenly roll up his mask and press your lips to his, arms wrapping around his neck. The kiss is desperate and well-earned. His large hands move down to your waist, cradling you like a precious artefact.
He only moves away when he has to breathe. "C'mon." You roll his mask back down and take his hand, leading him out of the gym and toward the car park. He trails behind you; a man who forgot how to move without you. His knuckles are bruised from the punching bag but his grip is iron, possessive.
In the empty car park, Simon finally stops you, just by the Jeep. You feel him stop and turn around to face him.
He doesn't say anything. Instead, he rolls up his mask again and pulls you into another kiss; a slower, deeper one. His tongue finds it's way into your mouth, learning the taste of you again. You sigh against his mouth as his large body presses you against the side of the car. The sound sends heat flooding between his legs and he groans; that low, rumbling sound that you feel more than hear. He needs to feel you pressed against him. He lifts you up onto the hood and you lift your hands to his face, fingertips tracing the scars there.
"Simon..." Your voice is muffled from his kisses. He can't get enough of you.
"Mm?"
"Let's...get home... You need a shower..." You manage between kisses.
"I'm tryin'." He huffs, despite not moving away. His hips rock forward instinctively and you feel him pressing against your thigh; hot, hard, insistent. "Just need..." Another kiss. "A minute." Your hands rest on his shoulders, squeezing, as you part your lips for him again. He takes the invitation, large hands gripping your thighs. He hooks one of your legs around his waist as he grinds against you. He's hard. So fucking hard. All for you.
Running your hands along his broad chest, you tilt your head so he can slide his tongue deeper. He does and you let out a shuddering moan into his mouth. His hips move against yours and you feel him through his shorts.
"Simon, home... Home." You manage and he breaks the kiss with a ragged breath, pulling away reluctantly.
"Home." He repeats and he sounds almost angry. Not at you, never at you. He just needs to feel your bare skin under his hands, needs to be inside you.
Finally, he releases you and sets you back down on the asphalt. He takes the car keys from your pocket — he drives faster, after all — and you trot around to the passenger side.
He doesn't speak for the entire drive home. One hand is pale-knuckled around the steering wheel and the other rests on your thigh. He's pushing the speed limit. He needs to get home.
And the second the engine kills in the driveway, he's out. You're two steps in front of him, unlocking and opening the door. You kick off your shoes and pull him inside. Simon doesn't complain; kicking the door shut behind him and thumbing the locks. The house is dark, exactly how you left it; light glowing down from the upstairs landing.
His hands are already on you, pushing your jacket off your shoulders as he walks you backwards.
"Shower." He mutters against your lips. You pull off his sweat-damp shirt and leave it in a pile on the floor. You run your tongue along the flat of his sternum, tasting the tang of sweat, as you reach up to pull off his mask. "Sweetheart..." And you're breathless, slipping out of his grip.
"Upstairs, c'mon." You turn and he watches your hips sway as you climb the stairs. He follows you up, taking the steps two at a time.
In the bedroom, you make quick work of your pyjamas, tossing them onto the bed and making your way into the ensuite. He enters the bedroom just as you disappear into the bathroom. He strips off quickly — trainers, socks, shorts, boxer-shorts, mask — and his cock throbs, jutting out dramatically from the thatch of dark hair between his thighs.
His large frame fills the doorway just as steam begins to curl around the shower door. He can see your silhouette through the frosted glass. His hand's already on his cock before he even steps in to join you. He strokes himself once, then again, just to ease some of the pressure. Then he pulls the shower door open.
You meet his eyes and then your gaze drops. You don't smile or frown but your eyes are filled with adoration for him and a need to make up for lost time. His gaze meets yours and he feels that familiar punch in his chest; love, desire and gratitude. He steps in and hot water beats down on his broad shoulders as he crowds you against the wall. Rough hands cradle your face as he just looks at you for a long moment.
"So fuckin' gorgeous." He rasps finally, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. You smile and laugh warmly.
"I could say the same thing." You retort. He doesn't reply, just grins.
"Missed you." His voice is muffled against your skin, breath hot. His cock is thick and heavy between you, resting against your abdomen. "What d'you want?" Looking up at him, you trail your hands down from his chest, down his stomach and abdomen until they wrap around his heavy cock.
"All of you. Always." You reply and he hisses through his teeth as you give him a slow pump. His head falls forward as he grinds his hips forward, fucking your loose fist.
"Need t' be inside you." He grits out and, the moment you nod, he's bending slightly to grab your thighs, pinning you to the wall as your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his lower back. He reaches between your bodies, grabbing his cock at the base and pressing the head against your wet, needy cunt. "Hold onto me, love." You loop your arms around his shoulders and he pushes in in one, deep stroke.
Your back arches as he splits you open again. You always forget what it feels like by the time he comes back but he never fails to show you just how good it is. He doesn't give you time to adjust — you don't need to; you're se wet for him — and he starts pounding immediately, hips rolling in that relentless rhythm he's perfected over the years of loving you time and time again. "Say my name, sweetheart." He grunts against your skin and you indulge him.
"S-Simon..." His name is punched from your lungs as he nails you hard against the shower wall.
"Fuck, yeah..." He snaps his hips forward, burying his cock deep. "Won't last long." He warns but you shake your head.
"Don't need to." You reassure him. He never lasts long the first time after he comes home; too many long hours alone, too many hours without you. He doubles down, one large hand supporting you on your hip, the other pressed flush to the shower wall for leverage.
"God- Fuck- Oh!" You gasp and whine as you bury your face in his shoulder. One hand moves to grip you hair, pulling your head back so he can claim your mouth in a brutal kiss. You pant against each other's open mouths, biting and sucking at each other's lips and tongues. The sound of the shower is overrun by the sound of his hips slapping against your own and his growls and rhythmic grunts as he fucks into you.
"Gonna cum inside." He warns and you cup the side of his neck, your nails digging into the short hairs down the nape of his neck.
"Do it... Do it..." You breathe.
The permission — no, demand — snaps the last of his self-restraint. Large, strong arms wrap around the small of your back and he buries his face in your neck, his hips pistoning harder, driving into you forcefully. You reach down between you, fingers finding the hood of your clit and rubbing in quick, tight circles as he bucks against you. Your eyes roll as you cry out his name.
"C'mon, sweetheart... Give it up for me..." He pants against your skin. His thrusts are erratic now, finding that perfect spot inside you and punching into it over and over until you're squeezing him for dear life. "Fuck!"
You squirt hard around his cock, bearing down as you jerk your head back against the wall, gasping for air. The feeling of your cunt locking down around him tips him over the edge. He cums with a low, rumbling growl, hips stuttering as thick ropes of cum paint your insides. His huge frame shudders against you, hips pitching forward as the aftershocks roll through his body in waves.
Simon stays buried inside you for what feels like forever, just holding you against the shower wall, feeling the heat of your body around him and the water pelting on his back. Finally, he pulls back, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. He catches your chin to tilt your face up, capturing your lips. The kiss is lazy and slow as his tongue explores your mouth, relearning your every taste and texture with contented sluggishness. When he eventually pulls away, you're both breathless and thoroughly exhausted.
"Mm... Love you." You murmur and that rare smile curves at his lips. He's not a soldier now, not a killer; just a man in love.
"Love you more, sweetheart."
if you got this far, it'd be lovely if you dropped me a kudos or a comment (whatever you have time for) on ao3. thanks for reading 💛✨
4, 9, and 20 for the fic writer ask game please!! Hi hi hi friend, hope you’re doing great!
hiiii!! thank you for the ask, hon 💛✨
im doing okay! its just getting super warm over here and its really messing with my body 🫠🫠 anyway i hope youre doing okay!
0️⃣4️⃣ is there an au or trope that you haven't written before, but would want to try?
a/b/o. i have written it before but its been a long long long while. also soulmate aus are super cute too but theres so many of them to choose from!
0️⃣9️⃣ tell us about a wip/idea that you're excited about!
its been shelved for a long while but i eventually want to write my victor frankenstein confessional sex fic because hes a little freak who would absolutely do that
2️⃣0️⃣ answer any one of the other questions that you want to! ➡️ how do you want your writing to feel to your readers?
barring some execptions, ive always wanted my fics to be deeper than just the sex? like the sex is great but i feel like, in my works, its almost a vehicle for the underlying 'message' of the piece be that; recovering from trauma, facing fears or finding a kind of safe space with the other person. i feel that i get that across pretty well but thats just me!
obviously some of my stuff is just shameless smut cough cough everything josh related cough cough but, for the most part, i try to make it more than just sex and i hope people get more out of it than just jerk off material lmao
1 ⧽. if you could sit down and finish any one of your wips without anything stopping you (time, tiredness, etc), which fic would you choose? tell us about it if you want!
2 ⧽. if you could sit down and finish any completely new fic without anything stopping you (time, tiredness, etc), what would you write? tell us about it if you want!
3 ⧽. what's something you like about your writing?
4 ⧽. is there an au or trope that you haven't written before, but would want to try?
5 ⧽. is there a certain kind of fic that feels the most satisfying to finish? any reason why?
6 ⧽. if you were to write a part two/sequel to a fic, what fic would you want to write it for?
7 ⧽. is there a fic you wish you received feedback on, but didn't get any/much? this ask game is asking someone else to then give feedback on said fic, pretty pretty please!!!
8 ⧽. what part of [insert fic] is your favorite?
9 ⧽. tell us about a wip/idea that you're excited about!
10 ⧽. what genre is generally the easiest or most enjoyable for you to write? which is the hardest?
11 ⧽. if you were to rewrite [insert fic] with [insert different character/ship] how do you think it might change?
12 ⧽. what's a song or two you associate with [insert fic]?
13 ⧽. do you have any writing projects/goals/plans you're working on/want to work on?
14 ⧽. is there anything outside of your normal content that you want to write?
15 ⧽. if you wrote a fic called [insert title] with [insert character/ship] what do you think it might be about?
16 ⧽. if you wrote a fic called [insert title] what character/ship would you want to write it for?
17 ⧽. are there any songs you want to write a songfic for?
18 ⧽. how do you want your writing to feel to your readers?
19 ⧽. give a hint/teaser about something you're writing without any context or explanation! tease us haha
20 ⧽. answer any one of the other questions that you want to!
hey guys! sorry for not being active on here for a little bit; ive had a lot going on in terms of job and life stuff (also! i went to a bbno$ concert with my brother and it was really fun but so so so overwhelming too!!)
anyway, im glad yall are still enjoying my josh stuff; i love this slut. im sure ill post more of him eventually but, if youve followed me for a while, you probably know that my focus shifts pretty frequently and im not exactly in control of it. and id rather keep you waiting than dump out some subpar shit that im not super proud of
in the meantime, ive got a few fics planned but theyre not for joshy, im afraid
sorry to keep you waiting, especially when youve all been so vocal about how much you love my beef stuff, but you deserve better than something i rush and flub
hi hi!! I love seeing your posts about it and was wondering, for watching Oscar in Beef s2, do I need to watch s1 first or can I start with the second season? 🥰
hey!! so beef is an anthology series (meaning the seasons have nothing to do with one another) so theres no need to watch the first season before joshs. hope that helps! 💛💛
Hi I don’t know if you take requests but if you are , can you do josh martín headcanons or alphabet ? If you don’t feel like it just ignore my request! Love ur writing btw!🫶🏻🫶🏻
thank you so much!! 💛💛 and my inbox is usually open for requests so feel free to send me some more (i am slow with them sometimes tho, especially if i get properly inspired) so lets go! im so hype for this, i have so much to say about this man. also i already have a plan for a new chaptered fic with him now ive got a better scope of his character
bear in mind, ive only seen up to episode 5 so there might be spoilers and there might be stuff i get wrong. i will also be referencing my fic, the unplayable lie, which you can read here 😊😊
🥩 josh martín nsfw alphabet 🥩
gif by @notbuckybarnes (thank u for these gems)
aftercare: how do they treat their partner after intimacy?
it really depends on the rapport he has with the person. if you're just a random person he fucks, youll probably get a general "you okay?" but, if hes like into you, hell probably grab you some water and lay with you for a bit. probably cuddle. this man is very touch-starved and he wants intimacy in anyway he can get it; sexual or otherwise
body part: their favourite part of their partner's body?
josh just loves touching you. anywhere he can. hair, waist, tits (if you have them), ass, pussy; literally anywhere. he wants it all. he wants you all over him. i do get the feeling though that hes an ass man. big? small? squishy? firm? hes grabbing that hard; hanging on while hes fucking you, holding on while you 69. absolutely yesyes
control: do they prefer to dominate, submit or switch?
i dont think hes necessarily always a dom/sub type of guy? i get the feeling he hasnt really had much of a chance to explore that side of his sexuality. but, because hes used to having control (as a gm) and because it looks like he has trouble having that control stripped away from him, id be willing to say hes probably a dom when he does stray into dom/sub territory. especially if hes frustrated, i think a way for him to get that out would be spanking you, facefucking you, bending you over the dresser and talking real dirty in your ear. that kinda thing
dirty talk: how vocal are they? do they enjoy talking dirty?
this man. talks. filthy. "mhmm… so pretty… open that fuckin throat nice and wide, yeah? fuck… youre taking it so good, baby… such a perfect slut, huh? arent you daddys little slut?" he loves dirty talk so much. its dont done in a super degrading way (at least, not consciously). to an extent, he likes hearing himself talk and, especially if youre into it, he will go ham with it. "so fucking tight, baby. but youre being so good; taking every inch of daddys cock…" (i will get onto his daddy kink in a bit dw)
experience: how experienced are they?
i might be wrong but it feels like him and lindsay arent very experimental? and it feels like theyve been together for a long time so, even if he does have a lot of experience, hes probably out of practice when it comes to bdsm or more elaborate stuff but even small things like flirting with people
fantasy: what's their ultimate fantasy?
he is full of fantasies but, especially with his porn addiction, i think hes turned into a bit of an exhibitionist/voyeur. he likes the idea of getting caught but also deliberately fucking you in front of people. he wants to show you off, show everyone how good you are for him, how good he can fuck you. he imagines walking you into the clubhouse terrace during sunday brunch; the place is packed, people are having mimosas and chatting…then he just bends you over the counter at the front with the granola and the fruit platters. it really gets him going
grip: how physical do they get? handsy, rough or gentle?
very handsy. like i said, the man is touch-starved so he needs his hands all over you at all times; grabbing you, manhandling you, pulling you in his lap, changing up positions
hair: groomed, natural or styled a certain way?
he has a nice happy trail down from his belly button and then he trims. he doesnt like himself completely shaved (just the way he prefers you not completely shaved, hes not picky tho dw) but he doesnt like his pubes getting totally unmanageable
intimacy: are they more emotionally or physically driven?
id say physically. theres definitely a part of him thats emotionally driven; like if hes frustrated and needs to vent all that out. but, for the most part, hes doing this to forget about emotions and stressors and everything else
jealousy: how do they handle competition or flirtation?
he. gets. petty. particularly if youre being flirted with by a member, he wont make it obvious but hell have their food brought out cold or hell stop stocking their favourite alcohol or hell use slightly spoiled milk in their coffee. if it gets really bad though and he sees it going on, hell probably steal you away and make sure to put you on shifts (if you worked at the club) when that member doesnt come in. he gets very territorial but, as a professional, he shows it in ways that are small and niggling. of course then, when he gets you alone, hell show you who you belong to
kinks: what are their top kinks?
woof. here we go; cumplay (giving facials and stuff), daddy kink (likely brought on by lindsay wanting kids but he doesnt have a breeding kink, its just the power trip), exhibitionism/voyeurism, facefucking, marking (biting/scratching/etc), phone sex or sex over video calls (which plays into his voyeuristic tendencies) and spanking are his main ones. but i feel hes the type of guy whod be willing to try anything once
location: favourite place(s) to get intimate?
for longer sessions, comfy places; your bed, your sofa, maybe a sun-lounger by the pool after hours. for quickies; his office, a cubicle in the mens locker room. or, if hes feeling really freaky; having you suck him off while he works the bar late, when the guys are playing cards
moans: are they loud, quiet or somewhere in between?
when the situation allows it, he can be loud, especially with his love of dirty talk
nudes: do they send or receive? how do they feel about it?
hes more than willing to send a dick pic every now and again. he has a nice dick and he doesnt mind at all if you want him to show it off, tell him how much you want it. but he loves getting your nudes; he has a hidden folder on his phone specifically for your nudes so he has the on hand when he needs to jerk off and youre indisposed for some reason
oral: do they enjoy giving or receiving more?
he doesnt mind getting all fucked up while eating you out or whatever (it drives him nuts) but he loves, loves, loves getting a good blowie. he likes how you look up at him — all teary-eyed and flushed — with his dick in your mouth. if you let him, he likes grabbing your hair and forcing you to take him all the way down, all the wile telling you how good you feel, how wet your mouth is, how slutty you look on your knees for him all hours of the day. blowies under the desk in his office, behind the bar, in his car, in a golf cart in the trees on the back nine. he loves your mouth and hed likely kill for a good blowjob any time
pace: do they go fast and rough, slow and sensual or mix it up?
again, i think it depends on your dynamic with him. if hes into you, he might take it slow sometimes and take his time to really savour you. but, if youre just a bit-on-the-side or if he needs a quickie (because he refuses to slow down), hell do it hard and fast
quickies: are they into quick encounters or do they take their time?
ive mentioned he does quickies quite regularly. because his job requires so much from him, sometimes thats the only way he can get any and fully satisfy himself in a day. he gets really cranky if his balls get too full 😔😔
risk: how adventurous are they?
he prefers to be adventurous and try new things. it seems that, because things are a bit stale with lindsay, not only does she not put out but they dont get to experiment. he wants to go out and try out new things, give some fucked up shit a go, yknow? try out some rope play or maybe get a flogger or something. if he can, hed prefer to be adventurous and really see how far his perversion actually goes
stamina: how long can they last? do they go multiple rounds?
i like to think he can go a couple rounds. he has a really high sex drive, which is why he needs to get off at least once a day, if not twice? he doesnt necessarily last very long — especially if its been a while since he last got off — but he likes having the option of going a few rounds
teasing: are they good at teasing or do they break easily?
he will initiate the teasing but he breaks incredibly easily. he doesnt have the patience to play a long game and he ends up getting wound up all by himself. he might start teasing you but then, because he just gets turned on so easy and, when it comes to sex, his impulse control isnt great, hell likely just say, fuck it, and bend you over or pull you into a nearby closet to get things really rolling
unsafe: how serious are they about safe sex?
he prefers going in raw because the sensations feel better and more intense but he doesnt have much of an issue if you want to use protection. he wont complain or anything but, if you say you want him to go in raw, he will inwardly celebrate and hell probably last a shorter time than normal
volume: how much do they cum?
so, scientifically speaking, sperm volume typically decreases with age and im putting joshy in the ballpark range of 45-50. hes not going to be cumming (volume-wise) as much as your typical 20yo but its serviceable, yknow? not a bad amount
wildcard: a random nsfw fact about them
he wouldnt confess this outright but he has a thing for dry-humping. like heavily making out on the couch at your place, fully clothed, grinding on each other. he reaches this headspace where he just gets completely hedonistic; he might go a little overboard with the dirty talk and say something a little cringey or he might ask you to spit in his mouth or something like that. he just gets to a point where he needs any kind of contact and losing himself in you is really cathartic. just rubbing up on each other after a hard days work sounds great and, if thats on the cards for the day, he will be ecstatic during work, anticipating the night to come. that being said, if he knows hes actually going to get some private time to really get everything out and properly sat himself with you, hell be excited whatever you decide to do together
x-rated: do they watch/read porn?
yes!! all kinds, he doesnt care. he does this thing where he might start off vanilla but he slowly goes down a rabbit hole of that nights interest. it might be seeing people get facials, getting creampied, tied up, getting fucked by sex machines, etc. it gets more and more specific and intense until he eventually finishes then, the next night, it might be something completely different
yearning: how often do they crave intimacy? are they always in the mood?
josh is pretty much always in the mood. unless hes genuinely really angry or theres something hes stressed about that he needs to sort out, hes usually in the mood to bust one out himself or have a quickie
zzz: how do they act after intimacy? do they cuddle, sleep or leave?
it depends on how close you are and the dynamic again. if youre just fuck buddies, he might grab a beer, catch his breath and head out. but, if youre together and he has the time, he likes to cuddle. he doesnt just like sex, he likes physical intimacy; cuddling, kissing, just holding you close, the works. if he can cuddle up and hold onto you, hell be out like a light
okay so i kinda blacked out and all of this came out of me but i hope it helped. please feel free to drop any more josh-related requests in my inbox because im so into him and im barely halfway through the series hehe
KJDSGHWJERKNJBWHERIJFBNWERHIJFK OH MY GOOOOOOOOSHHH!! OH MY GOODNESSSSSSS!!! OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! PERFECTION!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM SHAKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
explicit ✨ josh martín x ftm!reader✨ beef (2026) ✨ 12 mins
🔖 boss/employee relationship, daddy kink, dirty talk, established relationship, infidelity, masturbation, masturbation interruptus, mutual masturbation, not beta read, nudes, older man/younger man, porn watching, pov second person, trans character, trans male character, video call sex
💬 just a regular thursday night at the martín household. (set before the events of the series.)
✧ read on ao3 ✧
🍒 author's note: unfortunately, due to the formatting of this chapter, you'll have to read it on ao3. make sure you're reading it with the creator's style on!
Hi I don’t know if you take requests but if you are , can you do josh martín headcanons or alphabet ? If you don’t feel like it just ignore my request! Love ur writing btw!🫶🏻🫶🏻
thank you so much!! 💛💛 and my inbox is usually open for requests so feel free to send me some more (i am slow with them sometimes tho, especially if i get properly inspired) so lets go! im so hype for this, i have so much to say about this man. also i already have a plan for a new chaptered fic with him now ive got a better scope of his character
bear in mind, ive only seen up to episode 5 so there might be spoilers and there might be stuff i get wrong. i will also be referencing my fic, the unplayable lie, which you can read here 😊😊
🥩 josh martín nsfw alphabet 🥩
gif by @notbuckybarnes (thank u for these gems)
aftercare: how do they treat their partner after intimacy?
it really depends on the rapport he has with the person. if you're just a random person he fucks, youll probably get a general "you okay?" but, if hes like into you, hell probably grab you some water and lay with you for a bit. probably cuddle. this man is very touch-starved and he wants intimacy in anyway he can get it; sexual or otherwise
body part: their favourite part of their partner's body?
josh just loves touching you. anywhere he can. hair, waist, tits (if you have them), ass, pussy; literally anywhere. he wants it all. he wants you all over him. i do get the feeling though that hes an ass man. big? small? squishy? firm? hes grabbing that hard; hanging on while hes fucking you, holding on while you 69. absolutely yesyes
control: do they prefer to dominate, submit or switch?
i dont think hes necessarily always a dom/sub type of guy? i get the feeling he hasnt really had much of a chance to explore that side of his sexuality. but, because hes used to having control (as a gm) and because it looks like he has trouble having that control stripped away from him, id be willing to say hes probably a dom when he does stray into dom/sub territory. especially if hes frustrated, i think a way for him to get that out would be spanking you, facefucking you, bending you over the dresser and talking real dirty in your ear. that kinda thing
dirty talk: how vocal are they? do they enjoy talking dirty?
this man. talks. filthy. "mhmm… so pretty… open that fuckin throat nice and wide, yeah? fuck… youre taking it so good, baby… such a perfect slut, huh? arent you daddys little slut?" he loves dirty talk so much. its dont done in a super degrading way (at least, not consciously). to an extent, he likes hearing himself talk and, especially if youre into it, he will go ham with it. "so fucking tight, baby. but youre being so good; taking every inch of daddys cock…" (i will get onto his daddy kink in a bit dw)
experience: how experienced are they?
i might be wrong but it feels like him and lindsay arent very experimental? and it feels like theyve been together for a long time so, even if he does have a lot of experience, hes probably out of practice when it comes to bdsm or more elaborate stuff but even small things like flirting with people
fantasy: what's their ultimate fantasy?
he is full of fantasies but, especially with his porn addiction, i think hes turned into a bit of an exhibitionist/voyeur. he likes the idea of getting caught but also deliberately fucking you in front of people. he wants to show you off, show everyone how good you are for him, how good he can fuck you. he imagines walking you into the clubhouse terrace during sunday brunch; the place is packed, people are having mimosas and chatting…then he just bends you over the counter at the front with the granola and the fruit platters. it really gets him going
grip: how physical do they get? handsy, rough or gentle?
very handsy. like i said, the man is touch-starved so he needs his hands all over you at all times; grabbing you, manhandling you, pulling you in his lap, changing up positions
hair: groomed, natural or styled a certain way?
he has a nice happy trail down from his belly button and then he trims. he doesnt like himself completely shaved (just the way he prefers you not completely shaved, hes not picky tho dw) but he doesnt like his pubes getting totally unmanageable
intimacy: are they more emotionally or physically driven?
id say physically. theres definitely a part of him thats emotionally driven; like if hes frustrated and needs to vent all that out. but, for the most part, hes doing this to forget about emotions and stressors and everything else
jealousy: how do they handle competition or flirtation?
he. gets. petty. particularly if youre being flirted with by a member, he wont make it obvious but hell have their food brought out cold or hell stop stocking their favourite alcohol or hell use slightly spoiled milk in their coffee. if it gets really bad though and he sees it going on, hell probably steal you away and make sure to put you on shifts (if you worked at the club) when that member doesnt come in. he gets very territorial but, as a professional, he shows it in ways that are small and niggling. of course then, when he gets you alone, hell show you who you belong to
kinks: what are their top kinks?
woof. here we go; cumplay (giving facials and stuff), daddy kink (likely brought on by lindsay wanting kids but he doesnt have a breeding kink, its just the power trip), exhibitionism/voyeurism, facefucking, marking (biting/scratching/etc), phone sex or sex over video calls (which plays into his voyeuristic tendencies) and spanking are his main ones. but i feel hes the type of guy whod be willing to try anything once
location: favourite place(s) to get intimate?
for longer sessions, comfy places; your bed, your sofa, maybe a sun-lounger by the pool after hours. for quickies; his office, a cubicle in the mens locker room. or, if hes feeling really freaky; having you suck him off while he works the bar late, when the guys are playing cards
moans: are they loud, quiet or somewhere in between?
when the situation allows it, he can be loud, especially with his love of dirty talk
nudes: do they send or receive? how do they feel about it?
hes more than willing to send a dick pic every now and again. he has a nice dick and he doesnt mind at all if you want him to show it off, tell him how much you want it. but he loves getting your nudes; he has a hidden folder on his phone specifically for your nudes so he has the on hand when he needs to jerk off and youre indisposed for some reason
oral: do they enjoy giving or receiving more?
he doesnt mind getting all fucked up while eating you out or whatever (it drives him nuts) but he loves, loves, loves getting a good blowie. he likes how you look up at him — all teary-eyed and flushed — with his dick in your mouth. if you let him, he likes grabbing your hair and forcing you to take him all the way down, all the wile telling you how good you feel, how wet your mouth is, how slutty you look on your knees for him all hours of the day. blowies under the desk in his office, behind the bar, in his car, in a golf cart in the trees on the back nine. he loves your mouth and hed likely kill for a good blowjob any time
pace: do they go fast and rough, slow and sensual or mix it up?
again, i think it depends on your dynamic with him. if hes into you, he might take it slow sometimes and take his time to really savour you. but, if youre just a bit-on-the-side or if he needs a quickie (because he refuses to slow down), hell do it hard and fast
quickies: are they into quick encounters or do they take their time?
ive mentioned he does quickies quite regularly. because his job requires so much from him, sometimes thats the only way he can get any and fully satisfy himself in a day. he gets really cranky if his balls get too full 😔😔
risk: how adventurous are they?
he prefers to be adventurous and try new things. it seems that, because things are a bit stale with lindsay, not only does she not put out but they dont get to experiment. he wants to go out and try out new things, give some fucked up shit a go, yknow? try out some rope play or maybe get a flogger or something. if he can, hed prefer to be adventurous and really see how far his perversion actually goes
stamina: how long can they last? do they go multiple rounds?
i like to think he can go a couple rounds. he has a really high sex drive, which is why he needs to get off at least once a day, if not twice? he doesnt necessarily last very long — especially if its been a while since he last got off — but he likes having the option of going a few rounds
teasing: are they good at teasing or do they break easily?
he will initiate the teasing but he breaks incredibly easily. he doesnt have the patience to play a long game and he ends up getting wound up all by himself. he might start teasing you but then, because he just gets turned on so easy and, when it comes to sex, his impulse control isnt great, hell likely just say, fuck it, and bend you over or pull you into a nearby closet to get things really rolling
unsafe: how serious are they about safe sex?
he prefers going in raw because the sensations feel better and more intense but he doesnt have much of an issue if you want to use protection. he wont complain or anything but, if you say you want him to go in raw, he will inwardly celebrate and hell probably last a shorter time than normal
volume: how much do they cum?
so, scientifically speaking, sperm volume typically decreases with age and im putting joshy in the ballpark range of 45-50. hes not going to be cumming (volume-wise) as much as your typical 20yo but its serviceable, yknow? not a bad amount
wildcard: a random nsfw fact about them
he wouldnt confess this outright but he has a thing for dry-humping. like heavily making out on the couch at your place, fully clothed, grinding on each other. he reaches this headspace where he just gets completely hedonistic; he might go a little overboard with the dirty talk and say something a little cringey or he might ask you to spit in his mouth or something like that. he just gets to a point where he needs any kind of contact and losing himself in you is really cathartic. just rubbing up on each other after a hard days work sounds great and, if thats on the cards for the day, he will be ecstatic during work, anticipating the night to come. that being said, if he knows hes actually going to get some private time to really get everything out and properly sat himself with you, hell be excited whatever you decide to do together
x-rated: do they watch/read porn?
yes!! all kinds, he doesnt care. he does this thing where he might start off vanilla but he slowly goes down a rabbit hole of that nights interest. it might be seeing people get facials, getting creampied, tied up, getting fucked by sex machines, etc. it gets more and more specific and intense until he eventually finishes then, the next night, it might be something completely different
yearning: how often do they crave intimacy? are they always in the mood?
josh is pretty much always in the mood. unless hes genuinely really angry or theres something hes stressed about that he needs to sort out, hes usually in the mood to bust one out himself or have a quickie
zzz: how do they act after intimacy? do they cuddle, sleep or leave?
it depends on how close you are and the dynamic again. if youre just fuck buddies, he might grab a beer, catch his breath and head out. but, if youre together and he has the time, he likes to cuddle. he doesnt just like sex, he likes physical intimacy; cuddling, kissing, just holding you close, the works. if he can cuddle up and hold onto you, hell be out like a light
okay so i kinda blacked out and all of this came out of me but i hope it helped. please feel free to drop any more josh-related requests in my inbox because im so into him and im barely halfway through the series hehe
mature ✨ yandere!eddie munson x reader✨ stranger things (2022) ✨ 4m 5s
🔖 kidnapping, non-consensual drug use, not beta read, pov second person, yandere!eddie munson.
💬 eddie hasn't got the best reputation in hawkins but you haven't really paid him much mind, mainly focusing on getting through to graduation. it's so close now, only next week. thing is; eddie doesn't want you to graduate. he can't think of anything worse than seeing you leave to go to college. he's finally putting his plan into action to make sure you never make it that far away from him.
✧ read below or on ao3 ✧
Your eyes ease open with a tremendous effort, vision slowly swimming into focus. What? Where are you?
Last thing you remember... Actually, you can't remember a damn thing. What happened?
Staring up, it's almost pitch black. There's brief flashes of light from the somewhere behind you and it feels like you might be in a car? Van? It smells woody? Spicy? Smoky? Your body feels heavy but you're not exactly uncomfortable. With a little wriggle, you can guess that you're on some kind of mattress, covered by a blanket, head propped on some thin pillows. You can't seem to ascertain much more than that. Your brain feels...foggy.
What happened before this? How did you get here?
With another wiggle, you notice the odd pressure around your wrists and ankles. You can't move your arms or legs independently, your arms nestled somewhat comfortably in front of you and your legs bent in a kind of foetal position. Even if you could move your arms or legs, your body feels so heavy. Even thinking is exhausting; like you can think but the thoughts are so far away. For the most part, you're head remains completely blank, head lolling on the pillow as you stare up at the ceiling of the van.
Finally, the lights stop flickering on the ceiling and, after what feels like a year, you come to a complete stop. The back of the van is dimly lit by the moonlight that filters in from the front windows. The engine cuts, the music stops and you hear someone mumbling in the front seat, opening the door and closing it again. Your heart pounds in your ears as anxiety rushes through you. You try to move but your body won't cooperate, still laying, limp and lax, on the thin mattress on the bed of the van.
Eventually, the backdoor opens and you see a silhouette before whoever it was that did this to you climbs in and shuts the door. Whoever-it-is fumbles around for a moment before turning on a torch. It's tied to the roof of the van, acting as a makeshift lamp.
"Oops. Sorry." He murmurs softly, shading your eyes with a hand. As your eyes adjust to the light, you take in the visage of your captor; long, wavy, brown hair, dark eyes, denim vest, leather jacket, Hellfire Club— Hellfire Club? "Hey, handsome." He says it with unearned familiarity.
Eddie Munson. You only know him by reputation. And by the speeches he periodically makes in the lunch-hall, of course. You've caught him looking at you sometimes but that was about it. Rumours lead you to believe that he should've been the first suspect but, honestly, he's the last person you would've thought to do something like this. Especially to you. What were you to him? Nothing, you would've thought. Though your current situation suggests otherwise.
Eddie hovers over you, crouching beside the mattress he keeps in the back of his van. He's never done anything like this before. He'd never even thought of it until a couple months ago, until everyone started talking about graduation and college and prom and— Jesus, that was too much. He had to put a plan together and that's what led the both of you here.
He's been watching you for some time now; sitting behind you in biology, watching you studying in the library, following you home to make sure you were safe, sitting outside your window until you turned the lights out at about 11PM. He made more and more excuses and it just got worse and worse and worse. An infection, a parasite; something that latched on and wouldn't let go until he was convinced that you — and only you — were the one for him. And that he was the one for you. Star-crossed lovers or whatever they talked about in Romeo and Juliet.
So, when people started getting excited to graduate and put applications in for college, he knew he had to move fast. The only thing worse than the idea of you leaving Hawkins behind — leaving him behind — was you actually doing it and he wasn't about to let that happen. It would ruin him. It would ruin you; you just didn't know it yet.
"Baby, I'm here." He looms over you, eyes dark, moving his hand to stroke along your cheekbone with his knuckles before cupping your face. "It's okay. You're safe here with me. No-one's gonna find us, we're safe." He soothes and your brows furrow slightly though you can't reach the part of your brain to fully parse the situation. It feels like a dream. A very bizarre dream.
Leaning down, Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, his hand tilting your chin to kiss you deeper. "I gotcha, baby." He murmurs against your mouth. "I'll take care of you."
🍒 author's note: i've never written for eddie before but i do want to write more for him. i was going to do a whole fic but i've been super worn out recently (i've been sick) and got burned out super quick. oops. hopefully, i'll be able to write more eddie soon.
if you got this far, it'd be lovely if you dropped me a kudos or a comment (whatever you have time for) on ao3. thanks for reading 💛✨
💬 it's time for your massage and you're getting just a little more than you bargained for.
✧ read below or on ao3 ✧
The morning light in the Martín kitchen is almost clinical, bouncing off the Carrara marble with a sharpness that makes Josh's head ache. He's sat, nursing a double espresso, his thumb hovering over his phone screen, a Pavlovian itch blooming in his crotch. He shouldn't. He's already jerked off twice since waking up — once in the shower and once while Lindsay was downstairs turning on the coffee machine — but the mental loop of you...is a high-definition haunting. Fuck, maybe this is what those young, dumb interns mean when they say they're 'down bad'.
For the first time since his mid-twenties, he's waking up with his heart pounding in his chest and his boxers sticking to his skin; the kind of visceral, teenage hunger that makes his expensive life feel like a cardboard set.
The silence is broken by the sharp clack of a ceramic mug. Lindsay is standing across the island, her workout gear pristine, her face set in a mask of exhausted disappointment. She doesn't look like a woman whose marriage is failing; she looks like a forensic accountant about to deliver an audit.
"You still have your Cloud sync on." She says, her voice is terrifyingly level. He freezes. The espresso suddenly tastes like battery acid. He goes to stand.
"Listen, I'm running late for the greens committee—"
"I saw the folder. 'Site Inspections'?" She lets out a jagged, mocking laugh. She slides her iPad across the marble. On the screen is a familiar set of pictures of you. You, making your way to the jacuzzi in that slutty, little bikini. You, enjoying the bubbles in said jacuzzi, your tits gloriously buoyant. "You're stalking a client's daughter. In between jerking off in the bathroom like a degenerate. It's pathetic."
The shame should hit him but instead it's a hot, prickly defensiveness. The poison in his blood bubbles to the surface. He looks at the photos of you and, instead of guilt, he feels this frantic possessiveness.
"It's not stalking, Linds." He snaps. "I'm managing the atmosphere. I'm aware of who's on the property, doing my Goddamn job."
"You're vibrating, Josh. I can practically smell the desperation on you from across the room. It's embarrassing. If the Phipps find out their golden boy GM is taking creep-shots of their daughter, we lose everything." She hisses and Josh stands up, the chair screeching against the tile.
"Everything? You mean the house you barely sleep in? The sex life you've been 'outsourcing' for the last eighteen months?" He bites back and Lindsay flinches, then narrows her eyes.
"Don't you dare make this about me."
"Why not? We're playing the 'honesty' game now, yeah?" Josh steps closer, his pulse thrumming in his throat. "I've stayed civil. I've signed the papers for the mediation. I've ignored the fact that you smell like Versace Pour Homme every time you come back from 'tennis', which is funny because I've never worn that cologne in my fucking life." The air in the kitchen turns static. The score is finally on the scoreboard, the numbers glowing neon.
He stalks toward her. "I stayed for the optics." He spits, his voice dropping to a hiss. "Because the club needs a GM with a stable home life. But, if I'm a 'degenerate' for just looking at someone who actually does something to me, then what're you?" She just stares at him, her lip curling in a mix of fury and genuine shock. She hasn't seen him this unhinged, this hungry, in years.
"You're losing it, Josh. This girl... She's gonna be the thing that finally breaks you."
"God, I hope so." Josh whispers, grabbing his blazer from the counter.
He doesn't look back as he storms out to the Audi. Slowly, he sinks into the drivers seat. The anger is still hot in his throat but, beneath it, the obsession is still there, humming like a live wire. He looks down at his phone. The screen's timed out and gone black. He taps it. You appear again. Sitting by the pool; untouchable and gorgeous and all his. A slow, dark smile creeps onto his face. The bridges are burned. The masks are off. There's no civil marriage left to protect, no reputation to gingerly balance.
Lindsay can go to hell; the marriage is dead wood anyway. But, looking down at his phone, he feels this terrifying, electric sense of life. He knows the score now and he's fucking ready to play the back nine.
When you finally reach Monte Vista, it's a balmy 86°. The sun is out and you've just driven over from having brunch and catching up with your girlfriends. You haven't seen them for a few months so it was nice to find out what they've been up to and get up to date on the latest scandals in town.
You sweep past reception, wearing this breezy sundress which feels just right for the temperature today. Tapping your membership card, you practically float past the barriers and into the clubhouse itself, turning the corner into the spa. Instantly, the sound of running water and soothing piano music drifts through the air and the tension begins to seep from your bones.
Stopping in the changing room, you pull on your swimsuit — making sure to shut your bag and clothes away in one of the lockers — wrap yourself in a complimentary robe and head toward the spa lounge. You stop by lounge reception to check in. A girl, with a name tag reading 'Christine', is manning the desk and you give her a smile.
"Hi. I was just wondering if you could let me know when I'm booked in for my massage?" You ask her and she nods, turning her eyes to the screen and clicking her mouse a couple times.
"Could I take your name?" She asks and you give it to her. She nods and her long nails tap away at her keyboard. "Let me just have a looook..." She pauses and her brows knit for a moment before she looks back up at you with a smile. "You're booked in for 3PM. Please, feel free to pass the time in the pool, steam-room and sauna. I'll let you know when we're ready for you." You give her a polite smile and a nod before continuing on; getting a mimosa from the bar, situating yourself in a comfortable lounger and scrolling through your phone.
You spend the next few hours milling between the sauna, the steam-room and the indoor pool, patiently awaiting your allotted slot. You've been really looking forward to this.
Josh adjusts the collar of his polo as he stands by the reception desk. Of course, someone was going to check the Goddamn schedule and suss him out.
Note to self; mistakes get made, when you think with your dick.
"Mister Martín, maybe we shouldn't—"
"Shut it, Christine. I'll give you a raise if you keep this quiet." He whispers and she hastily turns her eyes back to the screen, uneasy but not about to turn down the prospect of extra money. Christine stands, smooths out her uniform and walks primly into the lounge, approaching you.
"The therapist is ready to see you." She tells you, her voice somewhat tight, and you turn off your phone, following her out of the lounge and down the hall. She directs you to a room a few doors down and opens it for you. The lights are dim and the sound of Tibetan singing bowls rings through the small space. "If you'd just like to take off your clothes and lay down on your stomach." She gestures to the padded massage table in the centre of the room. "There's a towel on the bed to cover you." You thank her and she takes her leave, shutting the door behind her.
Christine stops as she closes the door, finding Josh right outside, breath coming hard and fast, cheeks a little flushed. She walks past him to make her way back toward the reception area. And Josh is just giddy with excitement; all alone with you, no-one around, no-one to stop him if he does something incredibly, incredibly stupid.
In the therapy room, you untie your robe and hang it on the hook before pulling off your swimsuit and toeing off your sandals. With a sigh, you pick up the towel from the massage table and lay down on your front, draping the towel over your backside as instructed.
And there's a knock at the door.
"Hey there. Are we ready in here?" Josh is praying you don't remember his voice from when you first spoke to him a few weeks ago.
"Mhmm." You respond, face comfortably wedged into the circular pillow at the head of the table. He slips into the room, closing the door silently behind him. His throat grows tight when he sees the silhouette of your body on the table even in the low ambient light; the curve of your waist, the dip of your lower back... He clears his throat, trying to keep at least his voice professional.
"Great. I'll be your therapist today. Just — uhh... — lie still and relax, yeah?" You give a hum of approval and he steps closer.
Your body is just laid out for him, like a feast; your hair loose and pulled over one shoulder to expose your smooth back. His eyes trace along the soft lines of your body until they're blocked by the towel and he curses the thing mentally. He walks around to the side of the table, blindly picking up something he assumes is massage oil and pouring some into his hands.
As he starts to warm the oil, his eyes linger on the towel covering your rear. He imagines sliding his hands underneath, gripping your ass, spreading your cheeks... His mind is completely blank except for processing just how good your skin looks in this light; like silk and satin. He's already hard in his pants again and he hasn't even touched you yet. Fuck. "So what're we looking at here? Lower back pain, high stress or just...general maintenance?" He knows jackshit about massages. Well, outside of those cheesy pornos he watched in college.
"I get a lot of tension at the base of my neck and between my shoulders if you can help with that?" You ask and Josh nods, humming in the back of his throat.
"Mhm. Definitely." His hands hover over your shoulders for a moment before he places them down gently, slowly working his way up your neck.
Oh, he's touching you now. Actually physically touching you and your skin is just so warm and soft, like velvet in the sun. He gingerly presses his thumbs into the knots at the base of your neck, working in slow circles. He leans down slightly, close enough to catch your scent; floral, light, sensual. His cock strains in his tailored chinos, begging for attention. He's just glad you can't see it. "You're holding a lot of tension here." He murmurs, voice dropping lower than intended. He's absolutely bullshitting his way through this but it's the best he can do.
"Yeah, I've never been the same since college." You laugh softly, almost musically, and it makes his chest flutter with warmth. "All that sitting and staring at textbooks."
"Mm... I can tell." He rumbles in return, his hands moving slowly across your upper back, kneading the muscles between your shoulders. His hands are ever so slightly rough, unlike most massage therapists you've experienced in your time. It's not unpleasant though; large, warm hands working across your skin, thumbs grazing a tender spot between your shoulder blades and making you melt under his touch.
"Mmnnn... There... Just there..." You moan softly and a shiver rushes through him. He presses harder, feeling the tension give way beneath his fingertips.
"That's the spot, huh?" He rasps. He shouldn't be enjoying this so much; noticing how your breathing's gotten heavier or how your body sinks deeper into the table with each passing second. But he is. He's enjoying this so fucking much.
"Mhmm..." Josh continues to work that spot, his fingers digging deeper into the muscles. He can feel himself getting lost in the moment, hands moving lower and lower until he's pressing into the small of your back, where the towel lies.
"What were you studying?" He asks. Anything to keep you talking, to hear that pretty European lilt from your lips that sends electric shocks up and down his spine.
"I was at Intituto Marangoni? In Milan?"
"Fashion school?" His fingers trace along your spine and he watches the way your skin pebbles slightly under his touch, goosebumps rising. "Guess that explains everything." His palm slides down deliberately, pressing into the soft flesh of your lower back. He doesn't move to slide back up. Just...leaves it there.
Dark eyes sweep down the length of your legs; starting at your dainty ankles and slowly tracing up your shapely calves and delightfully supple thighs. He can see the slight muscle definition from years of wearing heels and walking around city high-streets. His hands move down to your calves, feeling the muscle there, encased in sleek, silken skin.
There's a lull in conversation now and he's torn. He wants to know everything about you; every moment of creating this wonderful, sirenical creature which has captured him. But he also wants to draw more of those lewd, filthy moans from your mouth, sounds that make his balls swollen and heavy...
Eventually, he choses the former, fingers inching higher and higher. "So what did you study?" It's a fucking FASHION SCHOOL, dumbass! What else is she going to study?!
"I got my BA in fashion and design." You tell him easily as his thumbs press into the yielding flesh in the back of your thighs.
"Impressive. Milan must've been beautiful." His voice is low, almost too low, as his hands work their way higher on your legs. The towel is shifting with each stroke and he can see the faint outline of your ass beneath it. That ass which left that Goddamn imprint on the bench in the squash court. Sit on my face. Sit on my face. Sit on my face. Sit on my— "You still design?"
"A couple sketches here and there but I'm taking a break for a while."
"A break's good." He murmurs as he continues his slow, deliberate journey up tour thighs. He can feel the heat radiating from your skin and sinking into his fingers. His thumbs are dangerously close to the towel now. "You deserve it." The words slip out before he can process them but he has to cut himself some slack; his restraint is dangling by a thread here. "Hey, you a little warm under there? The towel, I mean?" You make a noncommittal sound.
"A little, I guess."
"Let me get that for you." He says too quickly, eager hands grabbing the edge of the towel and pulling it away.
His breath catches in his throat.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Your ass is just...perfect; round and firm but with just enough give to make a man want to sink his teeth into it. The low lighting casts shadows that highlight every curve, every dip. He's leaking in his pants now, soaking them really. "Okay, just gonna focus on your lower back now. Your — uhh... — glutes gotta be a little sore after all that sitting and studying, right?" And you let out this soft, airy laugh that tickles the base of his tailbone.
"I suppose."
You're totally onto his game... Aren't you? No-one can be this oblivious... Right?
Doesn't matter. Either way, he's getting his hands on that perfect fucking ass of yours.
"I'll take care of it for you. Don't you worry your pretty, little head about it." His hands hover for only a second before he finally — finally — lets them land on your ass. Ohhh, fuck, yes...
He squeezes gently at first, feeling the firm muscle and the softness that lies above it. He's never been more turned on in his life. He presses the pads of his thumbs into the dimples just above your ass and you sink deeper into the table, sighing softly. And he's creeping lower and lower, fingers brushing the creases where your ass meets your pillowy thighs. He spreads his fingers wide, thumbs brushing the very edge of your cheeks. He's trying so hard to keep this professional but, fuck, he's failing miserably. "Spread your legs a little for me..." You actually fucking do it and—
Right. Okay.
He can see everything, even in the low light; the perfect pink between your thighs, the way your plump pussy lips are slightly pouting. He swallows hard, oil-slick fingers tracing along the outer curve of your ass., getting closer and closer to that perfect glistening view. "Told you; lots of tension here..." He manages, voice thick. "Gotta work it out..."
He's so close to where he wants to bury himself; his face or his dick first? He isn't sure which. God, having your tight, fucking pussy all over his face sounds like a dream but pushing his cock right in there — raw, no condom — is almost enough to get him to cum on the spot.
Thumbs press into the soft fold where your ass meets your thighs, spreading you open just slightly. His palms are slick with oil, yes, but his hands are trembling now. He's been thinking about this for weeks, dreaming about getting just this view, waking up sweaty and covered in his own cum. And now he's here and he's touching you and you're so soft and warm and your pussy is right there and it's taking everything in him not to dive right in.
Maybe Lindsay was right; maybe he is a degenerate. But, fuck, if being a huge pervert hasn't been the best thing he's done since he turned thirty.
Josh tries to catch his breath. "Breathe for me." He orders softly, voice dropping to something darker, hungrier. You take a slow breath and he curls his fingers around the soft meat of your ass. "That's it..." He murmurs, more to himself than to you. "Just relax. I'll take care of everything." Daddy's gotta take care of his princess. He digs his thumbs deeper, spreading you wider without actually touching that sweet, pink pussy. He's close though. So fucking close.
And you let out another relaxed sigh, then this cute moan, making heat prickle from his toes all the way up to his cockhead. "Shhh, baby." He coos. "Let me just...ease this tension for you." He's shaking with restraint, his cock aching, throbbing, fucking hurting at not being inside you right now.
Pull your hands away, man. You're so close to creaming your fucking pants. You either gotta go balls-to-the-wall with this; get up on that table and fuck that sweet, little cunt before your nuts explode or you gotta pull away NOW because, if you did a single bit of what you're imagining, you are in for a world of hurt. This is the TOP INVESTOR'S DAUGHTER, man.
His hands shake as he forces them away from your body, cursing under his breath. He's so hard and his balls are heavy, desperate to dump his load in you. But he can't do this. He shouldn't do this; not to a client, not to a woman half his age.
Humming curiously, if a little drowsily, you go to sit up, confused about the sudden lack of contact, but Josh lays a hand on your shoulder before you can turn and see his face. "Easy." He soothes. The last thing he needs is for you to turn around and see that feral look in his eyes. Or the huge bulge in his pants. You ease yourself back down onto the massage table. "Just relax, okay?" The words come out stilted and hurried. "You let all that oil sink in. I'm gonna go get the— The stuff for— For your face." He manages eventually.
Josh practically stumbles out of the room, his hard cock leaving a visible wet spot at the front of his pants. Once he's outside, he leans against the wall for support, light-headed. It's like every ounce of blood has pooled right between his legs and there's nothing going to his lungs. Or his brain, for that matter. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." He hears a sound to his left and his eyes dart to the end of the corridor. The supplies closest. It's not much but it'll have to do.
He slips inside and closes the door behind him. It's certainly not the nicest place he's ever blown a load but, right now, it's the perfect place for him to shoot the massive amount of cum that's been building up in his balls for the past twenty minutes. He leans against the shelves, fumbling to open his pants. Finally, he gets himself free, his dick slapping up against his belly with a heavy thud. A low groan escapes him as he wraps a hand around the base, stroking slowly at first before giving in and picking up the pace.
He knows he won't last long — he never does when it comes to you — but he's certainly not winning any awards for stamina right now. He just spent the better half of an hour touching you, squeezing your ass, staring at your pretty pussy and— God, he can't stand it anymore. His hand flies over his cock in rough, eager strokes, precum oozing from the slit and dripping onto the floor. He's bucking up into his hand before he knows it, fingers coiled tight around the shaft.
He's red in the face, huffing like a bull, sweat beading at his hairline when his head jerks up. He needs napkins or towels or...something — fucking anything — to catch this when he blows. His eyes dart around the shelves; nothing, nothing, nothing. Before his gaze lands on a refill stack of paper cups to restock the water cooler by the reception desk. It'll have to do. He practically lunges for them, grabbing one with a shaking hand and positions it under his throbbing cock, his other hand quickly jerking up and down as he speeds towards release.
His cock pulses violently in his hand and then he's cumming ungodly hard. Thick, hot ropes of white splatter into the paper cup, each shot hitting the bottom with a wet slap. He rumbles out a low groan, hips bucking as he empties himself completely. One, two, three— His vision goes white and, for a moment, he think he might just pass out...
Somehow, he manages to hold on and now he's stood in a supplies closet with his dick in one hand and a cup of cum in the other. He stares at the cup, filled up a good way; an optimist might say it's half full. Jesus Christ. He needs to find someplace to get rid of it.
Then. Joshua Martín has an idea. He has an awful idea. He did tell you he was going to get the stuff for your facial, didn't he?
Back in the therapy room, Josh walks in, cup in hand, lips curled up into this evil, evil grin.
"I'm gonna dim the lights, okay? Turn over for me?" He turns the lights right down, until he can just about make out the silhouette of your body. He can't risk you seeing his face after what he's done, what he's about to do.
You lift yourself up, arching your spine, and flip over onto your back. Your naked body is just as gorgeous from the front, if not more so, as his eyes adjust to the low light. Your tits are soft, nipples pert, and there's the slightest little patch of downy hair on your mons, leading down between your thighs. His fingers tighten slightly around the cup. "Close your eyes for me." You nod, letting your eyes drift shut and resting your hands on your stomach, rising and falling slowly.
He moves to stand beside the table, staring down at your sweet face and innocent expression. He pours the warm, sticky contents of the cup onto his fingers. Hesitates for a moment, debating whether or not he's really going to do this.
Fuck it.
Josh takes a deep breath and starts spreading the cum all over your pretty face; over your forehead, your closed eyelids, down your soft cheeks, along your nose and across your lips. It's warm and thick, dripping slowly from your skin. Your features gleam in the light and his spent dick is already twitching weakly at the mere thought of doing this. It looks so damn good on you.
"What is this?" You ask curiously and he bites his lip for just a second.
"It's a... A protein mask." He tells you, thumb moving back and forth across your bottom lip. The smell is unmistakably masculine, musky. "All-natural ingredients. Super nourishing for the skin." You just hum in understanding.
The sight is almost hypnotising; watching his cum drip slowly down your temples toward your hairline. He spreads more and more until the cup's empty and he tosses it into the small garbage can in the corner. "Alright, now, you just sit back and let that soak in. I'll leave you to get dressed at your own pace, yeah? No rush." He tells you, a slight self-indulgent lilt to his voice. "You just take your time and check in with reception when you're ready."
Slowly, Josh backs away from the massage table and makes his way to the door, casting one last glance back at you — naked, oiled up, face covered in his cum — before he steps out into the hallway. His heart is racing and his dick is already throbbing again and there's this thrill buzzing through his body, like he just got away with doing something absolutely reprehensible. Well, he might have gotten away with it. He'll have to check in to make sure if he still has a job tomorrow.
Even if he doesn't? Worth it.
🍒 author's note: im honestly having a blast writing josh because, in my mind, hes just an absolutely unhinged pervert (as you can probably tell). but im honestly lost as to where to take things from here. and im obviously glad so many of you are liking these! id love to hear what people want to see from the next chapters to get the gears turning so please dump them in the comments or whatever!
and if you got this far, it'd be lovely if you dropped me a kudos or a comment (whatever you have time for) on ao3. thanks for reading 💛✨
im hoping i can get back to this soon but im lowkey concerned for the actual second season bc the second trailer they released looked so much more serious? i may have jumped the gun on joshs character but i hope not; i want this slutty little pervert goddamnit!!
anyway, when i get an idea for the next chapter, when im not sick (and if im not disheartened by the release of the new season), ill update it
im glad people are still getting so hype about this story 💛💛
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