#'letting fame get to your head' thing is real

[gothgoblinbabe]

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts (pt.2)

Logan Howlett x afab!/fem reader

divider credit

Warnings: MDNI/18+, mostly porn w little plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), afab!reader, being referred to as a girl, use of pet names, very light choking, filming sex/making a sex tape, swearing, I believe that is it but if i missed any pls lmk <3 I also didn’t proofread this one as much as I usually do so forgive me for any mistakes or inconsistencies!

Summary: [based on this ask] I don’t know what to really say for this one cause I feel like the ask explains it perfectly lol, but part 1 is here if you want to read it but this also works as a stand alone thing. I did tweak a couple of things from the ask but nothing major!

Word count: 5.5K

Since you and Logan had gotten to know each other a little better, you were over his and Wade’s apartment sometimes more than your own. He’d begun to make himself comfortable in yours too, finding himself waking up in your decorative sheets with the morning sun shining onto the pictures taped to your wall. It was a comfortable routine you’d started; waking up in each other's beds, going out to eat at some 24 hour diner when neither of you could sleep, talking with each other till the sun came up. Weekends with Wade even turned to weekends with Wade and Logan, your legs slung over your boyfriend's lap with his arm around your shoulder.

Unfortunately for him, though, you and Wade would not budge on Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

“I still don’t get it,” he grumbled next to you on the couch, quirking an eyebrow at you and his roommate, “what the hell are they famous for, anyway?”

“Well,” you began to explain, raising the remote to mute the TV, “their dad was a really famous lawyer, he defended O-”

“Nope,” Wade piped up from beside you through a mouthful of chips, “you know that’s not the real reason they’re famous, cupcake.”

You turned to narrow your eyes at him, “C’mon, you don’t mean -”

“Mhm,” he hummed, eyes flickering from you to the muted TV so he could read the subtitles without missing a beat.

“What?” Logan finally asked, clearly frustrated that neither of you would clue him in.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and laughing a bit to yourself, “Okay, so, Kim? The main sister?”

He nodded, “the one with the huge -”

“Yes, her.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, she used to date this singer Ray J and in the early two thousands, they made a sex tape. It got leaked somehow and she kinda shot into fame and I guess her family followed,” you explained simply.

“You should show him the tape,” Wade chimed in again, taking the remote from your lap and unmuting the TV.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna do that,” you shook your head, “I don’t think he’d wanna see it.”

“You’d be right,” Logan agreed, cringing a little.

“You two should make your own, then. You can finally be famous for somethin’ else, peanut!” Wade suggested, poking at his roommate's shoulder, “plus, with a pretty girl? Man, that would blow up.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. That was seemingly the end of the discussion, except Logan couldn’t get Wade’s words to leave his brain.

You two should make your own, then.

It stuck with him to the point that he was staring at his ceiling that night, listening to your steady breathing as you slept beside him, still unable to think of anything else. It was a bad idea, wasn’t it? He couldn’t ask you to do that with him. Could he?

He couldn’t shake the image of you on the screen of some camera, your back to his chest as he fucked you from behind and you batted your pretty eyes at the lens. He’d never let another soul see it, it would be something just between the two of you - something he’d definitely keep to watch a million times over. He looked around his apartment the next day after you'd gone to work to see if maybe Wade had an old camera somewhere - one he wouldn’t miss if he never saw it again. He dug out a silver camcorder from the junk drawer in the kitchen, turning it over in his hands. It looked like one you’d find on a shelf in a radioshack - when they were still around - something you’d use to film a kid’s high school graduation in the mid two thousands. As long as it worked, it would do. He fumbled the thing open, pressing a couple buttons before the screen finally lit up and gave him the option to look through the album. There were only three things on there - a blurry picture of Wade’s shoes, an even blurrier picture of half of his face and a twelve second video of him trying to film Logan while he swatted the camera out of his hands and onto the floor.

He found a charger and hooked it up to the wall, already thinking over how exactly he was going to approach the subject with you. If he was going to be able to do what he’d been thinking about, that camera had to be charged to last for at least a couple of hours. He’d planned to stay the night at your place and figured he’d try to work up the nerve to ask then.

He found himself on your couch later that night, his thighs spread while you sat in his lap and played with his hair. He was leaving kisses down your throat, his hands on the sides of your thighs.

“Can I ask you somethin’, sweetheart?” he mumbled into your skin. He pulled his face away to look into your eyes.

“Hm?” you raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

He almost felt dirty for what he was about to ask of you - like he was perverted for even considering it when you looked at him so sweetly.

His eyes moved from your face to his jacket laying beside him and he reached into the pocket, pulling out the small camera.

“I kinda wanted to try somethin’ a little different.”

Your lips parted when you realized what he was holding, eyes flickering from the device to his face. He watched your lips curl up into a smile. You knew instantly what he was about to ask when you remembered your conversation from the night before.

“You wanna film a sex tape?”

He swallowed hard, fearful that you were about to scoff and lift yourself off him. Instead, you rested your hand over his that held the camera, “I wonder where you got that idea.”

You took it from his hand, flipping it open and turning it on. You held it up and hit record, smirking when he rolled his eyes at you.

“I didn’t say I wanted my face all in it,” he scoffed, a smile tugging at his lips.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you only film me?” you pulled the camera from your face, quirking an eyebrow at him, “uh-uh, babe. If this is gonna be our sex tape, I want you in it.”

He huffed, glaring at you through the lens.

“Besides,” you continued, “you’re acting like you're the only one who's gonna like it.”

“So, you’re not upset that I asked?”

You shook your head, “Upset that a hot guy asked to film himself screwing my brains out? Hell no.”

He gnawed at his bottom lip and watched you fiddle with the camera, clicking through settings and trying out filters. Screw your brains out, huh? He could do that. He wouldn't admit it even if you asked, but he was turned on beyond belief from the idea that you’d watch it when he wasn’t with you - he liked the idea of putting on a performance for you, giving you what you want so you’d stuff the little vibrator you kept in the drawer of your nightstand inside your aching pussy when you watched it back, your eyes trained on his face and remembering how good he’d made you feel.

“It’s kind of an older camera,” Logan began, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, “maybe we should test it out, see if it works?”

“Oh, should we?”

He stood up in seconds, his strong arms holding you up by your thighs as he carried you to your room. You giggled, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. You held the camera up to film yourself. Your face was in frame, Logan only visible by the back of his head as you stretched your arm out.

“This is my very sexy boyfriend, taking me to bed,” you narrated, kissing the side of his face.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, burying his face in your neck as he nudged your door open with his foot. He dropped you onto the bed and you kept the camera trained on him as he crawled over you.

“You’re gonna keep that damn thing on my face the whole time?” 

He leaned over you with his hands on either side of your head, his bulging muscles even more prominent from your angle underneath him. His tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth, licking over his lips. You wouldn’t mind if the whole video was just from this angle.

“You look fucking hot.”

He was a little taken back by your compliment. Even after months of sleeping together, he still wasn’t used to the praise, dismissing you with a scoff or simply hiding his red face.

“Look who’s talkin’.”

Logan snatched the camera from your hands in one quick swipe, sitting back on his heels so he could get all of you in frame. You sat up, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere off the bed, leaving you in your bra and jeans. You looked angelic underneath him with your hair spread around your head like a halo, your chest heaving in excitement. You bit your lip and grabbed the end of his shirt to pull him closer to you, lidded eyes staring up at him.

“Fuck.”

He groaned, letting you pull him down and slip your tongue into his mouth. He haphazardly placed the camera on your bedside table, glancing at it momentarily to make sure it was on before diving back onto you.

His hands slid up your back and under the band of your bra. He unhooked the clasp and pushed the straps down your shoulders, pulling the garment from your chest and licking his lips in awe. It didn’t matter how often he saw you naked; each time was like the first.

His mouth latched onto your chest almost immediately, swirling his tongue and sucking in a way that elicited a moan from your lips. Your back arched and he hooked his arm around your waist to pull you as close as possible. He was sucking dark marks into your soft skin, leaving each one shiny with his saliva. If there was one thing you were sure of with Logan, it was that he really loved being messy when he toyed with you.

He dragged his lips from your chest down your waistband, leaving tender kisses on your stomach and sides. Over time, he’d slowly gotten more affectionate - more loving and emotional - during sex. He always showed it the best he could, but he was clearly becoming more comfortable being vulnerable with you. He still had his animalistic and rough ways about him, but now it was combined with soft kisses to your nose and forehead, mumbled praises into your mouth and declarations of love while you panted from the pace of his thrusts. 

Logan stopped at the waistband of your jeans, his fingers popping the metal button with little hesitation. You wordlessly lifted your hips for him to drag them down your thighs, leaving you only in your panties. He leaned over to grab the camera from the table, leaning back a bit to get you in frame.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he huffed, his free hand immediately sliding between your thighs to graze his fingers against the damp fabric, “all for me?”

You nodded, hooded eyes and parted lips posing for the camera, “yours, all yours.”

Logan was chewing on his bottom lip while he admired you from behind the camera. He knew without a doubt that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever been with; none of those dirty magazines or tapes he’d seen over the years could even compare to what was in front of him now. You were positively heavenly, a type of beauty so alluring that it bordered being otherworldly. 

He finally used his free hand to remove your panties when you lifted your hips, set on recording as much as he could from the perspective he had because fuck, it was a good one.

Laying in front of him - completely bare - with the camera focused on you made you feel vulnerable and a little shy and Logan was always able to read you.

He wanted to focus on you even more, but he instead handed the device over to you when he sensed your mild discomfort, the lens facing him.

“Here,” was all he said, letting you bring the camera up to your eye before he tugged his t-shirt over his head. He knew you clearly enjoyed filming him and even if he didn’t love the idea of being the object of attention, he wanted you to be comfortable and he’d sacrifice his own comfort for you any day. So, once he was shirtless, he stood off the bed in front of you to strip himself of his jeans and boxers, letting his hard cock spring up to hit his stomach when he took off the latter.

You had - fortunately for you - figured out the zoom option on the camera and used it to perfectly frame his leaking cock as the only thing in the shot, bobbing when he moved towards you to take the device back. When he did, he set it on the table next to the bed, messing with the same zoom option so that the shot was of you sitting up with your legs spread and your cunt aching to be touched.

Settling himself on his stomach between your legs, he hiked your thighs onto his shoulder, his mouth inches from your heat.

“Do me a favor, sweetheart,” he began and you nodded, ready to agree to anything he asked of you, “be as loud as you can, yeah? Wanna be able to hear ya’ on tape.”

He instantly delved his tongue into you, making you gasp. You tenderly rested your hands on his arms that were hooked around your thighs as if you were encouraging him to stay there.

He ate you every time like he was starving, his cheeks and chin always slick with saliva and sap from between your legs when he finally pulled himself off you.

You did as he instructed - though, you were probably going to do it anyway - moaning openly as he licked stripes up your dripping cunt so he could circle his tongue around your clit. 

“Oh my god,” you whined, your thighs clamping around his head out of instinct. He let you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at the dark strands to help angle his head and making him growl with his mouth still suctioned to you.

You felt around beside you for the camera, fumbling with it till you had the lens angled at him in between your legs.

“Fuck, L-Logan,” you panted, lovingly caressing his temple with your free hand.

“Mhm,” he hummed into you, the vibration pulling a whimper from your throat, “you like holding that thing, huh?”

Your eyes were glued to his through the small screen.

“You’re so fucking hot, of course I do,” you sighed, your lips parted and chest heaving.

He scoffed in amusement, continuing to slip his tongue between your folds and prod at your entrance. With his face still buried in you and his eyes closed in concentration, he took the camera from you and set it back on the table. He used his arms around your thighs to yank you further down the bed so you were flat on your back. You watched in awe as he spat a mouthful of saliva right onto your already soaked pussy, using his fingers to swipe his spit all over you. Latching his lips back onto your clit, he easily slipped two of his digits into you, feverishly pumping in and out. Your moans grew louder with each thrust of his fingers, echoing off your walls along with the wet noises that came from your soaked cunt. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, lettin’ me eat your pretty pussy,” he rambled, voice muffled by your thighs, “always so fuckin’ good.”

You inhaled sharply when he gently rolled your clit between his teeth, licking after like a balm to soothe the searing sensation. You thought you couldn’t moan any louder until he replaced his fingers inside you with his tongue, angling his mouth in a way that made his nose nudge your bundle of nerves.

“Only good for you,” you managed to choke out, turning your head to the side to bury it in your pillow, “only for you.”

His hand slid up to grope your chest, pinching your nipple between his fingers. He slid it up even further to grab your chin and turn your head so you were forced to look at him. 

“Eyes on me, baby,” he grumbled.

“Ah - uh-huh,” you tried to make some noise of agreement but were overwhelmed with how he was expertly tracing your cunt with his tongue.

Until he detached his mouth from you completely.

You groaned in frustration and knitted your eyebrows, silently asking why he stopped.

“Use your words or I’ll stop. Ya’ got it?”

His stern voice sent shivers down your spine. 

“Yes, baby, please -“

His tongue was already back in between your folds by the time you said yes. He kept his vice like grip around your thighs, deciding he’d be content if he died right there with his head between your legs.

“Love when you - when you - fuck - eat me out,” you panted, “you make me feel so good.”

You knew how much he secretly loved the praise, catching the way he ground his hips into the mattress to find some sort of relief whenever you told him he was doing a good job, that he was so handsome, that you loved what he was doing to you. He was usually the dominant one in the relationship, whispering praises in your ear while you were underneath him, but you knew him well enough by now to have figured out that he loved when you did it back.

“You’re perfect, Logan, I - ah - I love you,” you gasped when his fingers pumped back into you.

It wasn’t all about sex with you two - though it was a wonderful part of your relationship - and yet he’d discovered that he’d never felt more loved than he had when he was with you, declaring your love for him while he completely devoted himself to you with his face in your pussy. 

“I love you, too, pretty girl,” he grunted, “love fuckin’ you with my mouth.”

His filthy words fueled the fire building in your lower stomach and you tugged at his hair in an attempt to warn him.

“ ‘m gonna come,” you slurred, ankles locked on Logan’s back to keep him in place.

“Come for me, beautiful, c’mon,” he coaxed while his fingers abused the spot inside of you that made you whimper to encourage him to keep going, “want it all, want you to come on my face.”

That was definitely what sent you over the edge, mumbling unintelligible praises as he lapped up anything that had spilled out of you and onto his tongue. 

“Tastes so damn good,” he heaved, his fingers still working at a consistent pace, “I think I can pull another one outta you.”

You felt tears beginning to form in your eyes from the overstimulation, crying out when he grazed your swollen clit with his teeth.

“ ‘s too - too much,” you tried to pull his head away by tugging his hair, to no avail. 

He’d let you go, but not without one more taste of you.

It only took a couple more flicks of his tongue to have you arching your back, tears rolling down the sides of your face as you gushed around his fingers for a second time.

When he finally slipped his fingers out of you and he’d left the comfortable spot between your warm thighs, you could see that his entire lower face was almost completely slick with a mix of his spit and your cum. He was licking his lips, trying to savor the taste of you but making no attempt to wipe anything off his chin or cheeks. He was in love with you but he was also in love with the reality that he got to do this to you, that he got to taste every bit, that you wanted him to. You sat up to give him a desperate kiss - a clash of tongues and teeth that tasted entirely of you. You finally pulled away to admire his face.

Seeing him with his hair disheveled from your repeated tugging, his lips near swollen and raw and his cheeks still shining made you crave the idea of returning the favor. 

“Sit on the edge of the bed, baby.”

Though he was usually the one giving orders instead of following them, he obliged anyway. His cock was still leaking in anticipation, hard against his stomach. When you got down on your knees in front of him, he couldn’t hide the excited smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never expected you to return the favor when he used his mouth on you - content with that being a reward itself - but when you did? You usually left him shaking.

You took the camera from the table and handed it up to Logan, eager eyes following the lens.

“Can I suck your cock? Please?”

You knew he loved it when you begged and you always used it to get him exactly where you wanted him, especially when you looked up at him with those pleading eyes.

“Go ahead, baby,” he used his free hand to loosely hold your hair back in his fist, “I know you like havin’ it in your mouth, huh?”

You nodded eagerly, your hand wrapping around the base of his shaft. You hovered your mouth over his tip, letting a glob of spit drip from your lips so you could coat his cock in it before you tried to take him in your throat. You’d done it before, but he was huge and every time you tried to prep to make it easier. Your jaw even became sore sometimes from how wide you’d have to keep your mouth open. You never complained, though, because the mere idea of having the weight of Logan’s heavy cock in your mouth was enough to make you drool.

You spread your saliva up and down, leaning forward and dragging his tip across your parted lips while staring up at the lens of the camera.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, focused on you through the small screen, “such a fucking tease.”

You grinned, placing a light kiss on his tip before engulfing him into your mouth, tongue sliding along his slit to taste the small amount of precum that’d dripped from him when he first sat up. You suctioned and began to work up a pace, taking him as far as you could into your mouth while your hand stroked the rest of him.

“I love giving you head,” you admitted in the most sultry way possible when you popped your lips off his tip, long lashes batting up at him. It wasn’t a lie, either, and that was clear by how sloppy you loved to be whenever it was your turn to be on your knees. If you had at least one thing in common, it was that you wanted to worship each other as much as possible. You wanted to leave him in a state of euphoria the same way he did you, just as messily dedicated to making sure he came.

“Yeah? I can tell, sweetheart,” he still held the camera but his eyes were trained on your face, “such a good girl, sucking my cock like you were made for it.”

You tried to push him further into your throat, eager to see his thighs shake and hear him groan your name. You gagged on his tip and he inadvertently rolled his hips. You hummed, eyes starting to water every time you choked on his dick. You used your free hand to cup his balls and smeared your saliva down from the base of his cock to coat them. You pulled yourself off his mouth momentarily to spit on him again, licking your lips in excitement.

“Fuck’s sake,” he grunted, camera abandoned on the side of the bed so he could place both his hands on the back of your head, “doin’ so fucking good, princess.”

You continued to stroke him with one hand and massage his balls in the other, your tongue still swirling and sucking around him. You popped off him with a smile, spit covering your lips and chin while your hands continued their motion.

Logan leaned back on his elbows and held the camera up again with one hand. When you wrapped your lips around his cock again, he started to roll his hips at a steady pace so he could fuck your throat, grunting every time you gagged around him. 

You picked up your pace, stroking his base while your head bobbed up and down in synch with your hand.

“Atta girl,” he panted, “jus’ like that.”

You could tell he was already close because he was sloppily rocking his hips up into your mouth, his thighs beginning to shake every time he hit the back of your throat. He sat up suddenly, grabbing your hair again to slowly pull you off his cock.

“On the bed, hands and knees,” he instructed simply, letting you scramble onto the mattress as he set up the camera on the end of your bed. You understood almost instantly what he wanted, biting back a smile as you laid your chest flat on the mattress, back arched with your ass in the air. 

He climbed behind you and placed his knees on the inside of yours to push your legs apart even further. His large hands gripped your hips and he pulled you against him, his hard cock prodding your entrance. He leaned his body over yours so that your back was flush with his chest.

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty pussy like you deserve,” he muttered into your ear, intoxicating you with the feeling of his hot breath fanning the side of your face, “think you can take it, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly and gasped when he dragged the tip of his cock along the folds of your dripping cunt.

“Can take it - I want it so bad, Logan,” you pleaded, pushing back into him. Your eyes bore into the camera, lips parted. It was his idea for a sex tape after all, you might as well be sure to give him a show.

He sheathed himself into you completely in one thrust with an iron grip on your hips, the weight of him pushing into you almost knocking the wind out of your lungs. He began to slowly inch himself out and slam back in again, pulling out a little further each time. He was grunting into the back of your neck while he rocked his hips. 

“Takin’ it so good, baby,” he panted, one of his hands moving to your neck and barely applying pressure while the other held his upper body above yours. His lips came to the side of your face and left a kiss so sweet that it could’ve rotted your teeth.

You whimpered when he worked up to a steady pace and reveled in the sensation of him filling you completely. Your fingers gripped the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto so you could stable yourself when his hard thrusts nearly knocked you over completely.

“S-so fucking - ah - so good,” you slurred your words with your eyes squeezed shut. You were slack jawed, nearly drooling.

“Yeah? Can tell you like it,” he huffed, “you’re so pretty, takin’ all of me like a good girl.”

You nodded frantically, whimpering every time he slammed into you.

“You like bein’ on camera, don’t you?” he continued, “you’re really fucking wet.”

You could only moan in response. You were soaking around him, drenching the base of his cock and the happy trail that went up to his stomach. He leaned back on his knees and his pace never faltered. 

Your hands outstretched in front of you and you grabbed the camera. You angled it over your shoulder and focused the lens on his face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

He scoffed when he noticed the camera over your shoulder, keeping his rhythm while his eyes were glued to the lens. If he thought too hard about what you might do with the video later, he wasn’t going to last much longer. 

“Feels good, baby?” you panted, an amused smile creeping onto your face.

He was always the one to talk to you like that - pet names and filthy encouragement - but you wanted to get his face on film when you teased him back - or, at least tried to. 

His expression mirrored yours and he grabbed the camera while his other hand kept an iron grip on your hip.

“I think you like holdin’ that thing a little too much,” he brought it up to his face and squinted at you through the screen.

“Mm,” you hummed, your face flushed and body sticky with sweat, “can’t help it.”

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous like this, you know that? God,” he sighed, “can’t get enough of you.”

You would’ve found his words endearing if you could even process them. The intoxicating feeling every time he pushed back into you was enough to render you speechless.

Logan angled the camera down to film the repeated motion, gaping at the mess you left around the base of him every time he pulled back.

“My dirty girl,” he cooed, “you like makin’ a mess on my cock?”

“F-Fuck - yes, yes,” you sobbed before he even finished his sentence. You could feel the pressure building in your stomach, bringing you closer to finishing.

“C’mon, sweetheart, I can feel you gettin’ tighter. Come for me, baby,” he grunted, his hand sliding from your hip to grip your ass.

It only took a few more strokes for you to do exactly that with your legs shaking underneath you. 

“ ‘Atta girl,” he growled. He watched you gush around him, zooming in on your dripping pussy as he stretched you out over and over again. You were chanting his name, muttering unintelligible praises against your sheets.

It wasn’t long before he followed suit, his pace becoming sloppy as he spilled into you and let it drip down your thighs. He clicked off the camera and tossed it somewhere else onto the bed. 

“C’mere,” he huffed, pulling you up to lean back against him, “love you so much.” He was leaving saccharine kisses from your ear down to your shoulder, still panting.

“I love you, too,” you managed to say with your eyes already half closed. He pulled out and laid you on your side, grabbing some t-shirt that had been next to the bed to clean you up. He wrapped you in his arms from behind and pulled up the comforter to cover you both.

“Can’t wait to watch that back,” he mumbled into your neck.

“Mhm,” you were already drifting off to sleep while he stroked your hair, “me neither.”

Logan fell asleep right after you with his arms still around you and his legs tangled in yours.

—-----------------------------------

Later that same week, you sat on the couch beside Logan in his apartment, flipping through TV channels on a lazy day off. Wade emerged from his bedroom and began frantically tearing apart the kitchen.

“What are you looking for?” you called, turning in your seat.

“My old camera. Have you seen it?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

You thought you hadn’t, at least. You had know idea the camera Logan brought over was Wade’s.

He was pretending to be uninterested in the conversation, hoping his apathy towards the question would absolve him of any suspicion.

You shrugged and returned your attention to the TV. You heard a couple doors open and close before Wade’s voice echoed through the apartment.

“Found it!”

Logan went wide eyed and immediately stood up from the couch. 

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and looked between him and Wade when he came back into the living room.

And then you recognized the camera in his hands.

“Don’t open it, I’ll buy you a new one,” Logan insisted simply, holding out his hand.

“Oh, my god,” you muttered.

Wade's eyes flickered between you both.

“There’s something on here I’m not supposed to see, isn’t there?”

Logan immediately lunged for the camera and Wade sprinted into his bedroom, slamming his door shut and locking it. Logan pounded his fist on the door and tugged the doorknob.

“Open the door, you son of a bitch!”

You buried your face into the fabric of the couch cushion, anticipating the embarrassment of Wade seeing what was still on that camera.

He opened the door after a minute, giant smile plastered on his face.

“Here you go,” he said in a sing song voice as he handed it over.

You sighed in relief, assuming he’d decided to actually abide by your requests. He closed his bedroom door, only speaking again after you heard the lock click.

“Hey, by the way - can i get a copy?”

A/N: I struggled a lil bit w this one just bc of writers block but I hope it lived up to expectations <3 pls interact if you enjoyed!

[dustdeepsea]

Writer Interview

Tagged by @my-favourite-zhent nearly 3 weeks ago and I've entirely missed the wave.

I've enjoyed reading so many interesting ones by my mutuals! Tagging (only if you're keen) @graysparrowao3 @coreene @say-lene @luvwich @grossestjay —and if I've missed your interview somehow, tag me in the comments!

Q&A after the cut—

When did you start writing?

I wrote my first fanwork at age 12. It was self-insert fanfiction with me and 2 of my friends in the Slayers anime universe, which meant it was several comedic sketches strung together with with lots of actions denoted by asterisks and emoticons. You know the ones ^_^ ^____^ @_@ T_T *slaps you gently with a trout*

We printed it out on someone's home printer and bound copies in plastic school folders with a two-hole punch. I've lost the original file ages ago, but I would love to read it again.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

When I was younger, I actively sought out "difficult stories" because I wanted to experience things beyond my day to day life. I read Nabokov at 16 because everyone kept saying Lolita was a dangerous book. I also read a lot of Chuck Palahniuk and Bret Easton Ellis without really understanding them.

My pretentiousness definitely peaked in my university days. My dating profile at the time listed: Herman Hesse, Kazuo Ishiguro and Mikhail Bulgakov.

Now that I'm older, I read and write stories primarily to make myself happy.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I'm not remotely at the level where I get compared to any published writers.

My favourite contemporary writer is David Mitchell (of Cloud Atlas fame), and my favourite book by him is The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet.

My favourite "classic" novel is The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I type at my desk, in a study shared with my partner. Sometimes if the scene is particularly spicy or they are gaming too loudly, I take the laptop to the living room.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Bouncing plot bunnies off others on Discord, talking a walk or a long train ride, playing an immersive video game and rotating characters in my head for hours afterwards.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

According to my lovely readers:

"Romantic and sweaty"; "two silly sausages frying in a pan" (thanks to my long time beta-reader @littleplasticrat)

"Purity, temperance, glimpse of [the] ability for real love / real forgiveness" (thank you @tellmeallaboutit!)

These did surprise me a bit when they were first pointed out but it makes sense—I've been accidentally writing Regency romances and repressed idiots in love without setting out to do so explicitly.

What is your reason for writing?

I put aside hobbies for many years because of my work (no matter what advertisers want you to believe—doomscrolling is not a hobby). Started doing more creative things during my sabbatical last year, and writing was one of the things that saved my broken corpo soul.

Nowadays I'm really into bread making and cooking in general. I'm trying to balance work and creative pursuits and I'm much happier overall.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Any and all comments are received with love <3 <3 <3 I really enjoy it when people let me know what lines really resonated with them or point out motifs I'd snuck in.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Friendly and approachable! Not entirely hyperfixated on That One NPC from a Video Game with Five Lines (that one might be harder now...!)

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

A fairly broad vocabulary, including anachronisms, which is useful for fantasy story settings. Writing characters who are actively lying to themselves (thinking one thing and saying/doing another).

My writing tends to be on the more contemplative side and a bit sadder and slower paced, so if you enjoy A Great Deal of Yearning along with your smut, then it would appeal to you :)

How do you feel about your own writing?

I'm pretty happy with it! I write very, very slowly, with constant edits as I go, and would probably starve if I ever had to rely on my fiction writing to be paid. Luckily, I get to do this as a hobby.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I write for myself, but I am also super blessed to have a very small but vocal audience that I can interact with directly. I guess my best advice is: Write for yourself and your 10 friends who want to read your hand-bound home-printed self-insert fanfic <3

[valleynix]

Per your tags on the post you reblogged, you have tea on people in this fandom?? 👀

yes but this is just a silly little blog for my silly little writings. i'm not about to start issues on here because tumblr people are another breed of hostile when someone has a different opinion than their own.

i get enough shit on tiktok for stating any sort of opinion that gains traction and this is my nice little calm place where i can talk about my favorite characters and scream into the void about them <3

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ bark like you want it !!

ᝰ.ᐟ in the world of sports, there's only one thing people care more about than getting hot 'n sweaty with the athletes: the girlies who are the ones these men are running home to. alternatively: a headcanon post about the hyper-specific wag!reader the bllk boys would end up with. ( fem!reader & sfw )

featuring yoichi isagi, reo mikage, seishiro nagi, rensuke kunigami, rin itoshi author's notes since wives and girlfriends is wag + the song has been stuck in my head, i thought 'bark like you want it' was a silly, cute name for the post lol. warning that isagi's section mentions having kids!!!!

౨ৎ YOICHI ISAGI — the girl next door !! your dynamic is: the two of you have known each other since childhood, and throughout every stage of his life and career, you've been right by his side. when isagi confesses to you shortly after scoring the winning goal of the u-20 match, he's a blushing, awkward, stuttering mess. despite his newfound fame and notoriety (which will only continue to grow), yoichi isagi is still the same boy you've spent living next door to since your elementary days. when he goes pro and becomes a world famous athlete, surrounded by models and actresses, the only girl to still give him butterflies is you. you love him for him. in every speech he has to give, he's always singing praises about you and your unconditional support and love. the wedding you two have is intimate and fairly private, although isagi can't help but post a picture of the two of you outside the obgyn clinic with the cheesy caption of "my baby is having a baby!!!! 😍😁"

the girlies love you because: you're what people think of when someone describes someone as being down to earth. your social media presence is nonexistent, save for a private instagram with less than 200 followers. you live your life in peace with a man who doesn't stress you out in the slightest — in fact, your relationship with isagi is aspirational to a lot of people. one of the number one athletes in the world and super hot 'n rich, and the only thought that rivals soccer on his one-track mind is you, his wife that he's hopelessly devoted to. you're always seen at every single one of his games, sporting his jersey, and always cheering happily when he scores. once the two of you have kids, you'll be carrying your baby (who's also sporting isagi's jersey🥹) every one of his fans that happens to run into you in public can see why isagi is so in love with you; there are only stories about how kind and sweet you are. it's why you're known as the sweetheart of the soccer wags <3

౨ৎ REO MIKAGE — the ceo !! your dynamic is: an arranged marriage... gone right? you belong to a conglomerate family that runs in the same circle as the mikages. you're in the middle of starting up your own beauty brand, and you're trying to make a name for yourself. reo is occupied with his professional soccer career. neither of you want to go through with this marriage interview, but to appease your families, you two agree, not expecting that you two would match each other's freak for real. he's competitive and likes what he can't have; you're little miss independent and equally competitive. he tells you he doesn't mind the engagement, and you get your lawyers to draft a pretty prenup that'll milk him for all he's worth while keeping your assets safe. he buys you a massive engagement ring, and you ask him, "that's the best you can do?" the minute he's in control of mikage corp, he knows he'll gladly let you take the reins.

the girlies love you because: you are the corporate it girl. everyone is obsessed with your paparazzi photos that exude office siren but make it actually work appropriate. there are how-to videos on copying your style. not to mention, you're a businesswoman. every time you attend one of reo's games, you strategically reapply your beauty brand's lipgloss, or tease new products by applying said unreleased products while on camera. someone once asked you in a comment how does it feel to be engaged to a rich ceo? to which you replied @.reomikage how does it feel to be engaged to a rich ceo? just because your man spoils you doesn't mean you put him on a pedestal. princess treatment is the bare minimum for you.

౨ৎ SEISHIRO NAGI — the twitch streamer !! your dynamic is: so silly. you're the type of girl who looks good even with pimple patches on your face and your oversized glasses that you only wear because it has blue light blocking lenses on them. you're a well known streamer and got your start during the peak of fortnite (you started off being comically bad at the game, but again: you're a pretty girl. you being good would've just exploded every guys' brains), but once you got your bag secured, you started posting the content you preferred (dress to impress on roblox). everyone loves you because you're hilarious on camera, but you don't really keep up with sports, so when nagi joins your stream, everyone is going insane but you have no clue as to who he is. when they start spamming the chat about him, you ask your viewers "is he hot? no, scratch that. is he rich?" you've always been nagi's online crush & you basically made his whole entire month when you asked him to join you on your instagram live one day. the whole entire time, he's looking at you on the screen with literal hearts in his eyes, and he struggles to fight back his smile. it's so difficult for him to maintain a neutral expression, and this is the most any of his fans have ever heard him speak, and the comments can't stop talking about "how geeked bro is rn"

the girlies love you because: just like isagi's wag, you are a genuine sweetheart. you never hard launch nagi, but you do tease confirmation on your relationship. you'll wear one of his hoodies that people know is his, or sometimes you'll stream when nagi is over and people can see his shoulder in the frame or they'll hear him say something to you to make you laugh. you post pictures of your view of the field, usually captioning it with something like "damn. i could be going crazy on sims 4 rn" you're just such a fun person to watch, and people consider you + nagi to be their comfort couple (although most of the comforting energy comes from you and your antics).

౨ৎ RENSUKE KUNIGAMI — the pilates instructor !! your dynamic is: fun and flirty, and straight out of a romcom. you're a well-known pilates instructor and in an attempt to get more girls to garner an interest in the sports channel, the network reaches out to you to see if you want to be in a humorous segment where you try to host a pilates class with some of the pro sports team. these guys are all about bulking and lifting and stamina training, and they don't really hold pilates in a high regard, so the comedy could be there. you obviously agree, and you end up teaching kunigami's team first. he can barely concentrate on the class and fumbles a few times because he's too focused on how good you look in your lululemon hot pink set. he's trying so hard to be respectful, and when you talk to him after the class, thanking him for being one of the only guys to not look down on pilates before they had to endure a session, he's trying so hard to avert his gaze because the sight of you slightly sweaty and in your workout clothes is doing something to him. you love teasing him, and the fact that he's a gentleman and still believes in chivalry makes it all the more fun.

the girlies love you because: besides making working out fun, you feature kunigami in some videos and always tease him by making up and demonstrating some freaky positions that always have him turning red in the face. you're always so considerate and supportive of your followers, and in return, they're always supportive of your own endeavors. when you come out with your own workout line, you put your boyfriend's famous name and hot body to use. he's in your marketing campaign, but honestly, the videos of him looking at you when you're wearing your own workout set is advertisement enough.

౨ৎ RIN ITOSHI — the unbothered model !! your dynamic is: centered on the concept of private not secret. neither of you get too personal on social media; you just post aesthetic photos and sponsored content for revolve & rin's socials are managed by a team. like everyone else in the world with decent eyesight, rin's struck by your beauty. unlike most of the guys who are attracted to you, though, rin stands out. for starters, he actually has the confidence to approach you. even better: he's actually polite when he does. normally, the ones bold enough to approach you are bold and loud and kinda sleazy. rin is nothing like that. underneath both yours and his cold exterior, the two of you actually share some of the same niche interests. rin's a pretty intense person on the field and to the public, and there's not a single photo on the internet where you can be seen smiling. the aura the two of you have when paired together is insane... insanely intimidating. he's also the person you're most comfortable with and vice versa. the two of you can be messy and unfiltered and annoying with each other, and no one else.

the girlies love you because: you serve effortless cool girl. at every game you attend to watch rin, not once do the cameras catch you off guard. side profile? stunning. catching your usual neutral expression morph into concern and shock as rin gets shoved by an opponent? you still look insanely good. your hair is always done, nails are always done, your outfits are always fitted and put the other wags to shame. when girls think of iconic partners of athletes, you're always the first on their mind. there are tiktok tutorials that are trying to teach people how to emulate your energy, "[name] outfit inspo", or makeup videos trying to recreate your look. photos of you at rin's game is on every girl's "wag dream life" pinterest board, but the most popular photo is a grainy image someone managed to capture. it's taken after rin's game, and the two of you snuck off to the back of the stadium to be alone. he has his arms wrapped around your waist, and your arms are around his shoulders, and his forehead is pressed against yours and... it's the only photo where people have seen either of you smiling.

[usedpidemo]

Mistakes were made, but not you (Le sserafim Yunjin)

“Why? Why weren’t you there? I needed you and you weren’t there!”

While Yunjin lashes out at you, grabbing at your shirt and using you as a proxy for the world and its ill-timed misfortunes, you can’t help but wonder if your presence would have changed the situation for the better.

Probably not. It’s one of those events that has to happen for character growth. 

—————

Tonight is supposed to be a night of celebration—a commemoration to the achievements, accomplishments, and accolades of the past year. The numbers and statistics never lie. They love her work, they love her artistry. They love her for what she sells and what she represents. But truth be told, Huh Yunjin couldn’t care less about what they think.

Thunderous cheers and colorful lightsticks representing different fandoms brighten the arena as the five Le sserafim members climb up the stairs to claim their award. Minutes ago, they pulled off the performance of a lifetime—an eight minute masterclass that represents everything the group stands for. You could see the exhaustion in their faces; barely mustering the strength to smile and wave to the crowd shouting for them. 

For the most part, the acceptance speech is nothing notable. Going through the motions, thanking the fans, the staff, the company, promising to do better in the future—it’s about as cookie cutter as it gets. As Yunjin tries her hardest to keep her tears from falling while she talks, the other four can only focus on her with varying weary looks. Chaewon looks especially worried; it’s her responsibility and burden to look after every single one of them. 

From the audience’s viewpoint, it’s seen as a non-issue, but the five girls recognize deep down it’s anything but. The only noteworthy thing is how suddenly quick they are on their feet heading backstage. It’s funny how everyone chases fame: to be in the moment, the spotlight. It’s funnier, Yunjin thinks, that she’d rather be anywhere else.

Unfortunately for her and the other artists attending, they’d have to wait a little longer. There’s backstage interviews and other idol obligations to do before they are finally let go. It’s not even worth all that lost time—that one award they receive ends up being their lone win for the night.

—————

Yunjin storms into your hotel room without a word with a fierce expression on her face. She doesn’t have to say it; she’s thankful she doesn’t have to spend another minute in front of the cameras, another minute being an idol—at least for the night.

In a sea of anger and auburn, Yunjin walks past you without acknowledging you at least once. She hastily drops off her purse on the coffee table before charging straight to her room and slamming the door. It’s easy to chalk up her frustrations on the monotony of the awards season—the countless hours of practice specifically for one event, the hours spent in the makeup room, the hours of interviews and fanservice—but you know she never acts like this. Rain or shine, hell or high water, she’ll walk around with a pleasant smile on her face.

Tonight simply isn’t one of those nights. You saw the whole ordeal happen in real time, and you’re already regretting the decision not to be there. At times, watching her on screen was tough. You can tell she was visibly uncomfortable, more clingy to her members than usual, when it’s normally the other way around. Admittedly, you have to give her props for holding herself back from crying when she has every right to. It’s a cold winter night, but that’s not the reason she’s trembling and shaking. It should be a night of celebration; instead, her sullen expression resembles the aftermath of complete, utter humiliation and defeat.

And it may as well be. You look through your phone; you find the messages from friends and acquaintances telling you the exact same thing; it might as well be considered spam. 

> Yo did you see what happened to Yunjin?

> Is Yunjin okay?!

> Yunjin fell! Fuck MNET!

> BRO YUNJIN FELL FROM THE STAGE WHAT THE FUUUUCK—

> Don’t tell her but I actually laughed when she slipped XD hope she alright tho!

Of course you know. It’s all caught on camera and in living color for the whole world to see. Even if it was cut from the YouTube edit, which is highly unlikely, it’s already out there on the internet spreading like wildfire. Numerous reposts with tens of thousands of likes, multiple articles immediately written after the incident—her name and her moment will remain immortalized in K-pop history for all the wrong reasons. It has the internet making jokes, it has the internet writing thinkpieces, it has the internet creating needless fanwars—it has the internet buzzing. 

You want to throw your phone from where your room is located—all the way up on the 27th floor—and pray it lands directly on a hater’s head. 

Sure enough, when you try to enter her room, it’s locked shut. The door won’t budge. All this awkward, quiet tension between you is terrifying, and sleeping her feelings off isn’t going to help anyone, not during these trying times. She needs comfort right now more than anything else. 

You give the door a respectful knock, only to be met with silence. Trying again and again leads you nowhere. Calling her name does you zero favors. Each futile attempt cuts away at your heart, little by little. Yunjin would rather isolate herself from the world than open up to anyone with no exceptions. Obviously, you have nothing to do with what happened (that is on the production team more than anyone) but you bear the responsibility and burden of being Yunjin’s partner, always there for her during the good times and the bad.

Now is not the time to give up or sulk. She needs comfort and love more than anything. She needs a shoulder to cry on. She needs a special voice to reassure her that everything will be okay.

Rummaging through her purse, you find one of her countless hairpins. It’s the oldest trick in the book—one that she always used to get you with guaranteed success. Already bent and straightened, perfectly shaped for picking—it’s as if she wanted you to reach her. You remember the disaster that was teaching you how to pick locks; dozens destroyed, to the dismay of her apartment doors, but she knew you’d need it at some point, and tried to help you to the best of her ability.

The lock comes undone. It’s a miracle, but it’s short-lived. What welcomes you as you enter her bedroom turns your uncertainty into shock and utter disbelief.

It’s imagery you only see in nightmares. Her bedroom completely ravaged and in utter ruin. Pillows, clothes, and objects scattered throughout the room. Yunjin is curled up against the wall with a blanket draped over her, concealing everything but her eyes. Bloodshot red from spilling her heart out. Around her feet lay two opened half empty bottles of alcohol and a spilled over wine glass. It takes everything not to drop to your knees or yell out “fuck” from the depth of your lungs.

Instead, it only comes out as an airy whimper, with your throat choked up seeing the sorry state your girlfriend’s in.   

Every little step you take may as well be tiptoed. Carefully treading into uncharted territory, who knows what you’ll end up meeting. The next words you pick will be the most important ones you’ll ever say. It isn’t as simple as telling her everything will be fine—that mistakes happen, life moves on, and this will be a memory she can laugh at a few years from now. She believes she’s ruined not only her career, but also her members, when anyone with common sense thinks otherwise.

With a deep breath and a gulp of your throat, you run through all the options. You pray you make the best choice.

“Jen Jen,” you mumble, crouching down in front of her, frowning. Try as you might, you can’t bring yourself to smile. You reach your hand out to peek through the curtain; she aggressively slaps down your palm. It’s as dire as you believe it looks. She sees the world crashing down before her. 

Watching her cry and hide herself away plucks away at your heartstrings. You don’t want to see her looking this sorry, this deflated. If her members—the people she’s closest with—couldn’t get through her, then how much less can you? Even so, you have to keep trying. Not as a fan nor an acquaintance, but as her partner.

Again, you’ll have to pick your way through another lock. This time, her heart. And it’s more delicate than any physical door. 

She’s drowning in her tears to realize the tug on her wrists. Little by little, you pull them apart. Yunjin’s bloodshot eyes glare right into yours, but she does nothing. Slowly, you curl your arms around hers, reaching around her back. For a moment, she appears vulnerable. Open. You press yourself close to her—

And then she hits you square in the face. 

Yunjin assaults you with a relentless barrage of fists, with one jab directly clocking your lips. They’re not the playful ones you’re used to. The kind that’s usually thrown after a serious argument, and you’ve only experienced a handful of squabbles. She sends you staggering back to the floor, violently screeching and attacking you. “Fuck you! Leave me alone!” she yells, punching you repeatedly with no sense of direction, only rage. You try to lift a hand in self-defense, only to be sent knocking down, to the point where you just give up and allow her to rip through you.

Looking into her eyes, having turned from grim to cruel, she looks as if you were there. As if you were the stage director. As if you were the one who pressed the button on the control panel. Her punches, aimless as they are, fucking hurt. You’re on the floor, defenseless, but you deserve it. You weren’t there when you should have been. The one award show you opt not to attend happens to be the one that ends up sideways. Of course she’ll pinpoint the cause back to you. That’s blind passion. That’s love.

She grabs you by the collar of your shirt, screaming right in your face, “Why? Why weren’t you there? I needed you and you weren’t there!” Angry as she is, you can tell she’s trying to restrain herself. She wants to humiliate you, but she also doesn’t want to smash your head through the marble floor. You have this ragged but innocent look on your face. The stubborn kind that would tell her that you won’t give up on her. That you’d happily take all the beating just to see her smile again. 

As it turns out, all she really needs is an outlet to air out her emotions. She has moved past her tears, and she has stopped beating you down, but everything else still remains. The glare. The dour frown. The fingers gripped to your collar. The room is silent, with the only sound filling the air is your low, airy hush of “Sorry.” Your hand rubs against her arm, conveying a message of reassurance that everything’s going to be okay.

Yunjin freezes. Unsure of how she feels, unsure of what to do. The moment stretches beyond the perception of time. You end up getting caught unprepared by what happens.

She doesn’t apologize for throwing you to the floor and verbally and physically assaulting you. You don’t really mind. A kiss is more than enough of an apology. Even more when it’s passionate, humming into your mouth before letting her tongue slip right between your lips, and her hands now pressed to your cheek. Lovemaking is how she speaks to you. Her lips do most of the talking. 

Her body does the rest.

Yunjin pushes you down to the floor. You watch her shed her leather jacket, in awe of her radiant beauty.  Her skin is porcelain, gleaming from the bedroom light. She’s a star, and shines like one. The reverence soon turns to amusement, mostly at how nonchalant she’s behaving. Minutes ago, she was hostile, out of control, threatening to turn you into a ruined mess. Instead, she’s about to leave you a ruined heap, but in a different way. 

She notices. She always does. Knows you like a book. She grins.

“You know I can’t be mad at you,” she says, lifting an eyebrow as she straddles on your lap. Smirking playfully, she’s making you double take and wonder if this was an elaborate ploy or if she was really upset. And if it’s the former, then you’d really feel betrayed and manipulated. “Sorry dear,” she adds, accompanied by a peck on your lips. “I know it’s not your fault nor mine, it’s just that we prepared so much and—”

“Don’t worry,” you interrupt, placing a hand on her bare shoulder, “I should have been there. I mean, what are the chances the one time I’m not there, this shit—”

“Shhh.” Yunjin plants a finger on your lips. “Babe shouldn’t worry about his Jen Jen’s performance. At least I looked cool falling, right?” she asks, both sweet and playful.

“Sure you did,” you chuckle, almost sucking on her fingertip as she points it directly at your lip. “Definitely the coolest fall I’ve ever seen. Will never be replicated. Ever. And I mean that.”

She laughs, heartily, even though she knows you’re flat out lying. “Yeah, because they won’t do stage designs like that ever again.” Then she kisses you again; she kisses you as if your lips are her lifeline. “I swear I’m gonna tell management not to do elevated stages when we go on tour!”

This is the Yunjin you know and love; the one that everyone knows her for. Laughs at her own jokes and her own mistakes, and smiles through it all. You’re amazed at how joined to the hip you both are when the cameras aren’t on. When you’re the only ones in the room—when she can truly be herself and not a fragmented version tailored to the public. You both have this special connection together that only you two can understand.

Her smile is so radiant, distracting even, that you recognize too little too late how tense you’re feeling.

“Jen Jen,” you tell her, looking down at her legs. She has a hand between her skirt, and her underwear is already partially down.

“What is it?”

“Can we take this somewhere else,” you tell her, flustered by your own request. There’s no skirting around the thought that you’d rather take her anywhere except for a cold floor in a messy bedroom. She hasn’t realized it yet, but you know Yunjin well; she would never let your imprints stick anywhere in her bedroom, hotel or her apartment, let alone make a mess. That, and for as much as you love the sight of her on top of you, you want to keep things on even footing—for now.

The expression she makes is priceless; it's all part of the charm. She rolls her eyes, scoffing at the thought, as if the very suggestion offends her. She takes a moment to let the notion sink in. “The audacity,” she thinks to herself, the idea seemingly harder to digest if anything else.

“You’re so unserious,” she comments, in the most blunt tone possible, it may as well be condescending. Her thighs press deeper into your jeans to further prove a point. If that’s what she wants., then you’re fine with that. It’s probably a better idea than yours, too. “You shitting me right now?”

“It couldn’t have hurt to ask.”

“Well it wouldn’t have hurt you to be here sooner,” she retorts, grinning, like those words are your biggest mistake. “Then maybe I would absolutely consider it.”

In reality, there’s nothing to consider, because you end up rolling on top of her after she first pounces on top of you. It’s how she usually greets you after a busy day: jumping straight into your arms, then it’s on to the bedroom.

But not tonight. You don’t make that far, just the table by the foyer, the chair she usually reads in, nearly tripping over the coffee table and landing somewhere more comfortable for you both in the living room. In your wake you leave behind a trail of clothes, yours and hers entangled together—mostly yours. It doesn’t take much to undress Yunjin when she’s dressed for the occasion, and by the time she’s halfway unbuttoning through your shirt, she’s on her knees, completely naked. 

She kisses you, leaves strawberry marked lips on your tummy, looking so wanton, so needy. Your eyes follow along as she continues down to your pants, before looking up to you with doe-eyed curiosity. She’s got an edge to her, they say, which really just means, “she’s really fucking hot.” Everything about her, from the attitude to the wardrobe screams fierce, someone who knows what they’re doing and doesn’t care about what others say. 

But behind closed doors, she’s more like the other girl you know. Someone she tends to look after. She looks vulnerable. It’s cute to watch her act like someone she’s not.

It’s impossible not to help yourself, to stroke your own ego, even at Yunjin’s expense. There’s no hiding that devilish grin; it’s way too obvious. Nodding, you brush your hand through her autumn colored locks as she undoes your jeans, reminding her who she really belongs to. 

“Fuck—oh God—” you moan, allowing Yunjin to do what she does best: use her lips to praise your cock. No preamble, no foreplay—just immediately taking you straight into her mouth. You were already hard, so it doesn’t take much effort for her to swallow you up. Both of you using your pent up frustration and impatience after weeks where it seemed as if you were worlds apart. 

Leaning back against the wall, you can only imagine how Yunjin looks taking it. Your hand firmly grips the back of her head, while she rubs her fingers along the length of your shaft. She forces out every curse and word of appreciation out of you with a deep tone, it’s almost concerning. 

“Slow down,” you mutter, knowing full well she won’t listen. Not for anything. Not for you. She wants this as much as you do. 

At first glance, it doesn’t really show—not in the playful, satisfied hums while she blows you nor in the slow, deliberate pump of her fingers around your base. It’s a little too leisurely for someone to act desperate. Then you peek through the curtain of sensory overload, and that’s when everything becomes clear. The furrow of her eyebrows, the fixated attention on your cock, the spread of spit and precum all over your erection. 

Maybe she does have a point after all.

She catches you staring, catches you slipping. Her eyes flutter open, then shut. In a flash, she goes from sipping on your cock to choking on it. Forcing you deep in her throat without your input. It leaves your head spinning, back at square one, with no control of Yunjin nor yourself, clinging your hands to the walls for support. 

“Jen Jen, shit—” you mouth, but it's near silent in comparison to the sloppy sound she makes gagging. It’s as if she’s laughing at you for looking so helpless against her.

The sensation of her slick mouth burns. Her ever increasing tempo and lack of care or comfort relentlessly pluck away at your resolve and restraint. Her eyes water as she violently pushes her own boundaries, her own limits. Stains gradually pile around her lips and chin, a mixture of her spit, seed, and lipstick. You have her hair wrapped around the print of your fingers, holding loose strands away from her gleaming face. Despite your best efforts, you aren’t able to see her beyond blurry little flashes and brief snapshots. Deep down, you’re set ablaze, with nothing to extinguish you. You look to the ceiling, to the side, anywhere but beneath you, trying to find some reprieve from the agony and tension pulling at your loins.

You end up finding it down there, where you want it the least.

Yunjin has you right where she wants you to be—tightly sealed between her strawberry lips as you helplessly cry out her name in a sea of curses and praise. Anticipating the moment you finally break, she zealously works around her gag reflex to keep you deep in her throat. It doesn’t help that she has your balls around her hand, rubbing away and humming in satisfaction at the big hot load that she’ll receive soon. At points, she’s pouting at the fact that you refuse to surrender yourself entirely to her, that you’re still fighting.

It’s a losing effort that ultimately delays the inevitable.

An echoed shout, a wide drop of your jaw, and right there, lightning strikes—you come undone. Yunjin welcomes you with an open mouth; your thick hot load spills down her throat without a single wasted drop. You’re left wide-eyed, shuddering, panting as your orgasm washes over you. Even so, she continues to squeeze away at your balls without remorse, pumping your cock to unload more cum down her thirsty, needy maw. 

Yunjin can’t hold in her delight and laughter after she licks your underside for any leftovers. You cushion back against the wall, your energy completely drained as she laps her lips and chin clean. Just like that, any remnant of what transpired hours ago, completely forgotten. It’s not a healthy coping mechanism—not in the slightest—but if it works, it works. 

That’s one department where Yunjin won’t let you down. 

“I wasn’t ready,” you huff, palming a hand on your thumping chest, cumbrously catching your breath. You mindlessly stare at the living room light, struggling to gather yourself. “Shit, Jen Jen, that was—”

“And we’re only getting started,” she interjects, quickly rising to her feet, pushing you upright. The grin on her face doubles down on the intent. “I’m not going to bed in a dour mood tonight, and you’re gonna help me feel better.”

God, she’s so damn good at this whole setting the mood thing.

You’re no different than anyone else, folding so easily as her fingers map out your body. Continuous circles around every part that belongs to her: from your hair, to your shoulders, arms, chest, down to your tummy, around your back, and everything else in between. Yunjin demands everything about you, her fiery gaze keeping you in tow. You’re tensing up, letting out these strained gasps, watching her watchful eyes dictate your every little move, reminding you who’s carrying the stick in the relationship.

She has you by the balls, quite literally—pumping you back to hardness—and she’s enjoying every moment of it. Teasing you with her flattering mien, she has every intention to leave you more tired and spent tonight than any day she’s worked in her life.

Then, a phone rings. It’s not the hotel landline, but from the pile around your legs. Suddenly, a lightbulb appears over Yunjin’s head, and the smirk on her lips is anything but subtle. 

“Would you look at that,” she teases, her grin growing an extra inch wider, and her ironclad grip loosens. Still, you have no room to breathe when she crouches down to dig your rumbling phone out of the pocket of your pants. She makes it a point to act shocked in response to the incoming caller, then shows her to you.

Kim Chaewon.

It’s an open secret within the group—how important of a piece she is between you two, the perfect reprieve and voice of reason when the other isn’t around. You’ve gotten tangled up with both Chaewon and Yunjin a few times, under the same guise of stress relief. In a way, they’ve grown closer together thanks to you. But the rather scornful frown she has tells you otherwise. As if she’s going to lose the one last thing keeping her head straight. Forget that Chaewon is respectful of your relationship; if she gets in the way between her and your dick, she’ll cut her down, and that goes for anyone else too, friendship be damned.

“Be a good boy and take care of the call, will you?” she asks, tone playful, handing the phone over to you. You have no say, other than to follow her command. In the process, you feel your groin tense up. You look down and find your cock sandwiched between her heavenly thighs, choking up from the new sensation of her creamy skin. 

When you try to look away, she redirects your eyes back to hers. Her palm meets your chin. Hard. She curls her lips, expressing disdain and reinforcing her control. There’s your first and last warning. 

You’ve never struggled so much just opening your own phone. It’s not that Yunjin just hacked into it; her imprints are everywhere. The very lockscreen is her kissing you, your face cropped out of frame and your homescreen is a candid photo of her more bold outfits.  If not for the texts from the other members and loved ones, you’d look like the creepiest, most obsessive stalker ever. You can feed tabloids and news outlets day-to-day information, down to the most intricate details. She’s a huge part of you, and it’s gonna eventually ruin you—

“Hurry up, dipshit.” 

Yunjin’s stern tone snaps you from your daze. Hard to maintain a steady head when she’s slowly choking you out and she’s thrusting your cock in and out of her legs, still sore from her blowjob and while you’re still reeling from your orgasm. She’s perfectly built for fucking for hours on end; you’re surprised you hasn’t caught on after so long.

“Hello?” Chaewon’s voice pulls your focus away, but only briefly. Almost instinctively, Yunjin’s legs press tighter against your hard cock in response. She raises her eyebrows, shaking her head, demanding you answer the call. No context clues, no verbal cues, just wing it. 

“He-ey, Chae.” Your voice comes out gruff, airy. A brief glimpse down and you find the growing stain on Yunjin’s thighs. Your cock entering and exiting the comfort of her legs. She doesn’t appear satisfied, not even a little. 

“Is Yunjin there with you? She’s been gone after we got back to our rooms. She's not been herself after—you know—and we’ve been trying to comfort her to no avail.”

“Yeah, she’s here with me—” you say, looking directly at her, and she nods, still stiff and sour. She leans forward, her tongue pressing against your skin, mumbling something incomprehensible on your neck. Somewhere along the lines of “If you tell her, I’m going to fucking kill you,” and she sounds like she means it.

Try to suppress your gasps and whine, you can’t hold yourself back. It affects your inflection, from gravelly and small to high-pitched and nasally. You’re one wrong move away from meeting disaster, and Yunjin is the one goading you to your own pitfall. She revels running you around in circles, leading you like sheep to a shepard. You can’t think straight from all this built up pressure. “She’s good! She’s doing just fine—”

Out of nowhere, she moans. Loud. Her tone is so obvious, it can’t be anyone but her. Any sort of illusion or pretense is immediately dashed, right then and there. You almost drop your phone, barely managing to save it with a glint of clarity.

You don’t hear from Chaewon for a bit, letting you indulge in Yunjin’s seductive motions. Your body is the perfect outlet for her pleasure: kissing and marking around her neck, her fingers tracing your arms to your chest, and your cock comfortably snug between her sculpted legs. You regain some semblance of control by pumping away between her warmth, but it’s hollow; she lets her thighs press down while you thrust quicker and quicker. At first, she’d been the one bringing all the friction, until your hips begin to glide involuntarily, the wetness dripping from her thighs and around your cock making the transition near-flawless. 

Soon, the room fills with the sound of her moans, till it becomes oh-so clear you’re fucking her. The call remains active, but you still hear nothing from Chaewon’s side. The phone in your hand is what’s holding you back, but even you feel your control slip away again; against Yunjin’s demand to pretend everything’s normal, when there’s nothing normal about the position you’re in. The only thing unusual is the fact that Chaewon isn’t there to watch, preferably while pleasuring herself.

“Shit, Yunjin, you feel so fucking good—” you sputter, clutching Yunjin’s nape as she curses and whines against your shoulder. Suddenly, you hear Chaewon again, but you’ve practically stopped caring. She’d understand.

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame her for going to you. I’d do the same right now, but I gotta take care of the girls as the leader.” Chaewon sounds so diplomatic about the matter, it’s almost surprising. “Just—” she pauses when Yunjin loudly kisses you, cooing and moaning about how big you are in the direction of your phone. “Please tell her to come back here by morning, all right?”

“Sure—thing.” Your tone jumps on the second word, as your cock hits a particularly deep stroke that teases the outline of her cunt. 

“Oh, and Kkura said hi, by the way.” 

You’re amazed at how understanding she is.

“Okay.” You look down and you see Yunjin adjust your cock around the entrance of her pussy with her hand, impatient and done with the teasing. All the possible replies to maintain normalcy and your best response ends up being a simple, hurried “Hi.”

“Bye.” 

You drop your phone right as Chaewon hangs up the call. Yunjin immediately kisses you straight in the lips, sliding her tongue between your lips. She lets out this strained whine when you grab her ass, lightly pushing her away. Miraculously, she doesn’t fight back or lash out. 

“Don’t you wanna cum right in my pussy?”

“No, Jen Jen. Let me finish right in your thighs.”  

Yunjin flashes this sad, deflated frown, but she ultimately concedes. She’s this multifaceted character only you might ever hope to understand. She's a perfectionist and wants things her way, but she’s also soft and vulnerable. You feel guilty making this rather huge request, but she reassures you by pressing your cock comfortably between her legs. Your worries soon disappear when the friction of her heat keeps your hips moving. The sight of your dick moving in-and-out keeps you preoccupied. 

Even she forgets about her disappointment too, hypnotized by the continuous rhythm of your cock. She pulls your head in, moans all these profanities of varying tones in your ear. The way you both pull each other’s bodies apart, your expressions twisting in pleasure, demanding more—you might as well be in bed, and not breaking your knees and backs against the living room wall. 

You’re not sure what’s going to break first—your legs, your back, your hips, or your cock.

“Oh—fuck—Yunjin,” you groan, losing yourself in her asphyxiating heat of her skin, on the verge of another climax. You have one hand marking her ass as you both grind into each other’s bodies. God, you’re both made for one another. Drowning in her tightness, you thrust deep between her legs. Same spot, same stroke, same result. You remember where and how well you’ve fucked her, it’s almost muscle memory to you. It drives Yunjin crazy. 

She senses your incoming orgasm and shouts. The need for you to cum isn’t a request, but a full demand. Something to be expected. Her voice hits those familiar high notes that aren’t far off from her usual recordings, and she firmly clings to you. As if you ever had any other thought than to finish on her pencilike legs. You let yourself succumb to the sensation, let all the pent up pressure set itself off while you bask in that delirious high.

The way Yunjin clenches her thighs around your cock, she may as well have snapped it off.

You both mirror each other’s expressions; eyes completely shut, jaw completely agape, resting in each other’s bodies. The only difference being that Yunjin is way, way louder than you. Your mind goes completely blank, with nothing but her name drawn out from the curve of your lips. Your back is aching; your knees are tingling, ready to fail at any time. Nothing registers for you except her voice, her endless moan that rings in your ear. It’s only after her legs involuntarily slacken their grip that you fall.

To the floor, that is.

And you stay down—a minute, maybe several, completely shaken up and your head still riding that high. Somewhere in limbo. One hand gripped to her waist, the other on her leg. You forget to breathe. Your brain doesn’t register the concept of exhaling, only taking in air. The world around you appears to pause completely. 

And then your phone beeps. Still dazed, you completely ignore it.

Yunjin brings you back to life. She has one hand gripped against the wall, the other on your hair—which you now just realize—gasping for much needed air. She can’t muster up the strength to open her eyes, so you assess the damage. It’s as disastrous as it looks: a huge splatter of cum around her legs, dripping down to her feet. To the floor. To your pants. 

You don’t say a word; you don’t really have anything meaningful or productive to add. The simple question of whether or not she feels better, but you know she’ll say it won’t be enough. That she wants your cum right in her pussy, no matter how spent or sore you are. Maybe you can quietly weave your way out of a nightlong bedroom session.

So you look at your phone, removing yourself from the situation. There’s two new messages, both from the same person—Chaewon. Nothing noteworthy, just the reminder to send Yunjin back early in the morning. The idol life never really stops.

Yunjin calls out to you, abruptly intercepting your attention. “Hey.”

You look up and find her looking down at the details, slowly gathering her bearings. She runs a finger on a sticky patch on her skin, then tastes your seed with her tongue. “What’s up?”

She ignores you for a moment to gather more cum to lap, then stares directly at you. “We should have done this in front of a mirror.”

You pause. It’s hard to believe Yunjin telling you this, when she’s been the biggest skeptic. She’d rather have it in bed, on the table—anywhere that won’t allow her to see herself. The uncanny image of a prim, desirable idol bent over while someone uses her.

With that in mind, you chuckle. “We do it all the time. Give it a break.” 

—————

You both end up doing it anyway.

It’s two in the morning, and you vividly have Chaewon’s request at the back of your mind. The group’s flight back home is in six hours, and Yunjin has to be there with them for breakfast. It’s not like you’ll be away long term; she has three days-off after today. Days when you can spend all the time in the world together to your heart’s content. But fuck, Yunjin is so goddamn insatiable, she can’t go at least three hours without your cock somehow around her. You don’t end up getting sleep, because she’s so needy for your cock she can’t help but stroke it or blow it back to hardness. 

Your suggestion? A late night coffee run that ends in predictable fashion: you, fucking Yunjin from behind in the comfort of a cafe restroom. 

Yunjin’s outfit barely qualifies as casual; if anything, it’s her performance fit (a sports bra and a short skirt) from earlier, topped only by the leather jacket she went to your room with. Yet none of that matters when they’re pooled on the floor, with your hand squeezing her bare breast and the other pressed on her shapely ass. And there’s your hard cock, pounding away at her soaked cunt like it’s second nature—which it is—and it’s quite the motivating sight. Watching it appear and disappear in her pussy, hearing her hushed pleas, echoed cries, and every lewd sound in between.

The cafe across your hotel is completely empty, which is to be expected. You can count the number of working staff on one hand, and most of them are fast asleep or busy on their phone. You’re not making any excuses for fucking Yunjin at a place like this; you’re merely laying out the scene. 

You can blame Yunjin for your precarious position. Any attempt to make some small talk she makes it about you. About missing your cock so much, about how she wants you to fill her pussy up and make her feel better. As if two orgasms wasn’t enough. You wouldn’t be surprised if she asked you to fuck her right then and there, in front of the cafe where everyone can see. You end up agreeing to a compromise, but it’s merely delaying the inevitable. The door is locked shut, nobody’s around to hear, and no one really cares.

If only it were that simple.

“Fuck—so—fucking—big!” cries out Yunjin, as if you were in the privacy of your hotel room and not in front of a public restroom. She gives it to you again, praises you in both murmurs and screams, her hands glued on the edges of the sink, eyes fluttering open and closed with her jaw agape on the surface. It’s as filthy as you imagined, if not more. Only you can see the full extent of the damage you’re making, and it is breathtaking. 

She beckons you to fuck her harder, give her more, tells you not to stop. The idea never crosses your mind. When she yells and mewls, she’s making sure each one is louder than the last. You can tell she has nothing to lose. If she’s going down, she’ll drag you down with her. 

“You’re so fucking tight, Jen Jen,” you groan out, looking at your entangled bodies in the mirror, at her arched back, at the curvature of her ass, at your cock spearing her hard. You puncture each of your next three words with increasing emphasis. “So—fucking—tight.”

As the sex dissolves into deeper madness, so does your restraint. You’re fucking her through the sink, pounding away with reckless abandon, with zero care for comfort. Thoughtless, impulsive drops of ‘tight,’ ‘fuck,’ and even a single ‘slut’ bomb—words that can get you cancelled on-air. Yunjin shudders, letting out this drawn out ‘yes’ in response, as if admitting the truth—to your utter surprise (sarcasm). Her core clenches against your cock, stretching her out. So wet, so needy—

It’s a strange thing to believe, but this is Yunjin’s first orgasm of the night. Her lands lay flat on the sink, and her mouth lolls wide, screaming your name like you’re the most important person in the world. The intense heat, the suffocating pulse of her cunt, drowning your cock—

Fuck, it’s too much for your already aching cock. And her thighs and lips were brutal in their own right. 

Moments after hers, your very own climax follows. You’ve already struggled holding back twice; whatever amount of resolve you had left is non-existent. Moving from her chest at some point, the hand on her hair yanks harder. Pushing your hips as far as they can go, wishing your cock can somehow enter her womb—you ignore the possibility that you might be hurting her. 

‘Hurts so good’ exists for a reason.

The remnants of your orgasm continue to leave Yunjin in shambles. A brief look at the aftermath, and the first impression is that you didn’t fuck her hard enough. Your hot cum spilling from her splayed, ruined hole, her clothes on the other side of the restroom, and your pants receiving some of her hot slick. Yunjin remains bent on the sink, huffing through her own climax, your hand deeply imprinted on her ass, and marks, scratches, and rosy patches on her back—vestiges of hours gone by. 

You remain like this for a little while longer: cuddling up against her frame while she rests on the sink, softly kissing around her ear, brushing strands of loose red hair. She’s gorgeous, there’s no denying that. When she performs, when she’s being herself, when she’s getting pounded hard—but she looks best when she’s calm, when she’s at her softest, at her most vulnerable. When you’re all alone and you both have nothing to hide. At the end of the day, you both need each other. For everything.

—————

You and Yunjin might as well be strangers. 

It’s as if the past seven hours happened in a different timeline. Both of you casually lounge in the still lifeless cafe, drinking the nonexistent traces of your iced coffee. You scroll through social media; Yunjin still dominates the trends and new reposts of the viral accident pop-up like they’re produced from a factory. She’s doing the same, reading through all the comments. Some memes, some praising her professionalism, some simply to get that verified ad revenue. 

This will be completely forgotten in a week. Yunjin’s career will come out unscathed. People move on. She will, too.

Yet you still remain awkward with her, completely undecided on the words that she really needs right now. She needs you more than just your body. 

“Jen Jen,” you whisper, before you freeze up at her anxious gaze. She waits for a follow-up, a sentence, anything. It never comes. 

She frowns. She’s not mad, only disappointed.

The sun begins to rise over the city, signaling the start of a new day. Knowing this, Yunjin adjusts her jacket and rises from her seat. You never told her once.

She walks through the door, and steps outside—but not before turning and taking one last concerned look at you. You quietly mouth ‘Love you,’ and surprisingly, she smiles. The Yunjin you know and love.

‘Love ya.’ 

—————

(A/N: againsorryfornotpostingmuchlatelyohgodivebeensobusy—

Ginger/red hair Yunjin didn't grow on me at first. Then the Good Bones teaser dropped. The strut. The attitude. The fact they allowed her to walk around in her bra and panties. What the fuck. I've been so down bad for her lately, and so are you. Looking forward to their new music! Thank you for reading!)

[verstappen-cult]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL | CL16

— 02. THE MEDDLING

PREV. PART | NEXT PART — [ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

summary: in which charles has an embarrassing crush on alex's childhood best friend and everyone meddles. content warnings: faceclaim is taylor hill but you can picture her as you’d like! some cursing and for the sake of the smau imola was not canceled. note: thank you sm for the love you showed the first part! once again if you see some mistakes please know that english is not my first language and i noticed them once everything was finished. if you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know! ♡

INSTAGRAM STORIES

MAY 14, 2023.

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM POST

📍 ROMA, ITALY

Liked by yourusername, lilymhe and 432,503 others

alex_albon Don’t believe anything they say, I won ⛳️

view all 3,799 comments

lilymhe i’m not gonna say anything. 🤐

user35 so it is true. they were with charles and Y/N user36 We don’t know that user37 someone working there confirmed it

charles_leclerc mate you fell like three times

user38 WE GOT THE CONFIRMATION user39 omg this makes it real user40 BUT WAS Y/N ACTUALLY THERE

user41 not his entire comment section filled with charles and Y/N fans 🙄🙄🙄

user42 PARENTS

yourusername shut up you know i won

user43 OH MY GOD OH MY GODDDD user44 i cant believe it i’m having a crisis over this user45 context pls user46 everyone’s saying they were in a double date and apparently this is the confirmation.

pierregasly thanks for (not) inviting me!!!

📍 ROMA, ITALY

Liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya and 756,223 others

yourusername i won. i have witnesses.

view all 2,498 comments

alex_albon keep saying that 🥱

yourusername SHUT UP

user47 not a single pic of charles and her together but we know they were together

user48 feeding us crumbs

user49 she looks so pretty

zendaya tom keeps saying we need to play golf when you’re back in london.

yourusername tell him i’m gonna kick his ass

landonorris you should play with people that actually knows how to play: ME

lilymhe SORRY? yourusername dw lils, i have your back

user50 i love how she’s befriending everyone

user51 thanks to alex user52 and your point is? user51 she’s using him for his fame user53 LOOOOOOL

pierregasly thanks for (not) inviting me!!!

user54 what’s more hilarious to me than this whole “double date” discourse are pierre comments on both alex and Y/N posts because they did not invite him.

Y/N & ALEX’S iMESSAGE

THURSDAY MAY 18, 2023 — PRESS CONFERENCE

charles is sitting next to lando and max, pierre next to him as alex stands in front of them. he’s aware they’re talking about what they’re expecting from this weekend, but he can’t seem to focus on what they are actually saying, only picking up pieces of the conversation. he’s too focused on his phone, the message thread he has with Y/N staring back at him. the last text he has from her is just a simple ‘cool’ after he was trying to play it cool.

“what you doing, charlie?” max asks, playfully poking him in the ribs. he immediately locks his phone, raising his head only to find that everyone is looking at him already.

“i know what he’s doing.” lando wiggles his eyebrows and charles wonders if he really needs his fingers to race. “you screwed up.”

charles knows he screwed up, and definitely doesn’t need lando reminding him the awful mistake he made for just trying not to sound too intense because, of course, he’s made that mistake in the past. and every girl he’s had something with always said the same: ‘you’re too much, charles’, ‘you’re taking things too fast, we should take a break.’ so ever since the last girl he dated, once again, said the same thing, charles promised himself he would not be that guy.

“hey,” alex has this look of pity in his eyes that he doesn’t like, not even one bit. “maybe we could do something to help you.”

“i don’t need your help.” charles’ tone is too sharp and abrupt it’s makes him feel a little bad for talking to his friends like that. but just a little.

“look, you like her, right?” pierre chimes in, but doesn’t wait for an answer. “alex is his best friend, if you want a chance with her, he’s the only one who can help you right now.”

but why does he wanna help him?

alex must see the question written all over his face because he says, “she’s dated a few assholes in the past and i really want something good for her. i trust you, charles.” he tries to look serious which only makes charles laugh. “besides, i have the perfect idea.”

ALEX’S iMESSAGE — MAY 18, 2023

INSTAGRAM POST

📍 VENICE, ITALY — MAY 19, 2023

Liked by scottyjames31, lance_stroll and 976,665 others

yourusername a few days ago i had the pleasure to celebrate two of my favorite people, Chloe and Scotty James. and spent two wonderful days filled with love and joy in the beautiful venice! so happy for you both. 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏼🩷

i wish i could stay here forever, but back to reality for now. :(

view all 7,455 comments

user55 i didn’t know she’s friends with the strolls

lance_stroll I have very embarrassing videos of you, just remember that 🍾

user56 why lance and Y/N look kinda good together

user57 That’s exactly what I was thinking. They would look pretty good as a couple user58 he has a girlfriend user59 and Y/N is probably dating charles user57 only rumors

user60 back to reality? she’s not gonna be in the paddock this weekend?

user61 why would she? nobody wants her there

user62 i thought she was in italy for the gp

user63 just a coincidence user62 still hoping she’ll be there

francisca.cgomes I’m gonna need to borrow that beautiful dress! ❤️

user63 she really knows everyone now user64 literally. she was just one time at a race and befriended everyone

user65 i feel like we’re missing something

Y/N’s iMESSAGE

SATURDAY MAY 20, 2023 — THE MISSION 007 DINNER

the second you see a head of brown hair standing at the door, you want to walk over to where alex is sitting and smash his head on the table. you made sure before arriving to the restaurant that charles was not gonna be there tonight, even lando told you he was busy with some ferrari event. obviously, both lied to you.

“hey, charles!” george, who’s standing next to you, his girlfriend carmen at your other side, waves at him. and for the first time since that fateful dinner a few days ago, you make eye contact with his bright brown eyes.

butterflies break free inside your belly, even when you try to repress everything he makes you feel.

you’ve known charles for no more than ten days but it really feels like you’ve known each other your whole life. everything is so easy with him, you can’t remember when was the last time you felt this way, if it ever happened.

you thought everything was going well between you two and, for a minute, you let yourself believe he could like you. but then he gave you the cold shoulder and everything came crashing down.

and that’s your problem. you always feel so much in so little time that when things don’t go the way you’d like, everything hurts twice as hard.

there’s no one to blame but you.

“hey,” is it possible to like the sound of his voice so much that you feel your knees going weak?

“you’re the last one to arrive. here,” george shares a look with his girlfriend that you don’t really know how to read, and both move aside. “you’re sitting here tonight. we’ll go find our seats.”

you want the earth to swallow you. you want to be in a plane far away from here because the seat george is pointing at it’s right next to yours.

before you can open your mouth to say something, the couple slips away. and suddenly it feels like you and charles are the only ones in the room.

no one says a word for what feels like hours. you’re actually trying to find a excuse to leave when charles sighs, defeated.

“i’m sorry.” his voice is almost a whisper, something only for you to hear. “i acted like an idiot.”

“yeah,” you agree because you don’t know what else to say. he did act like an idiot, ignoring you for days, not answering your texts even when you asked him if something was wrong.

“i can explain if you’d let me.”

his brown eyes bore into yours, so soft and sincere your heart skips a beat. and even if you want to say no, your whole body begs you to accept.

“let’s eat first and enjoy the evening,” his face lights up like a kid on christmas day. “then i’ll let you buy me dessert and we can talk.”

TWITTER — SUNDAY MAY 21, 2023

TAGLIST (bold means i couldn’t tag you) — @leclerc16s. @willowpains. @berrnuu. @minkyungseokie. @sassyheroneckgiant. @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir. @nessacarty1. @a1leexxa. @storminacloud. @lovstappen.

note: i hope you liked it. i’m sorry if i forgot to tag you! please let me know what you think, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. <3

[barcaatthemoon]

rivals || patri guijarro x reader ||

you see patri after an el classico match.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead

"are you ready to see your girlfriend?" misa teased as she nudged you. there weren't many of your teammates at real madrid who felt comfortable enough with you to tease you like that. misa had been your friend since you were in the spanish youth groups, and had seen firsthand your tumultuous, at best, relationship with patri.

real madrid was not the club that you necessarily wanted to play for in spain, but it was the only madrid team who had made an offer on you. you were a madrid girl through and through. alexia was to barcelona what you were to madrid. your somewhat newfound fame as madrid's golden girl of futbol made the el classico matches even more exciting.

that wasn't the development that made your stomach churn with nervous excitement. the fact that you were sleeping with patri now was wht did it for you. misa was the only one of your teammates who knew that, and she had only found out by walking into your apartment while patri had you bent over the back of your own couch while she fucked you.

"she is not my girlfriend. i have better taste than to date a fucking culer," you snapped at her. misa just laughed as she pulled you against her in a side hug. "i feel good about today. let's take home a win, okay?"

"i'm sure that you can distract your girl and help us out," misa teased. you rolled your eyes at her insistence at referring to patri as 'yours' and shoved her away a bit. as annoyed as you pretended to be, the more that you thought about it, the nicer it sounded to be with someone again.

your last relationship had been a bust, and the reason that you had decided to take a break from dating men for a bit. you had always been comfortable in your sexuality, and for the most part you took no shit about it. if anybody made weird remarks or jokes, you had no qualms kicking them to the curb. david had been a bit different, you had been in deep already when he had begun to change for the worse. by the time that you realized you wanted out, you wondered if it was worth it to start over with someone new.

luckily for you, misa had pulled your head out of your ass about him before too much had happened. she had nearly strangled the both of you when she found out that he was trying to talk you into retirement so you could support him in his "career." misa had always hated him, claiming that he gave bad vibes, but you had ignored him because he was cute and nice to you at a time when a lot of people weren't.

"we're here."

…

patri watched as you walked around the field and comforted your teammates. you had once gotten on her nerves like nobody else ever could, but now she felt wildly different about you. however, you never really seemed ready for more than a quick fuck after a game. it didn't help that the two of you were just barely on civil speaking terms.

"whatever the two of you are doing, it's not working," alexia teased as she stepped up next to patri. it had been an ongoing thing of alexia trying to poach you from madrid. she had been asking you to consider transfering since your athletico madrid days. now, you were too expensive of a player for them to even try to get back if they wanted a decent chance of expanding. all you wanted was to go back to where you had started, but since you refused to leave madrid, you were stuck with real.

"excuse me?" patri sputtered. she didn't think that anybody other than misa was clued in to what was going on between you and her.

"you disappear every single time we go to madrid, and misa mentioned not being able to find (y/n) last time they were here. i'm just putting some pieces together, and i need you to be better in bed so she'll come play with us," alexia said. patri relaxed a bit before she realized exactly what alexia had just said.

"excuse you, (y/n) is perfectly satisfied with me, unlike that douche from before," patri grumbled. alexia smirked as she saw the flare of jealousy in patri's eyes. alexia knew you were sleeping together because claudia had told her, but she had no clue that patri liked you as much as she obviously did.

"at this point, i think aitana has a better chance of recruiting her than you." alexia nudged patri and pointed over to where aitana was being lifted in your arms as you hugged her. once again, that jealousy reared its head and patri stormed over there.

"guijarro," you greeted curtly. it was your first time seeing each other since she had been subbed off. the game was incredibly physical and patri had taken every opportunity to grab you or knock into you. "did your performance to get me carded not exhaust you?"

"that's funny, really. i'd ask if you were okay, but i know how rough you like it," patri said. there was an air of tension around the two of you that was so thick that any random onlooker could probably see it.

"come on, i know you can do better than that. talk dirty to me." you leaned in and whispered that last part to her before you began to walk away. behind you, patri stood there dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. she couldn't just follow you, and she sure as hell wasn't going over to her teammates that had just witnessed that.

…

there was a familiarity in patri's bed that confused you. a part of you knew that things were never supposed to get like this. you were occasional national teammates and club rivals. patri wasn't your girlfriend. a bigger part of you loved the way that patri knew exactly what you needed after a game like that.

for all of the tension and big talk, things were surprisingly tender. patri had pinned you down to the mattress with both of her arms draped across your hips. you desperately tried to buck your hips, but she wasn't giving you an inch. everything moved at patri's pace as her tongue slowly flicked against your clit again and again.

"patri please," you whined. you were resting on your elbows as you stared down at her. she paid you no mind as she ate you out. that wasn't going to be the end of it, this rarely was. patri was warming you up, bringing you close to the edge so that you'd be that much more obedient when she decided that she wanted to fuck you.

"aw, do you want to cum?" patri asked teasingly. she pushed herself up a bit to rest her hands on top of where her hands met on your body. now, you didn't have any friction. the want of it threatened to drive you crazy, which was exactly what patri wanted. she wanted you desperate and begging for you. "i don't know if i'm up for fucking you. that was a pretty rough game that we just played. you know what? i think that i'm kind of tired."

"patri," you whined, kicking your legs beneath her. patri laughed as she moved up your body so that your faces were inches apart. "please, don't leave me like this. make me cum."

"on one condition-," patri moved off of the bed and towards her closet, "-put this on."

in her hands was a bunched up barcelona jersey from a season or two ago. your face twisted in disgust. you had never worn a barcelona jersey in your entire life, and patri knew that. you weren't even thinking about the fact that it was one of patri's old jerseys with her name splayed across the back. all you cared about was the fact that it was a barcelona jersey, the same one they had worn one of the many times that they had beaten you in the finals.

"what's the hold up? i thought that you wanted to cum," patri said. "all you have to do is put it on and turn around for me, then i'll fuck you until you're begging me to stop."

"i can't wear this, and you know it," you told her.

"that's odd because i'm pretty sure that you can," patri teased. the two of you were at a bit of a stand-off, but eventually patri won as the arousal between your legs began to become uncomfortable. you put the jersey on hastily and moved onto your hands and knees for her.

patri bit her lip as she took in the sight of you with her last name on your back. it would never happen in a million years, but patri still soaked it in. she moved in behind you and guided herself towards your entrance. patri's hands gripped your hips as she began to thrust into you from behind.

"oh fuck," you swore under your breath. you were a very vocal person in bed, and patri ate it all up. every seemingly overdramatic sigh and gasp mixing in with soft moans that eventually turned into pleasured screams as her thrusts picked up pace and strength.

patri had her jersey clenched tightly in her fist as she fucked you. there was no regard for anything, not even as she heard the fabric tear a little. behind you, she was muttering in catalan, words you recognized, but didn't completely understand. you couldn't focus on anything other than the white-hot heat ripping through your body as you came around her strap.

the tenderness from before returned as patri flipped you onto your back. she pressed a couple of quick kisses to your lips before she left you on the bed alone. patri got you all cleaned up and brought you a pair of boxers in case you didn't feel like getting up and dressed.

"this isn't going to become a thing," you warned her. patri smirked, as she had heard it at least ten times from you before. she knew that you meant the jersey, which you had yet to remove from your body yet.

"shh, enough of that now," patri told you. you grumbled as she pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "isn't it much more fun fucking than fighting?"

"you just like it because you never win our fights," you shot back. patri rolled her eyes as she pulled you into her arms, where you were settled in for the night. patri assumed that you fell asleep instantly, and if you didn't bring up the picture of you 'asleep' on her chest in her jersey, it was nobody's business.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Ego check

Word count: 803

Pairing: lando Norris x reader

Summary: At a crowded party, you challenge Lando Norris's inflated ego by advising him on how to engage genuinely

My request are open

________________________________________________________

Just as you were about to retreat to a quieter corner, a guy slid up next to you, a cocky smirk already plastered on his face. His dark brown hair was tousled in that "I didn't try, but I totally did" way, and he carried himself with an air of entitlement that you could sense from a mile away.

"You must know who I am," he said without so much as a hello.

You blinked at him, unimpressed, and took another sip of your drink. "Should I?" you replied, your voice calm but pointed.

His smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. "Lando. Lando Norris. I race in Formula 1."

You shrugged, raising an eyebrow. "That's nice."

He stared at you like you had just spoken in a foreign language. "You don’t know who I am? Lando Norris? F1 driver?" He leaned in closer as if trying to figure out if you were messing with him.

You tilted your head slightly, keeping your cool. "I heard you the first time. Just not sure why I should care."

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. His ego was massive, and you could tell he was used to people fawning over him, especially at events like this. But you weren’t interested in that kind of attitude. You liked funny, genuine people—not guys who thought their fame gave them a free pass to be arrogant.

"You know," you said, setting your drink down on the bar, "if you want people to like you, you might want to try being a little less full of yourself. The whole 'do you know who I am' thing? Not cute."

He stared at you, speechless for a moment, clearly not used to being spoken to like that. But instead of getting defensive or annoyed, something in his expression changed. It was subtle at first—his posture relaxed a little, the smirk faded, and his eyes softened as he studied you.

"Okay," he said after a beat, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "What should I say, then?"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden shift in attitude. "Well, for starters, you could try saying 'Hi, I’m Lando. What’s your name?' You know, like a normal person."

He let out a short laugh, and you could tell the arrogance was melting away. "Hi," he said, still grinning but in a way that felt more real this time. "I’m Lando. What’s your name?"

You smiled back, feeling a little bit of your initial annoyance fade. "That’s better. I’m Y/n."

The conversation shifted after that. Lando dropped the cocky attitude, and instead of talking about himself, he started asking about you—your interests, what brought you to the party, and what you liked to do for fun. He cracked a few jokes, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected to.

It was almost like you had flipped a switch in him. The arrogance that had initially repelled you had given way to something softer, more genuine. He started to talk about his passion for racing in a way that wasn’t about impressing you, but about sharing something he loved.

And as the night went on, you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on you when you spoke, how his laugh was a little louder at your jokes, how he seemed to genuinely enjoy your company.

By the time you were getting ready to leave, Lando looked at you with an intensity that hadn’t been there before.

"You know," he said, leaning against the bar, "I think you’re the first person in a long time who hasn’t cared who I am. It’s kind of refreshing."

You smiled, grabbing your bag. "That’s because I care more about who people are, not what they do."

Lando ran a hand through his hair, looking a little flustered for the first time all night. "I think I could get used to that. Would it be too forward if I asked to see you again?"

You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth in your chest as you looked at him, no longer the arrogant guy who had first approached you but someone you might actually want to get to know.

"I guess we’ll see," you said with a grin before turning to leave.

And as you walked away, you couldn’t help but notice Lando watching you, looking completely smitten.

[jyoongim]

Hiii

Alastor X human!reader where she is desperate to make a deal for fame and glory.

She tries to summon a demon, accidentally conjuring Alastor. Beside her feisty facade she’s quite innocent and naive. He’s intrigued by her and toys with her, like a prey,tricking her into him, she signs the deal. He’ll come back after 1yr to collect his pretty little prize…her body and soul. 🌶️🔥

Title: A Price to Pay

part 2

You frowned at the check your boss had handed you.

Too little. You looked at your boss, a nervous smile on your lips as a laugh bubbled out of your throat ”haha this is half of what i should be getting. That’s funny, where's the rest? Am i getting that in cash or some?” Your boss laughed “HA! No thats what you’re getting for the week‘

Your eyes damn near popped out of your head.

 For the week?

This was your pay for the entire week?

Oh hell no!

You poked a finger into the mans chest “What?! The whole week? I’ve been singing my ass off in this shit hole for two weeks! Where are my commissions?” You were angry! 

He gave a low laugh as he pulled out a cigar ”You think just because you’re my best in this joint that I wasn’t gonna get the Final Cut? You better take it before i hand your ass nothing”

You sniffled as you wiped at your runny nose.

The yellow paper with EVICTION stared at you as you felt another wave of tear hit you.

Why? 

Why couldn’t you just make enough to stay afloat?

Why did you have to suffer?

Why didn’t fate grant you mercy?

You had been busting your ass for months trying to make enough money to just pay the damn pills.

You were the best singer on your side of town and that shit hole needed a singer almost every night and when big shots went there. The money wasn’t terrible, it beat standing out on the pier at night, waiting to be taken to gods know where.

You laughed dryly, you would gladly get pimped out if it meant that you could still afford food to eat.

Why was life so cruel?

You had worked so hard and it felt like it was all for nothing.

You could hear your momma in your head

”You wanna dream big? Then never let life beat you down. Take it by the balls and make your dream a reality”

The next thing you know, you found yourself pulling out your mother’s old grimoire and drawing symbols on your bedroom floor.

what the hell were you doing?

You used to scoff at your mother when she did spells. 

Because magic wasn’t real…right?

But it felt like you had no other option as you threw some herbs into the small fire pot.

Momma used to tell you about all types of things that were possible with a little magic. That you always had friends on the other side who could help if you knew what you doing.

And you indeed had no fucking clue.

But you were tired, angry, and desperate and wanted to do something about it.

This was your life!

You felt your body tingle as you chanted the incantation.

The room turned cold and the fire from the candles blew out. The building started to shake as you spoke the last verse and suddenly you were thrown back from an explosion in the middle of your pentagram.

You watched in terror as the floor glowed red and rising from the smoke was a very large demon.

You panicked as it began to stand, gulping at its full height.

Oh what did you just do?

—————————————————

Alastor blinked as he stood. Fanning the smoke away from his face, he grimaced once he saw the pentagram, candles, and herbs. Who dared? His ears perked at the sound of heavy breathing. He turned his head and red eyes caught sight of a mortal woman standing against the wall, eyes wide.

He took a step towards her, head tilting as she cowered away. He huffed as he got to the edge of the protection boundary. He gave her a smile, sharp teeth glistening with narrowed eyes 

“Hello my dear”

——————————————————————

You took in the tall demon that stood in your bedroom.

He was dressed like one of those fancy gents.

Red and black tailored suit with a cane.

You watched as he curled his lip when he saw your protection boundary. You felt your body freeze as his eyes met yours.

Red.

Glowing red. 

He was rather handsome looking for a demon. 

He reminded you of-

“Deer” you squeaked, causing Alastor to tilt his head, ears flicking.

oh come on! You can’t be scared of something that you’re in control of!

”Hello my dear” you heard him say. He stood on the cusp of the salt boundary giving you his full attention.

That smile of his was very uncanny.

You shivered.

You found your nerves and puffed your chest out

”Hello demon-sir”

”Alastor” you blinked at him “w-what?”

He never lost that smile “The names Alastor. Pleasure to meet you” you were at a lost for words.  Alastor took your silence to look around, your spellbook caught in his attention before he took you in.

You cleared your throat “I summoned-” “conjured” “You to um make a deal?” You said uncertain

Alastor smirked “oh reallly? And what makes you think Ill make a deal with a human like you?”

You frowned ”You don’t have a choice! I summoned YOU here you have to do what I ask!’

He laughed darkly “Oh my dear that isn’t how things work” he looked back at the salt ”lets chat”

You didn’t trust him, but he seemed friendly girl don’t do it

you inched close and with a sweep of your foot, dusted a bit of the salt to let him through.

Alastor stepped through and now you were being towered over.

Alastor took you in.

what a small thing you were. He was sure you had no idea what you were doing or dealing with.

But if it was deal you wanted, he will grant that.

”What do you want?”

You wrung your hands nervously as you spilled your sad excuse of a life and your far fetched dream.

You felt a surge of determination as you finished your little rant “That’s why I need a deal! I deserve to rise to the top! I’ve worked my ass off for years and nothing! Why-Why should I settle for this? My life deserved to be full of glamor and money! I deserve that right? Right! S-s-so what do you say”

Oh what an innocent thing you were.

Such a fire that had nowhere to burn.

Perfect 

Alastor feigned mulling it over, your face dropping as he walked away from you.

”A deal works both ways my dear”he started as he turned back to you “What will you give me in return?” His smile stretched across his face as his calm facade faded.

You gulped but you were not gonna back out “Ill give you anything j-just please I don’t care what I have to do!”

He was in front of you in a flash, making you take a step back nervously 

“Anything?” A clawed hand squished your cheeks hard as he leaned his face to yours

”prove it” he purred

You blinked.  How the hell were you suppose to do that?

Nothing in this world is free. Your momma taught you that and your warning bells were screaming.

His thumbs was running over your lips and you opened your mouth to suck it.

You could die right now. Was this worth it? To give up your dignity to a demon?

Alastor growled and in a swift motion, you were on your bedroom floor, heart thumping in your ears as you looked up at the demon on top of you.

Alastor’s free hand swiped down your body, tearing your clothes to shreds, leaving you naked.

You felt a soft heat curl in your stomach.

Alastor laughed darkly as he took in your naked form. His hand dipped down and thumbed at the small bundle of nerves, causing you to jolt.

Oh he was going to have fun with you

”One year.” He said as he dipped a finger into your tight heat.

You gasped around his finger.

”You’ll get your fame. You’ll have riches and power beyond your imagination. A top star. It’ll all be yours. But in one year you are mine. Your soul and body. Do we have a deal?” He was slowly fingering you, relishing in the softness your cunt offered as it squeezed around him.

Your body and soul in exchange for glory.

Did you still want this?

”yes” you whimpered

A green glow emitted around the two of you. Alastor eyes glowed and his antlers grew as he plucked his thumb from your mouth and slammed his lips onto yours as he rubbed your clit as he slammed his fingers into you.

”mmmhmm hmmm!’ You cried into his mouth as your orgasm hit you.

Your cunt clenched around him, creamy slick drowning his hand.

Your body buzzed as he retracted his fingers, watching in bliss as he licked your cum off his fingers.

”Oooh such a sweet cunt” He Purred at you as he scooped you up into his arms to lay you on your bed.

”Ill always keep close watch my dear, so don’t think you can back out of this” he said, you blinked sleepily as you felt the coldness of a necklace clasped around your neck.

“One year my dear”

Your world faded to black.

pt 2 coming soon..hehehe

@thewinchestah @catherine1206 @stygianoir @jellibean2018 @markster666 @strawberrypimp666 @3verlark @alastor-simp @alastorsaries @alastwhore666 @gojosaturos-wife @tojirights @polytheatrix @dennsfz @horrorartsworld @prosciuttosblog @yourdoorisunlocked @dievia3 @alastorsdarling @t0byisher3 @mneferta @purplecatsandhearts @alishii @okay-babe @danveration @absurd-ash @peachedtv @simphornies @fatnug @alastorsdear @alastwhore666 @stawberrypimpsimp @altruisticalastor @queenariesofnarnia @scaramoochiie @rradio-static @someonethatsnotimportantplshelp @squeekycheesecurd @squixythebee @catmunist @lbcreations-blog @coleisyn @bratty2bunny @v0xsw1fe @alstorloml @fizzled-phoenix @siiv3r @k1y0yo @yunimimii @wisteria-seal @kassa-stardust

[transform4u]

I’m a up and coming gay college freshman, definitely more focused on the academic end of things. any chance I could have a real straight bro’s college experience?

You stand in front of your dorm room mirror, adjusting your outfit for the night. It's not just any party—you're getting ready for Alistair's party, the only other guy as smart as you, yet also your longtime rival. The rivalry goes back to high school where you competed fiercely for top grades, and Alistair never quite forgave you for being valedictorian. You'd hoped attending a top university would keep you apart, but fate had other plans. Now, you share nearly every class and club, constantly crossing paths in classes, dorms, cafeterias, and even at GSA meetings.

High school rumors painted you and Alistair as boyfriends, a hilarious misconception given your rivalry. You were the charming, kind geek with a hidden cuteness, while Alistair was awkward, intensely bookish, and secretly jealous of your easy charm and looks. He was deeply into Star Wars, whereas you had every episode of Doctor Who on DVD and even dressed as the 14th Doctor last year.

Tonight, you had hoped Alistair's party invitation signaled a truce, a chance to bury the hatchet and start fresh. But stepping into his dimly lit dorm room, bathed in red lights and adorned with an emo witchy goth aesthetic, you feel a strange tension in the air. Tacky Star Wars posters clash with shirtless pin-ups of Tom Holland and Chris Evans, and Alistair's black-rimmed glasses give him an intense, cat-like gaze.

"Welcome," he greets you with a coy smile, handing you a drink. You cautiously sniff it—it seems fine. "We should probably pregame a bit, right? To putting the past behind us! To starting a new!" he says cheerfully, raising his glass. Little did you know how true those words would ring.

As you sip the drink, a peculiar sensation washes over you. Your head spins, and you glance down to see yourself standing inside a pentagram marked on the floor. Candles around it flicker to life, and Alistair begins chanting in a low, resonant voice.

"By the magic that shapes the soul and bends the will, I transform my rival with a potent skill. From intellect to muscle, from wit to brawn, Make him the jock he'd sneer upon."

Energy pulses through your body as Alistair continues, his words weaving a spell that seems to twist reality itself.

"Let his speech be all about the game, His thoughts as shallow as his fame. Turn his interests, twist his mind, Let ignorance and swagger bind."

You struggle to protest, to break free from the enchantment that grips you, but it's futile.

"By the moon and stars above, Grant me this spell, my deepest love. To teach a lesson, change the scene."

In an instant, darkness envelops you.

When you regain your senses, you find yourself amidst a lively, bustling party. Music thumps loudly, and colorful lights dance across the room. Confusion grips you—something is definitely different, but you can't quite grasp it. People around you seem to regard you differently, and you feel a newfound confidence, a swagger in your step that's both thrilling and disconcerting.

Alistair stands nearby, watching you with an inscrutable expression. There's a flicker of understanding between you, amidst the chaos of the party. Whatever spell he cast has altered the fabric of your being, and tonight will unfold a new chapter in your rivalry—one that promises revelations and challenges you never anticipated. As you navigate the party, you know one thing for certain: this night will change everything between you and Alistair.

As Alistair watches, a sly grin spreads across your face, almost instinctively. The music of the party pulsates around you, but your mind feels like it's in a haze, memories of computational thinking and Doctor Who episodes slipping away like sand through your fingers. Instead, they are replaced with vivid recollections of football matches watched with your old man, and hours spent cheering on WWE wrestlers.

An energy pulses through your body, causing a throbbing sensation in your head. You reach up to rub your temples, only to find that your dorky glasses slip from your face and clatter to the ground, unnoticed. As you stare down at your hands, you feel a strange shift occurring within you.

Your once-boyish charm and baby fat seem to melt away, leaving behind a face that is a stark contrast to the one you once knew. It's a study in blunt masculinity and exaggerated features, reminiscent of a bulldog's rugged charm. Your forehead, broad and unyielding, slopes down to meet a pronounced brow ridge that casts a perpetual shadow over your steel-blue eyes, now narrowed with skepticism.

Your nose, once straight and strong, bears the signs of numerous fractures, giving it a slightly crooked and pugnacious appearance. Lips that were once gentle and unassuming now twist into a cocksure smirk or a disdainful sneer, revealing teeth that gleam too perfectly.

Your jawline, heavy-set and sharply descending, ends in a squared-off chin that juts forward with an almost confrontational air, adorned with a perpetual chinstrap. Cheeks that were once flushed with excitement over intellectual pursuits now speak of nights spent in rowdy frat parties and on the football field, basking in the adulation of peers.

As your face sets into this new mold, new memories flood your mind, pushing out the remnants of your old life. You recall the rush of adrenaline during football matches, the horsing around with your teammates, and the cheers of the crowd. Thoughts of wrestling matches and late-night parties become clearer, overshadowing any trace of your former nerdy pursuits.

As you stare down at your skinny, twinky body, an unnatural rage begins to well up inside you. Standing at barely 5'6" and 110 pounds soaking wet, you've always felt inadequate, especially when compared to the jocks and athletes around you. The feeling of frustration and insignificance intensifies as you feel a strange twitching sensation in your muscles, almost as if they are awakening from a long slumber.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, your body begins to change. You feel a surge of energy coursing through your veins, igniting a transformation that defies logic and reason. Inch by inch, you grow taller, your frame expanding into something imposing and solidly built. Soon, you stand tall at around 6 feet 3 inches, your once-slender physique replaced by broad shoulders that taper down to a narrow, muscular waist.

Your chest swells into a barrel-like mass of muscle, proudly displaying well-defined pectorals that ripple with each movement. Thick, sinewy arms hang by your sides, adorned with veins that trace their way over bulging biceps and forearms hardened by countless repetitions of weightlifting and grappling.

Your neck becomes thick and sturdy, supporting a square jawline that hints at your stubborn determination and competitive spirit. Despite your newfound size, there's a grace in the way you move—a controlled athleticism honed through years of wrestling and football practice. Your legs, now like tree trunks, showcase the explosive strength necessary for dominating on the wrestling mat or breaking through defensive lines on the football field.

Weathered and bronzed skin, bearing the occasional scar or bruise earned in the heat of competition, tells stories of your journey through physical challenges. Tattoos, often tribal or school insignias, adorn your arms and chest, marking your allegiance to team and fraternity. Off the field, your posture exudes confidence—a relaxed but assertive stance that speaks volumes of your status among peers.

Alistair bursts into laughter as he witnesses the drastic transformation you've undergone. The disbelief and amusement are palpable in his expression, but you ignore his reaction. Instead, you grunt at him with a newfound confidence, "Yo nerd, get me a beer."

Alistair, caught off guard but amused by the situation, quickly conjures another enchanted beer. You take a swig, and as the enchanted liquid flows down your throat, you feel your mind growing duller and dumber. Memories of late-night study sessions and intellectual debates fade away, replaced by images of rowdy frat parties, cheering crowds, and the adrenaline rush of competitive sports.

Compassion and empathy seem to smolder and fade, overshadowed by a growing sense of arrogance and entitlement. As you revel in this new persona, you realize that tonight marks a significant shift in your life. The rivalry with Alistair has taken on a new dimension—one where physical strength and social status reign supreme.

You see a keg out the corner of your eye and rush to it. You feel a strange sensation as you start pumping the keg. With each pump, your intelligence seems to slip away like sand through your fingers. The rage builds up inside of you, consuming every ounce of compassion and empathy that once existed within you.

Your clothes begin to change as well, transforming from your usual smart attire into something more befitting a frat boy - loud and obnoxious garments that scream "party animal." Your personality shifts along with your appearance; what was once reserved becomes brash and aggressive.

The memories of Kevin Brady - the cute theatre twink who stole your heart at prom - fade away like dust in the wind. In their place is an image of some busty blonde bimbo cheerleader who now occupies that special spot in your mind where Kevin used to be. As if by magic, she materializes before you with her boobs jiggling seductively under her skimpy outfit while she smiles coyly at you over her shoulder

With each new pump comes another blow against everything that made up who you are: intellectually curious… artistically inclined… sensitive towards others' feelings… All these traits are lost as dullness sets in like molasses on a cold winter's day – replaced by mindless conformity and shallow pleasure-seeking behaviors characteristic only among straight frat boys.

As you pump the keg more, you start to smell the beer. Your nostrils flare and you feel yourself becoming deeply conservative. Republican and Southern values fill your mind as a gold cross forms around your neck.

Memories and beliefs form in your head - memories of going to church every Sunday with your old man, beliefs about traditional family values and hard work paying off. You remember how much fun it was playing football in high school, representing everything that's right about America: strength, determination, teamwork… all those things that make this country great!

Thoughts about the radical left begin to creep into your mind now too though - thoughts like "they're ruining our country" or "they want us all dependent on government handouts". But then again maybe they're just jealous because they don't have what we do: freedom! And if anyone tries taking away our freedoms? Well then we'll show them who really runs this place… won't we now?

As you continue pumping the keg, memories begin to form in your mind - memories of fucking the dumb cheerleader bitch in the back of a limo. A cocky grin grows on your face at the thought of it.

Suddenly, Alistair is there, looking at you with disdain. "Watch you looking at faggot," you holler at him, and something strange happens - his clothes become tighter, his face cuter… unnaturally so. He looks and talks like a total faggot now!

"You're such a big bully!" Alistair lisps as he cowers before you. You can't help but laugh maniacally as he whimpers pathetically under your gaze. "You're just jealous," you shout back at him while tugging on your own cock for emphasis, "you're not packing like a real man."

Alistair continues to act more like a fag throughout the party as it grows louder and straighter around you - all jocks and bimbo sluts now dominate this scene that was once filled with diversity (or so it seemed). "Why don't you hang out with your loser queer friends in the theatre Alistair!"

Without hesitation or remorse whatsoever (because why would there be any?), you pull up Alistair's tight thong until he screams bloody murder while everyone else laughs hysterically along with you because let's face it: life is just too short not to enjoy ourselves sometimes right?

You remember getting to college on a football scholarship. You're big, strong, and obnoxious - just the way they wanted their players to be. Your fellow bros and you get fucking wasted every chance you get, doing shots and keg stands until the early hours of the morning.

As the beer fuels your every move, you spot a hot chick with huge tits walking by.

"Dude," one of your bros says as he enters the room, "did you fucking do her?" He laughs heartily at his own joke while slapping your back - an action that only makes you feel more nauseous than before.

"Yeah man," another adds, "she was totally into you! Said she wanted it rough." They all laugh again… but there's something different about their laughter this time around: it holds an edge of envy mixed with disbelief – almost as if they couldn't quite wrap their heads around how lucky you always were or maybe they just didn't want to admit deep down inside that deep down inside what really happened was something none of them would ever admit out loud: jealousy.

You spot the hot chick with huge tits from last night at the party, and she walks over to you. "Hey there stud," she says in a seductive voice. "Remember me?"

You grin cockily at her. "Of course I do, babe. You were the one who couldn't get enough of my dick last night."

She giggles like a schoolgirl and flips her hair over her shoulder. "Yeah, that's right! I just can't get enough of big strong men like you."

You take another swig of your beer and wink at her suggestively. "Well, lucky for you then isn't it?"

She steps closer to you so that their breasts are practically touching your chest through their tight clothes as she whispers in your ear: "Do me again tonight baby."

Your eyes widen slightly at this unexpected turn of events - not because it turns out this girl actually wanted more than just one night with someone like yourself but rather because deep down inside… well let's face it: even someone as obnoxious and brutish as yourself has his limits when it comes to how far he can push things without consequences coming back around sooner or later.

You flirt with the hot chick, feeling her up under the table where no one can see. Your bros egg you on from across the room, cheering you on as they clink their beer bottles together in anticipation of what's about to happen next.

Without a second thought, you stand up and pull her by the hand towards an empty bedroom nearby. The door slams shut behind you as everyone outside watches intently through narrowed eyes - waiting for that telltale moan or groan that signals something truly special is taking place within those four walls right now…

Inside, she kneels down in front of your pants unzipping them quickly before taking out your already erect cock which she begins sucking eagerly while running her hands over your muscular frame like it was some sort of prize-winning sculpture come to life right before her very eye. "Oh...Oh...Caleb....you're so fucking hot" she moans

You flex your huge biceps in the mirror as you face fuck this dumb slut, watching yourself with pride. Your ego grows larger by the second, swelling to unimaginable proportions as it becomes increasingly clear that there's nothing or no one who can stand up to you now.

Your mind is barely the size of a pea these days… but who needs brains when you have brute force? Sex and football. Beer and bros. Chicks and thinking with your dick… that's all that matters anymore anyway! You grab fistfuls full of hair and guide her head back and forth along your shaft faster than ever before until finally reaching climax inside her mouth – filling it with thick ropes upon ropes worth every last drop until there's nothing left but satisfaction written all over both your faces.

You're young, dumb, and repeating freshman year for the third time now - but who cares? Not Caleb! All he knows is how to party hard while maintaining his reputation as being one helluva stud among his peers (and maybe even beyond)… so why bother trying anything new when what works keeps working just fine.

[lixie-phoria]

ੈ✩‧ ➛ han jisung thinks he's subtle as he pines over you

pairing : han x gn reader ; genre : fluff | warnings : none ; word count : 0.8k words

summary : han jisung couldn't be more subtle as he pined after you. ranging from eagerly buying your merchandise to watching your favorite shows just so he has more reasons to talk to you. it would've been adorable if it hadn't been going on for so long.

chan's ver. | hyunjin's ver. | jeongin's version | felix's ver. | lee know's ver. | changbin's ver.

if there was one thing han jisung would never judge overly zealous kpop stans for, was their passion. Never for the way they would viciously defend their bias or spend an unnecessary amount of money when trading photocards. He would never question their excitement. He couldn't. Not when he was on the same boat as them.

You were a rookie idol, so new to the world of kpop, so full of life and love for what you did, never letting the fame get to your head. Nobody could blame han for falling for you, really. The poor boy was so in love it was comical. He thought he was subtle with the way he was always steaming your music and buying your merch. He thought nobody would notice the secret fan account he ran for you on Twitter and Instagram. Han jisung thought he was a mastermind for the way he "skilfully" kept his crush a secret. But the boy could fool absolutely nobody, not his members nor yours. yes things were hard because of JYPs dating ban for rookie idols but did that stop him from being delusional? absolutely not.

the members caught him multiple times giggling to your instagram posts or marveling at your vocals during a performance. it was like watching a teenage boy fall in love for the first time, complete with the dreamy sighs and feet kicking.

when changbin caught jisung eagerly watching a show in their dorm early one morning, he wasn't that surprised. but when he found out it was a romance show? that raised a few questions because nearly everyone knew han was more of a horror lover. that was until the older man found out the shows name. of course han jisung was watching the show you had recently revealed in an interview you were obsessed with. the excited grin on his face and slight furrow between his brows as he concentrated on the plot would've been adorable if changbin hadn't been so exasperated. This was the seventh k-drama jisung was watching for you. just so he could find more reasons to talk to you, as if he didn't spend nearly half his time texting you either ways.

"Enjoying the story, han?"

of course han hadn't noticed changbin walk into his room. not when he was dutifully remembering every moment playing on the screen so he could talk to you about it later.

"yeah it's a nice show."

"i bet the person who recommended it is real nice too, huh?"

"hyung!"

changbin wished he could take a picture of the blush spreading across jisung's face and down his neck and send it to you with a message in big bold letters reading THIS MAN IS IN LOVE WITH YOU PLEASE ACKOWLEDGE HIM!!! but jisung would go wild so he chose the safer option of leaning again the younger boy's door frame, a teasing smirk playing at his lips.

"do you like this show better than the one you finished watching last week, which was also recommended by y/n?"

"i am not watching these shows just because y/n likes them."

"oh ok, so you're not going to text them about this episode the instant you're done watching it?"

"nope."

"good! so you don't mind if i text them about it instead? because i just finished the show last night."

it was a lie, obviously, but han was immediately scrambling up from his position on the bed, trying to convince changbin against it while trying not to blow his cover.

"just tell them you like them, jisung, y/n's not gonna avoid you for it."

"chan hyung just finished teasing me about this too, please don't start again."

changbin wished he could record han whining his denials too, because he couldn't believe how whipped someone could be.

that was until jisung's phone vibrated with a notification, and his disbelief only grew as he watched his member's eyes light up. jisung kept only your notifications on, so it was obvious who had texted him. all thoughts of changbin were forgotten as jisung eagerly read whatever you had sent, typing back his response immediately, earning a snort from changbin. jisung was known among their friend group for being a ghoster, but of course he was texting you back immediately. changbin knew he wasn't going to get any more responses when han didn't even look up from the screen.

"you better confess soon or im going to text them from your phone one day."

"you wouldn't dare!"

"i most certainly would."

changbin cackled as he left the younger boy shouting indignantly from his room. he knew the seven of them would breathe a sigh of relief only when han finally came clear to you about his feelings. until then, all they could hope for was the boy mustering the courage required to do so quick.

©lixie-phoria, 2023

tags : @lethallyprotected @dreamingaboutjisung @selcayuri @bangchansbae @aak22 @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba (send an ask to be added/removed!)

[beyonsatan]

Here are some REAL astrological tips that I'm not just pulling out my ass and actually learned from reading

1. Aquarius is not ruled by uranus, aquarius is ruled by saturn. When astrologers discovered uranus they borrowed some of the traits of saturn and applied them to uranus because they didnt know what to do with this planet. Having strong uranus influence won't make you feel like an outsider but having a strong saturn influence will. Uranus does not rule "outcasts" or "obstruction" it rules sudden changes which we only associate with aquarius because of their eccentricity and the modern rulership of this sign, aquarius isn't as open to "change" as we would like to think they are, they're a saturn(restrictions) ruled fixed sign, they're more open minded and progressive than capricorn but they're more traditional and less accepting than we think pisces to be.

2. NO planet is unwelcome in the 5th and 11th house. Any personal planets in these houses including mars and saturn, especially the chart ruler is a sign of good fortune, wealth, successful investments and just an easy life in general because these houses are the joy of Venus and Jupiter, harmful planets here become neutralized and instead work to our benefit even with difficult aspects. Ex: Someone with a 5th house saturn might work high paying government jobs or become some kind of authority(saturn) figure sometime within their life.

3. What you've been taught about the north and south node is wrong. The north node is not "underdeveloped traits" The north node represents "increase" while the south node represents decrease, not your comfort zone and this is according to hellenistic and ancient astrology. The north node represents the dragon head while the south node represents its tail. Wherever your north node(the head) is, is where there's an infatuation and/or otherwise increase of energy and experiences, the south node (the tail) is something you abandoned (and shouldnt have) so you could focus on your north node, it's not necessarily something you need to let go of because that's like saying the dragon cut his tail off so he could keep his head lol, the dragon doesn't need to cut his tail at all, his tail is what's helping send him into the right direction because how do you expect him to move without his tail? In this case the south node is something you can rely on to assist you when handling the topics of your north node, that's the whole point. If south node was something that we needed to dismiss or free ourselves from it, there wouldn't be a south node, the south node and north node exist with each other, they HAVE to co-exist

4. I don't really debate about which house system to use when reading your own chart or others but when reading transits, synastry and composite charts, I strongly recommend using WS to make things alot less confusing.

5. The moon is a significator of money in alot of the same ways venus and jupiter are that's why the moon gets exalted in taurus. Moon in Taurus, Pisces, Sagittarius or Libra in the 3rd (house joy), 5th or 11th house is an indicator of wealth.

6. When outer planets transit your cadent houses please don't have a breakdown, planets in cadent houses have the weakest influence within a person's chart.

7. The houses responsible for fame are realistically the 5th, 7th house, 10th and 11th house and everything starts with the 5th house. Explanation: 5th house is the talent you have, the 11th house is your audience, you bring the talents you build upon in the 5th house for the world to see over into the 11th house, the 7th house is your relationship to law and the public, partnerships etc, if you wanna get contracts like a partnership with the NBA or picked to star in a movie, all of this would take place in the 7th house, the 10th house is the brand and image you cultivate after your name gets around from the 7th house, this house talks about your peak, how well did you do? Did you make it big? Planets here, where it's ruler is/and aspects will color all of this. Honorable mention is the 1st house cause the 1st house like the 10th house is angular and says alot about whether eyes are on you, do you get attention, are you an extrovert, are you confident or is building up those kind of things difficult for you, all of this gets answered in the 1st house.

8. Do not let any amateur astrologers gaslight you into thinking that having 8th or 12th house placements make you spiritual, spirituality gets its meaning from the 9th house and the 11th house where jupiter finds joy, planets in the 8th and 12th house is NOT for the weak and I don't mean to sound arrogant, I have 12th house placements and I'm aware that the 12th house doesn't get its meaning from pisces or jupiter, sprutuality is meant to be a good thing, planets in these houses is not a good thing so it is not wise to draw proximity there

9. Both Venus/ Jupiter and it's aspects is an indicator of marriage, the sign they're in, house placement and aspects will tell you more about your spouse (venus if you're attracted to women and jupiter if you're attracted to men)

10. Debilitated or fallen planets are liberated or in accidental dignity when in the angular houses or the 5th and 11th. Yes this counts for retrograde planets as well even tho i don't count retrogrades as a debilitaty. Think of them as having "redemption arcs" like negan from the walking dead, started out evil or In bad condition but it got better real fast or the challenges with that placement are easy to overcome. Ex: aquarius sun in the 1st house, aquarius is obviously debilitated under the sun because the sun and saturn are enemies and aquarius gets overwhelmed by the attention and self expression that comes with the sun but with the sun in the 1st house that luminary becomes apart of you, it's literally influencing your physical body and how you behave, with the sun here you have no trouble expressing yourself and actually like attention, so it's like having a leo rising but alot more intense

[petew21-blog]

Fitness coaching, part 2

(a different inbox request 😈) I'll refer to you as kid and combine the stories. Hope you don't mind

Warning: The kid is just a nickname. The person in this story is of age

A high school assembly where Kevij Hjenas talks about his success and motivation

Kevin (or is it Kevin really?):"Hey everyone, today I am here to talk to you about following your passing and lack of motivation. First I gotta tell you how I started. How I wasn't so different from all of you..."

Kid to himself:"Yeah, you got it easy. You had the looks, you had the muscles and no one was beating your ass when you went to high school"

Kevin continuing:"So whenever you feel like giving up, you gotta stand up to that thing and beat it. And the biggest fight there's gonna be is the one that will be in your head"

Kid;"Sure, I wanna be the one in your head. Try being me for a sec while everyone is beating your ass, looking you in the lockers and picking on you for not being good enough."

Kevin:"And if you ever have a problem, don't worry to walk up to adults and ask for help. Most of the adults are willing to help you win your fight"

Kid:"Jesus, Kevin. I admire you and yet you come to school and talk to us about this bullshit? Nobody cares. Of course they don't. They don't want to fill the paperwork, talk to the parents. It's easier not to care. Damn. I wish I could be Kevin Hjenas and him to be me so that he could see what it's like to be a kid in high school again"

BAM

Kid tries to open his eyes, but can't. He can feel... stretched? Around something. He can feel something hard inside of him. He can feel a butt? What is going on?

He tried to scream:"What happened? Where am I?"

Kevin stops his speech as the voice inside of his head now turned more louder, but it sounds different. "Kevin? Go back to being an obedient speedo, would you? I got a presentation to finish."

Kid:"Kevin? What? I am... I am a student. I was just watching Kevin. Why are you calling me Kevin? Where am I? Did you just call me a speedo?"

Suddenly a kid's in the audience gets up from his seat. "I can see again. I can talk! Somebody help me. Someone stole my body." He stares in disbelief at his previous Kevin Hjenas body, or atleast the one who looks like him. "You did that! Give me my body back!"

Teacher:"That's enough of this outburst young man, you'll come with me to the principal."

The other kids lost it and the whole auditorium started laughing. This kid is gonna get beat up today so much more than usually.

(Not) Kevin to Kid as his speedo:"Look kid. Let me finish this and I'll explain. Ok? Just stay silent and I'll fix this. Ok?"

Kevin finishes the presentation and goes to the nearby park

Kevin:"So tell me what did you do before you ended up as my speedo?"

Kid:"I couldn't believe the bullshit you were talking at the assembly. I had the worst time yesterday and I envied you. Your body, your fame. Everything. So I wished to be in Kevin Hjenas body and him to be in mine"

Kevin:"Oh... I see what went wrong"

Kid:"It didn't work, that's what went wrong"

Kevin:"Well technically you are in Kevin's body. Cause... I'm not really Kevin. I'm wearing his body as a speedo and that gives me the ability to look like him. I'm a different person. So the one screaming in your body at the auditorium was the real Kevin in your body"

Kid:"Ok, then change me back to his body then. If you have the power."

Kevin:"It's not that easy... we gotta contact this writer. He writes stories and if you ask he grants you the wish in a form of a story/transformation. He likes to play with his subjects after. But the waiting time is horrible. He works all the time and only writes a few stories a day. So that is the tricky part"

Kid:"So what if we ask him nicely? Maybe if we explain the situation to him, he might understand"

Kevin:"You really are naive, kid. But it's worth a shot. Let's go home. You gotta get used to being a speedo and there is not better time to let you learn like now"

Kevin's dick gets visibly hard

Kid:"Oh, this is strange. But... it feels nice. I can actually feel it"

Kevin:"Just a few benefits of being a piece of clothing. Just wait till you feel me stroke myself or have an orgasm. Oh jesus. How old are you kid?"

Kid:"Don't worry. I'm old enough to feel you cum onto my... fabric?"

Two months later

Author:"Oh hey Kevin. Sorry for the waiting time. You wouldn't believe what kind of wishes all the people have. There was thos guy who wanted to be merged as Hulk and..."

Kevin:"Stop. This can't wait. I need a favour. And so does this kid." Kevin pulls down his shorts and points at his speedo

Author:"Is there something wrong with the real Kevin? You still look like him so what's the issue?"

Kevin:"The issue is, that this isn't Kevin anymore. Some kid from local High school wanted to swap bodies with him and he did. Kevin is now attending school again, while he is stuck embracing my dick as speedo"

Author:"Oh... well. I don't have good news for you boys. Because another spell intervened, I can't really do much about the appearance of Kevin's original body. But... there might be a solution. You may not like it"

Kid:"I don't care, I just want to feel what it's like to be a human again. Atleast for a while"

Kevin:"The kid is on board with whatever plan you got. Depends what it means for me."

Author:"It's quite simple, guys. You might have to learn how to share. You'll both have the ability to control your body, swapping with the speedo. Only one gets to control the human body, while the other rests as speedo"

Kevin:"I'm not giving this up. I worked hard to look like Kevin"

Kid:"You can't do this to me"

Kevin:"Can't you place his soul into something else, please?"

Author:"Wish I could, but both of these spell are now combined and can't be broken. If I take his soul away, you won't look like Kevin anymore. It's either this or full reversal. And let me tell you... Kevin is gonna be really pissed"

Kevin:"Would you be ok with that? Sharing a body like Jekyll and Hyde?"

Kid:"Who's that suppose to be?"

Kevin:"Jesus you kids these days. So... like Moon Knight?"

Kid:"Oh cool. If it means I get to be human and also Kevin, I'm in."

Kevin:"Ok, let's do this..."

Two weeks later, pier beach

Kevin:"You should stop with all these carbs. We'll get fat"

Kid:"Oh shut up. I'm enjoying myself."

Fan:"Hey, Kevin. Could I take a photo with you?"

Kid:"Oh yeah. Right on"

Fan:"Thank you. Could... could I touch your biceps, sir?"

Kid:"Oh of course. Go on. I can't get enough of these things too. They are massive right?"

Fan:"Haha. Yeah. Thank you"

Kevin:"You need to tone it down a bit. People are gonna get suspicious."

Kid:"Oh relax. You'll get your turn soon. I'm just enjoying my part of the day. I still think it's unfair that you get the night. I wanna party and fuck other people too. And not just as a speedo"

Kevin:"You'll have a chance soon. Don't worry"

Who knows if the boys will learn to share

A request from Inbox story set as a second part. Guys, you two might have to learn how to share 😁

Hello today is worst day of school someone just randomly pick on me and the worst is no one at the school cared for me, tomorrow kevin hejnas is coming to our school i just wish i could be him so i could feel what life would be as a famous man.

[dolicekiss]

Hello there,

If ur still taking Hannibal requests, could you potentially do a yandete Hannibal x reader (one-shot or headcanon it doesn't really matter) where the reader is an author who recently just came put with a new novel that got alot of popularity.

The reason it intrigued Hannibal so much is that the antagonist of the novel is based off the Chesapeake Ripper. Feeling flattered, Hannibal goes to one of her book signings, where he finds her absolutely captivating in person. What extents would this man do to get her attention?

♡: can i just say how descriptive some of y'all are with this.. this is literally book worthy 😭 also let me know if you want another part :[

Blood Ink

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal Lecter X Author!reader

CONTENT WARNING: dark hannibal, implied stalking, murder, mention of dead body, yandere behavior, unhinged hannibal, breaking in, leaving creepy little notes, obsessed hannibal

SYNOPSIS: Your book had gained immense popularity and you were quite the talk of the city, showing up in every article and news but capturing Hannibal Lecter’s attention was the worst thing ever, especially when you'd written an antagonist based off the Chesapeake ripper. Hannibal was flattered and in awe of how to I described him and his curiosity grew but so did his infatuation with you when he saw you.

Hannibal was flattered.

Completely amused by how you wrote depiction of him, how well you understood him despite never crossing paths.

Your abundance of understanding when it came to the mind of the killer was not only something he swooned over but how beautifully you wrote down all his murders impressed him, like they were pieces of art. It nearly worked to arouse him in a sense he craved to see you.

They were art, indeed.

Hannibal saw it that way, he saw beauty where most people saw something monstrous, something atrocious. You understood that and Hannibal had to meet you.

You'd written a book about him, a well written — descriptive book, showing off your skills of a true writer. A fan of literature he was and you had caught yourself the worst kind of attention.

The Chesapeake Ripper’s.

He had to meet you, had to see who this woman was who'd written such gruesome details about his murders. The book also included some fictional content, such as the Chesapeake Ripper committing crimes he'd never committed in the real world.

But Hannibal knew you'd included that only to add depth to him, to help the readers understand the beautiful cruelty of Hannibal Lecter.

After spending multiple hours on the internet and reading tabloids about you, watching your interviews, reading articles regarding your personal life and your work life, Hannibal finally made the decision to visit you at one of your book signings.

Your book was controversial, as many people accused you of using a serial killer as an antagonist in your book, giving him a rise in fame but it was never mentioned the book was about the Chesapeake Ripper at all. Only the antagonist had been based off him.

Hannibal was restless, so he grabbed his coat and left for your book signing which took place at a well known book store, in Baltimore too.

You were so close to him.

This had to be fate playing its game.

When Hannibal entered into the crowded book store, there you were. A huge smile decorated your features as you moved your lips to engage in a conversation with one of your fans. Hair up in a neat french bun, only a few strands framing your face — nails freshly done and sharp, resting against your soft beautifully sculpted face.

You were absolutely breathtaking.

Hannibal had seen your picture but the electronic devices did no justice to your beauty.

Hannibal felt his heart give birth to a foreign sensation, spreading through his chest and mixing in with the veins in his body. The copper and the darkness becoming one. He was completely captivated by the mere sight of you and he hadn't even introduced himself yet.

You let out a cheery laugh, nodding your head at the person in front of you before lowering your gaze, fingers holding a marker tightly to sign on the first page of your book. Hannibal analyzed closely, how swiftly your fingers moved and how beautiful they were.

He, for a split moment, imagined them decorated on a plate with vegetables.

Hannibal inhaled a deep breath, a futile attempt to regain his composure that he was beginning to lose control over at the mere sight of you.

You were a sweetheart, from how you interacted with your fans and how full of life you seemed. Deep inside his heart he hoped that you were just the same on the inside too.

Hand clasped around your book, he walked into the line. Awaiting for the people in front of him to get their books signed. He was a patient man but right now, his restlessness almost made him want to crush through the people and get to you.

Finally when his turn arrived, Hannibal slid the book over to you on the beige table. You greeted him with that gleaming smile of yours, bright enough to light up the whole room and the darkness which had bloomed in his chest when he was only a little boy.

Hannibal wasn't aware that catching a whiff of you would consume him like this but here he was, struggling to keep himself from tipping over the edge. Your scent reminded him of flowers, a fluorescent garden with bright sun rays cascading down upon it. Giving it light and life. Growing drunk on it.

His nostrils flared, inhaling more of the sweet perfume you'd adorned yourself with like some obsessed puppy. God, he was fucking dizzy over how sugary you smelled and the man couldn't get enough of it. Like old restored wine, he craved to drown you down and savor you against his tongue.

“Beautiful writing skills you've got.” Hannibal complimented with a gentle smile. Your cheeks heated up, switching to a shade of rosette.

Your eyes sparkled. “Thank you. I guess you could say I put my soul into writing this book.”

Well you just dug yourself a deeper hole than you were in before by saying that. Hannibal’s heart fluttered at your words. You'd invested your soul into writing about him, him only and that fact made him feel like he was on cloud nine.

His smile lines deepened, watching as you reached for the book and flipped it open. Fingers tightly enveloping the marker between them, you scribbled your signature on the white paper along with your initials.

“You must have a really beautiful soul then.” Hannibal said and you swallowed. His politeness and his charm worked in mysterious ways to pull you towards him but Hannibal knew just by approaching you as a fan — which he was, wouldn't really work.

He had to do more to gain your attention, your full focus.

You slid his book back over to him and Hannibal nodded, picking it up. “It was a pleasure seeing you in person. Do you mind if I ask you a question, miss?”

You raised a brow but then slowly nodded.

Hannibal’s lips curved up. “Do you believe that the Chesapeake Ripper might read this book one day?”

Your brows furrowed. Hannibal’s question was peculiarly interesting, different than the questions others had for you. Fans excited to know about the inspiration behind the book, some aching to know where you'd come up with the sinister plot. But none like this.

Hannibal’s question had crossed your mind on multiple occasions.

“Maybe but if he does, I would be interested in knowing his opinion on the book.” You responded truthfully.

That was all Hannibal needed. He stared at you, with a longing foreign to you and then he nodded. You watched him walk out of the book store as your gaze clung to him. Something inside you told you this wouldn't be the first time you'd see this man.

You shook your head and signed the rest of the books, answering all the curious questions about your books and then leaving when the event had ended. It had gotten late and you swung your leather bag over your shoulder, heels clicking against the road when you crossed it to head to your car.

The night was dark and quiet — peace tainting spreading to corner, only the sound of crickets chatting could be heard along with the clicking of your pencil heels echoing in the vast space.

Before you could enter your car, a piece of paper stuck to the front glass of your car caught your attention. With a bemused expression on your face, you reached for it and ripped the sticky note off the glass.

As your gaze ran over the content of it, your hands began to tremble.

An absolute beauty you are. You have captured my mind, heart and soul with your enthralling words. Be careful, my Dearest.

You blinked, head immediately snapping up and gaze flickering all over the area you were in. Hoping you'd find someone who left this note but you were all alone, a deep silence greeting you. Panic filled you but your brain provided you with some reassurance.

A note left by a fan.

Maybe an admirer of your writing.

That had to be it.

Of course that was it. You released a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Calm down, it's probably nothing.”

You took the note in your hand and got into your car, twisting the key into ignition and driving off to your house. On your way home, your mind kept repeating the words written in beautiful calligraphy over the paper. The twists of each letter — as if love had been poured into it.

You let out a breath, hoping that along with the run rising tomorrow you'd forget about this.

You preferred solitude and peace, not fond of the city so the area you lived in was quitw distant and overall stayed underneath complete silence. Cold breeze caressed your face as you drove by and when you finally reached home, you stepped out of the car with the intention to hit the bed.

Your arm throbbed from the amount of books you'd signed but you loved it. You loved writing down your thoughts, different plot lines. Invention of different characters was your coping mechanism.

You didn't know that when the next day you'd wake up, a horrible news would be awaiting you.

— ♡ —

Morning came by a flash.

You weren't typically cheerful but you weren't also grumpy either. An optimist was what you called yourself. You always looked forward to new days, trying to carry a positive mindset with you in life.

Coffee and pancakes was your go to breakfast.

Once you'd prepared it, you sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. Flipping through the channels while sipping onto your delicious, hot piping coffee which eased the prickling sensation caused by the shivering cold.

But then you stopped.

Eyes widening in horror over the news that flashed before you.

“The Chesapeake Ripper strikes again, taking another victim under his hold. This time it is an unidentified man in his thirties who was found dead last night in a forest. The FBI claims it was the Chesapeake Ripper who put up quite the show of the body.”

You blinked profusely.

The Ripper had stopped killing, quite for some time now. So why was he killing again? You were bemused but you didn't let it get to your head. A disturbing emotion seeped into your chest, anxiety spreading and you lost your appetite.

You decided it'd be best to go under the radar for now, as you'd written about the man.

There was a knock on the door and your panicked gaze switched to it. Placing your mug down, you stood up and walked to unlock the door. It revealed an FBI agent, also known as Will Graham. You'd come across tabloids about the compassionate empath who often helped with catching the murderers.

“Yes?”

Will raised his hand and you noticed he was holding your book. “You wrote this book?”

You nodded your head, an apprehensive feeling being born. “I did. Why?”

Will Graham invited himself in, gaze analyzing your home in scrutiny. You were taken aback by his behavior but still didn't say a word, as he was an FBI agent, a murder had been committed by the Chesapeake Ripper and he was holding your book.

“I'm sure you're aware of the murder that took place last night.” You couldn't understand what that had to do with you but you still heard him out, waiting for him to continue.

“Let's say our killer was heavily inspired by your book. Do you have anything to say about that?”

Your lips parted in confusion, brows furrowed as you were left flummoxed by the man's words. It's true you'd taken inspiration from the Chesapeake Ripper but that was all there was to it. There was no way someone had taken what you'd written to heart.

You took a step back. “I don't get this, agent Graham. What do you exactly mean by inspired?”

“I've read the book, miss. There are a few murder scenes which are fictional, never committed by the Chesapeake Ripper.” He explained, holding out printed parts of your own book. You slowly took them and then you were handed the photographs from the murder scene.

As your gaze swiped over it, your jaw dropped.

No way.

There was no way.

“No.” You whispered.

Exactly what you'd written, what you'd described, how you described it and even imagined it when you wrote it down. It was the same, a carbon copy like you yourself had committed the crime. You yourself had decorated the fucking set up.

You pressed a hand over your chest, feeling nauseous.

“Since they were fictional, the killer took it upon himself to bring them to life. Manifest them into reality, miss.” Your breathing grew uneven. A pang of guilt blossoming in your ribcage when your eyes glided over the dead body wrapped in dreadful vines, decorated with flowers.

Lily of the valley and Belladona.

Poisonous but beautiful flowers they were.

Your chest tightened.

Will noticed the raw fear and uncomfort spread on your face. It was exactly the same as what you'd written. Every detail, every touch, every little item was perfectly presented in the way you'd imagined it to be when you wrote it down. When you took hint of the body, your face became more flustered.

Exactly from the description of your book.

Blonde, male, short height and lean frame.

Just exactly the way you'd written him down and you looked at Will. “O-Organs. Is he missing a liver?”

Will nodded and that made you sick to your damn stomach.

Someone was out there — probably the Chesapeake Ripper and he had read your book.

This was a message.

To tell you he'd read your book.

Your fingers trembled and their grasp loosened over the pieces of paper, as well as the photographs. Falling to the floor.

Will kneeled down to gather them and then stood back on his feet.

“I-I don't know. I h-have no idea why he's doing this.” You stumbled over your words, palm pressing into your chest as your forehead became sweaty.

You were a mess.

“Calm down, please.” Will said, to reassure you. You could sense a panic attack knocking at the doors of your brain, struggling to breathe.

But you tried to calm yourself down. You weren't responsible for this as much as you felt like it. The fucking crime scene looked like you'd committed it, no wonder the FBI had come knocking on your damn door. This was going to sabotage you but at least they were aware someone else was doing the kills.

That calmed you down a little.

But you were still on edge. Taken aback from the abrupt change brought in one night.

“Am I a suspect?” You asked and Will shook his head. That relieved you a little.

After Will was done asking you some questions regarding the book and if there was anyone who you had shared the contents of it before the book was released, he left and you were all alone.

The scenes where the antagonist committed the fictional murders were completely out of your imagination. All thought about under the dark night and the glimmering stars.

You went to the kitchen to fetch yourself a glass of water and the cold water worked sufficiently to hydrate your parched mouth and throat.

You went into your room to grab your laptop, in hopes that you might find something on the internet. Leaning down, you tried to pick it up from your bed but stalled. A piece of paper capturing your attention. Folded neatly underneath your pillow.

Your breath hitched.

It was eerily similar to the paper that was stuck to your glass.

Heart beat picking up and hands beginning to shake, you reached for the paper and picked it up. As you unfolded it with bated breaths, your eyes widened.

Same hand writing, different words.

No amount of words were capable enough to describe the fear that you felt in that very moment when your gaze captured and read each and every word.

I hope you like what I prepared for you, my Dearest. There is more to come, please cherish and appreciate my gifts for you.

Tears stung your eyes vision blurry. You thought that was it but no. There was more, in the lower corner of the paper. You squinted your eyes and what you read next made you drop the note.

I must say, you are a gorgeous sight when you sleep.

[bucknastysbabe]

idk if your taking requests but I’m in desperate need of more modern AU Jace fics. Maybe if he was a cocky hockey player with his giant dick I need smut 🙏

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Hockey player!Jace, Actress!Reader, fake dating trope, my not sly commentary about parasocial fangirl behaviors and pressure on women in high profile industries, she has honkers and he has a horse cawk match made in heaven, Jacey is a little sweet babey always, real kittycat eating hours, teasing, pnv!sex, v!fingering, fast burn, lots of banter :)

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @valeskafics @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @fairysluna @sugarpoppss2 @lovelykhaleesiii

The contracts were to be signed today. Jace was to be in a PR ‘relationship’ with this break-out actress. He was a star himself in the NHL, winning the Hart Memorial trophy for being the most valuable player his rookie year. He played centre, covering the ice and passing to his teammates to make a goal. He got a huge deal in the aftermath.

Suddenly his world was much more glamorous.

He wasn’t sure who sucked whose dick but he agreed to dating the starlet. He flew down from Toronto to the upscale management office in New York to meet the chick. He’d heard her name, couldn’t put a face to it, and certainly didn’t look her up. The brunette hoped she was a looker like his manager said.

He was pleasantly surprised, shaking her manicured hand. Jacaerys grinned as he introduced himself, poorly hiding his leering gaze on her tight little body. The actress was smoking hot. He wondered if she would be down to fool around. He had no desire for romance outside of planned sightings. He wasn’t much into that at the moment. Jace dated his high school sweetheart Rhaena until he’d gone big time.

She didn’t acclimate to fame and his constant absence. Jace understood why she broke it off. When they were seen— reporters interrupted. Pictures of fan girls crowding around him surfaced all the time. She deleted her socials due to harassment. He was saddened but figured it was a sign to let loose. So let loose he did.

Jacaerys had fucked plenty of puck bunnies, professional athletes, and the occasional hook-up with famous names by now. His brother called him cocky, and his mother snapped to not let the fame get to his head. He listened, truly, Jace loved his family and wanted to make them proud.

But honestly? When he was accomplishing everything he dreamed of and the money was flowing in, Jace couldn’t help but feel a bit over-confident. He knew he was talented, handsome, and a good fuck. He’d learned from a young age that his…dick…was different. In layman’s terms, he had a horse cock. By God, he was proud of that thing too.

They sat down in adjacent chairs, waiting for the agent to come to debrief them on the terms of the relationship. Jacaerys' brown eyes flicked over to her bored face, down to her busty chest, and back up. She scoffed “You haven’t seen my tits on the silver screen?”

He grinned, asking “I don’t get around to movies much. Care to enlighten me?”

Her lips turned into a frown, posture stiffening up. The actress shook her head, pulling out her phone to text rapidly. She was likely talking shit. Jace prodded, “What? Am I missing something? I’m playing hockey year round babe.”

“I literally am up for a Golden Globe for leading actress in a drama,” she grumbled, “Apparently you don’t read either.” She turned back to type on her phone again, lips settling into a pout. The athlete was a little taken aback by her attitude. He liked it. It appeared she was used to cinephile sycophants and co-stars trying to get a piece.

He hummed a laugh, spreading out in the wide chair. They waited, her nails clicking on the cell phone beginning to irritate Jacaerys. He absently asked "You like hockey? It's pretty fun to watch live."

"I don't really pay attention to sports, I act year round babe."

Jace's eyes widened in surprise. She was a spitfire under the glossy hair and now placid expression. He knew better than to irk her more, his mother taught him to respect women. The athlete was drawn in, he wanted a reaction, the attention whether it was negative or not. He smirked at her, leaning over, "Why did you pick me then? Don't like hockey, don't seem quite fond of me."

Her own lips curled a bit, the woman tucking a loose lock of hair behind a jeweled ear. She stated, "I got a list, you were single and cute. Word on the street was that you were a bit nicer than who I am sitting with now. Don't worry, it won't be too long, you'll be back to railing your way through Toronto soon." Her smile was thin, a blank look to her eyes.

Jace's chest fluttered a bit, guilt seeping into his mind. Before he could apologize the door opened. A man in a suit briskly walked in, setting down some papers. He eyed the pair to ask "Ready for the terms?" They both nodded, and Jace noticed her frown grow deeper. Damn. He felt like an asshole.

"Alright Jacaerys Velaryon, you'll be 'dating' my client for three months minimum. If you two hit it off, good job, enjoy your relationship. You two must be seen in public at least bi-weekly, my client will be at your games, and maintaining PDA is required. I'd recommend going out with your friends and playing the part. We'll sign an NDA and get this show on the road. Sound good?"

"Sure."

"Can't wait," she deadpanned.

They scribbled their names and exited the meeting. The actress ignored Jacaerys as she left, answering a phone call, pointedly looking away. He eventually cornered her up to exchange phone numbers. The pair had to exit the building at separate times so as not to draw attention.

Jace decided to read up on his faux girlfriend for the flight home. The actress was talented, the same age as him, and booked for the year. He decided to shoot her a text, damned lingering guilt eating at him. The hockey player was soft at heart, always had been. He could play the part of a cocky athlete but he truly hated confrontation, upsetting others, and general dickishness. That was for his uncles.

"Sorry about being a dick. Going to watch your movie tonight. Should I start with your small role in that sitcom?"

His dark eyes raptly watched the typing bubble. It disappeared, reappeared-- finally a response showed up. She had replied with an emoji rolling its eyes. "God, please don't, I look like a freak. The movie is much better. Then you can tell me about my tits. Apology accepted. See you next week in Toronto, make sure to clean the thongs outta your place."

Jace grinned, excitement coursing through his veins. He ended up making a big show picking her up from the airport. He grabbed the luggage and put it in his new sleek car. A couple of people had stopped her, even Jace for some autographs. The brunette made sure to hug the actress-- pulling her in for a searing kiss. His hand possessively splayed across her lower back, fingers grazing her pert ass.

He opened the door to let her in the car, cameras flashing now. Jace leaned in to whisper, "I have to admit, you have a beautiful body." She flushed and pecked his lips again, shooting him a smile. The hockey player climbed into the driver's side and off they went. He snuck a look and added, "I didn't really find any thongs but everything is pristine, Miss Golden Globe Nominee."

"Good, Mister Hart Trophy Winner."

Jace couldn't help but smile. He enjoyed her banter while they headed to his place. The woman was witty and playful, her icy facade melting as he listened to her. Jace carried her bags into the luxury apartment complex, while she had a roller bag. He teased, "You got boulders in here?"

"I'm staying for a bit, need to be prepared. You can run around in a tracksuit and no one bats an eye. If I look like a slob the tabloids are going to wonder if I'm a drunk or something. You won't believe the 'inside sources' I apparently have."

Jace frowned, scoffing, "That's bullshit. They put so much pressure on women in the industry."

She gazed at him, eyes softened as she thanked him in a reverent tone. Jace felt his cheeks heat up. He was beginning to wonder if he was having a moment of weakness or simply struck dumb by her looks and powerful presence. "At the least, I'm not a model."

Jacaerys snorted. He's had his fair share of models. He assumed they were all a bit nutty from the coke, not the horrid pressure from their nigh-impossible standards of beauty to uphold. "Good point," he conceded.

She stared around his loft, lips quirking up. The woman placed her bag down and strolled to the huge windows overlooking the city. Casting a glance back at Jacaerys she marveled, "It's gorgeous Jacaerys. Much prettier than LA." He smiled and replied, "Wait until you see it at night, I never get tired of the view."

Jace liked the way she said his full name. Maybe too much. He felt his cheeks begin to burn again. His animal hindbrain tittered "How would she sound moaning that?"

Awkwardness settled over the pair, her turning back to look out the window. Jace stated, "I'll put your things in the guest room, it's got a big bathroom and all."

"Thanks hun," she hummed. She followed along to place the luggage down, flopping onto the bed. Her big eyes followed Jace's form as she commented, "I highly doubt you decorated the place but it's nice. Very...Feng shui."

"Mom did all of that, I do try to keep it clean. I fear she'll appear and scold me. You could lick off the floor at my place growing up."

"Ha! I wish! I'm cluttered as all get out."

Jace gave her a faux glare, "Better keep it tidy, babe."

"Uh-huh, sure, what's on the docket for today? I want a tour and a cocktail to cap it off at dinner."

"You mean the club?"

Jace couldn't stop his cock from twitching when she smiled at him coquettishly, sparkling teeth gleaming as she purred "Of course stud, let's see what the rake of the Maple Leafs is putting down. I wanna see you dance!"

Oh. He was in quite deep. Jacaerys Velaryon might have developed an infatuation faster than he could pass a puck.

They held hands walking around Toronto, catching lunch as he showed her the sights. They rested on a bench in a park, Jace's arm slung around her shoulders, their heads close together as they spoke. The pair of them stared at her phone, giggling. The actress read off the Instagram post, "Starlet dating hockey star Jace Velaryon?"

"They're quick with it, for the love of god don't look at the comments."

Her pretty eyes rolled, "They call me an industry whore, nothing new, let me see this." Her red lacquered nail clicked on the comments. She guffawed, lips spreading into a smile. Jace raised a brow and looked over. He shook his head in annoyance-- how could 'fans' of his be so angry? Wouldn't they want him to be happy?

'Please, this won't last a second.'

'Pr relationship so obvious.'

'Jaceeeee whyyyyy she's such a bad actress.'

"A Golden Globe nominee is a bad actress? God, don't listen to that nonsense," he grumbled, tightening his arm around her shoulders. She shrugged and clicked on a fan page of her own. Jace seemed to settle at the more uplifting comments. He laughed out loud at one, 'Loveeee get it mother!' Jace outright guffawed at the second one, 'Be careful babes, don't get split by his infamous horse dick!!!'

"I like my fans better. I'll have to check out your fan cams at some point."

Jace rolled his eyes, helplessly grinning. His eyes flicked to a camera shuttering. Ah great, paparazzi, he thought. The brunette was planning on intentionally kissing her. He glared at the person and sniffed, "Come on, let's head back to my place for a bit." She cooed "What? Don't want your pic taken Jacey?"

"Nope, we need nap time before hitting the nightlife."

"I hope we see Drake. That would be cool."

Jace laughed his ass off. When they got into the elevator he crowded her up, hands on her waist. She inhaled, eyes widening, full lips quirking up. He murmured softly, "You're so...I can't find the words." Her arms loosely linked around his shoulders, soft lips so close. She whispered, "Actions speak louder than words pretty boy."

Next thing Jace knew her legs were locked around his hips, the pair making out as he blindly keyed open the door to his loft. Kicking the door open, the brunette pressed her against the wall, mouthing his way down her neck. The actress' nails dug into his shoulders as she moaned, breasts heaving in excitement. He nipped at her collarbone, mumbling, "Lemme eat you out, fuck, please."

"Bed now," she demanded in return.

He deposited the beauty on his bed, wildly jerking at his clothes. She was shimmying off her leggings, the sweatshirt she borrowed hitting the wall. Jace climbed atop her in his underwear, grinding against her pussy, mouth latching back onto plush lips. She whined under her breath when he lapped into her mouth, calloused hands playing with peaked nipples.

They grew sloppy, Jace finally kissing and sucking his way down her tight body. He grabbed one of her legs as he sucked on the thin skin of the hip, dark eyes blown black with arousal. She gripped at his hair, breathless, "Fu-uck Jacaerys, please, please." Jace grinned, rumbling, "I gotcha baby, screw the club, I'll show you a good time tonight yeah?" He was hopelessly earnest, swollen lips hovering above her mound.

"Yes yes baby, want it all, please, you're killing me." Jace could lose his mind at the way her voice cracked into a whimper, brows pinching in agony. She even thrust fruitlessly upwards-- Jace's other hand keeping her hip pinned. He grunted, "Spread em' sweetheart."

He tongued at her engorged clit off the rip, hands digging into the soft meat of the thighs. The actress cried out, back arching all gorgeous, tits bouncing with the movement. Her hand tightened in his curls as Jace suckled, eyes watching every little move. He snuck his fore and middle fingers up and across her sopping slit, smirking.

He delved them into her cunt as his tongue joined, playfully lapping as the excess slick, moaning at her natural taste. She whimpered again, thighs tightening as Jacaerys crooked his fingers up into her g-spot, flicking his tongue upwards and back to her clitoris. He paused to groan, "You feel good pretty girl?"

She moaned his name and babbled nonsense, pussy throbbing and drenching his fingers. Jacaerys' smiled-- she moaned his name just as he imagined. He had a rhythm alternating between teasing jabs of his tongue and suckling on the bundle of nerves. She was growing frantic, tossing her hair around and practically howling in pleasure.

He sped up the pace, relentlessly working her pretty pussy until the darling shrieked his name, clenching his hair. Her thighs twitched and clamped around his head, body arched as she heaved and cried. Jace groaned at her gushing around his fingers, long lashes fluttering in pure want. He needed to fuck her, now.

He pulled down his briefs as she laid back, panting, pretty face dazed and flushed-- a light sheen of sweat had covered her naked body. He climbed atop her, pleading, "C'mon sweets, think you can take it? Take me? I'll give you another orgasm, too goddamn perfect not too, god."

Her lidded eyes widened at his cock. It was flushed and heavy, too heavy to do anything but hang between his impossibly toned thighs. The actress rasped, "Give it to me, I can take it, ease it in." She kissed the brunette open-mouthed and wet, shaky legs pulling up to cage his hips in.

Jace's breath stuttered as he guided the fat tip of his cock into her soaked pussy, feeling the stretch immediately. She clung to him, pouring herself into his lips, nails digging into his shoulder blades. He slid in another agonizing two inches, gasping, "Fuck you're tight."

She responded by sucking blooming marks into his tensed neck, eyes rolling up when the thick middle of his cock spread her wide open. "Jacaerys, Jacaerys, you feel so good- so damn big baby!" He kept pushing against the slight resistance, settling as deep as he could.

His brown eyes clenched tight, she was like a silky glove around his cock. Hazily he felt her stomach, eyes lolling around at the bump from his cock. She was mewling wetly at the junction of neck and shoulder, non-stop babbling about being so full. Jace panted, "Mm, yeah, lookit' you, stretched your pretty pussy out."

He began to fuck in earnest, chasing a high. Her cunt dragged and clung to his fat cock, ridged insides sending sharp arousal up his spine. Jace lost himself in the moment, mouthing at a pert nipple, heavy balls slapping against her ass. She cried and yelled, worthy of a fucking porno. He knew he wasn't going to last long. But the way she was practically shivering and fuck-dumb, slurring her words of nonsense, she was right with Jace.

"M'gonna cum baby, you on birth control?"

"Fuck me, jus' keep fuckin' me," she rasped. Plan B was always an option when her mind returned to non-mush. Jace kept fucking her as instructed, groans growing desperate and guttural. His balls were drawing up, aching from how needy he was to cum.

He kissed her one more time, swallowing her noises before pulling back to pant against her cheek, hips beginning to stutter. He snuck a hand down to her cunt, thumbing her clit. Just when he thought it couldn't get any better-- she shrieked again. A gush of her slick engulfed his cock, wet noises filling the bedroom. Jace cried her name, shoving himself deep and filling her up.

He might've sent her into another orgasm but Jacaerys was whited out from pleasure. All the athlete could do was pathetically groan as his cock twitched and pumped his heavy load into her cock, thickening the slick coating on his prick, collecting around where they joined. It was delightfully filthy. He came too with a deep inhale, sliding out with a mewl and flopping away.

Overstimulation was a common theme with the girls he fucked-- Jace knew to give some space in the immediate aftermath. It wasn't too long before she complained, "Why are you flopped over there? Get over here, you just fucked my brains out."

He grinned like a sap. How did she have yet another moment where he found himself deeper in desire for the woman. Jace murmured, "My bad, my bad, didn't want to overheat you or anything." She retorted, "I'm a cuddler Jacaerys Velaryon, you should remember that about your girlfriend." He chuckled, jerking her into his embrace, tucking a chin on her shoulder.

"They didn't lie about your horse dick. Hate to tell your fan girlies that cock belongs to me now."

Jace smirked, pressing a gentle peck to her skin, "It's all yours, believe me. They can find the next rookie of the year to be their online boyfriend."

[moonstruckme]

Worried/gentle Pre relationship Sirius x reader who’s having a panic attack (his first time seeing her have one)

Thanks for requesting!

cw: panic attack

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Sirius is no amateur concert-goer. He knows how to hunt for the best tickets, how to smuggle in drinks, and how to get there early enough that he gets right up by the stage. Since it’s your first real concert (you argued that you’ve seen musicians play at restaurants and parks and the like, which Sirius informed you doesn’t count), he’s pulling out all the stops. 

“Alright, doll, we’ve got one bottle of water and one of vodka. Newbie’s choice.” 

“You can stop hammering in the newbie thing so hard, you know,” you say, reaching for the vodka. Your eyes flicker between the people starting to gather around you as they filter into the venue. “I don’t want to be ostracized by everyone here.” 

Sirius grins. “I’ll vouch for you, don’t worry.” 

You mirror his smile wryly, taking a covert swig from the bottle. “Won’t someone take this away from us?” 

“No,” he says, “right now everyone who works here is too focused on getting people inside, and soon it’ll be too packed to see us anyway.” 

You press your lips together as you nod, taking another hearty sip of the vodka. 

As if he hasn’t already been doing it all week, Sirius launches into a biography of the band you’re seeing. How they’d gotten started, when they’d been discovered, how he’d first discovered them (the true beginning of their fame, really), etc, etc. At first, you’re smiling and chiming in as he talks, but gradually he notices you becoming less responsive. You seem distracted. Must be the atmosphere, he reasons. There’s an exhilarating buzz going through the crowd, which Sirius is pleased to note comprises a rather impressive turnout for a band that’s just getting their start. With the colored lights the venue’s management turned on after everyone had been let inside, it’s difficult to make out distinct faces in the sea of bobbing heads. Sirius would hardly know it was you next to him if you hadn’t linked your arm through his the first time someone had cut between you two, as though worried he’d get swept away if you didn’t hold on tight. He hardly minds; if things were different between you, he doubts you’d ever be able to extricate his hand from your back pocket. 

“You with me, dollface?” he asks when you don’t seem to notice he’s asked you a question. He’d asked if you wanted to try to find an after-party, though he knows you well enough to suspect you’ll be ready to collapse into bed by the time the concert itself is finished. 

“Hm?” You look at him, the sparkly eyeshadow you’d asked him to put on you glinting as you blink. Your pupils look huge. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” 

Sirius starts to nod, but then someone behind you shoulders you accidentally and you jolt like you’ve been shot. 

He eyes you warily. “You sure? You look a bit warm.” 

It’s an understatement. Your features gleam with sweat under the colored lights. The crowd does make it a bit balmy inside, but your face is as flushed as if you’ve run a mile. 

“I’m okay,” you say, though you won’t look at him. You take a breath as if to steady yourself, untangling your arm from his to press a hand to your chest. 

Sirius touches your shoulder tentatively. It’s hot and slick under his hand. “Sweetheart, you’re shaking,” he says, panic creeping up his throat. This is all a bit too familiar. “Do you need some air?” 

You suck in a breath, the action sounding more effortful than it should. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you pant. “Yeah, I think—yeah.” 

Sirius glances around, taking a millisecond to mourn your prime spot before plotting a course through the crowd. He makes you hold his hand as he shoulders his way through, keeping you close behind him. It’s frightening how he can hear the sound of your gasping breaths even over the eager ruckus of the crowd. 

He gets you through as quickly as he can, beelining for the exit. “You’re alright,” he tells you as you both break out into the crisp night air. It takes all the self-control he has to keep his own anxiety from his voice, but he does his best to sound gentle and calm. “We’re going to find you a place to sit down.” 

He guides you over to the side of the building, mostly out of sight of traffic going in and out the doors, and sits you down on some grass. You fold your knees into your chest instantly, the position obviously familiar, and press your forehead to your knees. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Sirius murmurs, crouching beside you and rubbing your back. Smooth, slow passes up and down your spine. “I’m not going to leave you. Just breathe, doll.” 

You seem like you’re really trying, forcing slow if stilted breaths through your mouth. He gathers the hair off your nape, using a ponytail from his wrist to tie it loosely over your head. The cool air seems to be helping somewhat. Your ears and neck are less flushed, but you’re still shaking something terrible. He redoubles his efforts on your back, pushing his palm into your spine in a way he hopes is soothing. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasp into the space between your knees and your abdomen. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, please,” Sirius begs you. “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?” 

You shake your head. 

“Anything I can do?” 

You blow out a breath. Shaky, but more substantial than the rest. “Can I have the water?” 

“Yeah, of course.” Sirius’ own hands tremble slightly as he untwists the cap, passing it to you. You bring your head up to drink it, taking brief, measured sips. Your makeup is all smeared underneath your eyes. 

“Thank you,” you manage once you’re done. Sirius gets the impression you mean for more than the water. 

“Don’t mention it.” He takes the bottle from you, hand resuming its path on your spine. You tuck your head back into your legs. “Take your time, love, we’re not in any rush.” 

Slowly, over the course of the next few minutes, your breathing evens out. Some of the tension leaves your body, your posture slumped and miserable as goosebumps appear along your arms. Sirius drapes his jacket over you, continuing to rub your back through the thick material. 

Finally, you lift your head. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is tight, a tear slipping down your face. Sirius’ heart revolts, batting against his ribs like a frantic bird in a cage. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, doing his best to keep the desperation out of his voice as scoots closer to your side. He brushes the wetness away with his thumb. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, sweetness.” 

“No, I know crowds do this to me, and I didn’t even warn you, I just—” Your face scrunches, as if you’re endeavoring to keep some great pain at bay. “I wanted to do this for you.” 

Suddenly he’s the one with no air. Guilt chokes him, hot and thick in his throat. “You didn’t have to do anything for me, dollface. I mean, I appreciate it,” he gives you one of his best smiles, rewarded when your eyes crinkle slightly in response, “but I never want you to put yourself through anything like this for me. I’m happy when you’re happy, understand?” 

You nod, eyebrows stitched together remorsefully. Sirius wants to kiss between them, then all up and down your face until not a hint of melancholy remains, but in lieu of that he tucks a piece of hair that had escaped his earlier capture behind your ear, thumbing affectionately at your cheek. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you say meekly. 

“That’s okay,” he promises you. “My brother Reggie used to get panic attacks too, when he was younger. I have a bit of practice with them.” 

Sirius doesn’t think it matters how much practice he gets; he’ll always be shit at comforting people, but at least he knows enough to guess what you’ll need now. 

You look at him interestedly. “Really?”

“Mhm,” he says. “Are you tired? We can go back to my place and watch a film. Or if you just want to go to bed I can take you home.” 

“Your place is good,” you say, letting him take your hand to help you up. Your legs wobble a bit underneath you, and Sirius wraps a hand around your waist, holding you to his side as you start back towards the sidewalk. 

“This okay?” he asks, watching you carefully. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. Your hand worms underneath his arm, sliding around his back in turn. “Yeah, this is good.”