#Most of the other works I have going are almost done too

[highvern]

Whatever You Like

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

Genre: smut, fluff

warnings: fingering, oral sex, dacryphilia, spitting, bondage, blindfold, anal play, facial, praise kink, manhandling, unprotected sex, dom/brat dynamics (sir kink), sex toys, double penetration (with dildo), spanking/clit slapping, filming

Length: ~ 6.1k

Note: any complaints can be directed to @bitchlessdino for thinking cheol would be the type to film an amateur sex tape. ceremonial mention of @gyuswhore for beta reading and encouraging this tom foolery. also @wooahaeproductions and @millennial-fangirl t agging @wonustars @ugh-yoongi and @the-boy-meets-evil for more fun

summary: Your husband takes his birthday more seriously than anyone you know. When he's scheduled for a business trip across the country, forcing you two to celebrate apart for the first time in your entire relationship, you decide to get creative with his gifts this year. Can be read as a stand alone or a continuation of Freak Like Me!

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“I hate it,” your husband announces before collapsing on top of you.

Seungcheol is always pouting about something. He’s dramatic by nature, a classic whiner. He does it for attention. Your attention. 

 It is a business trip out of the country for two weeks. He hates it because his birthday is in the middle of it. 

Since the dawn of your relationship, birthdays are spent naked in bed for hours followed by fancy dinners and gifts (despite your objection he’s all you need) and more domestic love making that left both of you sore for days. 

This will be the first birthday in eight years you’ll spend apart. And with how serious Seungcheol takes his birthday, it’s more devastating than the six months you spent long distance after college.

“I know, baby,” you coo. “We can celebrate when you get home though. Go to that steakhouse downtown you like.”

“But I want to spend it with you. I always spend it with you.” He shivers as you rake a hand through his hair, nails scratching just right to make him weak.

“One birthday isn’t gonna kill you. Promise.”

“You don’t know that. People die of broken hearts all the time.”

“Oh my god,” you snort. “I’m not leaving you, you’re going away for two weeks. On a promotion trip you begged for.”

“What if I became a trophy husband?”

“You’re too bougie for that. We’d end up homeless.”

All of his complaints prove he’s unaware of your scheming. The second he shared the news, you set to work.

The guest list for a surprise barbecue two days before he flies out is confirmed; custom cufflinks he’d been planning to buy himself tucked away under extra sheets in the guest room; white lingerie that’ll remind him of your wedding night already in the mail, set to arrive while he’s gone to enjoy upon return. 

But there’s one thing for him to take on his trip. A consolation prize for  missing each other on  one of the most important days of the year (tied with your birthday and just above your anniversary).

You’ve taken videos and pictures of yourself in varying states of ruin for Seungcheol’s enjoyment. He’s done the same. Flashes of his fist covered in cum in the dim light of his room back when you didn’t cohabitate. Videos of him jerking off, rambling about all the things he’d do to you.

He’s only ever admitted it once. A fantasy he keeps tucked away, bubbling just under the surface. It’d been almost two years ago when drunkenness threw inhibitions to the wind (along with the way his cock stretched your throat) that Seungcheol, without much thought to the matter, admitted how badly he wanted to film it. Film you, mouth full of him, cum spilling across your lips, eyes watering. 

Neither of you mentioned it again afterwards but the idea stayed firmly planted in your subconscious. 

And what better occasion to make your on screen debut than your husband’s birthday?

“I do have one idea…to make up for you being gone.” You say, smoothing down the back of his shirt. “For both of us, really.”

“And what is that Mrs. Choi?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Okay,” he huffs with amusement. “I can pencil that in.”

“I wasn’t done yet.” You force him off your chest into a cushion, taking over the prime real estate of his lap. “I want to make a sex tape.”

“What?”

“So you can watch it whenever you miss me during your trip.”

“Baby, you don’t have too—”

“I want to.” You nod. “Honestly more for me than you but I thought it’d be a nice birthday present.”

“Are you serious?”

“Mhm.”

“Shit, okay.” He takes a breath, calming down the need growing in his chest. “Tonight?”

“No, I’ve gotta get some stuff.” You kiss his neck just to tease him, chest to chest with a grind back into his crotch because he’s your husband and you can.

His chin tips back to give you space, fingers twitching at your waist thinking of all the possibilities. “What kind of stuff are we talking about?”

“It’s not a surprise if I tell you.”

“But it’s for my birthday,” he argues.

“Perfect time for surprises then, isn’t it?” You hop off him and beeline for the shower, his footsteps barely a second behind.

Based on aesthetics alone, you’d pass for one of those amatuer porn couples; you wrapped in Seungcheol’s favorite pair of panties sans bra, him half naked with sweatpants low on his waist. A lamp casts the room in a dull warm glow that you hope will soften the unforgiving quality of the camera.

Seungcheol is meticulous. If he had it his way then the professional grade camera he got for Christmas would be catching every minute detail but you draw the line at feeling too much like a porn star. Instead it's a cheap tripod you ordered online hastily and his phone.

Watching him focus so intently gets you hot; the flex of muscles from his fingers to the bare skin of his chest, hair falling in his face as he balances it on the chair dragged in from the dining room. Your pulse races while you model on the bed for him; testing every angle and position he directs you into with heat in your gaze.

“We really should have done this sooner. Holy shit,” he mumbles.

“Looks good?” you ask over your shoulder, ass high in the air with a painful arch.

He grabs one of your cheeks with force, fingers digging into the curve and spreading you bare. “You look amazing.”

“Stop, you'll make me blush.” Empty words because you bend up at the waist, chest on show for later viewing.

“My wife asked me to film a porno for my birthday. I’ll say whatever I want, thank you very much.” He palms whatever he can reach, tweaking your nipples until they ache into peaks.

“Speaking of,” you sigh. “There’s a few more surprises, birthday boy.’

“Really?” 

Popping up, you plant a lazy kiss to his mouth, licking lewd intentions across his teeth. “In the top drawer of the dresser.”

Living alone means all the fun toys are kept in easy reach. The drawer is dedicated space for vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, paddles and whatever other random goodies collected over the years. So to have something not in your collection already makes him rush over to find out exactly what you’ve been so secretive about the past few days.

Seungcheol pulls out the silver bag, approaching the bed once again before separating the tissue paper to find what's inside.

“Are you serious?” he asks. 

Leather handcuffs dangle from his hold. Red with silver hardware. The kind with clips so he can tie you up anyway he wants. And maybe later, anyway you want to tie him up too.

“I am,” you smile, kissing across his chest. “There’s more in there.”

He digs back in, easily finding the slip of red silk.

“Babe…” he breaths. 

You kiss away his next words, soft and indulgent; a gross amount of tongue that comes with years of partnership. Both of you get lost in it, hands roaming, warming from the inside out. Seungcheol sucks on that spot below your jaw, a handful of ass threatening to distract you from the original purpose of tonight.

“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” you whisper pathetically only for him to hear, already forgetting the camera a few feet away.

Nostrils flaring, he watches as you mouth down his front. “You think I want to tie you up and blindfold you?” He’s cocky now; plain on his face how much the idea turns him on.

You slip to your knees on the floor, palm molded to his cock already plumping at the idea. “I think you wanna show me who is in charge.” 

Seungcheol sizes up your offer. The way you look up at him with an innocent expression like you aren’t mouthing over the tented crotch of his pants. “Then take my cock out like a good girl.”

You force his sweats down with eager glee as Seungcheol starts recording above. You're in your element between his thighs, a place you excel with minimal direction. With the ideas you’ve planted in his head, you won’t have to do much to get him off.

Gentle kisses along his thighs make his stomach dip. “Can I use my mouth?”

“Not yet.” Seungcheol shakes. “You’ll taste it plenty later. Use your hand.”

You rub his cock with a spit slick grip, mouth watering for the familiar flavor of his spend promised later. The tip of his cock shines in the low light. It’s quiet except for the dirty wet squelch and his already labored breath. You could get off to this alone. A hand between your thighs as you jerk him to completion until he paints your chest white. You suck your lip between your teeth at the thought.

“Look here.” He’s holding his phone near his chin, recording the crazed gleam in your eye. The blindfold rests in his other hand, forcing it into your empty one. “Put it on.”

An easy command leaving you riddled with anticipation. Without vision, there's no telling what his next move is. Giving Seungcheol the power to do whatever he pleases. Every time you’ve given him power, he’s made it worth your while and then some. Now won’t be different. He cups your face, thumb spreading your lips until you suck with a moan. And as quick as it came, the heat is gone.

It’s replaced by the prod of his cock against your cheek. He slaps it against your chin, a hot wet trail against the seam of your lips you eagerly lick away once he moves again. His dick rubs across your face lazily, degrading and dirty. Just how you like it.

You kiss whatever comes in reach; the vein webbing the underside, the head, his balls. Anything he’ll give you, you’ll take.

“Open your mouth.” Seungcheol taps it against your chin once again. He doesn’t let you suck him in immediately, giving you an inch before moving away only to repeat the motion over again. “Stick your tongue out.”

You do without hesitation, messy already. He forces the tip into the flat of it. A flood of his taste serving as a precursor until he gives you more.

You like to show off under normal circumstances and with a camera in the mix, you’re edged to the side of debauchery. Seungcheol’s cock is heavy on your tongue; an easy slide to the back of your throat with little resistance. You stroke him into your mouth, tongue lashing against the slit in the head. His thighs tense under your nails with a good choke before you pull off.

“Looks good?” You ask, hand replacing your mouth.

“Fucking perfect.” Seungcheol guides you back down with a hand on the crown of your head. With new leverage comes more thrusts but you take each in stride. Precum mixes with spit, dribbling out the corners of your mouth and down your chin. “God, so good to my cock. Feel so good like this.”

You make it sloppy, throat tightening in a loud gag. He hisses your name when you manage to take another inch from his praise. His weight sinks into your throat; holding there until you grow dizzy from lack of air. 

“Gonna cum,” he hisses. “Where do you want it?”

“On my face, come on my face.” You gasp for a quick breath before taking him again. 

He’s close, bucking into your mouth with renewed vigor from something so dirty. “Want me to cover your pretty face in my cum?”

The vibrations of your moan make his hips kick again. You bottom out with a choke, wet eyes hidden beneath silk. Another swallow, more tongue against the slit until he gives a shaky jerk.

“F-fuck, okay.” Seungcheol pulls himself away, fisting his length. “Stick out your tongue again. Shit, shit.”

He goes for show rather than convenience, painting your chin and cheeks in messy streaks. At least your eyes are safe from any errant drips. You suck him back in, tongue collecting whatever stuck to the head.

“Look so pretty like this,” he coos, slapping his cock against your tongue with the last few drips.

Years together means Seungcheol knows your game. In the distraction of getting him off, you snuck a hand between your legs, rutting against it pathetically. He let you get away with it far too long not to notice and now you’ll pay the price.

He kicks your thighs apart, leaving you without a hint of relief. A rough grip at the back of your neck pulls you away without warning. “You touch yourself when I tell you to. Got that?” 

Even with cum cooling on your skin, you still want more. “Sorry, sir.” 

A harsh exhale is all the warning you get before you're pulled to your feet. It doesn’t last long. Bent over the mattress, you're prone to a swift slap against the back of your thigh. Predictable. You know exactly what that word does to him; how it drives him up the wall. The last time you called him ‘sir’ he made you come so many times you couldn’t walk the next day.

“You’re gonna be,” he threatens with another swat before wrestling your wrists together at the dip of your spine. 

The cuffs link together easily. After testing their strength with a few gentle tugs, you’re left completely helpless to whatever your husband desires. Limp like a rag doll for his use. With the blindfold and the restraints, he’s got you at his mercy. It only drives you to act out more.

“Are you gonna spank me for being a bad girl, sir?” you goad, smile hidden in the sheets. A wiggle of your ass back into his hold to tease. You’re punished with another sting on the opposite thigh, then another and another. Each knots your stomach as you whine from the burn. The thought of the camera catching you, bent over, tied up, and covered in cum makes your insides warm with need. “That’s all you got?”

He answers with silence; a tense while he calculates. His hand squeezes across your heated skin, mindful of how much he gives you even when you challenge his authority like you weren’t asking for it.

The sound of ripping fabric fills your ears. Cool air rushes against the seat of your ass. You brace for another slap, prepared for it on the round of your ass. But Seungcheol likes to keep you on your toes.

The impact stings your clit, thighs trembling because it hurts in the best way. His fingers stay flat to roughly work you into weak submission. You barely register the cold lube dripping between your cheeks to ease Seungcheol’s fingers easing at your entrance. 

“That's all you got?” he mocks. “I swear one of these days I’m gonna fuck your throat until you can’t talk back.”

Your breath hitches at he fucks you open with two fingers, an embarrassingly easy stretch. “Could do it right now.”

“I’ve got other plans.” He rubs your insides raw, the sick squelch ringing in your ears. A calculating curl forces a twitch into your legs. All your weak spots are his playthings, until your nails bite into the meat of your palm from how well he works them.

“Like?” Your breath hitches with the next rush of his fingers. Even more when he spits on your hole and rubs the stiffness of his dick into the mess just to be nasty.

“No point of the blindfold if I tell you everything anyway.” 

“Seungcheol.” You shudder as he wedges a third finger inside.

He’s on his knees, chest hot against the back of your thighs, peppering soft kisses across your ass like he’s apologizing for the brand of his hand you’ll certainly feel tomorrow. You reposition to take him; legs spread, thighs stained with arousal from anticipation. Palms push against your legs to stretch further and  give the camera a good view. 

The tear in your underwear gives him plenty of room to work with but he’s also a show off, putting all the muscles he’s worked so hard for to use by ripping the remaining lace clean off with rough enthusiasm. They fall slack around your knees.

“Wish you could see how pretty your pussy looks spread around my fingers.” 

“I will when I watch this while you're gone.”

“Gonna touch yourself to this? Seeing yourself get fucked?” His fingers hit that spot inside you. The one that punches air from your lungs and breaks you in half with limited coaxing.

“Yeah, might hu—shit—hump your pillow while I do it.”

Unlocking the cuffs, you sag in relief, straining muscles relaxing after being bound for so long. Seungcheol flips you on your back and locks them back in place over your stomach. 

“Fuck yourself on my face then. Show me how much you want it and I’ll let you come.” He bites, tongue flattening in time with the return of his fingers. The camera must be somewhere else. Probably back on the chair at the side of the bed. 

You do as he asks; feet planted on the bed as you curl into the pleasure, humping his face. A staccato lap of his tongue gets you started, wearing against the stiffness of your clit. You arch into it, unperturbed by the ache across your body. Seungcheol latches tight; sucking until your vision spots.

“Oh my god,” you hum; nerves fuzzy in your core from so much stimulation. He lets you grip a tight fist in his hair, keeping him still so you can ride his tongue. 

“Come for me. All over my face like a good girl. That’s what you are right?” His fingers hit deeper. Gives you as much as you can possibly take. “My good girl?”

“I am, I–fuck, fuck. Yes, yes, yes!” Your orgasm rushes like a tsunami. It drowns you into utter silence, choked and shaking. You might fizzle away into nothing from the inside out. Seungcheol shoves your legs open to work you through it, dragging out every last inch until you kick at his stomach for a break. “Oh my god.”

“Good?” He smirks, chuckling when you jump at a cruel lick at your clit.

“Asshole,” you knee him in the side without much bite, focusing on catching your breath.

He sucks a bruise into your thigh because he can, pulling away to admire his work before speaking again. “Done or do you wanna keep going?” 

“Want you to fuck me,” you sigh. The emptiness consumes your brain, making you impatient for what happens next.

He licks his way up your stomach, sucking a nipple between his teeth while the other grows sensitive between his fingers. “How?”

Drawn out from your previous orgasm, sink pliant into the cushion of the mattress. “However you want.”

“What if I wanna fuck you…right…here.” His thumb digs into your asshole, wet with spit and the obscene accumulation of your own arousal.

“Fuck, yes.” You nod pathetically. “Fuck my ass.”

The sick bastard laughs at your desperation like it's a cruel joke. “Not tonight. Maybe next time I’ll take a video of you taking my cock in your ass and one of your dildos in that tight little pussy. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“You can fuck my pussy with both right now.”

“You’d want that?” His teeth bruise your nipple, hand dipping between your legs with no regard for your sensitivity. “God, you’re nasty.” 

“It'd be so hot,” you mumble. The jitters in your muscles haven’t faded yet you're already hungry for more. 

He leaves a kiss on your sternum before standing, footsteps padding against the floor towards the dresser. If he has any sense he’ll grab the one that perfectly resembles his cock. What once was a dirty gift exchange gag gift, now his favorite toy to watch you get off with.

“You sure?”

He’s sweet. But you don’t want him to be nice; you want him to dangle your pleasure in front of you and snatch it away when you get too close. “I’m pretty sure your phone is running out of space, so get to work big boy.”

When he comes back the blindfold is ripped away. Sweat beads on his forehead, hair wild, and skin pinked. Cock wet with a sticky mix of fluids, heavy against his thigh. He’s sexy like this. Based on how crazed he looks, you can only imagine yourself. And now you have it all caught on video.

“Hold this.” He shoves the phone into your grasp. “Film yourself getting fucked.”

The dildo is soaked in more lube; obscenely so. Enough to ruin the sheets and maybe the mattress but it looks good on the screen as he works it inside you until the base is flush with your pelvis. On the brink of breaking apart from just a clone of his dick, he fucks you nice and slow with it. A tedious grind into the heat of your core. Insides tightening but still missing something.

“What’s wrong baby?” he grins, fingers wedging inside around the edges. If you’re planning to take two cocks, he’ll make sure you’re prepped. “Tapping out on me already? Haven’t even put my cock in and you’re already whining.”

“Feels good.” You grit your teeth at his cockiness. This is for his birthday and if he wants you to be a pathetic mess for him, you indulge. “Fuck me harder with it.”

“Yeah? Imagine how it’ll feel when I fuck you with both. Stuffed until you can’t take it.”

“Kiss me,” you whine. You need something to distract from the visual of being split on two cocks before you explode. 

He does just that. A confusing mix of tender want compared to the vigor between your legs. Your hips grind on their own accord, tingling from his fingers torturing your clit in time.

“I love you,” Seungcheol sighs. “Fuck yourself on it. Show me how good you take it, yeah?”

You rock your hips into it the best you can, fumbling to keep his mouth firm against your own. A lazy rut but he won’t complain after all you’ve given him already.

The phone ends up back on the chair for now. Seungcheol doesn’t bother making sure either of you are in frame, trusting that whatever is getting caught will be hot enough even if it's just the sounds of fried vocal cords and the wet slap of skin on skin.

“Think you’re ready?”

“Mmm, give it to me. Let me feel your fat cock inside me.”

“You’re so needy.” 

Your thighs begin to ache from being spread to accommodate him but it’s easily drowned out by the head of his cock breaching your entrance.

“Oh,” you gasp. It’s not something you’d ever be able to describe. A stretch bordering on pain but nothing more lube, Seungcheol’s patience, and some deep breathing can’t fix. 

“Does it hurt?”

“No, just…really full. Wow.” You breathe, the pressure in your gut limiting everything to just this. It’s not an easy slide like the dildo, it’s more than you’ve ever felt. “Go slow, I can take it.”

He sinks deeper, another inch before stopping and pulling back out; restricted ruts making your teeth clench. You need a distraction. Something to keep your attention away from how uncomfortable it is. You want nothing more than to be stuffed as far as you can take it, but getting there might take a while.

And because your husband can always manage to read your mind, he flattens to your chest, mouth meeting your own in a dirty kiss that makes you blush more than the two cocks wedged inside you. “Feel good for you?”

“Tight.” 

“I’m always tight,” you taunt.

“Tighter. Wet too, fuck,” he grunts. A kick of his hips you're woefully unprepared for knocks you out of orbit. “Look so pretty taking my cock like this. Stuffed so full. So fucking tight.”

A punch to the gut from how deep his voice sounds. Seungcheol is better at keeping up the facade of nonchalance than you but it’s betrayed in the detail: shaky hands, red ears, glazed eyes. 

“God, you’re so big. Feel like you’re gonna tear me in half.”

“Really know how to treat a man, don’t you?” he laughs, pained. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Thinking about what you said earlier. Fucking my ass and my pussy at the same time.”

“You’d like that?” Seungcheol pants driving a little bit deeper.

“Yeah.” You melt in his hold. His cock in your ass is a special treat you like to indulge in whenever possible. “We can film that too.”

He fucks you with calculated grinds; slow until you beg him not to be. This is for you as much as it is for him and Seungcheol will only enjoy it if you are too, even if his cock is being squeezed to death.

“Is it in all the way?”

“Not even close, babe.” He coos, a sticky lube covered thumb brushing your cheek. “Relax.”

“Take two dicks inside you and see how well you relax.”

“I’m not the cock champ here, am I?”

“Just touch me. Please.”  He skates that same hand between your legs, gentle circles on your nub while sinking deeper and deeper. Your stomach caves when he adds more pressure. “Fuck, right there.”

It’s the permission he needs to spread you prone, knees up to your chest to give you more. “Can you keep touching yourself for me? Play with that pretty little pussy for me?” 

“Yes, sir.” You rub weak circles on your clit, range of motion limited from the handcuffs. 

He abandons his grip on the silicon to twist your nipple. “Watch it.”

“Or what?”

“Say it again and I’ll make you ride this dildo while I fuck your mouth again.” He grunts, nudging your cervix to remind whose mercy you're under.

“But then you won’t get to see me take your hot load like a good girl.” You glow warmly with his choked expression. 

“G-good—god—what kind of good girl talks about having her pussy filled?”

“The kind that wants you to spit in her mouth,” you beg. 

“Then stick your tongue out.” He’s in a frenzy from how desperate you are. Thighs squeezing at the command, you do what he asks and are rewarded with the sick wet of his spit against the back of your throat.

You don’t get a chance to ask for another round. Seungcheol flips you on your front, face to face with the camera lens. Two of his fingers, the ones that taste like your cunt, hook into your mouth. Sucking them deep, you lap against them like their his cock; eager for the camera to catch the depraved need to be used that only he can inspire.

“Feels good?”

“So good,” you garble. “I love when you fuck me.”

“Yeah? Pussy was made for me, wasn’t it? All for me?” His voice jumps, cock twitching when you clench around him despite everything he’s giving you.

“All for you.”

“Gonna take my cum? Let me fill you up? That's what you want, don’t you? To be my pretty little cum dump?” He bites your ear lobe, fisting the hair at the crown of your head when you fall forward. “Look at the camera, baby.”

Wild jerks of his hips manage to force you to take him deeper, the head of his cock nestled further into your walls. All you can manage is a pathetic whine in answer to his questions. “Oh god, Seungcheol.”

He builds the pace, slow enough not to tear you in half but what he restrains in his rhythm he makes up for with harsh curls into the back of your throat. Each vein and ridge imprints into your core, more depravity. 

You can feel it, from the tips of your toes to the crown of your skull; the ebb of another orgasm. Seungcheol sinks the full weight of his hips inside you, taking the chance to fuck you with the dildo instead.

The comforter greets your face, Seungcheol abandoning his grip on your hair to land another round of punishing swats on your ass. It takes everything in you to keep your head up, for you both to play back later and see how nasty you are for each other. You want your husband to know what you look like when he fucks you in half, how your eyes water and lip threatens to split under the clamp of your teeth.

“Gonna cum,” he groans. His chest seals against your back, pathetic ruts into your stinging ass. It barely lasts. A ploy to grab the camera again for a cumshot. You let your face drop into the mattress, arching for the best view he’ll ever get. “Gonna ruin this pussy.” 

“Do it.” 

He removes the dildo, focusing on how you still manage to cling to his cock after being full for so long. It frees his hand to curl under your hip and pinch your clit until you scream. “Want you to come again. Come on my cock and I’ll give you what you want.” 

There’s no slow build. A sprint to the finish at the hands of your lover, you twitch in his hold, mind vacant except for what he asks. Nothing but the need to come on his cock. The wet echo of skin slapping as he fucks you harder now without the threat of breaking you. 

“I’m—close, fuck. Fuck!” You cry. Wetting his cock, you flail against the bed because Seungcheol is a cruel bastard that drags you so thin when you’re weak. A few more harsh drags on your clit, stomach sinking in half, and he’s letting you go. It’s weaker than the first but enough for Seungcheol to give in.

“Gonna cum for you,” he hisses, shivering. You milk him for all he’s worth. Taking the warm flood along your insides that keeps coming, each thrust gushing excess around the base of his cock. 

He pulls out and you nearly sob. It’s a vulnerable feeling to be empty after taking a beating to your pussy, one Seungcheol doeesn’t let you marinate in because he’s still filming. And that means playing with the mess of your cunt while giving the camera a front row seat. A few thrust of the dildo coated in a sheen of your insides and cum has him cursing like nothing hotter has ever existed. You feel open and used, messy. “Push it out for me.”

Whatever trickles out, he fucks right back in. The aftershocks of your second orgasm numb it all. Like you're underwater and Seungcheol is at the surface. Muffled.

“Oh my God, that was so…Holy shit.” He stops the recording and tosses his phone away. “You’re incredible.”

“If you’re trying to sweet talk me into another round, you need to do better.”

“I can’t come again if I tried.”

“Ouch,” you wince. “Hurtful.”

“Drama queen,” he laughs. The kisses up your spine make up for the dig.

You hum into the ticklish sensation. “You love it.”

“Of course I do, that’s why I married you.” 

“And here I thought it was for my incredible cooking.” You slouch into the pillows, body finally sputtering to a halt. “I feel gross.”

“Happens when you're covered in cum and take two cocks. Give me ten minutes and we’ll take a bath. The maintenance guy fixed the jets today.”

“Oh, baby.”

You and Seungcheol fall asleep five minutes later, your face in the pillows and Seungcheol’s lips at your shoulder.

“I’m under the big sign that says ‘Buses.’ Wait, I think I see you.” Seungcheol’s voice rings through the speaker as you scan the crowd

“Stick your hand up. Okay, now wave it in the air. No, bigger. Make a ‘Y’—”

“You’re so annoying,” he barks as he opens the passenger door.

You ease back into traffic, his hand clasped in yours over the center console. “I didn’t know having some harmless fun is a crime.” 

“It is when I’m tired and I missed you.”

“Aw, poor baby,” you coo sarcastically. “I missed you too.”

The drive home is peaceful. Seungcheol kept you updated during his trip and vice versa. Even getting in the door of the house is done in lazy silence, your husband refusing to let you go more than a few feet away before drawing you back into his hold. 

Tucked under the covers with your head on his chest, you crack; unable to keep his final birthday surprise a secret any longer.

“You know, I have one more gift for your birthday.”

“Baby, I love you but I can’t stay awake to fuck you. I promise I will in the morning.”

“Not that you perv. It's in the closet.”

“It can’t wait until morning?” he pleads, snuggling down to hide under your chin. 

“Nope.”

He gets up with a dramatic pout, shuffling to the closet for a gift wrapped boxed you’ve had hidden since his birthday.  “What is it?”

“Open it.”

He shreds through the paper, tossing aside the lid. Each second has you worrying your lip. It’s something you talked about extensively; in hypotheticals not realities. When you’d be ready. It’s why you bought this house, why Seungcheol’s car has a high safety rating. Something you’d both been clear about wanting since the very beginning.

“Blueberries? You know we have a fridge to keep these in, right?”

“Fruit doesn’t belong in the fridge,” you shakily argue. “Now, read the note.”

“At seven weeks your baby is about the size of a blueberry. Baby Choi’s eyes, nose, mouth, and ears are starting to look more—” he trails off, jaw slack. “Baby Choi?”

You burn under his gaze, shy like the first time he said I love you all those years ago. “Surprise?”

“Are you serious?” 

He drops the fruit when you nod, no doubt spilling the fruit everywhere in his haste to kiss you. It’s hard with both you beaming, cheeks round and burning. Kisses to your cheeks and chin and lips and nose like he can’t believe it’s a real thing. 

“I’m serious. Next week it’ll be the size of a grape and have fingers.” You pat your belly gently, his own hand caught under yours and snaking beneath your pajamas. “Weird to think about.”

“Oh my god.” He flushes. “How did you…?”

“Had a feeling while you were gone,” you admit. “On your birthday actually.”

“Really?” He’s staring at your stomach. You aren’t showing but since you’ve found out you can’t stop looking in the mirror for a change. That’s probably what he’s doing right now. Looking for those signs of proof that will start coming sooner than later.

“Yeah, I took like five tests in the grocery store bathroom to be sure.”

He doesn’t speak for a while, regarding you with silent awe. His cheek rests flat against your belly. There's a squeeze of your hand while his eyes sink shut to settle into the news. “We’re gonna be parents.”

“Yeah,” you smile. “My boobs are supposed to start getting bigger soon.”

“I thought something was different.”

“Probably the lack of sleep from your big ass baby.”

“Our big ass baby,” He corrects. “Is it too early to start decorating the spare room?” 

“It literally doesn’t even have a face right now.” 

Seungcheol kisses your navel, lips moving across the skin. “Your mommy is so mean to me. I think you’d be beautiful even if you don’t have a face.”

A week of knowledge, the initial anxiety you’d bottled up in effort to make sure he’s the first person you told (not including your gyno) starts to spill out.  “We can do this, right? You’re ready?”

His head pops up, eyes softening as he meets yours. “There is no one in the world I’d rather do this with.”

“Me either.”

“Best birthday present ever.”

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @writingbarnes

@dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos

@seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially @scoupsjin @isabellah29

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[madridfangirl]

Needed to write a blurb to calm myself down after THOSE photos.

Plot: Jude’s girlfriend’s reaction after seeing the SKIMS photos

Jude*female reader. Posessive plus sexy. Some Nsfw language.

………………………….

‘So, you broke the internet today.’

Jude returned from the training camp to find this message from his girlfriend. Her reaction was the one he was waiting for the most.

All the lads in the team had given him enough stick since the photos dropped. Calling him a whore. He had laughed at some and just flipped off the others. But why was she taking so long to respond? He knew she was working but he had almost dialled her number to ask her to check insta.

Well, finally she had. Jude quickly changed into his sleeping shorts and climbed into bed, face timing her. She answered on the first ring.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey, doll.’

She was in bed too, in his favourite tank top. Jude’s smile widened immediately.

‘Some heads up would have been nice, you know.’

He tore his eyes away from her cleavage long enough to smirk back at her.

‘I did say it was a big one.’

‘Right. Big one. I see what you did there.’

Jude rolled on the pillows laughing, flashing his pearly whites & boyish chuckles. Eyes sparkling with charm. He switched from a sweet, young boy to a sexy boy-toy so often and in a split second - always blowing her mind.

The blanket fell down till his waist, revealing his abs.

She had experienced them from up close many times. Traced her fingers through them, felt the rough edges, bit at the skin and also licked her way through them at length. So yes, she was very very familiar with and fond of his abs but the oiled torso had disrupted her brain chemistry. That was new, and downright sultry. Slutty. Sensuous. And oh so sexy.

They looked almost the same right now, minus the oiled bit. Her eyes moved up to his perky nipples as she wondered if they had oiled them too. If he had done it himself or if someone touched him there. And rubbed the shiny liquid all over him. The thought was unpleasant yet arousing. She wondered how he would have reacted to that, knowing fully well how sensitive Jude was around his nipples. How he always moaned with his head thrown back when she sucked him there. And how he invariably returned the favour by vigorously assaulting her boobs.

He watched her reaction with amusement and glee.

‘Eyes are up here, doll.’

‘Yes and they are very pretty. But damn the rest of you….you killed people today, hope you know that. I bet some girls dropped to their knees, cried and passed out with longing.’

Jude leaned back, resting his hands behind his head. Flexing his arms and the bouncing muscles. Giving her a show.

‘That good, huh?’

‘More. And we haven’t even addressed the star of the show yet.’

He figured she was talking about his thighs. His girl was obsessed with them - having them cage her in, wrap around her, even choke her sometimes, or just her stroking & biting them.

But no, it wasn’t his thighs that had made her pant when she saw the pics.

‘They left nothing to the imagination. Everyone SAW you today. Like fully. In those clinging tights. Women have wagers going on over your size, Jude. And horny, wet dreams. You have ruined lives today, hope you are happy.’

Full-body guffaws reverberated through his chest, bouncing off the walls.

‘Oh doll, you could join in the wagers and actually win y’know. Inside info and all.’

She declined the suggestion, telling him that women would be queuing up outside his door if she actually DOES tell them the inside info. He was enjoying the ego boost massively - it was rare for her to lose all semblance of sanity like this.

But she didn’t care. Not today. He had just dropped a sexually charged nuclear bomb on the entire female population & this was the after-effects of it.

‘Women sliding into your DMs huh? Sending nudes? Broke some kind of world record for that already today or nah?’

He just shrugged casually. Couldn’t deny it coz it was true. His inbox had exploded but his team had systems to filter out such messages. Some still seeped through & he knew she knew that.

It was just her luck that he was so far away right now. Else, she would have tied him to the bed tonight, and then vice-versa. Jude anyway loved restraining & pinning her any chance he got. She would have let him toss her around anywhere, any way he wanted. However many times he demanded. But that was not to be.

‘Strip for me.’

She said without hesitation, commanding him. He spluttered the juice in his mouth, sticky liquid dropping around his face and neck. His tongue came out to lap it up. Fucking hell - temptation personified. Biblical sinful apple.

‘You too. It’s already unfair that I am shirtless while you’re still hiding your tits. C’monn lemme see my babies. Been so long since I kissed them goodnight.’

They moved the laptop angle to cover a full body view, then proceeded to strip together. Stroking themselves in unison, eyes glued to the screen. Calling out each others names. Reaching their highs together.

She looked at his fucked out naked form, & her body burned lesser for the first time since looking at the photos. Others will only get to thirst over him from afar. But she is the one who gets to have the view, the taste and the pounding from him.

[captainreecejames]

Can't Have a Good Thing || LS2 smau

summary you go from dating an american footballer to an american driver

pairings ex!christian pulisic x reader, logan sargeant x reader

warnings probably a little anti pulisic but i still love my baby

notes pictures are from pinterest so thank you to all those lovely users (as I wrote this my english teacher from 11th grade came into my job and it was not fun!)

May 2023 ynusername posted -------

liked by cmpulisic, reece and others

ynusername final chelsea game of the season, love you guys

chelseafc awww we love you too yn ❤️ by author

cmpulisic always love having you there ↳ ynusername wouldn't want to be anywhere else

username1 look at my girl dawg, chelsea is embarrassing her ↳ username2 please, christian didn't even play

reece once a blue always a blue ↳ username3 NAH WHY IS THIS SO CRYPTIC ↳ username4 you can't say shit like this then leave DUDE

username5 that chrisyn interaction screams for help ↳ username6 i wouldn't be surprised if they're not dating anymore but trying to keep up appearances ↳ username7 breakup statement incoming ↳ username8 can we get fabrizio to comment on wag breakups please!! ↳ username7 lol can you imagine a here we go! breakup is official! peak comedy

cesarazpilicueta 💙 ↳ ynusername love you too capitan!

July 2023 real life ---------

It’s been a rough few months in the house for the two of you. Christian’s time at Chelsea was most likely coming to an end, and you had just started a new project at work, so your time was filled with that. Nights spent making dinner and laughing together turned to plates left in the microwave and lights out early. Mornings started with short wake up kisses to hardly whispered goodbyes.

In fewer words, the relationship was falling apart. You barely knew what was going on in each others lives anymore, it’s no surprise when he tells you he’s leaving Chelsea.

Chris is still in Florida with his family, enjoying the last few days off before preseason. You had been with him for the 4th of July, but needed to fly back to London almost immediately for a new project and you’re exhausted. When he Facetimes you it’s almost 11:30 at night and your still sitting in your home office, but with how excited Chris is, he can’t tell that you’re operating on extremely low levels of energy. You want to be excited for him, but you can see the writing on the wall.

“Hey babe.” You know what’s coming, but it doesn’t make the shock any less. “I’ve got some big news.” He waits for you to say something, but all you do is blink and nod. “AC Milan are going to sign me.” He waits again for you to say something. “Did you hear me? I’m leaving Chelsea.”

“Yeah, I heard you.” Your lack of enthusiasm confuses Christian.

“Then why aren’t you excited?”

Your apathy turns to frustration quickly and you shift in the chair. “Because, Christian, I’m not just going to blow up my life in London to follow you to a new city. I’ve got a job here and it’s going well. I don’t want to have to start all over again. Not to mention learning a whole new language. Have you considered how isolating that would be for me?”

“So what, I just rot at Chelsea because you don’t want to move?” He is now just as defensive as you, words biting at the holes that have formed in your relationship, making them grow.

“I didn’t say that!” You sit up even straighter, putting your phone down against the computer so it stands on it’s own.

“Well it sounds like you don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want to pack up my life and move to a new country where I don’t know anyone.”

You could see the fight leave his body as he came to the same realization you did. “What’s going to happen to us?”

“I think we’re done Chris.” You can feel your heart break that last little bit with the words you say. You love Christian, but with everything you’ve gone through, it’s not enough.

twitter ---------

September 2023 real life ------

In one hand you held your phone, looking down at the details of your train back to London, in the other a hot chocolate to warm you up in the brisk wind of Oxford. It’s how you missed the body in front of you and ended up falling straight on your ass because of it, hot chocolate splashing onto your shirt.

“Fucking hell,” you whispered, pulling your shirt away from your body so it didn’t burn.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” said an American accent. You groaned in your head, not wanting to deal with this. “I should’ve been looking where I was going.” They put a hand in your face, gesturing to help you up, which you took. 

“No, it was my fault, I was staring at my phone,” you told them as they pulled you up. He was strong, and also probably a little awkward as he was still holding your hand.

“Me too, so I really won’t let you take the blame.” His awkward smile was also cute, but you tried not to think that, it wouldn’t agree with your ‘no boys agenda.’ “Do you need another hot chocolate?” The cup was empty at your feet, making you wince. 

“Yeah, probably another shirt too.” It’s at that point that he realizes he’s still holding your hand, and he drops it.

“Let me get you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You’re still very early for the train, but travel anxiety is terrible and you want to leave soon.

“I insist.” Something about his smile and red cheeks makes you say yes to him, and you’re really not sure why. “I’m Logan, by the way.” He’s leading you back into the line of the cafe, smiling at you still.

“I’m YN,” you tell him.

ynusername posted ---------

liked by logansargeant, benchilwell, and others

ynusername exploring oxford finally

bsfinstagram babe you run into any quidditch players ↳ ynusername bitch you know i'm swearing off athletes

username7 damn why are you so beautiful

samkerr 💞 ↳ ynusername ugh bestie i love you

pulisick10 'SWEARING OFF ATHLETES?' Christian mate pulisic what did you do!?! ↳ username8 that is so fucking harsh though like pulisic really did a number on our girl here ↳ pulisick10 ben chilwell still in the likes tho ↳ username8 nah her and ben are friends, like ben was always close with christian and just cause he left doesn't mean that she can't be friends still ↳ username8 also she's still good friends with the women's team ↳ pulisick10 well that's cause the women are better ❤️ by ynusername and bsfinstagram ↳ username8 NOT HER LIKING THAT but also won't argue with that

logansargeant at least the weather was good ↳ ynusername youre right, thank you english sun who comes out once in a blue moon ↳ bsfinstagram I'm questioning things ↳ ynusername well you shouldn't

username11 she's sworn off athletes but has a formula 1 driver in her comments... ↳ username12 fake bitch ↳ username13 two people can be friends right? ↳ username12 she breaks up with christian because of the distance but is talking a driver like he isn't gone more than half the year, she's definitely fake for that ↳ username13 how do you know that's why they broke up ↳ username14 she doesn't she's just being a hater ❤️ by ynusername ↳ username11 damn all this fighting on my comment thread?

username12 not yn liking so many comments, do you read them ↳ ynusername gotta appreciate a good laugh ↳ username13 yn stalks her comments like a real one should

twitter ---------

yn's messages -----------

November 2023 yn's messages ------------

real life --------

Your hotel room is kind of a mess, with clothes thrown around and various pieces of paper on the floor. It’s not really a surprise to Logan, even though he hasn’t known you very long.

After a long day exploring New York City in fairly okay weather, the two of you are relaxing in your hotel room before dinner. “Can I ask you something?” Logan asks. He’s currently sitting in the desk chair, feet propped up on the desk and head hung back. 

“Go ahead.” You’re on your bed, laying like a starfish.

“Would you say yes to going on a date with me?” You sit up straight, staring at him with wide eyes as he doesn’t move.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“No, I’m asking if you’d say yes to me asking you on a date.” His clarification makes you narrow your eyes, but he still doesn’t move. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea right now.”

That gets him moving, turning the chair to look at you. “So would you say yes or no?”

“I’d say no right now.”

“What about in a month?”

“In a month, when we’re both back in England, I’d probably say yes.”

“Cool,” he shrugs, going back to putting his feet on the desk. “Then I’ll ask you again in January.”

ynusername posted ---------

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon and others

ynusername look who came to visit

lilymhe booooo bring me next time ↳ ynusername you're welcome whenever, he invited himself ↳ logansargeant literally not true you asked me to come ↳ ynusername stop lying! i wanted thanksgiving but you have this job that makes you fly across the world to drive a stupid car or something

oscarpiastri look at him jumping for joy for you ↳ ynusername yeah well, what can i say, I'm a dream come true

bsfinstagram ahhhh just under 2 weeks until you come home!! ↳ ynusername I missed you so much ↳ bsfinstagram debrief over wine incoming!

username18 nope she is definitely dating this driver ↳ username19 it's so weird cause like if she really broke up with christian because of distance then isn't this just so much worse ↳ username20 i don't think they broke up just because of distance, things were probably weird for a couple of months before hand cause she wasn't going to as many mens games, she was definitely going to the women's games though.

timothyweah did you get a hotdog from the hotdog guy? ↳ ynusername yes... why? ↳ timothyweah cause they're good and i just want to make sure that you did ↳ ynusername okay timmy

chelseafcw don't stay too long we miss you ↳ ynusername aww, i miss you guys too

May 2024 ynusername posted--------

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

ynusername Miami you can be pretty but you're on my shit list

landonorris no whyyyyy ↳ ynusername idk might have something to do with my boyfriend dnfing at his home race. ↳ landonorris oh, okay ↳ ynusername but i guess congrats on your win ↳ landonorris thanks ynnnnn! ↳ oscarpiastri someone is still drunk

logansargeant ohhh he's handsome ↳ ynusername yeah and he's got a jealous ass girlfriend so beware ↳ logansargeant love you too babe

username23 finally confirmed that they're dating only seven months later

[sethsclearwater]

Okay possible imagine/blurb idea: Paul gets into a fight and gets arrested (by chief swan maybe??) and calls reader to pick him up and she’s pissed that he got in the fight in the first place so she takes her sweet time going to get him, she gets her nails done with Emily, she does some shopping, she gets a coffee. She finally picks him up and he’s about to be pissed off about her taking so long but she’s like ‘do it again and I’ll leave you there’ and he’s like 😔sorry ma’am😔

i'm obsessed with this lol

...

"you what?" you repeated back into the phone despite the fact that you'd heard your imprinter loud and clear the first time he said it.

"princess," paul sighed through the line and you almost lost your composure but quickly pulled it back together.

"don't call me that. what the hell were you thinking getting in a fight?" you asked, already knowing it was going to be something dumb. although paul had definitely learned to manage his temper once you came into his life, he still had his moments - especially when someone as annoying as your ex was involved.

"30 seconds remaining," an automated voice cut both of you off before either of you could continue.

paul let out another heavy sigh before continuing, "can you just come pick me up? i don't think incriminating myself over the phone is the best idea," he grumbled and you rolled your eyes, also letting out a loud sigh.

"i'll be there in a little bit. don't do anything stupid," you spoke into the phone before you hung up and emily, who had just picked you up from your apartment, burst into laughter.

"he got arrested? at 9 in the morning?" she laughed and you rolled your eyes, also cracking a smile when you realized just how stupid it was that he managed to get arrested by none other than chief swan (who had taken a bit of a liking to him recently too which made it all the worse that paul was currently sitting in some cell with chief swan monitoring him).

"apparently," you sighed, letting out a breathy laugh, "we can still go to port angeles though, i have until 5 to come get him." you added and emily's smile somehow got even wider.

"let's do it," she laughed before putting the car into drive so the two of you could continue on your shopping day.

--

by the time you had gotten back to la push, grabbed your car, and gotten over to the forks police station, it was 4:45 and paul had been stuck in there for almost an entire work day.

you did feel a tad bit bad that you'd left him in there for so long but you also knew he'd most definitely learned his lesson and wouldn't be doing this again anytime soon.

so, when you walked inside and filled out all the paperwork, chief swan brought your imprinter out who looked quite bothered to say the least.

"is that all you needed me to fill out?" you asked charlie as he uncuffed paul.

chief swan nodded, "you're all good to take him home," he reassured, "i just got off the phone with the other party and it doesn't sound like they're going to be pressing charges so you two should be all good. i'll come by if there's anything that changes," he added and you let out a sigh of relief, happy to know paul wouldn't be stuck doing court ordered community service or anger management classes thanks to a dumb one-off event.

"thank you," you flashed charlie a smile before you were grabbing your purse and heading outside, already knowing paul would be following shortly behind you.

as soon as you got in the car and paul got in the passenger side, you both finally turned your attention to each other, "8 hours? you know if it was you i would've-" he started but you quickly cut him off as you turned the car on.

"i wouldn't have been dumb enough to get myself into that situation in the first place. you're lucky i even came and got you - next time you're staying there," you threatened, suddenly much more annoyed with the fact that he was annoyed with you.

paul seemed a bit caught off guard by your sudden burst of confidence, staying quiet for a moment while he considered the pros and cons of getting into a fight with you about this.

after a few moments, he let out a sigh, nodding, "yes ma'am," he mumbled, dramatically leaning away from you so he could rest his head against the window while you drove the two of you back to your apartment.

you cracked a smile at his choice of words, reaching your free hand over to give his hand a gentle squeeze which he seemed to appreciate, quickly interlacing your fingers together so he could hold your hand for the ride home.

[frostyhelltime]

Alastor Realizes He Has Feelings For You Part 2

Alastor x GN!Reader

AN: I'm so happy so many people seem to like this so far! I hope you all enjoy this part 2! Now I'm gonna get back to working on my inbox. I'm loving the requests I'm seeing come in so feel free to keep sending them in! ❤️ And as I said in the preview I tend to write Alastor from more of a demisexual lenses since it's on the ace spectrum and I also largely consider myself demisexual if that helps to know for this.

Link to part 1 is right HERE.

Alastor is a planner. Always has been and likely always will be. He has different plans and scenarios for almost every occasion, and has backup plans for most any issue he could ever encounter. Suffice to say, it made him a terrible person to try and out maneuver. But it was especially difficult when you weren't even aware of the game of chess he was playing.

So he does what he does best, plan. It's easier to focus on the goal of ensnaring you instead of really analyzing his own complicated feelings. He starts small, not wanting to throw you off too harshly. It had to be subtle. He starts doing things that wouldn't…necessarily be odd, considering his personality, but they're still things he hasn't really done before. 

Such as pulling your chair out for you when you go to sit down. It's not too odd. A gentlemanly thing to do. But he can tell from the look on your face that you're struggling to remember if this is a new behavior or if he's always done it and you just never noticed.

He went out of his way to accompany you when possible, more so than usual. Especially if it was into a less desirable part of town. But still, nothing changes. It honestly vexes him because he doesn't even quite know how he fell for you, so he couldn't even attempt to replicate it to make you fall for him in turn. 

Perhaps subtle was the wrong way to go? Perhaps he should be a little more…forward? 

He again starts small, not wanting to startle you, but it seems it does regardless. In hindsight him reaching for you first instead of the other way around was certainly something novel and new, so it made sense it surprised you the first few times he placed his hand on the small of your back as you both walked, a gesture of affection, protection, and possession all at once.

He would almost wonder if he was doing something wrong if he hadn't seen that delightful little dusting of pink across your cheeks each time he does it.

It's then he realizes that due to his….general nature and lack of romantic relationships, that you're likely trying to justify all of his actions as extremely friendly rather than the subtle flirtations he meant them to be.

Which annoyed him until a hint of mischief crossed his face with a realization. If you thought he was just being extraordinarily friendly…he could perhaps be even…more bold without fully showing you his hand yet.

Yes, he could certainly have fun with that.

He's thinking later on that day about how he could torment you with his affections when he passes by the library and sees you struggling, quite poorly, to reach a book. 

His grin grows imperceptibly wider as he silently approaches behind you. He weighs his options on how he should go about it and eventually decides to lean over, until his lips are almost flush to your ear.

“Do you need any help mon cœur?” He almost purrs in your ear and he has to admit there is a certain thrill and exhilaration unlike what he's used to feeling, when you jump from how close his voice is. 

“A-Alastor! I…I didn't realize you were there.” You managed to squeak out as you felt his claws rest on the crook of your waist. The proximity, touch, and whispered voice is clearly a lot for you since he can see your blush has even spread to the tips of your ears. 

How cute. He wonders what other parts of you can so plainly show your feelings because of him? Ah but he's losing focus now.

“Oh, my apologies. How rude of me not to greet you! Hello there.” He hasn't moved his mouth an inch, his voice brushing against you like velvet as he speaks. As soon as he does actually greet you, one of his hands captures yours and brings it to his lips, and he's  able to hear the slight hitch in your breath as he does so. It's certainly a sound he's quickly become a fan of, that he wants to hear over and over again. He once again allows his mind to wander for just a moment on other ways he could have you make that sound for him. But then he's focused once more, his hand dropping yours and snatching the book you appeared to be reaching for with ease before leaning back down to whisper in your ear.

“Is this what you needed mon cœur?” He continues to drawl sweetly in your ear as he repeats the pet name that still manages to make you flush and fidget nervously despite not knowing what the hell he was even saying. He noticed the pet names seemed to make you feel some type of way when they were French, even though he's called you darling and dear and various other things in English more than a few times. But no matter. He doesn't really care about the reasoning behind it, just excited he has another tool in his arsenal to ensure you turn your gaze to him instead of some pathetic sinner that thought they had a chance with you. He can feel his ears flatten slightly in agitation at the mere thought, but thankfully you're unable to see in your current position so he gives nothing away.

He sees he isn't the only one to get lost in his thoughts, since you haven't responded yet, and he's oh so curious to know what is going on in that head of yours. But another time. For now he was making such progress, he feels.

His chuckle in your ear is dark and low, but warm like honey before his voice rings out again, laced with amused curiosity.

“Mon cœur?”

You snap to attention at that, as if just remembering he was even there.

“Y-Yep! That's the book! Thank you!” 

The little stutter was cute, he admits. Especially when he knows he caused it. But he thinks this is enough for now, to help lead your mind down less…platonic roads. The idea was to have you approach him, to maintain that illusion of control. Like you thought of it, and approached him and he'll pretend to entertain the idea before giving it a shot.

But it's fine you were taking a while to grow the courage. He was a very patient man, and the way he was clearly driving you up the wall with his back and forth actions was certainly entertaining enough in the meantime.

“Glad to be of service!” His normal radio host cadence was back again as he pulled away, his touch leaving you entirely, and he's sure it leaves a cold spot in his absence that he's sure you notice, since he can feel the same sharp contrast of the lack of warmth on him from where you're no longer touching.

He seems so cheerful and carefree that it almost makes you wonder if you had hallucinated this whole interaction. But by the time you spin around to talk to him, he's already gone. But even from the shadows he can see the way your flushed face and wide eyes search the room for him, hand over your heart as if you could will your heartbeat to slow. He's certain you must be feeling a sense of whiplash from the drastic change in demeanor and he watches as you lean back against the shelves, holding the book and shaking your head a moment.

“I feel like I'm going crazy…” He watched you mutter and it only made him smile more. So his actions were effective after all. You were just trying very hard to be respectful and polite to him since you knew his nature so well…an endearing gesture that just made him want to sink his claws even deeper into you. 

Knowing his actions affect you just emboldens him further. When you share coffee the next morning with him and the two of you chat, tucked away in whatever room seemed to strike your fancy that day, he notices you seem to be avoiding his eyes, your head tilted down.

He tuts a moment, putting his coffee down and using one claw to tilt your head upward to face him, using his other hand to brush your hair away from your face to stop obscuring his attempts to look at you.

“There we are. Much better.” He smiles brightly at you, even as he sees the crimson rush to your cheeks. He lets his hands linger a little longer than needed before he releases you and picks his coffee cup back up again, as if what he's done wasn't abnormal in the slightest.

“A-Alastor…?” He hears you ask tentatively, and he thinks his patience is finally going to pay off.

“Yes mon cœur?” He asks, tilting his head to the side in an innocent manner that is a laughable contrast to what you know of the radio demon's legacy and reputation.

“I..” He leans forward slightly, eager for your expected confession, his eyes drifting down to your throat as he watches you swallow thickly from nerves.

“...I…n-nevermind. I…forgot what I was going to say.” You eventually give up and his shoulders slump just the slightest bit in disappointment although his smile doesn't falter, although it is strained.

“...No worries. When it comes back to you, I've always got an open ear available for you.” He assures you, although inside he sighs. How can he make you crack? He wants to make you crack before he does, to maintain that illusion of control and so you don't realize the power you possess of how much he could give you if you only asked. He's thinking again, a peaceful quiet settled over the both of you as you each are lost in thought over your individual predicaments.

Perhaps…he could distract you from your date, maybe even ensure you miss it anyway, and perhaps see him in a less…platonic way at the same time. He could simply…take the place of this undeserving date of yours. 

“...You know…I had heard there was a new jazz club that had opened up recently, and I know no one else here has enough taste to appreciate the music appropriately so I wouldn't want to take any of them.” He uses his free hand to wave off the notion before you can even suggest it. 

“Perhaps I could take you with me? Perhaps I can show you how well I bet we could cut a rug together? It's been quite some time since I've gotten to enjoy a dance with a worthy partner.” He says, putting particular emphasis on the last word, eyes partially closing as he makes sure to look at you with a more seductive gaze to further entice you.

You always respond to his compliments so well, a nervous fidget, perhaps a bite of your lip as you think of how to respond, and of course that cute little blush he was quite fond of by now.

“That…” You swallow again, opening your mouth a moment as if searching for words before you continue speaking.

“That sounds…lovely. Just…let me know when to be ready.”

This time his grin is more reminiscent of a spider watching a fly heading right into its web as he gives you all the details needed of when and where.

When the time officially comes, he's delighted that you show up in the lobby at the appropriate time for a few reasons. It meant you were going to go, was the most obvious reason. But the second reason was that unless this idiot wanted to take you dancing on a Sunday night…you probably broke your date with them to be with him. A fact that certainly makes his ego puff up as he takes your hand and kisses it, a routine that feels almost natural now.

“My…I'll be the envy of everyone there with this beauty on my arm…” He chuckles, smiling wider when he sees that tell tale blush spread down to your neck as you stumble over a ‘thank you’. He offers his arm to you, which you politely take as if he were escorting you anywhere normally. Him initiating contact, even if it was small, was also beginning to feel more natural to you both, even if it was small touches.

He can tell by the way you act that you can sense this is different from other friendly outings you two had been on. Good. He was beginning to doubt his abilities to charm for a little bit there. Perish the thought.

There are also, admittedly, things that he has begun to notice are different as the night goes on as well. Had he always been able to feel how warm your hands were or had he just never noticed? It's easier to notice now as he twirls you around to the lovely jazz band playing up on stage, hand never letting yours go entirely as the two of you dance.

He's also glad to see those pesky nerves of yours finally seemed to be wearing off and you were relaxing with him again, like you had before he began attempting to quietly pursue you. Your smile and laugh were far more carefree and jovial as he dips you, arm wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you from falling before he tugs you back up to continue.

With you relaxing, he finds himself mirroring that demeanor and he's overall less anxious and tense, and much less focused on ensnaring you. Now he was just…having fun. No planning. No ulterior motives. Just having a good time. It's actually quite nice to enjoy the feeling in the moment.

There are a few brief moments where you tense, for instance when his face comes just a little too close to yours, and he can tell you're clearly wondering if he'll close the gap or if you're just imagining things that aren't there. Or when he gives a particularly sultry gaze and accompanying grin as he pulls his lovely dancing partner closer when the distance between you two becomes greater than he wants.

But overall it's an absolutely lovely night and once you've both had your fill you step off the dance floor, Alastor taking a moment to check the time and grinning deviously to himself. It was far too late to meet with up with whoever your date had been, and his ego is admittedly fluffed knowing he was the one able to distract you so thoroughly, as it should be.

As the two of you sit down at one of the tables in the corner, each grabbing a drink from the bar first, you're still laughing with absolute glee over the wonderful night so far.

He enjoys picking your brain as he sips his rye, head resting gently on his free hand as he nods and agrees and puts in his own two cents on this new jazz club. It feels delightfully normal and cozy. While he does quite enjoy flustering you and watching you flounder…he had missed these easygoing conversations he couldn't really seem to have with others. You had been walking on eggshells around him this week, and he didn't realize how terribly he missed this type of interaction with you until now.

It's only after awhile he pretends to check the clock and feigns shock before turning back to you.

“Oh dear! I hadn't realized how late it had gotten. I hope you didn't have any other plans I might have ruined.” His chuckle is easygoing, thinking he knows the answer but wanting to hear you say it anyway. He wants to hear you say you chose him, instead of him just silently knowing.

But you just shake your head, grin still plastered across your face before you take a sip of your cocktail.

“Nope! This was my only plan tonight and I couldn't imagine anything better!” Another delighted laugh from you as confusion crosses his own face immediately.

He cocks his head to the side a little bit, trying to determine if you're lying or not. Although he has never known you to lie to him before…

“Really? It's not nice to lie to me. I thought we were close. No prior commitments to anyone broken to be here with me tonight? No silly little paramour trying to steal away your attention?” He puts emphasis on the word, putting his drink down and using that hand to gently grab your chin and tilt your head up to look him in the eye so he could analyze your expression more acutely. He doesn't mean to say the word ‘paramour’ with such disdain, it simply creeps out into his voice.

But now you just look confused as well as you look up at him.

“No…? I mean. I told Husk about this place and mentioned wanting to go this weekend to check it out. But I didn't say I had anyone in mind to go with me. If anything I was going to ask you, knowing this is your kind of place.” You answer carefully, unsure what the correct answer is supposed to be, and he freezes, hand on your chin tightening almost imperceptibly as the gears begin to turn in his mind.

There's a soft flare of radio static interference that sounds from him that makes others nearby give him more room than they had previously.

You, however, are unafraid. You've become too close to him to really fear he would do anything bad to you. Right now you're mostly just concerned for him and this odd behavior.

His hand drops away from your face, as he takes another sip of his rye, taking that time to collect himself and think of his next course of action.

He should have known better than to trust one singular source of information without double checking…damnit. He had been so wrapped up in his stupid newfound jealousy that he hadn't even stopped to ask Husk if he was absolutely positive that's what you said. He thinks the idiot must have misheard you, and he foolishly accepted it at face value.

But the wheels are turning in your head now too, mouth falling slightly agape as your eyes widen, an outlandish possibility entering your mind that claws at your curiosity so desperately you can't stop yourself from blurting it out.

“...Alastor…Were you trying to stop me from going on what you thought was a date?” You ask, and the excited anticipation in your voice could not be mistaken even though you did try to hide it.

“Of course not.” Is what comes out of his mouth immediately as he pulls away defensively, his ears flattening slightly, two things you pick up on. He's unaware how hard your heart is beating right now as you try to summon the courage to speak your next thought, part of you still thinking it so impossible you shouldn't even bother asking.

“...Are you…jealous over the idea of someone dating me?” You inquire curiously, quirking your head to the side and snaking one hand across the table and taking his hesitantly, unsure if you're crossing some invisible line. You're unsure if you're just firing a shot in the dark and he'll laugh at the notion. But somehow the atmosphere feels far too heavy for him to joke about something like this. It's felt heavy like this all week and you wanted to know why.

But the question just has him put his drink down a little more harshly than he meant to. But he doesn't pull his other hand from yours, the touch a little soothing to him as he deals with his scattered thoughts.

“No.” He says concretely while looking you in the eye, as if daring you to suggest otherwise.

But you still aren't convinced…not with how he had been acting this past week, and this new knowledge. Perhaps…you could try and be a little bold? Perhaps test the waters yourself?

“...That's a shame. I wouldn't have minded if you were.” You state quietly, his ears almost straining to pick up the sound of your voice over the music. Your gaze is pointedly looking away,  unsure you would have had the courage to say the words if you had been looking directly at him.

You startle and look back at him, specifically at his hand holding yours because his grip has become noticeably tighter. He's moving closer again, to the shorter distance he had been before he pulled away and you swallow thickly, wondering if you had made a mistake.

His voice is low, and you can oddly see conflict present in his eyes, as if he was warring over what decision to make.

“...and if I say I am?” His voice is heated and almost husky as he speaks, looking you directly in the eye again as he leans even closer now, his face mere inches from yours now.

You're struck speechless by this admission, not even dreaming of that response actually being a reality, and your voice is stuck in your throat as you scramble for a response. Your breath hitches slightly as all you can do is stare at him a moment trying to process this as he waits for your answer, unreadable in this moment.

Your other hand is shaking as you bring it up to rest on his cheek, watching him close his eyes a moment before opening them again as he leans into the touch. It gives you the courage to speak that thought that feels almost too silly to put out into the world.

“...I…I would say you have no reason to be.” You're leaning just the smallest bit forward, as if to silently give permission but not wanting to take that first step yourself and cross his boundaries without permission. 

It just made him adore you more.

He bridges the distance, eyes closing as the hand not holding yours is placed on the back of your neck to push you closer, to silently assure you this was no accident.

He can feel your hand gripping his tightly now in response and he can't help but grin into the kiss as you begin to reciprocate once the shock has worn off, lips moving against his with an eager hunger before eventually parting. There's something almost tender in the way he grips your neck, that makes you melt into the kiss with him with ease.

He has to admit he's definitely a fan of this look of yours. Wide eyed, breathing a bit hard with a flushed face and slightly parted mouth as you gazed at him. He wants to see it again.

“...Good. I'm not the type of person who does well with jealousy I've discovered.” His voice is chipper and normal, as if he hadn't just taken your breath away for a moment. Just the whiplash of going from one side of him to the other has you laughing as you lean back, the hand that was once on his face now covering your own.

“...I'll keep that in mind.” You grin, spreading your fingers just enough to peek out at him. 

Further discussions could wait until tomorrow of course, of boundaries and labels and everything that comes with it. But for now this is enough. His cards are on the table yes, but yours are laid bare for him to see as well. So he relaxes again into his seat, leaning back but not taking his hand back from yours before looking at the dance floor again.

“...Do you feel like dancing again mon cœur?” He asks, already tugging your hand up to bring you with him. He's eager to dance with you again without having to pretend his intimate and more romantic touches were accidental this time. He hears you giggle before taking another sip of your cocktail and then you're tugging him down to be eye level with you. 

“I'd love that, mon amour.” You teasingly breathe into his ear, and you're rewarded by this time getting to see his breath hitch instead of it always being you. You may still not know what he's been calling you, but everyone knows that term of endearment, and there's an almost sinful sense of pride that you were able to pull that type of reaction from him, and now you're even more eager to dance with him again, to find out what else you can see that no one else has before.

You think you understand all the teasing touches he gave you that left you wanting all this week, probably trying to test the waters and bait you into confessing yourself, you can likely guess now. If this is how he felt seeing you react all those times you couldn't blame him.

Perhaps it's only fair to begin to repay him for those tormenting whispers and touches, you think as you two step onto the dance floor, your hand placing itself on his chest before slowly gliding up further and then over his collarbone to rest gingerly on his shoulder for support, your fingers digging in slightly to the flesh of his back. It's hard to tell in this dimly lit lounge but you swear there's a tinge of red to his face, and it just further strengthens the hunger you feel when he growls softly and leans over to whisper to you.

“Tread carefully my dear. I have every intention of approaching this courtship as a gentleman. Do not make that impossible for me to remember…”

Taglist: @zzzykiek @alastorthirsty @sirens-and-moonflowers

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hii i have a few questions if that's ok, sorry if they have been answered before! for context i'm a girl (17) with all the typical cis female biology (as far as i'm aware) and a virgin. (pls only answer if this asks on anon)

for 1. is it healthy for my vaginal smell to be like that of yeast? it smells almost bready and i've heard that your diet can strongly affect the way you smell there and does this mean there's foods i should cut down on/prioritise?

2. i tried out anal fingering recently and it feels good but also makes me feel nervous, because it feels not quite painful but stretchy and i've heard that there's higher risks of tears and haemorrhoids i think? also i don't have the "right" anatomy for it. so how do i know at which point to stop with it? i've been very cautious so far but is a certain level of not-quite-pain-but-that-stretchy-intense-feeling normal? also is it worth it to invest in lube? previously i've just used. other bodily liquids. i don't want my parents to know i'm doing this so is it worth it to pass it off as just wanting extra lubrication for other masturbation

3. this might be the one that's tmi. also possibly very gross i'm sorry </3 i've just never seen this brought up Anywhere at all and i'm too anxious to ask or look it up. when i put my fingers in, sometimes i can feel the uhh feces through the back vaginal wall (even when i don't feel the need to use the restroom) and as you can imagine it's super awkward and a huge turn off and frustrating when i'm horny, and that probably means i need to wait a little and use the restroom and masturbate later, right?

hi anon,

1.) a yeasty smell in your vagina is usually considered a sign of thrush, an overgrowth of yeast in the vagina. it can be treated with antifungal medication.

2.) everyone has the right anatomy for anal sex, as long as they have an anus, but it does require care since the tissue inside of the anal cavity tears easily and is prone to infection if damaged. using lube (lots of lube) will help a lot. silicone lube is often preferred for anal sex, but truly any lube is preferable to none and is certainly better than using other bodily fluids, very few of which are appropriate or abundant enough to act sufficiently as lubricant. so will wearing protective latex or nitrile gloves like these, which are available in bulk at most drug stores:

the gloves offer two-fold protection as they smooth the penetration and decrease the risk of tears in your anus and decrease the risk of you harboring any bacteria or fecal matter on your hands that you don't want to spread elsewhere.

3. the thing you're describing is far from unheard of, and is in fact sometimes recommended to help cure constipation!

the body is a lot of processes happening on top of each other simultaneously, and that includes your fecal matter and your vaginal wall. like you already said, if it's an issue that's distracting, just wait to masturbate until you've recently had a bowel movement; there isn't much else to be done for it.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 12 - Roar

@wolfstarmicrofic June 12, word count 615

Previous part First part

“Come on Gryffindor’s row!” Sirius ordered as he thrust his own oar out in front of himself, brandishing it like a sword. The Slytherin team looked up too late. James, Remus and Peter rammed the other team’s raft, knocking them all into the water. Sirius nimbly hopped across with James following close behind and started rowing it away from the Slytherin's reach. Remus and Peter moved their raft as fast as they could after them. Remus was thoroughly enjoying himself. He’d never played pirates as a child and this seemed an excellent way to have that chance. It was what his dad had wanted, after all, he reasoned, as he rowed just that little bit harder. 

They stopped in the middle of the lake. James quickly lashed the rafts together and turned them into one. 

Sirius let out a roar like a lion as he held his oar above his head. James joined in on the next one, raising his oar above his head as well. Peter joined them on the third roar and Remus, not wanting to be left out, roared on their final roar. Feeling the rush of excitement from their successful commandeering.  

“BLACK, POTTER, PETTIGREW AND LUPIN! RETURN IMMEDIATELY!” Minerva McGonagall’s voice boomed across the water. She’d gotten a megaphone from somewhere. She lowered it and crooked a finger at them, beckoning them back. 

“Don’t know why she’s using that thing,” Sirius muttered as they dipped their oars into the water. “She’s shouted at me louder than that without its aid.” James snickered and set the others off, so by the time they’d steered their oversized raft to the shore they were all struggling to keep their faces straight.

“Chores,” Was all she said before she stormed off. The four looked at each other, silently debating if she meant for them to follow them. She turned back and glowered at them. Yep, they were meant to follow her. 

“Never in all my years of working here have I had a group of boys quite as troublesome as yourselves. Knocking other campers into the lake and stealing their raft! What were you thinking?!”

“I believe the correct term is pirating their raft.” Sirius chimed in helpfully. Oddly enough, McGonagall didn’t find it very helpful. 

“Mr Black,” Her sick sweet smile made Remus nervous, and it wasn’t even aimed at him. “You will be cleaning the toilets every day until your stay here is over, as well as,” She raised her voice slightly when he started to protest. “As well as, weeding, painting, putting away equipment we have used that day, helping Ms Pince in the library, mopping the main hall, and collecting dirty washing from the cabins.” She turned to look at Remus and the others. “You will all be helping Mr Black with these chores. I will also be writing to all your parents,” She dismissed them, telling them they’d be painting the border fences tomorrow instead of going on the nature trail Mr Flitwick had planned.

“Sorry,” Sirius whispered in Remus's ear as they crossed the campsite to their cabin. 

“For what? That was thrilling,” Remus grinned at him and leaned in conspiratorially. “I’ve never done anything like that before. Today I was a pirate. I’ll gladly do whatever she wants because I got to be a pirate,” Sirius chuckled at his excitement. 

“Well, at least we’ve still got our dibs cards. She forgot to take them off us. I say we use them to get extra pudding tonight before she remembers. You know, make the most of them.” Sirius grabbed his hand and Remus could almost taste the big slabs of chocolate cake he knew were for pudding that night. 

Next part

[physalian]

There’s this unskippable Google AI ad on YouTube where this girl consults the robot about how to cancel dinner plans with the people across the table in the most annoying voice (likely because I have seen this ad now and had to listen to her asinine questions 20 times at least) and this ad, right here, speaks to my frustration around AI:

It disincentivizes critical thinking.

I know the ad is a joke and meant to be lighthearted and I’m only this annoyed because it’s unskippable and irritating af, but every time I see it all I can think is “if you can’t manage enough creativity and critical thinking to come up with your own excuse to cancel on your friends, maybe you shouldn’t have those friends.”

I have a relative who is firmly in the ChatGPT camp and, for example, yesterday I was trying to figure out how to compress a video file and was venting to them about it. They sent me back something I didn’t read from ChatGPT. Meanwhile, I looked up a YouTube video and figured out how to do the rest on my own, and getting the file compressed was immensely satisfying. Far more than mindlessly and thoughtlessly consulting the robot.

“It’s just like a YouTube video!” They’d told me.

No, a real person put time and effort into that video. That robot stole their content without their consent, didn’t credit them, and spat it back out. I used to patronizingly refer to ChatGPT as "the magic conch" and now I can barely do that anymore because that metaphor is becoming all-too real.

While I can understand the barriers it lowers—like if you struggle with writing the robot does it for you, or if you need a piece of art and are too poor, you can generate it for free. Mindless, repetitive tasks that eat up creative juices that can just be automated by a robot, too (even though everyone can tell when a response is canned and artificial and no one appreciates talking to a machine).

If you keep consulting ChatGPT for how to articulate what you want to say, or just straight-up having it do the hard work for you, you’re never going to learn. Yes it’s taken me 8 years to reach the quality and skill of writing I have but as another Tumblr post out there said: The time will pass anyway.

I can’t draw to the skill level that I’d like to. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep practicing until I get there. I thrive off that sense of accomplishment. There’s no little hit of dopamine from typing in a prompt and clicking a button and I certainly don’t appreciate the final product scalped without consequence from real artists.

Or, like when I had to fire a beta reader for flagrant abuse of AI in her work: I can copy-paste my manuscript into ChatGPT, too. I’d paid her for a human response, not garbage feedback that couldn’t understand what I was writing beyond that there were words on the page. I wanted so badly to ask her why she does a job in a creative field if she's just going to have a robot do all the fun parts? I beta read at a great loss of profit because I enjoy beta reading and it's a fiercely competetive market. Surely if she wanted to scam people, she could have done so in so many other ways. You don't need to know how to pen complex prose in your every day life, but by god, you do need to know how to effectively communicate, contextualize, and argue your perspective and this ridiculous ad joking about cancelling dinner plans sure is funny, until it isn't.

And I know the people who made AI probably did so with the best of intentions but people can be lazy and cheap and we love taking shortcuts to save money and I stand by this: "Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn't stop to think if they should."

So. Yeah. This is a writing advice blog and this post has almost nothing to do with it, but that ad annoys me to no end and I had to say something somewhere about it. Bottom line: Robots were supposed to make the hard jobs, the monotonous jobs, the overcomplicated jobs, the belittling jobs easier, not make us all into pudding-boned Wall-E people. If you want to write, learning is absolutely free - write on the back of your grocery receipts for all I care. If you want to draw, pick up a notebook and pack of pencils from the local dollar store and start drawing.

What you made will always mean more to you than something that didn't cost you time, effort, brain power, or even money to obtain.

[thegingerwrites]

Obikin sickfic musings

So I’ve been sick for almost the past week, pretty much unable to look at a screen or do much more than rot in my bedroom for most of it. But! I have been thinking sick fic thoughts. Especially after reading Lemon's Obi-Wan sickfic a few weeks back. What is Anakin like when he’s sick? (And how does Obi-Wan take care of him)

The Jedi don’t get sick very often and when they do, they can often be sent to the Halls of Healing or the medbay of their star destroyers to get any illness treated quickly. But sometimes that isn’t possible, common colds are too various and changeable to treat directly so it’s easier a lot of the time for them to pass on their own.

Anakin gets one while out in the field and doesn’t really notice at first. A bit of congestion, fatigue, dizziness, isn’t really enough to stop him from doing what needs to be done. Honestly, most of that is expected after pushing himself so hard for so long.

When Anakin is sick, he pushes himself too hard. He is out on a campaign, stationed on planet, and in the midst of leading the ground troops through an assault. Midway through, he stops giving orders, fully immersed in his own head and doing what needs to be done. He has a few close calls, his reflexes are slower than they should be, but they live to fight another day. Ahsoka and Rex give him a few sideways looks as they return to the ship.

Even when the battle is over, he doesn’t retire to his quarters. He stays up, heading to the hangar to catch up on some repairs he has been thinking about for weeks. He waves off attempts to get him to slow down and rest, needing to keep going until he collapses.

Ahsoka loses patience with him almost immediately and hands the situation over to Rex until he convinces her to call in reinforcements. General Kenobi is in the system, wrapping up an engagement on a neighboring planet. If anyone can tell Anakin to sit down and rest, it’s him. Thankfully, he is only an hour away.

“Anakin.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m fine. Did Ahsoka call you?”

“She did but I’m told the decision was seconded by Rex, your officers, and Chief Medic Kix.”

“…Traitors.”

“There are two ways this could go. You can admit that you are not feeling well and head back to your quarters to sleep of the rest of this cold with your dignity still intact.”

“Or?”

“Or I give it about ten minutes before you collapse and I have to carry you back to your quarters.”

“Fine.”

Anakin wasn’t exactly allowed to be sick when he was little. His mother took care of him as best she could, but Watto forced him to work regardless of how Anakin felt. His early years at the Temple were marked by a few bouts of illness, as his body adapted to its strange new home. He is better about recognizing illness and accepting help now but some habits are hard to break.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“My mission went exceedingly well, thanks for asking. Completed it with just enough time to wrestle unruly former padawans into bed.”

“I mean, if you want to—”

“You can barely stand, Anakin. Hold still.”

“I’m still capable of taking my own armor off.”

“Then why is it still on?”

“…I think it’s half the reason I’m still standing.”

“Come now. Clothes off.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“Anakin.”

When Anakin is feeling truly miserable, every kindness shown to him is treated like a gift from the Force itself.

“You don’t have to be here, you know.”

“I know.”

“I’m here now, in bed, resting. I promise I’m not dumb enough to run off the second you leave.”

“I know that too.”

Anakin breathes a heavy sigh that catches around the congestion in his chest. He clears his throat and nuzzles into Obi-Wan’s side.

“Thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

“For everything,” Anakin slurs. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, darling.”

Anakin smiles at the sound of the endearment he only ever hears when he is very sick. Obi-Wan offers it up carelessly to other people but it only ever gets administered to Anakin when he is at his lowest, perhaps when Obi-Wan thinks that Anakin won’t notice or remember, or when he believes Anakin most needs to hear it. Anakin remembers every single “darling” and “dearest” and “love”. Something about them does make him feel just a little bit better.

“Are you going to make your tea?”

“You hate my tea.”

“Yes, but I like that you make it.”

“…Alright.”

Anakin doesn't like the taste of Obi-Wan's tea but he does like the way that the ceramic mug feels in his hands and the smell of the steam that wafts from it and the way it fights the chill from his low-grade fever. This time, when he holds it in his hands and shivers, it almost feels like a good thing.

Obi-Wan stays with Anakin as he falls asleep, sitting up behind him on the narrow bed in Anakin’s quarters, keeping him elevated to help with his congestion. He runs his fingers through Anakin’s hair as Anakin’s mouth falls slack and he begins to doze as well.

“Aren’t you worried about getting sick too?”

“A Jedi doesn’t get sick.”

“What do you call this then?”

“A minor setback. You’ll be on your feet again in no time. Now, rest.”

When Anakin can’t sleep and makes some truly pitiful noises, Obi-Wan agrees to read to him. Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan’s robes as he lets the words wash over him. It doesn’t matter what Obi-Wan is reading to him, the fact that he is here, that he cares, is more than enough. Obi-Wan presses a kiss to Anakin’s forehead just before he falls asleep again to check on his temperature.

Obi-Wan is only able to spend a few hours with him before being called back to the front. He manages to escape before Anakin’s cold takes a turn for the gross, all of the coughing and hacking that means that whatever is in his system is finally starting to break up a bit. The few hours together don’t feel like much, don’t feel like enough, but he is able to help Anakin to take care of himself and offer a bit of comfort in a time so often devoid of it.

“Master, is that Master Kenobi’s robe?”

“Yeah, he left it for me.”

“Isn’t it just a standard issue robe? You have like three of them.”

“It’s soft.”

[justin-chapmanswers]

Was there a different way [like work flow and stuff like that] you guys wrote season 3 differently from season 2? If so will you continue that flow into season 2?

Also do you have any tips on how to mange an object show since you've worked on II for a long time?

[The voices you do in II are so funky and I mean this in the best way possible]

Thank you so much! My funky voices are incredibly grateful.

Near the end of the pre-Invitational season two, the process was generally that we'd talk out where we want to go next, have our big debates, and Brian and I would draft up an outline for the team. Then the writing would start and, as it was for almost every season two episodes before Invitational, the group would just jump into a Google Doc and we'd write, together, chronologically until we'd get burnt out. Some of us were thinking of the minutiae on-the-fly, some of us would draft up practice-scripts ahead of time to work off of. It was chaotic, but then we'd spend a long while reworking/rewriting scenes.

Starting with Invitational, things changed. Most notably, we started having one writer per episode instead of jumping into the chaos. Having four writers in at once didn't help, it just made things complicated. It was about learning to let go a bit and trust the rest of the team to do a good job. We'd still of course chat about the events well-ahead of time, but then the writer would be the one to outline and pitch that outline to the team before writing. And then in revisions, we'd give notes to the writer instead of individually taking cracks at scenes. That way, the whole episode became one person's singular artistic vision. By the end of Invitational, we also weren't doing the "have our big debates" part of the process, anymore. We still would push for ideas we're passionate about, but it's been a long while since we weren't agreeable and on the same page.

So then there's the question about season two. We've been generally sticking to the Invitational way of going about things with season two, except also with Brian and I being back on outlining, and it's been going really great! Before Invitational, the pre-writing and writing time used to be the longest parts of the episode process. And not because we were spending that whole time being productive. It was common that the pre-writing planning part of the episode would be a little intense so we'd often take breaks after the previous episode's completion (plus because it's nice to take time to clear our heads) as to not jump back into chaos. And then carving time for all of us to be in the space for hours at a time while balancing school/life was tough to schedule. That all to say, now, the writing process is efficient and super-not-chaotic (aka healthy!). Instead of a few months at that stage, we're there maybe like a month and a half, from early concept (aside from the stuff we've been thinking up for years already haha) to final draft. And that's all while we've been overlapping episodes that are each at different stages, with their own things to get done. I think what we've been cooking up is gonna be really special. <3

I've been rambling for a while so I'll (try to) keep this next part short. As for the question about managing projects, that's just a tricky one cause I'd normally tailor the advice depending on the scale of the project, the amount of experience for those going in, etc. But in a broad sense I'd say do everything you can to work specifically with the people who make you excited to work. Whose ideas inspire you. If you're leading, really try to understand every step of the process. Definitely trust parts of the pipeline to other people if it's not your cup of tea, but really understand what they do. Say thank you every chance you get. If you're having fun with your show, whether it be the goofiest or most-serious of all shows, the viewers will, too. Making each step of production an enjoyable experience is worth fighting for.

[redroomreflections]

The Ghost in The Window Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: As a former child star and one-half of one of Hollywood's most powerful couples, you’re no stranger to the dangers of the spotlight. Life has just begun to settle for you as you navigate motherhood, marriage, and your career. When a fan-turned-stalker gets a bit too close for comfort, everything is turned upside down

Note: Uploading the WIPs here too...

W/c: 8.4k

No one tells you how surreal it feels once you’re standing up there. A few moments ago you had been waiting patiently in your seat, eyes forward, a polite smile on your face as the nominees were read. Your palms are sweaty as you clutch your stylist, Loki’s, hand in yours. He gives you a comforting squeeze as you listen for your name. The giant camera is turned toward your face and suddenly you have to put on a show. It’s been like this every awards season. Only this time you’re the one on display. You give a curt nod, looking everywhere but the camera, as you think about what to do if you lose. It’s impossible to think of all the scenarios now that you’re here.

“And the winner goes to." Zendaya Coleman opens the envelope slowly. The smile on her face tells you she’s happy about whomever the winner is. You close your eyes and wait for the disappointment. Only it never comes. “Y/n, Y/l/n.” Your name slips from her lips as smooth as butter and you don’t know what to do. You’re amazed by the massive amount of cheers you receive as you stand to go and accept your reward. You kiss Loki’s cheek, and then your mother who is sitting next to you. You’re missing someone else though you know she’s there in spirit. You grip the hem of your dress to make the train easier to drag along with you. It’s a simple one-shoulder rust-brown satin gown that hugs your curves in all the right places. It was something you picked out months ago and sure enough, it’s done you right.

The moments leading up to your acceptance speech were a blur for everything that’s happening now. You’re standing here in front of your peers and coworkers. Words seem to slip from your mind as you hold the seven-pound award to your chest. Your eyes scan the crowd for what feels like forever before you gather your bearings and speak. You step a little closer to the microphone so everyone could hear you.

“Wow,” You take another deep breath. “To say I wasn’t expecting to win is an understatement. I think we all go through those moments in life where we know someone much more talented or charming or any of those things could very well be standing up here too. I’ve always practiced what I was going to say but none of it seems right.” You look around. “I want to thank the tv academy for acknowledging the hard work and dedication that I have put into this project, my fellow costars, and the rest of production. Day in and day out they work so hard to bring these stories alive. I want to thank my fellow nominees who brought their best time and time again. It is an honor to be in the same company as these people. I want to thank our director Brad Lee Scott. He was so honest and welcoming and encouraging to get me to this spot. I would like to thank my beautiful wife, Natasha, who couldn’t make it tonight but I know she’s on the other side of the world cheering me on right now. What can I say, my love? You’ve helped me through it all. Late-night script reading, early morning coffee runs, and even our second child's birth. There’s no one I would rather do any of this with.”

You can see the countdown of the clock showing your speech time is almost up. “I also want to thank my parents. Their immense dedication and support to my dreams never go unnoticed. Finally, I want to say thank you to my kids. I know my little girl, Rosie, is at home watching. It’s way past your bedtime but you're allowed to stay up and see Mommy win just this time.” There’s a polite chuckle from the crowd. You hold up the award. “Thank you all again. Goodnight.” You blow a kiss to the camera before turning away.

You follow Zendaya off the stage and through the wings where there are a thousand and one cameras all on you. Your makeup artist, Darcy Lewis, meets you halfway in order to give you a touch-up. She begins by fixing your lipstick in silence. There’s already enough hustle and bustle around you as you’re greeted and congratulated by several big-name tv stars. At one point, Ellen Pompeo asks to take a picture with you, and you almost faint.

The rest of the night goes by rather quickly and you’re off to your after Emmy’s interview. There’s not a lot you have to do for this part. You’re a bit fatigued, your chest is sore from lack of pumping, and you want nothing more than to go home and cuddle with your kids. Yet being here in this moment is also more than you could imagine. You’re stepping onto the minuscule yellow tape someone has attached to the floor. You raise your chin and pose, eyes forward, shoulders back as you grip the trophy in your hand. It’s not your official award. That one will be engraved and mailed to your house within the next few weeks. For now, you had this one to hold and love on.

“Y/n over here” and “Y/n this way” are all shouted out to you as each interview tries to get your attention first. It’s only when your publicist, Roxy, quiets them down do you attempt to answer a question. Being up here as the center of attention can be overwhelming. Especially when your attention is being pulled every which way.

Finally, one man, someone you recognize from Entertainment Tonight offers up a question.

“So, Y/n, what can you say about season two of Taste of the Wilde?” He asks.

You give him a nod of acknowledgment before you speak. “I think that I don’t have a single clue.” There’s a burst of shared laughter from everyone in the room. “I’m simply a vessel.” You shrug. “I genuinely don’t have a full answer for you. I think what we did this season is very special. What we showed and the journey that, Wilde, my character went through was amazing. It was tasteful and also genuine. It would be great if we had another season. I would be happy to come back and delve through a lot of things. I also think that this season could be great as a standalone. I have faith that the writer’s room is more than competent and talented enough to bring everything together if we get the opportunity.” You finish.

Your years of media training come in handy as you navigate the questions being thrown at you. Some are harder than others but you give something that you hope they are satisfied with. You’re almost to your last question when you hear a collective gasp. For a second, you think a bigger star is about to enter the room. You slowly whip your head to the right and find there’s no one. When you feel strong arms around your waist and a peck on your cheek you immediately know who it is.

Your entire body warms and your stomach fills with butterflies as you tilt your head to see your wife Natasha. She’s wearing a dark green, asymmetrical backless gown that has a dangerously high slit on the thigh. It’s borderline tacky but on Natasha, it never could be. You use your unoccupied hand up to stroke her cheek before giving her a gentle peck.

“Nat, what are you doing here?” You speak lowly so only she could hear. “I thought you were in London for another week?”

“I couldn’t miss the biggest night of my girl’s life,” She murmurs before pecking you again. It’s easy for you to feel lost in her presence. The noise around you dissipates as you show off your award to her. You’re pulled back to reality by the flashing lights and shouts around you as the photographers beg you to pose.

“Natasha, how do you feel about your wife’s big win?” Someone yells out and it catches her attention. Her eyes never leave yours as she answers.

“I am so proud of my wife,” Natasha grins. “I am always so incredibly enamored and in awe of her talent and the work that she does. I am her biggest supporter and I’m so glad that everyone else sees what I see every day.” Natasha looks away to flash an award-winning smile at the camera. She’s speaking so smoothly and you hope she understands you won’t be the only winner tonight.

You spend a few more minutes mingling with the interviewers before you’re ushered to your truck. Natasha helps you inside first before she climbs in behind you. Roxy holds the door open to make sure you’re both inside safely.

“You don’t need a ride?” You bend at the waist to address her. Her thumbs are working overtime as she types at rapid speed. There’s no doubt in your mind that she has your entire schedule planned out for the next month.

“No, I’ll find my way,” Roxy dismisses. “For now you two go home and kiss those beautiful babies for me. Celebrate! I will call you tomorrow afternoon with the details of the press tour. Enjoy.” She says before slamming the door shut. She taps the glass of the car to signal your driver, Johnny, it’s safe to move.

You’re silent for a few more seconds. You’re being pulled away from the events and out towards the still-busy Los Angeles streets. It’s a forty-minute drive from here to your home so you might as well get comfortable. You lean back against Natasha as she wraps her arms around you once again. She feels solid and warm and you lift up to look down at her physique.

“You’ve been working hard on this movie?” You comment. “I like it.”

“Hmm, I’m glad that you do.” She mutters before she kisses your cheek. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I can’t wait to get you home.” She whispers a little closer to your ear. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Natasha.” You take her hand in yours to run your thumb across her knuckles. “Rose and Grace have missed you too.” You offer. It’s been two months since Natasha’s been home. Almost a month since you’ve seen her in person. She’s just wrapping up her reprising role as an assassin in one of the world’s largest movie franchises. Which meant a lot of her scenes were shot overseas. It was no big deal to you. Not when money was no object for you. She would come home as often as she could and you’d fly to her with the girls in tow often. The frequent distance could put a strain on even the most solid of marriages. Sometimes yours too but you’re making it work.

“I can’t wait to kiss their little cheeks,” Natasha smiles tiredly. “I took the first flight I could out here. It wasn’t even first class.” She informs you and you laugh.

“You’re spoiled,” You tap her nose. “Oh, I can’t wait to get home.” You lie your head back against her shoulder. “I could soak for days. Remind me again why I opt to wear such dangerously high heels?”

“They make your ass look great,” Natasha says. You glance up at Johnny who doesn’t seem to care about what you’re discussing. It’s not like he hasn’t heard everything already. “It’s the truth.”

“I’m glad you still think so,” You tuck your face into her neck. It’s a moment of vulnerability tucked inside of your small talk. Natasha knows firsthand how insecure you’re feeling after giving birth just five months ago. Though you’ve been in the gym day in and day out there are still small differences that you notice like your thighs being a bit thicker, your breasts being at least a cup size bigger than they used to be, and your flat stomach isn't as flat as it used to be. You don’t want to seem vain or shallow but sometimes you struggle with the changes. It doesn’t help that the media and public points them out quite often. Natasha is always there to help you through.

“I do think so and if we have time I’m more than happy to show you tonight,” She gives you a lingering kiss on the cheek. Your heart beats in anticipation of just what this night might entail for you. It’s been a long few months and you’re more than ready to be intimate with your wife again. You’re just thinking of the ways she could rip this dress off you without actually destroying it when the black Escalade approaches the gate of your home.

Johnny uses the button attached to the ceiling of the car to signal for the power gate to open. It does so slowly to reveal the contemporary Spanish home with white paint and red awnings. It stands tall with five bedrooms and four bathrooms. Certainly a bit too big for your family of four but you have a feeling you’d be filling it with more children in the near future. Johnny rushes out of the car to help you both. Natasha exits first and then you.

“Thank you, Jonny, it was so nice seeing you,” You bid him goodnight. He doesn’t pull off until you’re both inside the house. You don’t even wait before you’re kicking off your shoes and following the sound of the television. In the living room is where you find your daughter, Rose, asleep on the couch surrounded by a pile of pillows. The tv plays some commercial in the background and you reach for the remote to turn it off. That’s when Rose’s nanny, Carla, enters the room.

“Congratulations Miss,” Carla greets you with a hug. “I knew you were a shoo-in for that award. There’s too much talent in one body for them not to recognize it.

“Thank you so much, Carla,” You both turn to Rose. “How was she tonight?”

“Oh she was fine,” Carla dismisses. She walks around the room to pick up forgotten toys. “She wanted to stay awake and wait up for you. I tried to tell her it would be pretty late but there’s no arguing with a four-year-old. I assumed you would be attending one of the after-parties.” She inquires.

“Well, I was, but…” You gesture to Natasha who’s now in a robe and slippers. Boy does she change fast.

“Oh, Misses Romanoff, you’re home,” Carla excitedly walks over to her to hug Natasha. “You’re going to make little Rose’s day when she wakes up. I thought you had another week in London?”

“That’s what I said,” You agree.

“Well, I have to go back in two days to wrap up my final scenes,” Natasha says. “The boss gave me time off to come and spend Y/n’s big night with her.”

“Oh, well, don’t let me ruin the fun.” Carla dumps the last toy into the toy box.

“I’ll carry Rose up to the bed,” Natasha offers. “You can take the next two days off. We got it here.” Natasha says. Carla gives a few more praises before she disappears to her bedroom on the first floor.

Natasha walks over to the couch, bending slightly so that she can scoop Rose into her arms. Rose doesn’t startle for a second. She rests her head against Natasha’s shoulder with soft breaths. You follow them through the house and up to the front staircase. You make sure the security system is on and the doors are locked before you make your way to the second floor. You walk into Rose’s bedroom to kiss her goodnight just as Natasha does. She’s practically deadweight when you tuck her into her bed. Natasha flicks on her favorite starry globe nightlight. You leave them to their devices as you walk over to the nursery to find your youngest. Grace is fussy and appears to be waking up from her deep slumber when you approach her crib. Her feet kick out against the mattress and she begins to push herself up against her favorite plushie. You don’t waste time scooping her up and walking over to the rocking chair in a corner of the room. Breastfeeding in a ball gown is a bit harder than usual. After a little trial and error, you’re able to free yourself from the confines of the straps so that you can feed Grace from one side first.

Grace doesn’t open her eyes, though she moves instinctually, rooting for your breasts before she finds the nipple to latch onto. You press your toes against the plush fur rug to rock the both of you. You hold your breath in relief as you feel the first initial letdown. Grace hungrily suckles, her tiny hand holding you in place, as she rests. You don’t even notice Natasha has come in until she’s snapping a few pictures for her own memory.

“To post or not to post?” She wonders aloud before showing you the candids. They’re pretty tasteful pictures. Nothing of importance would be shown. Grace’s face is hidden and so is your chest. There’s pure adoration and love on your face in both pictures. In fact, the picture is really only the outline of your body and the baby. Anyone could tell what you’re doing in it. You’re still in your gown and the soft glow of the nightlight provides the perfect glow against your skin. It looks like something out of an art gallery. Even the most talented photographer wouldn’t be able to catch such a moment you think. A sense of calm emits from it and you give Natasha the okay to post them. She does so with a few taps of her thumbs before she tucks the phone into the pocket of her robe. She reaches her hand out to rub her fingers across Grace’s cheeks.

“She’s getting chunky,” Natasha comments, and you hum. “I’m missing so much.” She says with a tinge of sadness.

“You can burp her when I’m done,” You suggest. “She’ll probably need a diaper change too.” You joke and Natasha catches it.

“I would love to,” Natasha says. She sits with you and watches in complete awe as you help Grace switch sides with a bit of protest from her. She whines and opens her mouth wide ready to cry.

“Ohh, shh, Mommy’s only making sure you’re full,” You whisper to her. Grace settles against you once again. Her screwed-up features give way to pure serenity as she falls asleep again. Before you know it you’re done and you’re handing her off to Natasha.

“I started a bath it should be ready for us,” Natasha calls after you. You walk down the hall towards your bedroom and can in fact hear the water running. Your mind is still reeling from everything that has gone on for the past twenty-four hours. You check your phone, not even caring to look through the hundreds of notifications before you go on Twitter. Under Roxy’s approval, you send a tweet to thank everyone.

Feels surreal. Thank you all for your continued support.

You end the tweet with a bunch of emojis before you close out the app.

“You know, you’re in here, you’re supposed to be inside of the bath,” Natasha steps into the bathroom. She doesn’t wait for you to tell her to help with your gown. She already knows. She takes her sweet time unzipping it. She delights in the sight of smooth skin revealed to her with every inch uncovered. Finally, she takes your hand and allows you to step out when it pools at your ankles. She gives a brow raised at the tiny black thong you’re wearing, prompting you to give a spin so that she can see it. “Damn,” She mutters to herself. You don’t try to cover up or shy away from her gaze. She makes you feel wanted in every way possible. Next, she throws off her own robe before climbing in first. You get in after her and lean against her front. The water is scalding hot and eases the pain in your aching muscles.

Natasha takes her time to pour you both a glass of wine. It’s then you notice all of the candles and the soft music playing.

“Oh, so you just knew you were going to get some tonight?” You sip from your glass.

“No,” Natasha denies. “I knew you would want to decompress. I was hoping that I would be able to fuck you tonight. Big difference.”

“Ahh,” You nod. Her calloused hands come around to grip your waist so that you’re pressed just a bit closer. You can feel her hardened nipples against your back. The water sloshes around you with every movement as she tucks her chin on your shoulder. “I’m so happy you came.” You say again.

“I’m so happy too,” Natasha presses a kiss against your shoulder. “I loved seeing you up there. I watched for a few seconds before. You speak incredibly well. You commanded the space. Did you feel anxious?”

“I did,” You sigh. Natasha’s hands haven’t left your body since you stepped into the bath. She touches you as if she’s trying to memorize every spot and if you didn’t know any better she is. “It’s getting better though. Being up there and realizing I deserve to be in the space just as much as everybody else works wonders for the ego.”

“Mhmm,” Natasha agrees. “You know what would work well for mine?” She asks just as her right-hand ghost over your breasts. She knows you’re way too sensitive there for her to touch since breastfeeding but just like the rest of your body she doesn’t miss a beat. Her left-hand parts your legs for you in a show of strength.

“What?” You play along though you know what she’s about to say.

“Making you cum,” She whispers into your ear. Her fingers dip into your wet heat with practiced precision. She stops over coarse hair, delighting in the fact that you haven’t shaved, and it’s just how she likes it. She finds your clit, applying minimal pressure, and even then your hips jump. You close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of Natasha as she starts with slow and light circles. “I’ve missed touching you. Feeling you. Smelling you.” Natasha nips gently at your exposed neck. Thank the heavens for whoever invented bobby pins and updos. “All I could think about on that plane was being inside of you and hearing you whine and moan for me.” As if on cue you do exactly as she says. Your voice is soft and airy as your hips follow her fingers for friction. “Shh, it’s okay, baby, I'll take care of you.”

Natasha doesn’t disappoint. She enters you in one quick movement, giving you no time to prepare, and you gasp loudly. Her thrusting starts off slow and deep. Her thumb flutters across your clit with every rock of your hips and you’re a goner. You don’t even have time to catch your breath before you’re coming with her name on your tongue. She leaves kisses along your neck and shoulder as you come down. Your head lolls to the side as you finally exhale.

“Good?” She asks and you nod.

“So good,” You turn to her to kiss her. You look over the tub to see how much water has spilled over the lip of the tub. “I get to have you all night?”

“For as long as you want,” Natasha promises.

You take it as a challenge.

****************

It’s sometime later in the morning you awaken. You open your eyes to an empty bed and the sound of crying and noise from somewhere in the distance. The sheets are haphazardly thrown across the bed with you tangled in them. The duvet is on the floor and there’s no sign of Natasha. You look around to see she’s hung up your gown along with hers on one of the racks. You reach over to check the time on your phone. It’s nine am. You’re still feeling exhausted after several rounds of lovemaking. Maybe you can sneak in more sleep before the girls awaken. You’re just about to close your eyes when you hear the creak of the bedroom door.

Rose walks into the room first, dragging her sled behind her, with Grace and your two-year-old Shi Tzu, Mocha, seated next to her. You don’t utter a word as she drags both of them all the way to your side of the bed where she eventually stops. You sit up with wide eyes and an amused expression as you inspect all of them. Rose looks so proud of herself as she shows off her baby sister and the dog.

“Mornin’ Mommy,” Rose gives you a small wave. “I saw you on the tv last night. Happy Awards Day.”

“You did?” You smile. “That’s awesome and thank you.” You lean over to give her a kiss. “What are you doing?”

“Playing dress up, see?” Rose walks over to lift Gracie in her arms. She has a bit of a tough time as the five-month-old weighs practically a quarter of her own weight. Mocha doesn’t give her time to grab him either before he’s off to hide somewhere where she isn’t. Rose struggles to place her sister on the bed and you assist her before an accident happens. “I dressed her all by myself.”

“Whose clothes are these?” You ask. You inspect Grace who doesn’t seem a bit phased to be her sister’s doll. She has on a beanie, with a pink and yellow frilled top, along with pink polka-dotted pants that you’re sure are actually one of Rose’s dolls' outfits. “Why did you let your sister do this to you, Grace?” You ask and don’t get a response of course.

“No, Mommy, she likes it.” Rose climbs onto the bed. “She was real quiet too.” Though you think that’s a lie considering the amount of crying you just heard moments ago.

“Where’s your Mama?” You ask and as if on cue Natasha walks into the room with a platter of food.

“I’m here,” Natasha announces as she comes around to the other side of the bed. “I made breakfast.”

“I helped too,” Rose inserts herself into the conversation.

“Oh, yeah,” Natasha nods. “She’s really good at pouring juice. She didn't make a mess or anything.” You reach for a piece of bacon to share with Rose. “Grace is probably hungry too. I tried to give her a bottle of pumped milk but she wouldn't take it.”

“She likes Mommy’s boob better,” Rose seems to be the baby whisperer or something.

“Don’t we all?” Natasha quips and you nudge her with a warning look. You grab Grace and position her so that she can nurse while you eat your own breakfast. “So what’s on the agenda today?”

“What’s that?” Rose stuffs a grape into her mouth. Ever so often she’ll reach over and tap Grace’s hand to get her attention. This means in turn Grace will unlatch just to smile at her sister. This makes feeding time a bit longer than you’d like but you won’t complain.

“An agenda is like a list of things to do,” Natasha explains. “We could go to the park or maybe to the movies.”

“Nah,” Rose shakes her head. “We can go outside in the backyard. I can show you my flips, Mama.”

“She has been taking gymnastics very seriously,” You say.

“Sounds like a plan then,” Natasha bites into her waffle. A day at home with her three favorite girls was all she would need.

***************

You’re on the patio of your backyard, lounging around on one of the chairs, as Natasha runs around the backyard with the girls. You’re in a perfect bliss bubble as you relax for the day. Rose’s fits of laughter and even Grace’s shrieks of happiness are like music to your ears as you listen to them play. You join in from time to time. Your favorite is when Rose invites you inside her tiny doll house that is really only for children. You both squeeze in and play pretend for as long as Rose likes. Eventually, your energy is a bit drained and so you come to sit down and check some messages. Mostly you’re talking to your parents about how last night ended minus the intimate details. Your mother ended up going to a party with Loki where she met Ava Duvernay and a couple of other celebrities. Your dad had opted to stay home last night.

You switch over to Twitter and look through the notifications. There’s a sea of them but one of them is a constant that you’re noticing. You click on the page, recognizing the username as one of the bigger followers you have, and you like a couple of their posts congratulating you. You scroll down the girl’s page some more. Her entire Twitter page is dedicated to you. You’re no stranger to fan pages so you don’t find it super weird. You click to open up a few of her pictures. You’ve met her a few times it appears. Her face is a bit muddled in your head with the number of people you’ve encountered in your career. Though she seems persistent in her endeavors of meeting you. You admire the dedication and so without much thought, you send her a message to her open DMS.

Hello, I saw your tweets. Thank you so much for your continued support. I hope you are doing well xx.

The message is kind and to the point. It’s not very personalized but still it comes from you and you think she’d appreciate that much more than a few likes on her page. What results is several messages back though you’re not able to respond to them. Natasha comes to sit next to you effectively stealing your attention away.

“That girl is full of energy,” Natasha takes a few deep breaths.

“She gets it from you,” You set your phone down under you. “You know, she has a new hiding spot upstairs. Her bedroom has some sort of hideaway attic thing. Carla found someone to clean it out and paint it. She’s going to put pillows and decorations in there for her.”

“Cool,” Natasha moves so that your feet rest in her lap. She begins to give you a massage all the while keeping her eyes on the girls. “ I will check it out later tonight.” Natasha doesn’t speak for a few long moments. “Your new movie. How long is filming for that?” Natasha asks.

“About three months. Training starts in a couple of weeks though so I’d bump it up to four.” You don’t want to think about work right now. “Why?”

“I was thinking maybe after you wrap we could take a little break,” Natasha toys with the idea. “Rose and Grace are so young. We’re spending all of this time working. A lot of it is on opposite sides of the world. I want them to know me. To know us together. Maybe a few months of vacation. How does that sound?”

“It sounds lovely,” You sit up to kiss her.

“You’re okay with that? I mean I know you took a break towards the end of your pregnancy,” Natasha begins to ramble. “ You just wrapped up on your show and the movie is beginning. I just want us together.”

“Natasha, it’s fine, truly,” You caress her cheek so that she can look into your eyes. “I want us together too. Do I get to pick the place?”

“If you insist,” She rolls her eyes. You grin. This would be fun.

**********************

Natasha spends another night with you and the girls before it’s time for her to go back. You see her off with a kiss and hug goodbye. Rose has minimal tears though she does cling to Natasha before the redhead can leave.

“Mama, don’t go,” Rose pouts as she raises her arms for Natasha to pick her up. “Stay here please?”

“I’m only gone for a few more days and then I will be back,” Natasha promises. “Then we can play and cuddle and do everything you want to do.”

“But, I want to do that now,” Rose’s bottom lip pokes out even more. Her adorable raspy voice adds to the cute factor. Your heart breaks for her as you listen to their conversation. You bounce Grace in your arms and she’s none the wiser about what’s going on around her. “You have to stay with me and Mommy. What if the bad guys come?”

“The bad guys? What bad guys?” Alarm bells go off in both of your heads.

“My dreams,” Rose elaborates. “You always make it better.”

“Well, how about this,” Natasha breathes a sigh of relief and so do you. Usually Rose has referred to the paparazzi as bad guys. Often they need to be reminded not to get too close when you’re with the kids. Their way of harassment can scare the little girl. Which is why you try to keep her out of the spotlight as much as you can. She didn’t ask to be famous. She carries Rose over to her luggage where she pulls out a nearly empty bottle of her favorite perfume. “If you spray this in your closet and under your bed no bad guy can get you. It sends them all away and you’ll be able to sleep just fine.”

Rose inspects the bottle. “This is perfume?” She asks and you hide your snort. She’s smart.

“It is but it’s special perfume. It’s mine and they know I mean business.”

“Oh, okay,” Rose nods as if that makes sense. “How many sleeps when you get back?”

“Five sleeps until I’m back, Princessa,” Natasha promises. “Will you be a good girl for Mommy and protect your sister?”

“I’m always a good girl,” Rose raises a brow as if Natasha insinuates she is otherwise.

“I don’t know about always but you’ve come pretty close,” You point out. “Say bye to Mama so she can go.”

“Bye, Mama.” Rose wraps her little arms around Natasha’s neck and squeezes. “Be safe.”

“Okay, I will be safe.” Natasha kisses her cheek before letting her down. She steps over to you to give Grace a final kiss. Then she gives you one too before she’s off. You watch from the driveway as Johnny helps with her bags and drives her away.

Now it was back to your lives without her for just a while longer.

*********************

In the next few days, you’re a pretty busy bee. Carla takes care of the girls while you’re on the whirlwind press tour after your Emmy win. A lot of people want you on their talk show as you’re a hot topic right now. Ultimately you decide to go on Kelly Clarkson’s show first. She’s a long-time acquaintance and you’ve known her forever.

You’re backstage getting your hair and makeup done as you scroll through Twitter again. Grace and Rose are playing on the floor while Carla keeps them occupied. The Twitter app is again filled with notifications and it’s a bit intimidating. It’s the first time you’ve checked it in days. The previous fan page you checked out has come across your timeline again as a suggested person to follow. You don’t search your name ever so it’s quite interesting to see her outside of your notifications. You look through her posts again with genuine curiosity.

There’s a picture of you and Natasha at the after-Emmys interview with the caption “I just know they have great sex.” which creeps you out only a little. It’s the tamer version of what you have seen some people say. While it’s inappropriate you wouldn’t expect anything less from a fan page. You wonder how old this girl is exactly, scrolling back up to her bio to see she’s just turned nineteen. She’s young. Harmless.

You find that her name is Carissa and she lives in Los Angeles too. She’s a journalism student at USC and she has her head on straight. You’re going through her page a little more, only looking up when Darcy asks you to, as you read through some of her tweets out loud.

“I found this girl,” You inform them. “She’s a fan of mine and she has almost fifteen thousand followers.”

“Wow?”

“I think it’s just from being a fan of mine,” You show them the page. “She seems to know a lot about us. I mean an insane amount. How did she even know Natasha was flying back to London?”

“Girl, those pages watch you like a hawk,” Roxy says from her spot over on the couch. “Their methods are insane and sometimes even I don’t know how they’re getting out information.”

“Let me see?” Darcy asks you to tilt the phone so that she can see better. “Oh, I’ve met that girl before at a party. She kept bragging about how she snuck in and was waiting for you to come. She was a bit disappointed when you didn't show. She’s come to a few of your events. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was out there right now.“

“That’s interesting,” You’re not sure of the correct word to describe it. Growing up as a child star you’ve had your fair share of people that have taken a bit more extreme interest in you. Your parents were always there to protect you and keep you safe. Especially when you grew up in the same era as Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen. Your fame was a bit tamer. They kept you in a normal public school, you had extracurriculars, and you just so happened to be on tv. There was no multimillion-dollar company or a countdown until your eighteenth birthday. That you know of.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and Roxy moves to answer it. Kelly Clarkson herself has come to say hi and introduce herself to you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Kelly greets you as she comes to give you a hug. “It’s so nice to see you. Look at you all dolled up. You look beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you, so do you,” You kiss her cheek. “I’m so happy to be here.”

“I’m excited to do this interview,” Kelly laughs with you. “Who are these two? Are these your kids?”

“Yes, this is Rose,” You introduce them. “And my youngest Grace.”

“Oh, hi, Rose, a flower name, I love those,” Kelly kneels to say hi. Rose, the extrovert, shakes Kelly’s hand. “It must be fun coming with your Mama to work right?”

“Yeah,” Rose nods. “I can get makeup too?”

“We shall see,” You promise Rose.

“Well, I was just coming to check in on you,” Kelly smiles. “I like to make sure everything’s good before the show starts. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling great,” You talk with Kelly a little bit longer. She even plays with the girls for a while before it’s time to take your place.

**************************************

You put on your show smile when Kelly introduces you to her audience. You walk out with measure steps and even give her a hug. As if you hadn’t seen her twenty minutes prior. She talks about your show with you and everything else going on in your life. The questions have been prescreened to Roxy so there’s nothing inappropriate about the entire thing.

“So, I must say, I was an avid watcher of Taste of the Wilde,” Kelly seems in awe of you. “Every week you made something magical and I’m sure like me the rest of the world was cheering you on. You have some acting chops girl. Please tell me how you do it?”

“Well, lots of practice,” You think over your answer. “ The material was tough at first and it’s vastly different from what I did growing up and also the tv shows I’ve done in the past. The transition was a little rough for me but with my wife’s help and my acting coach, I was able to hone in on some of the skills I haven’t used in a long time. I had to dig really deep to learn and relate to my character so that it doesn’t seem like just some random chick acting on the screen.”

“You captured that essence of this character perfectly,” Kelly compliments. “And you know I was amazed I’m going to keep saying it. I was amazed. I’ve watched you grow up. We all watched you grow up. From that adorable little girl on the tv and in movies to this sexy bombshell of a woman who can hold her own. You can act your ass off and not many child stars have that.”

“You know you’re right,” You look over to the audience. “When you’re young, you rely on the cute factor. Casting directors want you to look good and make sure you’re able to recite and remember your lines. You can ride that wave of cuteness until you’re about sixteen.” You weigh the options. “Then you can kind of fizzle and burn out. The roles are more serious. It takes a lot of you to grow and show the world and let them know to take you seriously. I struggled a lot with that but I’m here now and it’s working for me.”

“It’s working quite well,” Kelly congratulates you on your win. “Now, I want people to see. The show I first saw you in. It was a nice sitcom back in the 90s with Sheryl Lee Ralph and a bunch of other 90s starlets. You played the adorable baby sister, Candy, can you tell me about that? Do you have memories of that age?” A picture appears of you as a little kid and the audience awws.

“N-no, not exactly,” You answer. “I remember bits and pieces. I was around six on that show. I think. We’ll have to ask my parents but I was around first-grade age. I remember a lot was happening and I didn’t think of it as work. It was my normal everyday job.”

“That’s great.” Kelly continues. “You know a lot of child stars say the same thing. How it was normal for them. How it was so fun. Then like you mentioned they reach a certain age where everything gets serious and maybe there are times when it's not so fun. I remember Jodie Sweetin talking about being younger and someone had followed her into a bathroom and that was a scary moment for her. Have you ever had something like that happen?”

“Hmm,” You think. “I wouldn’t say to that degree. There was a time I was in the mall. I was with my older sister and my dad. Someone, a man, asked to take a picture with me. Well with us both because my sister, Jennie, was also on a different sitcom for much longer than I was. So I remember we sit next to this man to take the picture or whatever. All of a sudden, he grabs me and like, poses me in the way he wants the picture to go. He didn’t mean any harm I don’t think but my dad was pissed. He could tell I was uncomfortable and so he kind of pulled us away and he gave this guy an earful. I mean an earful. I still remember it to this day because the guy was so apologetic and I think for the first time that’s when I knew as a ‘celebrity’ or a ‘star’ people don’t really see you as human. They form these parasocial relationships and they don’t think any of how they make you feel with what they say and do. Which is really dangerous at times, especially at six and even now at my current age.”

“That must have been scary,” Kelly sympathizes. “So I met your daughter. She’s such a star. I swear she’s a mini you. I only say this to inquire. Has she asked to be an actor? Or in the business at all? Has she shown an interest?”

“My daughter, Rose, she’s four,” You supply to the rest of the crowd. “She is a little diva. She is smart and quick thinking. She would be the perfect child actor. This may sound creepy but I only mean that she’s already like in the space of professionalism and sass and personality that casting directors look for. With that being said, Natasha and I have no interest in putting her in anything until she’s a little older and can understand a bit more. She’s asked. Trust me she has asked but I think right now we don’t want her or our youngest in the spotlight at all.”

“That’s completely understandable,” Kelly says. Much of the interview goes like this until you’re on to the game segment. Kelly talks about how you recorded an album as a teen and you almost die of embarrassment. She even asks you to sing and you do pretty well.

****************

Before you know it everything is over and you’re on your way out of the door. Rose, who has skipped her nap, has opted to be in your arms for the rest of this leg of the day. As always, there are fans waiting outside and you’re about to say no to them but you figure you can sign for a few of them.

“Rosie, do you want to let Mommy say hi to everyone?” Rose shakes her head no. “Okay, um, let’s try this.” You walk over to the crowd with your bodyguard, Draco, standing by. “Hi guys,” You wave to everyone, and Rose tucks her face into your neck at the loud noise. When they notice how tired she is they have the decency to quiet down. “I have to get her down for a nap so I want to do a couple real quick.” You sign with one hand all the while listening to each person as they talk to you about any and everything. It’s a bit hard to keep up but you’re doing your best.

You get down to one fan with dark hair and blue eyes. They seem pretty familiar and you’re about to question it when she speaks.

“Hi, y/n, hi Rose,” She greets and Rose is elated that there’s someone here speaking to her directly. The young girl talks as if she knows both of you as she asks you about your day.

“I’m fine, thank you,” You smile gently. “Have we met somewhere before?”

“I’m wildelover04” She beams when she realizes you know who she is. “We've dmed back and forth a couple of times. My name is Carissa.”

“Oh, right, Carissa, so lovely to meet you in person,” You hand Rose over to Draco, and this time she doesn’t protest. She simply closes her eyes and falls asleep as you pose for a few pictures with Carissa and the rest of the fans. They’re all mindful of Rose and not getting her in the pictures. “Okay, guys, I have to go but it was so lovely meeting all of you.” You wave despite their boos. They were having so much fun with you and a lot of fun with them.

“Bye! See you soon!” Carissa’s voice stands out to you as she shouts your name.

She seemed normal for the most part but her presence has definitely stuck in your head. You climb into the car and help Rose into her car seat. Grace is already inside of her seat and fast asleep as the car starts. Today was a good day.

****************

Later that night, you’re in bed with Rose by your side as you speak with Natasha over facetime. The time difference is six hours and you know it’s late for Natasha. Even still she would never miss a time to speak to her daughter.

“Are you sleeping in bed with Mommy tonight?” Natasha questions. Rose nods excitedly as she flips her plushie over in her hands. “You’re all nice and snug. I wish I was there with you to kiss you three goodnight.”

“Me too,” You say.

“Mama, I met Kelly Starkson,” Rose mispronounces the woman’s name.

“You did?” Natasha chuckles.

“Kelly Clarkson,” You correct her. “She was so polite and used her manners.”

“Ohhh, I’m so proud of you Solnyshko,” Natasha praises. “Now, I’m going to go on to bed. I have an early call time but I just wanted to say goodnight to my girls and be safe.”

“We will and we love you,” You prompt Rose to say goodnight. “Say goodnight to Mama.”

“Night night, Mama, love you all the way to the moon,” Rose exaggerates with her hands.

“And back, i love you three, goodnight.” Natasha says before hanging up the phone.

You set it on your nightstand, opting on cuddling with Rose while she falls asleep. You get up when she’s dead asleep to go and grab a glass of water. You check the security cameras before walking into the kitchen for a glass of water. You drink half before you spot the many gifts that had been delivered to your door by Roxy. She’d brought them earlier from her office where she received all of your personal mail from other celebrities or coworkers you know. You sift through the mail and packages, making a mental list of who to thank before you come across one that has you questioning everything.

A package from Wildelover04. Fan mail is usually funneled and inspected before it ever comes across your eyes so you wonder how this one made it through. It’s a single rose along with a teddy bear. You find it quite cute and so you travel with it back upstairs to your bedroom where you take a few pictures with it to thank her. You make a public tweet and tag her in it. You also send a text to Roxy to question how it made it through.

Overall, you push Carissa to the back of your mind as you think about your family and the rest of your busy week.

She’s just a superfan and you’re just a star. Nothing out of the ordinary.

----> part 2

[uniquexusposts]

Her || Charles

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fanfiction, fluff  Story type: novel  Part: 15/? Word count: 2575 Co writer: @mistrose23

Story summary: Matilde Jørgensen, the new Scuderia Ferrari team principal, faced the nerve-wracking challenge of reviving the team's fortunes and aiming for a championship. Leading a historic team as a 'newbie' and separating her work and personal opinions posed a significant challenge. The big question: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 13. The Sinking Ship

The moment Charles was done at the track, he didn't know how quickly he had to go home. The disappointment of what could have been, of the lost opportunities, weighed heavily on his shoulders. He could almost taste the victory that had slipped through his fingers.

Approaching his apartment, Charles couldn't shake the feeling of discontent. It was his home track and race, and his family and friends came to see him. He knew he had given his all on the track, but the circumstances beyond his control had thwarted his efforts. He let people down, the people he loved the most. But what stung the most, was the clash with Matilde, his own principal, during the race. He thought he would do the right thing, but he got the full brunt instead.

As he walked into his empty apartment, the silence amplified his frustration. His friends and family had offered to accompany him to his house, but he wanted to be alone for a couple of hours before he had to go to the party later that evening. Even though he had a shit outcome, he still wanted to be present at the parties that he planned.

Charles kicked off his shoes with more force than necessary and slumped onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. His living room, decorated with trophies and other memorabilia from his career, seemed to mock him. Fragments of the race replayed in his mind like he was watching a complication on YouTube or a film on TV. The voices of Xavi and Matilde went through his mind, they obstructed not to pit when he had requested a pit stop. Matilde's voice was the loudest in his mind. He had defied her orders, believing it was the right call, but the botched pit stop and his fifth-place finish had only deepened the wound.

His phone buzzed with messages and notifications, but he ignored them all. He needed some time to process his frustration and disappointment, to come to terms with the missed opportunity on his home turf. Racing was a team sport, and the team's decisions affected his performance on the track. Still, the division within the team, the public scrutiny, and the lingering doubts about Matilde's leadership gnawed at him.

He got slurred out of his thoughts when the doorbell rang. At first, he wanted to ignore the person on the other side of the door, but when the bell rang for the second time, he had to open the door. Charles opened the front door, surprised to see Pierre Gasly. For some reason, he was the last person he expected.

"Dude," Pierre said and passed Charles, closing the door behind him. "Why aren't you ready?"

Charles was still standing in the same position as when he opened the door; even his arm was still in the same position, but now, he was without the door handle in his hand. He balled his hand and turned around, squeezing his eyebrows together. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, to see if you are even alive. We planned to meet up an hour ago, remember?" Pierre answered and sat down on the couch. "What were you even doing here?"

Charles parted his lips and looked at the time. "Fuck," he said. He frustratedly ran his hand through his hair. "I lost track of the time."

"No, shit, Sherlock." Pierre watched Charles with concern, recognising that Charles was in a state of emotional turmoil. "What happened out here? Speak, talk, share."

A loud, sarcastic snort left Charles' nose, and he covered his face with his hands while he walked through the living room.

"What?" Pierre asked, confused.

"Jørgensen said that too," Charles replied. He removed his hands from his face. "'Speak, talk, share'."

"If it stays unspoken, you will get fed up with it," Pierre shrugged. "But fine, just don't ruin the dinner tonight," he breathed hopelessly.

Charles stopped pacing and sat down on the couch beside Pierre. He ran a hand through his hair again, looking visibly exhausted. "I don't know. The race, the team, Jørgensen... I don't know what's going on anymore."

"I thought everything was better now?"

"Yeah," Charles said and shook his head. "I thought so too, but it is not." He took a deep breath and began to talk about the race and the series of events that had unfolded, starting with the messed up pit stop. He explained the clash with his team principal, the frustration of being unable to pit when he believed it was necessary and the disappointment of letting down his family, friends and fans at his home race.

As Charles spoke, Pierre listened attentively, nodding in understanding. "I can see why you're upset, mate. It's tough when things don't go your way, especially when you think you were right."

"And it's not just about today, it's about the bigger picture. Jørgensen's leadership, the division in the team and all this drama. It's tearing us apart as a team. From the moment she set foot inside our territory, things just... escalate?"

"Such as?"

"The endless discussions, the discussions with the board, the way she treats staff... I get it, she's young, different - oh, not Italian nor speaking or understanding the language, so we have to speak in English and do everything in English for her to understand it while we always spoke in Italian. Everyone speaks or understands Italian, but because of her, we have to change. Sometimes, I wonder why Ferrari picked her and not someone else, like Fred," Charles shared his thoughts. "She is constantly turning to Red Bull, she never calls us by our first name in the media or within the team, but she calls Max just Max. And we are Leclerc and Sainz. And look at her expressions; everything seems like a joke to her! She is not taking this seriously."

Pierre listened to Charles' frustrations, and as his friend ranted, he couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation. "I get it and it's tough. And yeah, the language thing, that has to be annoying, but she speaks English like a native speaker, so it's not like you aren't able to communicate at all. And remember, leadership can be a learning curve for everyone. Maybe Matilde is just trying to find her footing."

"Oh, let me tell you about her grammatical mistakes, even in English. Her personal assistant has to check everything she writes before it gets sent out. How pathetic is that? I know my English is far from perfect, but come on, she's the team principal." Charles shook his head. "I just feel like she's making rash decisions, and it's affecting the entire team and the board."

Pierre nodded, he went along with it, hoping Charles would feel better about it. Meanwhile, he knew Matilde didn't mean those things. "Sometimes people in higher positions don't fully understand what's happening on the ground. They might think they're helping, but it just complicates things." And sometimes, it is best to say things people want to hear for their own good.

Charles took a moment to collect his thoughts. "Oh, and do you know where she is going right now? To a fucking concert.. in Nice with a woman and man from Red Bull, a guy from Aston Martin and a guy from Mercedes," Charles snorted. "She is always with other teams, all the fucking time. She barely speaks to people within Ferrari."

Pierre raised his eyebrows. "I don't want to pick sides, but that is Matilde's friend group, and they are inseparable. They all used to work at Red Bull during my time at Red Bull."

"That is not my point, Pierre," Charles frustratedly groaned. "My point is that she doesn't connect with Ferrari at all. And I know that this is her life, if she wants to go to a concert after a race, fine, but it's about the people she's with. Oh, the board even invited her for dinner after this race. She casually declined it," he spoke. "She casually declined it like it was coffee."

"Now she is in control and decides not to be there."

"If the board asks you for dinner, you do not say no. It's the same as ignoring your team principal when they call," Charles said, like it was logical. "This is what I mean: she somehow refuses to connect with us."

Pierre shared a look with Charles, it was like Charles couldn't understand the situation. Pierre wanted to ask why he would think why Matilde didn't connect with Ferrari. "Okay, but do you try to connect with her? Do you make plans with her? Do you invite her to things?"

"Yes, obviously." However, when Charles thought about it, he realised the team barely invited her to things. He took a deep breath, quickly changed it to another subject. "How serious do you take your job then? Being a team principal is not a simple job. She acts like it is a simple student job she can't take seriously. I don't know how I am able to count on her. How am I supposed to win races when I can't trust my own team principal?"

"You are upset, Charles. Don't say things you don't mean. Come on," Pierre replied, trying to keep the conversation light.

Charles took a deep breath. "Do you know her personally?" He wanted Pierre to confirm his thoughts about her. Pierre nodded slowly. "What is she like?"

"We used to work together at Red Bull, before she got promoted as Senior Strategist," Pierre answered. "And honestly, again, not to pick sides or to convince you otherwise, but she is the most kind, intelligent, caring and loving woman I have ever met and worked with."

That was not the confirmation Charles was looking for. He held in his breath and listened to his friend, who was telling about a very different Matilde he knew.

"She would sit with me around the table, checking things with me. She made sure I was satisfied with the set up, always asked my opinion and asked about what I would do. She cared about me and the team. She put the team first, then herself. And I can see that she's doing that at Ferrari as well. You don't see it, but she's the first to arrive and the last to leave because she wants the best for you, for Carlos and for the team."

"You don't know that."

"I'm at the track every day. I see things, I hear things."

"She likes to micromanage."

"Is there a reason for it?"

"No, obviously," Charles quickly replied. "She's just constantly checking on us, double checking things, forcing things. It feels like we are trapped in her leadership."

Again, Pierre nodded, impressed. He knew he had to take these things not too seriously, because Charles was frustrated. And he knew Matilde, he couldn't imagine her as a micromanager. It was known that Ferrari was a mess, and it looked like Matilde was using a style of leadership that the people in her team didn't tolerate. "I understand. If it bothers you, talk to her about it," he said, pressing his lips into a thin line. "Not to rush, but shall we go? People are waiting... Unless you don't feel like going and want to keep talking?"

"No, no, we should go." Charles got up, and he walked to his bedroom. "I assume you know that this has to stay between us?" He asked from the bedroom.

Pierre sent a message to Joris to let him know that they would be at the restaurant in ten minutes. "Yep, absolutely," he said from the living room. "But hey, let today rest and start over again at the office. I'm sure Matilde is doing her best to give you everything she is able to get for you. She isn't a bad person."

And that is an opinion, Charles thought. He put on a new outfit in his bedroom and walked to the bathroom where he would do his hair, brush his teeth and put on some deodorant and cologne. "Thanks for listening, by the way."

"No problem. See: 'speak, talk, share' helps."

"Get out of here."

Pierre grinned and got up once Charles was ready to go. Together, they would make the streets of Monte Carlo unsafe - well, Charles and his friends had to do it on his own because Pierre was in a relationship.

- - - - - article - - - - -

Is Matilde Jørgensen Leading a Sinking Ship She Created?

The world of Formula 1 has been buzzing with controversy following the Monaco Grand Prix, and at the centre of it all is Matilde Jørgensen, Ferrari's team principal. With the dust settling from the race, one has to wonder: is Jørgensen leading a sinking ship she created?

Monaco, a race known for its glamour and prestige, presented a perfect opportunity for Ferrari to shine. Charles Leclerc, one of the sport's most promising talents and a Monaco native, secured pole position, setting the stage for what should have been a victorious homecoming. Carlos Sainz, the team's other talented driver, started in second place, further fueling the hopes of Ferrari fans worldwide.

However, as the race unfolded, it became clear that the team's leadership and decision-making were questionable at best. The turning point came when Jørgensen, in her role as team principal, made a pivotal call during the race that left fans and even some team members scratching their heads.

Leclerc was leading comfortably, performing flawlessly, when he requested a pit stop for fresh tires. Jørgensen, seemingly against her driver's wishes, firmly instructed him to stay out on the track. It's a move that many deemed overly cautious, even detrimental to Ferrari's chances of securing victory.

Inexplicably, Leclerc defied Jørgensen's orders and entered the pits anyway, resulting in a botched pit stop that saw him lose valuable time and positions. The costly gamble for the fastest lap ultimately left Leclerc finishing in a disappointing fifth place. This questionable decision-making has raised eyebrows and prompted criticism from fans and pundits alike.

The aftermath of Monaco saw a divided team, with some, including Fernando Alonso, defending Leclerc's actions, while others, like Max Verstappen, sided with Jørgensen's decision. This division in the team, combined with public criticism, raises questions about Jørgensen's ability to maintain authority and cohesion within the Ferrari garage.

As the team principal, Jørgensen's role extends beyond the racetrack. Her decisions impact the entire team's performance, and she must balance the aspirations of her drivers with the bigger picture of team success. But, in Monaco, it appeared she let emotions get in the way of a calculated strategy.

Is Jørgensen's leadership style costing Ferrari victories? The inconsistency in her decisions raises concerns about her suitability for the role of team principal. The Monaco incident isn't an isolated case, either; it's just the latest in a series of questionable calls that have left fans and experts alike scratching their heads.

Jørgensen may have a vision for Ferrari's future success. Still, the team's constant tensions and internal divisions suggest that she may struggle to translate that vision into reality. The pressure is on with the highly competitive nature of Formula 1, and every mistake, no matter how well-intentioned, comes under scrutiny.

The question remains: can Jørgensen lead Ferrari to the championship glory they so desperately seek? Or is she unwittingly leading them further away from the winners' circle? Only time will tell, but one thing is certain: the pressure on Jørgensen is mounting, and the Formula 1 world will be watching closely.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc

[restinpeacesensei]

traditional style 💖

[puppyeared]

footnotes arent enough I need you to talk to me like im fucking Amelia Bedelia

[poisonouspastels]

actually im kind of thinking abt how all the main players in the AU are probably way more mentally Not Great than it may appear at first