#electrifying supermodel

[battle-subway-twins]

@electrifying-supermodel plotted for a starter!

It had been a whirlwind for the past few hours after a major discovery was found in the subway tunnels. He'd first been spotted on the cameras wandering the tunnels completely lost and it spooked all the Depot Agents into thinking he was a ghost. However when Emmet finally found him resting against one of the walls he knew immediately that it really was Ingo... In the flesh! Since that discovery they had Ingo rushed to the hospital to make sure he was really okay. Emmet didn't leave the entire time either, unless it was a test he couldn't be there for. Like right now. So he used the downtime to pull out his phone and immediately dialed up his best friend's number. When she picked up he sounded so elated and exhausted at the same time, "Elesa... you'll never guess who I found...!! Ingo, he... he just turned up in the tunnels where he disappeared 2 years ago! We're at the hospital now because... well.... he looks rough Elesa...."

Emmet sounded ready to cry whether from relief or stress it was hard to tell. He sniffles before continuing, "we haven't been able to talk much yet but he... he hasn't said my name yet but he seems overwhelmed... Emmet knows you're probably verrrrry busy but can you come as soon as you can? I think we could both use you here..."

[battle-subway-twins]

Elesa too meant meant so much to him and Ingo. Sure, she was also their meal ticket but she was so much more than that. The pair of brothers cared deeply for this strange woman and would be devastated should anything happen to her.

"Never. It didn't happen."

When Elesa begins to countdown the vampire starts to sweat. Uh oh, this could be bad. Perhaps he should just say screw it and finally just eat. There was a burning curiosity in him though as to see what exactly she had in mind.

"Elesa please, we're adults... Countdowns are for children." He huffs it out and crosses his arms.

Oh, he meant a great deal to her.

Even with their...unconvential relationship she found the company of him and his brother to be quite preferred over the majority she knew of warm breath.

"I'll admit it when you admit the other thing first. Clearly now."

If not, well no worries. She'd just have to make sure to improve that memory of his.

"A chance to be up front and honest with me now. ...but if you want to resist..."

Thus begins the countdown.

"Three..."

[rosiesmuts]

Muse

Le Serrafim Kazuha

4,000 Words

A/N: KazuhaSmuts?

Kazuha Nakamura. Fuck. The gorgeous idol your new muse, her beauty transcending what the camera can capture, able to take your breath away with those curves and bright smile. A consummate professional, striking poses without needing direction, a sense for it without experience, the pictures coming out flawless.

Even in basic jeans and a t-shirt, Kazuha exudes a beauty, a hotness that has nothing to do with being an idol. Her confidence is stunning and her sensuality is electrifying—not something manufactured for a photoshoot but inherent and undeniable. You're standing next to a goddess. Absolutely gorgeous face, captivating eyes, voluptuous curves, and a charm she's too comfortable with. There's no effort there, no faux coyness or intentional sultry look. Just the radiance of a stunning idol who seems almost oblivious to what she inspires, but you can tell from the heat in Kazuha's gaze and her naughty grin, a mischievous desire swirling around in her that she'll never speak out loud—she has you enthralled.

So fuck.

Fuck these lustful thoughts clouding your head and this heat building in your chest. This is supposed to be a job, but when Kazuha reaches for the hem of her shirt and the lines of muscles accentuating her abs as her t-shirt peels up, that desire inside you is more than unprofessional.

Focus.

Fuck.

This is part of the shoot, supposed to show off the 'Calvin Klein' on her sports bra, but the flexing of her body and the little curl on her smiling lips leaves the underwear an afterthought. You should've been used to this, there's been legitimate supermodels in even less clothing in these photoshoots. But there's something about Kazuha, her innocent smiles and demure laughter, this aura of untouchable and almost fragile femininity about her.

And she's fucking teasing you, those faint lip curls, the flash of teeth from her smirk. She knows her effect, she enjoys your lingering eyes and hungry looks. An arm folded up above her head, leaning against the wall as her other hand grips a rolled up shirt, an underwear ad waiting to happen. Everything about Kazuha screams confidence and sensuality, even her long toes, wiggling a bit for some reason as her smirk broadens, the look in her eyes daring you, almost like she's trying to say something she cannot voice.

Kazuha tilts her head, pulling her lower lip between her teeth, tugging on it, biting into it. Seducing with the barest hints, challenging and inciting with the slightest of moves. It feels almost too intimate and that makes it all the more intoxicating, making the breath hitch in your throat and your heart race in anticipation.

"Cut!"

You have to shout out, the sexual tension overbearing and suffocating. "Let's take an hour for lunch everyone. Good work today, we got a lot of good shots." Your voice is steady, hiding your tumultuous feelings as best as possible. Kazuha beams at the praise and your façade of control crumbles as she teases and tempts you even further, giving a flirtatious wink before slipping into her dressing room.

It's a bit of a walk for you to get to your office, but it gives you space to think about what's gotten into you. This is just a photoshoot, you've dealt with plenty of sexy and beautiful models in much more scandalous poses. Kazuha was in plain clothes! There shouldn't have been anything erotic there. And yet the way the fabric hugged her body, her eyes watching your every move, and that flirty edge to her smile, it was impossible to ignore. Even now your mind's lingering on the last image of Kazuha, staring you down.

One hour to gather yourself. That's what you need—to take your mind off of those...impurities. Kazuha, even her name in your head makes your heart quicken and breath shorten. Just get a hold of yourself. No one can read your mind, and as long as you don't go acting out any of those lurid desires then this'll all just blow over...

"Hey."

You didn't even hear your door open, Kazuha's sweet voice catching you off-guard. Your eyes snap towards her, the entire reason for your break now standing in the office, Kazuha's free hand runs through her hair, this act of playing shy a fascinating dichotomy with the sultry woman you just worked with this morning.

All that build-up and time spent thinking about her left you absolutely stunned by Kazuha's entrance. For the second time she managed to catch your heart in your mouth, freezing your tongue and leaving you speechless.

"Can we go over those pictures that you took? I'd like to see them if that's okay?"

Her request is innocent enough, but you can't help but notice she locks the door behind her. A simple, innocent click of the lock, but the implication was very clear.

Kazuha leans in a bit too closely, a subtle grin as she clicks through the pictures and you're not quite sure if this was real or all your dirty imagination playing tricks on you. Did she really just touch your wrist and give it a squeeze or was she just checking the time and brushed by you accidentally?

Kazuha sits in silence, taking a cursory look at every frame before getting to the next. The silence is more than suffocating. You can barely hear anything outside the pounding in your ears. She stops the slideshow on the most salacious photo: Kazuha lifting her top, the slightest hint of her sports bra, her perfect abs captured so wonderfully on film.

"This one is good! Don't you agree?" Kazuha asks, tilting her head at you and pulling her lip in between her teeth, letting her eyes drag languidly down your figure, devouring you in the most erotic manner with just her gaze alone.

"...yeah..." is all you manage to stammer out, voice stuck in your throat and thoughts wandering in places they really shouldn't.

"Don't think I didn't catch you staring..."

Kazuha steps back, reenacting the shot that got you so worked up—her fingers reach the hem of her shirt, inching the garment up, more and more of her perfect abdomen getting revealed, tight lines that curve and ripple in a tantalizing dance, begging for someone to run their tongue across the slopes and dips of her stomach.

Fuck.

This was supposed to be an hour to gather your thoughts and recompose yourself, not go further into disarray with Kazuha standing in front of you. You lick your lips, a futile attempt to bring some moisture back into a dry mouth as your hands instinctively go into your pockets to prevent anything from going out of place.

This time it's different, Kazuha takes her shirt completely off, the gray Calvin Klein sports bra fully visible, hiding her tiny tits from view. It's a feast for the eyes—the flexing of her abs, the dip of her waist, that sensual confidence in every twitch and curl of her muscles.

"Whoops." Kazuha playfully teases, acting like the removal of the t-shirt is accidental, a casual display of carelessness. Her bottom lip between her teeth, holding it hostage and pressing it between her pearl white teeth. That stare, dark brown and chocolate eyes swallowing you whole and consuming you.

It becomes clear as day, the flirting and lustful looks were no joke, an honest come-on from this hotter-than-hot idol. And you could lose everything right here and right now, the implications and consequences could be catastrophic, but when her hand lands on yours, giving you a gentle caress, it's hard not to succumb.

"It's impolite to stare, Mr. Photographer," Kazuha coos. Your hands find her sides, fingertips digging in, unable to hold back anymore. Years of ballet, and now dancing to her own music and choreography, there is nothing less than admirable in her sculpted body, each muscle firm but toned.

The pads of your thumbs feel the ridges, tracing the defined lines, slowly climbing higher and higher.

"Such a naughty man."

Kazuha gives her own belly a featherlight caress, your hands slip underneath the elastic of her bra. Hot flesh greets your palms and her tiny tits are barely enough for a squeeze, so smooth and soft and absolutely perfect. Her nipples harden immediately, small and sensitive, crying out for attention, pinched by your fingers.

This is beyond unprofessional, absolutely irresponsible, a blight on everything a photographer should be—to have their hands under their model's clothes and get so engrossed with someone they've only known for a day. But, fuck. You could always find another job. Just touching and playing with Kazuha though—a chance of this sort of happiness would be gone forever.

The choice becomes clear the moment Kazuha kisses you, hungrily swallowing any excuses and closing any chance of leaving. The way she claims you is exhilarating, overwhelmingly powerful in that seductive passion as she claims ownership with her tongue, overtaking every bit of hesitation and apprehension in your soul and planting a seed of raw, unfiltered lust in the empty void.

Your excitement is evident, something hard is pressed against her thigh.

"Is it just a big camera down there, Mr. Photographer?" A tsk-tsk leaves Kazuha's lips, those dirty, dirty, beautiful lips, and that haughty smile plastered on her face while her fingers nimbly undo your pants. "Naughty, naughty Mr. Photographer!" Kazuha hums the words into your ear, tickling you, making your skin shiver in delight and electrifying you from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

Her lips are on your neck, her hand is wrapped around your cock. It's all too much—this sexy, gorgeous, brilliant, sensual woman, taking everything with the same enthusiasm and conviction that she'd do in a song and a dance.

Each kiss on your body feels like the brush of the lips of an angel, her hands roaming your body, a subtle hint of her sharp, immaculate nails, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin.

She leaves you panting, a broken record of sighs and low moans until she releases your erection.

"Take off my pants for me Mr. Photographer."

Her words are quiet, her tone more husky than anything else, a hint of arrogance and self-indulgence. A direct command with no room for disobedience. Her back is against the wall, her hips jutted out for easy access— the baggy jeans easily fall off her legs, revealing her toned dancer's physique. Her thick thighs flexing in anticipation, the matching Calvin Klein panties the only obstacle standing in between you and heaven.

Her sexiness is something else, the shapely, sinful outline of her ass, the swell of her curves—that v-line is a mouthwatering treat, teasing with the prospect of a delight waiting to be explored. Everything on Kazuha is toned and breathtaking.

There is no thought, no plan. Pure primal instinct urges you forward, kneeling to run your tongue along that delicious path leading straight down to heaven and bliss and everything you could possibly desire. Your lips press against her stomach, her coy smile grows as you kneel before her, fingers in her elastic waistband, pulling and dragging it down.

Inch by inch, her lower half comes into view and you can't contain yourself any longer.

"Fuck..." the curse slips from you, involuntarily and inevitable, and the sight in front of you is breathtaking: her pussy is absolutely perfect, full and engorged, aching for touch, drooling in obvious desire.

Teasing kisses are planted on the inside of her thighs, inching closer and closer. She gives a slight groan. That sweet taste of victory. Lips upon lips. Tongue against slit. Kazuha is an impatient one, her hands cradling your head, locking you into position, the silky lips rubbing against yours. The roughness with which her hips move excites you, how desperately she pushes her crotch against your mouth. She's not shy at all, each and every movement bold and intentional, greedy and ravenous, entirely unlike her demure, innocent persona.

It's hard not to enjoy this, enjoying her unbridled desire—getting suffocated by her muscular thighs squeezing the sides of your face, her cunt grinding against you, leaving her delicious nectar all over your lips and chin. The more she pushes, the more she suffocates, the more excited and aroused you become, fingers sinking into the flesh of her thighs. It is as if your life depended on tasting her juices, that tart ambrosia from this sultry dancer and songstress, an aphrodisiac you'll never tire of.

Kazuha puts a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle those wanton sounds but failing to completely hide those telltale grunts and moans—her toes curling just another sign. The closer she gets, the tighter her thighs squeeze and... Fuck. If you're gonna die, this is probably the best way to go.

Kazuha shudders in ecstasy, a full body spasm while a cry of pleasure slips free from those luscious pink lips. It's too tempting not to explore her with your fingers as well, the little nub throbbing and aching for stimulation, eagerly twitching whenever your fingers circle it. There is a wild and untamed ferocity to the way Kazuha's legs instinctively curl and flex, writhing in unhindered bliss.

She leans back, pushing more weight into her back, holding herself up on shaking legs and heavy breaths. A sense of victory floods you. She was putty in your hands, her beautiful legs shaking and knees wobbling. Your pride swelled—to have the otherwise impeccably poised songstress a shivering mess.

"That... Was..." Kazuha struggles to talk, the red on her cheeks running down her chest and spreading down her heaving abs. "...Fucking amazing," she pants, her adorable smile permanently fixed on her beautiful face, lips parted just slightly.

Fuck.

Absolutely beautiful.

Her appearance is entrancing. Those warm, dark brown eyes with a sly, playful expression. Plush pink lips pulled into a sultry smirk, teasing, as her hair cascades behind her shoulders. Kazuha pulls you back up, staring you directly in the eye, full of sensual promise.

"I think you deserve a reward, Mr. Photographer," Kazuha says between languid strokes of your cock. Those talented fingers tease you, squeezing and pumping with precision, hitting every one of your buttons, a cocky, knowing glint in her eyes. You're not one to stand idly by, reaching for her sides, massaging her hips and brushing along her waist.

This is not a slow and drawn-out affair. Every touch between the two of you is desperate and fiery, full of passion and an intense need to feel more and more—needing to satisfy your hunger. Her arms reach above her head and you finally toss away that pesky sports bra. Perky nipples beg to be teased and kissed.

You give her pecs a light lick before blowing cool air onto her sensitive, pointed peak. She mewls in response. Each tug on her nipple accompanied by a sultry cry from Kazuha. She's trapped, sandwiched between the wall behind her and your body, held hostage by pleasure. But one simple phrase and she takes back all control.

"Fuck me."

Two simple words. The most beautiful ones. Commanding and fierce. Kazuha doesn't beg. Kazuha doesn't ask. There's no softness in her tone, she knows what she wants and there will be no deterring her. The tip of your hard, aching cock slides across Kazuha's slick folds, smearing her juices, gliding up and down as your shaft teases her clit.

It takes all your willpower to hold back, you want this to last forever. A huge part of you doesn't believe this is actually happening and that this is all just a fever dream. But when your tip first enters her wet, hot heat, nothing feels more real and certain. There's tight, and there's this—Kazuha a woman who spends hours working out her core and performing exhaustive dance routines every single day. There's nothing tighter or better than this goddess's cunt.

Every single movement is an explosion of sensations: her inner muscles flexing and squeezing, gripping, the sensual gyrations of her hips, the shallow thrusting—this is pure perfection. Your head spins, drunk from the desire, the high of fucking this diva, being enticed by every subtle thing about Kazuha and all of it's pure insanity, almost terrifying and too unreal. You lean in, pressing against her body and giving yourself up to her.

It's a paradise that no mortal should ever be worthy of entering. That is what her cunt feels like: Heaven's gates. Something out of this world. It's like all the blood is leaving your head. That carnal desire that's been built up is now set loose in this debauchery, your primal urges taking over.

Fuck the consequences.

Nothing matters right now but this.

Each thrust into Kazuha elicits a cute, soft moan, her tongue hanging loosely from her lips and her eyes fluttered shut in bliss. Her nails dig into your back, the painful searing feeling mixes perfectly with the sweet pleasure coursing through your body. There's no gentleness or love, nothing other than lust and passion. Flesh against flesh.

Kazuha pushes you back, a naughty expression painted all over her face, pupils wide and tongue licking her lips.

"Wanna see a trick?"

There's no time to respond, her leg lifted into the air, showing off her flexibility and resting on your shoulder. This angle is unreal. You have no idea how she manages to keep her balance, especially when it allows you to slide even deeper into her cunt. The change is striking and her hands clasp over her mouth, failing to stifle a long, loud moan.

It's as impressive as it is erotic, using her ballet skills as a sexual advantage. Each pump in is pure pleasure, so hot and wet, you're drowning in her. Her walls clench and squeeze around your cock, as if she can't bear to let it leave, unwilling to relinquish your presence from her cunt.

"You're making me-" her words are cut off, Kazuha biting down hard on your shoulder in her attempt to stop the cry of passion. A hand wraps around her ankle, gripping her leg, hoisting her a little higher for even deeper thrusts. Her thighs and legs flex, locking you into place, keeping you there as she throws her head back in pleasure.

Kazuha bursts. For the second time. Shivering. Gasping. Pulsating. As if her pussy can't decide what's the best way to please the cock inside of her, an infuriating tightness and gyration around you.

Her leg leaves your shoulder, her whole body leaning against you as Kazuha's tired, labored breathing fans the back of your ear.

"That was quite the trick." Kazuha giggles at your lame attempt at a joke, pressing her finger against your lips.

"Did I say I was finished?"

Of all the things you should have expected after all the salacious behavior she exhibited during her first two orgasms, you really don't know why you should have expected anything less than what she did next: wrapping her arms around your neck and her legs around your waist.

Her forehead leans against yours, your tandem breaths sync up, and the calmness lasts for maybe a second before Kazuha presses a small peck against your mouth. She grinds down and starts working against your lap, her pussy bobbing up and down the hardness of your cock. You're carrying her weight now, Kazuha lifting herself up, then letting gravity guide her hips downwards to fully seat your dick.

Your fingers sink into her tight ass. She rides you, no break, not pausing once in her movements, sheathing herself repeatedly onto your girth. She's fucking you—every pent up frustration in living an idol's life is now being released into that. It dawns on you that in no moment were you ever in control, Kazuha stole every bit of agency from you.

Even so, your hips are locked in place.

Even as the room smells of sex and you're completely ensnared in a tangle of limbs. The loud clapping of flesh on flesh ringing in your ears—every bit of this situation is screaming irresponsibility and wrong. To fuck an idol whose star is on the rise would spell an end for a promising career. And yet Kazuha never fails to get her way, it's undeniably clear the moment that devious smile spreads across her face and the heated sparkles light up in her eyes, this vixen is determined to have what she wants.

Everything is burning up—your loins are on fire, Kazuha's steamy hot insides are the match.

"How do I feel, Mr. Photographer?" The sweetest, honeyed voice but with the devil's timbre. Kazuha fucks the words out of you, and your mouth feels so dry—you can't find the will or ability to speak as Kazuha smiles triumphantly.

Your life flashes before your very eyes. The decisions, the events—everything leading up until this very moment where you found yourself impossibly entangled in a gorgeous superstar, unable to get free from this spell. Everything culminates. From the time you were told you'd be working with her. From her flirty looks during the shoot.

Your hour of recess turned into this wild, irresponsible, crazy scenario. A lustful mess, as evidenced by the slick sheen that's collected around Kazuha's tight hole, glistening in the pale light. The tiniest twitches of her face, the furrowing of her brow—she's getting close again.

A handful of violent bounces is all she needed. With a stilted, violent scream and her pussy choking and gushing all over your thick rod. Everything's too hot and your toes begin curling and you can't stop fucking her, holding her perfect round ass, you start thrusting upwards—into her oversensitive cunt.

Kazuha squeals and it's too late to stop now, the sound of her pitiful cries as her body jerks and trembles and shakes—you're cumming together, perfectly synced in this debauchery. Her cunt squeezes the orgasm out of you. All over her walls. Flooding her insides, the warmth spilling out and dripping down and marking the both of you in the naughtiness of this exchange.

She collapses in your embrace, slumping against your chest and struggling to hold herself up. Both her feet rest on the ground, and the exhaustion is evident on her face—heaving breathlessly with a bright, brilliant smile as her knees threaten to give out beneath her.

Kazuha doesn't say anything, not a word, but she's glowing—unable to wipe that gorgeous grin off her face. There's no sign of regret either, or any hint of shame or guilt. No trace of anything but unbridled happiness and pure, raw satisfaction. A mischievous, perverse happiness that a woman in her profession shouldn't exude, not with the career waiting ahead of her.

A knock on the door. Shit. It's already been an hour?! There's a short pause, and she's pressing her finger to her lips, giggling quietly while giving a cheeky wink and getting herself dressed.

"I'll be right out." You yell at the door, sounding a bit winded as the thoughts come to you. It's easy to zip up, put away, and readjust yourself but there is absolutely no way you can cover up the smell, an obvious pungent musk that'd have anyone wrinkling their nose, the smell of hot, sweaty sex.

Kazuha winks at you and struts towards the door. A deep inhale, and the moment the door opens a whoosh of cool air clears out the fog from the past hour's festivities. "Make me look good out there Mr. Photographer," and in the span of an eye-blink, the façade she's made her identity, Kazuha's the innocent, sweet idol once again, her perverted desires and lustful yearning hidden under a veil of composure and modesty...

[joocomics]

DOUBLE TAKE

02 ⋮ off script

MASTERLIST || NEXT

pairing: rockstar!junhan x fem!reader x supermodel!jooyeon

genre: slice of life ( 18+ ) ── 1.2k words

your friend’s rock band books the coffee shop you work at for a day to shoot their new music video. at first glance, everything is going well until the line between story and reality begins to blur

✎… kissing for the cameras

( xdh masterlist )

It’s definitely something... suddenly turning from background noise to a main character.

... because Jooyeon saw something in you.

This is his idea - to kiss you instead of following the original script where he’s tangled up with the hired actress.

One moment you were just the girl behind the counter, and now, you’re the sweet waitress caught in the centre of the main events.

Jooyeon stands inches away with gaze locked onto you like he was meant to do this with you from the start.

You shift your weight against the counter, heart pounding as he steps closer.

“Just follow my lead,” He murmurs so low that only you can hear him.

You nod once, barely trusting yourself to even breathe. With so many lights and cameras around you, every small movement you make, has you feeling like it could be a wrong one.

The director’s voice rings throughout the room, pulling you out of your thoughts. Action!

Jooyeon doesn’t hesitate.

He erases the space between you and his hands find your waist - a confident, delibarate grasp. He cages you against the counter, barely giving you time to react before his lips crash against yours.

For a second, they remain pressed, soft and sweet, but then just as your breath catches, he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

There’s no escaping it - the heat that floods through you. Especially as his grip tightens on your hips as it seems he’s getting effortlessly caught up into the moment.

Just like you are.

Everyone can see it in your hands that lift to his chest, clenching at his jacket like it’s the only thing that could keep you staying composed; like it’s the only thing reminding you this is just a scene.

And then, just when you’re about to forget about the line between what’s real and not... your feet leave the floor.

Suddenly, you’re perched on the counter while Jooyeon settles between your legs, pressing closer. The quiet gasp that escapes you has his lips twitching in a smug smile before he kisses you again.

The shift in the energy inside the room doesn’t go unnoticed - a collective murmuring spreads behind the cameras, but you can’t process any of it.

This is better, they say. This is good.

One of Jooyeon’s hands slides up your back, his fingers go into your hair to tilt your head just right so he can catch his breath by tracing lips against the side of your neck.

At this point, your mind turns completely blank when it comes to everything except the feel of his touch; his warm breathing, and the scent of his cologne.

The crew, the cameras, the flashing lights focused upon you - all of it fades.

Unrehersed, you grasp his hand, the one resting on your thigh, and guide it up your heated body. The skin beneath your clothes gets electrified as his fingers crawl up your stomach, briefly ghost over your chest only to stop around your neck - teasing and waiting for his mouth to detach so he can tug your bottom lip, creating space for his tongue.

Right on cue - the bathroom door slams open.

The entire set freezes in anticipation as Junhan steps into the frame. His shoulders are tense just like his lips.

Jooyeon doesn’t pull away immediately nor completely. His hands are still on your body; you can still feel his warm pants on your face even after he turns in his friend’s direction.

You realise you’re still holding onto his arm. Without looking away, you let go, peering into the bright flame in Junhan’s eyes.

He’s playing his part - the role of the lover witnessing his worst nightmare; his worst betrayal.

Maintaining the cold expression, he cuts the distance between you with few measured steps. Once he reaches the counter and Jooyeon jerks backwards, the camera man shouts excitedly, putting an end to the scene.

The crew congratulates the three of you; one of them teases Junhan, saying that for a moment they really thought he’s about to punch Jooyeon in the face.

As they chatter, you use the opportunity to pull back and collect yourself; to let your heart normalise its speed.

Only to feel it jump as a familiar teasing voise spreads behind you.

“Not bad,” Jooyeon murmurs discreetly as he walks past you.

You find the small bathroom near the back of the coffee shop and quietly shut the door behind you.

You glance at yourself in the mirror. Your lipstick is a little smudged, not enough to ruin the look, just enough to hint at the intensity of Jooyeon’s kiss. Your cheeks still carry the flush of adrenaline when you bring your hands up to touch them.

But that’s not what keeps you staring. It’s something very subtle in your expression that makes you feel... new.

And that’s when you realise it - you finally did it.

You stepped out of your life for a moment and slipped into something unknown, something unpredictable. And even though you’re back, something inside you hasn’t fully returned. Or maybe something from that new world has stuck with you, making it seem like you’re missing something, but it’s actually the opposite - you gained something.

You can feel it, it’s still fluttering in your chest. You just have to get more familiar with it.

You don’t know what exactly cracked open inside you yet. But you kind of like it.

When you return, the crew is adjusting lights in the middle of the chaos. Junhan is sat on top of the counter, aimlessly plucking at the strings of his guitar with Jooyeon standing nearby. Both of them have changed into new outfits for the next scene.

Jooyeon’s eyes shift, tracking your presence - only for a second before they flick back to the drummer of Junhan’s band.

“You guys should throw a wrap party.”

“We’re not even done shooting yet.” Junhan glances at him as you step closer. “And you’re already talking about drinking.”

“Exactly,” Jooyeon responds, keeping his hands busy with a bottle of water, “give people something to motivate them.”

“Just say you want a party.”

“That’s a good idea!” Another band member joins after he spots you in the circle. “What if we throw the party here?”

Junhan eyes the guy.

“Seriously? She already let us take over her entire shift, we’re not doing that.”

“I don’t mind it,” you shrug, speaking up before he puts an end to the whole idea. “I’ll talk to my boss if we can have the place on Sunday.”

Jooyeon flashes you a quick grin.

“I fly to Paris next week so Sunday works perfectly for me.”

The group breaks into laughter and excited chatter. They already start passing ideas on who’s bringing what, who’s going to have control over the playlist… It’s decided.

You find yourself smiling too - until a small, unsettling knot forms in your stomach as Junhan slides off the counter without saying a word.

He didn’t say anything while you were speaking. He also didn’t say anything when the guys began cheering.

You catch him nod at something one of the crew members says before silently disappearing into the chaos behind you.

It’s like you weren’t even there in the first place.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

♡ taglist: @sweet-dreaming-girl @zelinkcrossing @bahng-chrizz @candlelitvamp

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Simon "Ghost" Riley w/ a Tall S/O

Warnings: Fluff, Implied Smut, Dominant Simon, Body Worship, Angst, Insecurity, Reassurance, Hurt/Comfort, Profanity, No Pronouns Used for Reader Except ‘You’.

It doesn’t matter if you’re even a centimeter smaller than Ghost; he’s going to call you every stout nickname under the sun.

‘Shorty’, ‘Shawty’, ‘Tiny Smalls’, ‘Little One’ – anything that comes to his mind.

If you’re taller than him, that changes nothing.

You’re still his little bean and he’ll treat you as such.

Throws you over his shoulder at any and every convenience (and inconvenience), claiming that he’s “Whisking you away.”

Usually to the bedroom.

If you even try to think about telling him that you’re insecure because of your height, Simon shuts that down immediately.

“Oh no, Love,” he says, voice dropping, eyes half-lidded. “You don’t get to feel anything unless I tell you to.”

He brings a hand to your chin, grips it between his fingers. Makes you look at him.

“Or do I need to remind you?”

Simon uses sex as a means of showing you how much he loves you; making you feel less insecure is a core aspect of his mission.

He doesn’t stop until your body’s shaking and you’re in tears, euphoria electrifying your every cell, until you believe all the ‘I love you’s and ‘You’re perfect’s he whispers into your ear.

He knows that just because you’re tall doesn’t mean you want to be a top.

If you do, he’ll let you, of course. Actively encourage it if you so desire.

But, regardless of your size, he’s still in charge. And he makes sure you know that.

He uses his strength to keep you pinned down while he destroys you, all the while telling you how beautiful you are, how he couldn’t ask for a more wonderful partner, how lucky he is to have met you.

Simon knows how difficult it can be to walk into a room and be the tallest person there, especially given how broad his frame is. The feeling of eyes on you is a heavy burden; he knows that more than most.

He always makes an effort to whisper in your ear if you catch anyone staring at you that “They’re just jealous because you look fuckin’ stellar in those jeans.”

Please wear tight-fitting clothes around him; they send him absolutely feral!!!

Your outline just does something to him that nobody else has managed to achieve before.

He knows you like to wear his clothes so he has some of his hoodies, pants and shirts set aside for you to wear whenever you please. He knows they’re more likely to fit and it’s a lot more convenient for you than having to visit three continents and a hundred stores trying to find clothes tailored to your size.

He becomes absolutely insatiable when you wear his clothes btw. He’s such a menace.

He’ll be all over you, telling you how gorgeous your thighs look peeking out from under his shirt you’re wearing.

P O S S E S S I V E.

He has a habit of body worshiping you. It comes naturally to him just as breathing does.

He just can’t help it; you send him absolutely insane with your body proportions.

It doesn’t matter to Simon one bit if you have short legs and a longer torso, or if you don’t match the image of the average supermodel with legs that you could drive a car along. Hell, it doesn’t matter if you do match the image of a supermodel; your body is perfect.

And the quickest way to a lesson in self-love is to let Simon know you need it.

And he’s not one to say no.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[giveafike]

TUMBLR WRAPPED 2024!

hi!

did i scare you? unexpected post, huh? I wanted to have something fun to wrap up the year before we move on so I thought, why not a "wrapped"?

Keeping it short & sweet with some insights too + i luv statistics and seeing patterns, so this is always super interesting to me. Without further ado, here's our wrapped together!

Stats Recap (nerd stuff):

As of 10/12/2024, I have 106 posts. 21 of those are actual fics, meaning almost 1/5th of my posts are works.

The rest is yapping - need to stfu got it! noted!

I received 1,901 notes and 149 followers.

You people are INSANE!!! I have a more emotional post due for New Year's but truly, that is wild, wild work. I'll save the tears and heartfelt stuff for that one, but I want you to know how eternally grateful I am for all of you. Being encouraged by you guys is not just inspiring—it’s addicting, electrifying, and everything in between.

Thank u for the outpouring love.

Inbox Recap (what to look for in 2025?):

Hold ur horses, there's gonna be a lot to write and get through! Thank you for requesting and trusting me to make your ideas come true, I hope to do 'em justice.

Here's a little "reading" so to speak (I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING SO DON'T START @ ING ME):

Dominic Fike/Elliot:

sensing an alarming amount of unrest and horn*ness over here. Sensing two posts, both for elliot....smth smth... NSFW... something to do with Nate as well, joining....? Nate and NSFW has the same about of letters too, not a coincidence!!! Also sensing a blurb with a massively underrated song. u btches ab to pmo, why don't we listen to Açaí Bowl more as a collective get the streams up omfg- sorry got sidetracked. that's ab all I can say.

Jude Bellingham:

Pretending to be shocked when I say: more smut requests? Oh brother. But one's very sweet and cute and respectful awww-- SIZE K*NK? oh gosh guys um..the only way I can describe this one is...desperate smut. Anon... cmon now. I would say more, but anon owned up to it saying "This is a long and sick request but I believe you are the only writer on here that can bring this to life ���😭" which makes me giggle so FINE i'll let it slide, I'll try to do as best as I can (luv u don't u worry I got ideas brewing)

Ben Shelton:

phew. lot of nsfw. like a lot. like a crazy amount. Talking ab that damn car (I'm gonna do smth DRASTIC to that fkin car if he posts w it one more time) talking ab being a munch, ab a supermodel, talking ab scratches, talking ab laver cup (THROWBACK!), about ben showing off.... it's getting hot under the collar, oh gosh. Ahem. We have some sweet fluff ones too! including reader getting insecure/jelly. Ben being irrational, one about....homesickness? a LOT of pregnancy asks. like A LOT. SHELTON NATION DON'T GET KNOCKED UP. PLEASE. One I'm very excited to write, Ben x a certain Doja song...heheheheehehe oh and also, Ben and a 'knock-on effect' w his precious little car, ykwim? no? you'll find out. shush. A very exciting story ahead, the first one with NSFW incorporated - thank u 'D' for the prompt!! Also, I finally got my hands on them tiktok editors and I've made a promise or two to do something w their works.....catch my drift? you'll see soon. Special little hints as to who: victim no 1 and victim no 2 🙂‍↕️😝😙🥰

Post Recap (what went on the billboard charts for u?):

IN 6TH PLACE:

At 85 notes each, we have a tie between "Yours" and "Come Here". Both Ben posts, one SFW the other NSFW. Writing "Yours" was super fun, writing jealous/possessive and sassy Ben kills me laughing, IJBOL and writing Carlitos too? SO funny (wonder how that'd go down differently since we saw them being bff besties at Garden Cup) - Possessive Ben is a guilty pleasure, hehehe. Writing "Come Here" was really interesting since it was my first NSFW of Ben. Also based off of my fave Dom Fike song that's just as h*rny. Thigh riding being my FIRST one off the dome is lwky crazy lmao. Sometimes, I wish I could write more in my NSFW posts, i feel a bit insecure in my NSFW writing? I believe in quality>quantity in fics always, but I hate how short mine are for NSFW posts...sigh. Maybe I should build up the tension more? Go deeper (no pun intended)? you let me know, that would be incredibly insightful!!

IN 5TH PLACE:

At 93 notes, we have my baby, "Shattered"!!! "Shattered" ended up becoming a mini-passion project for me (clearly). What was meant to be a mid-sized blurb ended up progressing to 10k words - how that happened is beyond me. Everytime I thought I was done and ready to close up and conclude, there'd be another part, another bit that I'd want to add. It even got to a point where I'd be on my bus home from work or college, almost falling asleep when I'd get woken up with more inspo, lol. It was my first time writing angst in a very, very, very long time but looking back now, I really truly enjoyed it and I'm quite proud of it! Maybe more angst reqs in my future? I’m leaning towards YES

IN 4TH PLACE:

At 102 notes, we have the "NSFW Alphabet with Ben" - you people are so horny omg. This was the first EVER NSFW thing written about Ben from me. And honestly? my least fave hahahahaa. I deadass have this blocked out of my memory, like I haven't gone back to read it after I posted it. I feel like I'd read it and cringe, or disagree w it or be like "erm acshully ....that's not canon" it prob needs to be redo - I'd never hate any of my children but I'm just saying if this one went missing, idgaf. If you want a crazy NSFW reading thats prob more accurate than anything, check this reading out. Feral, bye.

IJBOL what in the equality is my top 3 posts- I MEAN, here's the top 3 that you people ate tf up!

IN 3RD PLACE:

At 142 notes, we have the "When it Rains, it Pours" - smut always wins here huh? My 2nd fic post! This is a whole nasty NSFW post w Elliot from Euphoria (aka Dominic Fike) mixed with friends w benefits, rain noises, a homemade fort and w**d! Amazing trio imo. Literally as I'm writing this, I just got another like for that freaky ass blurb. As much as I'm excited to write more Dom/Elliot stuff, ALL OF YOU PEOPLE ARE SOOO HORNY? LIKE EVERY SINGLE INBOX REQ IS SMUT? EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. Idk how many times I can reinvent the wheel, so to speak, but I'll sure as hell try....hehehe

IN 2ND PLACE:

At 143 notes, we have "Game, Set, Match" part 1 - Ben Shelton. AWWWW MY BABY, MY LOVECHILD! This was the first ever STORY and I'm so glad it became a 3 part story too. Triple Platinum, I know that's right!!! I really loved making this, I didn’t plan to add the Instagram element, especially since I’m usually terrible at fake IG fic stuff (finding the right images is so limiting). But for GSM, it just felt right. I think my writing has improved a lot since then, too. I always laugh at my Ben posts because my A.Ns are always like "oh brother a LONG ONE HERE" and then my next post is even longer 😭 Thank u fr for the love on this one, because THAT'S when I really got a whole lottaaa support and love and it rly blew me out of the water, I could cry.

And finally....IN 1ST PLACE:

At 147 notes, it's no surprise that we have the "Waves", a Jude Bellingham blurb.

No surprises here, it was meant to be. I say that because I had this ask sitting in my inbox and decided to do a poll asking what I should post first - after tagging all the tags, I should've known it'd be crazily ratio'd by the Jude community on here, hahahhaha. I think it was something like 80% for Jude and the rest scattered throughout? This was my first ever Jude blurb, and I think it'll be one of many. I have a couple in my inbox but the future is there for me and writing about that silly guy.

Final words:

Was that as interesting for you as it was for me? I've been meaning to talk and reflect to u all inbetween the whole "Advent Calendar" series.

If anything, these stats tell me more about you guys, what you want to see and how I should continue going forward. I always want to write about things that matter the most and stick with you, fics that have you coming back to reread and enjoy.

Having representation in my characters and creating a world where you can sink into time and again is one of the best and only things I can give, so you bet by all means neccessary I don't want to half-ass it.

I might not know where your headspace is at, or what's going on in your life but I hope whatever happens, I can have a little space right here, make you laugh, smile and feel things that take your mind off of reality. At least until you finish reading.

As for the rest of the year, I still have my finals and work this weekend and as the season comes closer, I'd like to spend it with my loved ones while I still can :) The "Advent Calendar" will continue as per scheduled!

I hope to write some more before NYE comes round but we'll see. It's never a burden to write, it's always a destresser, but you bet I'll be enjoying company with family and friends too. That's all I've got for 2024, I can't wait to continue creating silly little imaginary situations in 2025 <3

- lots of love,

azzie.

[blubberymuses]

Elesa tries on her classic outfit after a while.. Unfortunately uh..

Leggins rip.. The dress and black lines are just buried under rolls.. And she looks barely decent.. But hey! You can't beat the classics you know? ~

"Shuch a-" SHRRRRIPPPP! "shame Ih li-" RRRRRRIPP! "liked thish one.." The electrifying supermodel would mope for a second, reminiscing fondly on how these clothes from only two years ago used to fit her personality so well... Now her puffy jacket represents how inflated she's gotten due to addicting, greasy American cuisine~

[es46]

Airplaneshipping Prompt: Injury

Fair warning, contains a lot of angst + hurt/comfort on account of aftermath of injury. - "She was so beautiful." How often the line came up once the initial shock and horror of the accident had worn off. Elesa had seen it in every news report, every tabloid, every article. It was always delivered in the same way; the shallow pity for a true beauty stripped of her appeal before her time. Nothing else could have emphasized the tragedy of her situation more, it seemed, than having people lament how she was no longer so pristine. So lovely. So beautiful. Elesa still sees it whenever someone bothers to speak of Nimbasa's former gym leader and supermodel. People sigh, look off into the distance, talk of how beautiful Elesa had looked in dazzling dresses, inspiring the masses with her electrifying vision. Not for long, mind. They soon talk of the new models, the replacements, the next in line for Nimbasa's crown. After all, Elesa wasn't beautiful anymore, and what wasn't beautiful wasn't worth Nimbasa's time. Elesa turns off the TV, a tear trailing down from her left eye, before looking out the window. The sun's shining, and she can hear the songs of bird Pokemon through her left ear. It's of no comfort to her. Just more reminders of what she's lost. "She was so beautiful." She remembers the accident as clear as day. Dreams of it, nightmares twisting her mind, leaving her waking up in a sweat, sometimes sobbing, sometimes screaming. That day, on the stage, where lights and music and dancing transformed into horror. No-one could see why the spotlights above had come free of their harnesses. They told her afterwards that she was lucky to be alive; a metre to the left and she would have simply been crushed. Some days she thinks that would have been better. Better a quick end than this broken shell of her life. Still feeling the phantom pain of metal and electrified wires tearing into her. The right side of Elesa's face, her torso, her arm, still bear the sharp red scars, lines of burns seared into her skin like lightning. Her right eye, blank and blind. Her right ear, seared and unhearing. She needs an advanced prothestic brace just to move her arm, her fingers. Her lips twisted down on side, much of her hair scorched away. Every time Elesa looks into the mirror, she sees only the scarred remnants of everything she once adored and aspired to. "She was so beautiful." She slumps down from the couch, her unscarred hand clenching her hairs as tears fell faster from her unscarred eye. Every day, another reminder. Every day, another lesson; the cheering crowds had only ever cared so long as she was pretty. Unblemished, untarnished, perfection. They don't care anymore. But amidst her agony, a new sound. The distant rumble of familiar engines. Elesa scrambles to her feet, flinching as her scarred arm protests heaving her up. She runs to the door, flings it open. Overheard, she catches a glimpse of a plane descending. Her heart racing, her lungs already heaving with painful breaths, Elesa races towards the airport. The plane's on the runway when she arrives, and it's the woman sliding out of the cockpit who Elesa fixates on. Skyla turns, red hair fiery in the sunlight, her blue eyes and smile radiant. She was so beautiful. "She was so beautiful." Elesa knows she's still crying, but she doesn't care. She runs to Skyla, takes her in her arms, and without hesitiation her lips are on hers. There's less feeling in her lips now, but what remains tingles in warm happiness. They pull apart, and Skyla looks at her so lovingly.. There's no pity. No lamentation. No care at all that Elesa is no longer pristine. Her touch is gentle as she brushes over scarred skin, chasing away the phantom pains. Her dedication is meaningful, checking Elesa's brace and hearing aids. Skyla's every motion was tender and accommodating. Finally, she wipes the tears from Elesa's unscarred eye and whispers to her, telling her what makes her heart stutter and her resolve return as only Skyla can. "You're so beautiful."

[justkarliekloss]

SHOWstudio: Happy Birthday @karliekloss! 🎆

The statuesque supermodel showed off her rockabilly side in the fashion film Mean Streets, directed by @nick_knight. Shot for the March 2011 issue of British Vogue, the electrifying flick sees Kloss in the best looks of the season from Chanel, Miu Miu and more.

[vapeshop4567]

Dab Rigs: Unlocking the Thrilling World of Cannabis Concentration

Hey there, you adventurous cannabis aficionados! Buckle up because we're about to blast off into the electrifying universe of dab rigs. If you've been yearning to crank up the intensity of your cannabis escapades, especially when it comes to indulging in those power-packed concentrates like wax, shatter, or oil, well, you've hit the jackpot with this guide. Whether you're a wide-eyed newbie, just tiptoeing into the wild world of concentrated cannabis, or a battle-hardened veteran on the lookout for the next mind-blowing gadget, getting the lowdown on dab rigs is an absolute must. Let's not waste another second and plunge straight into the thick of it, exploring their action-packed history, dissecting the super cool components that make them hum, ogling the diverse array of styles, and mastering the art of using them like a total rockstar.

The Heart-Pounding History of Dab Rigs: A Wild Ride Through Innovation

Picture this: not so long ago, joints and pipes were the kings of the cannabis consumption kingdom. But then, BAM! Out of nowhere in the early 2010s, cannabis concentrates stormed onto the scene, flexing their insane potency and mind-bending flavor profiles. It was like a bolt of lightning hitting the cannabis community – the old-school smoking gear was left in the dust, completely outmatched. That's when the fearless innovators within the cannabis clan rolled up their sleeves and cooked up dab rigs. They took a page from the classic water pipe playbook but gave it a turbocharged makeover, customizing it to tame and unleash the full potential of those potent concentrates. Since then, it's been a non-stop rollercoaster of evolution. Designers and manufacturers have been locked in a fierce battle, constantly one-upping each other, churning out rigs that are not just more badass in terms of function but also downright eye-catching in style. It's like a high-stakes game of “Who can make the coolest dab rig?” and we, the consumers, are reaping all the epic rewards.

The Jaw-Dropping Components of a Dab Rig: The Dream Team of Dabbing

The Rig Body: This is the beating heart and stylish exterior of the dab rig. Glass bodies? They're like the supermodels of the dabbing world – sleek, elegant, and ensuring your concentrate's flavor shines through crystal clear, untouched by any unwanted interference. Then there's silicone, the tough-as-nails bodyguard that can take a licking and keep on ticking. Drop it, bump it, no problem – it'll bounce back ready for action.

The Nail: Oh boy, the nail is where the real pyrotechnics happen! It's the sizzling hot stage where your concentrate transforms into a glorious cloud of vapor. Quartz nails are the undisputed champs here – they're like heat sponges, soaking up and holding onto that warmth, dishing out vapor that's as pure as freshly fallen snow. Titanium nails? They're the speed demons, heating up faster than you can blink, but watch out – if you're not careful, they might leave a faint metallic aftertaste. Ceramic nails, on the other hand, are the maestros of even heat distribution, guaranteeing a smooth and consistent vaping fiesta.

The Carb Cap: Think of this as the air traffic controller of your dabbing runway. It's the wizard that commands and corrals the airflow over the searing-hot concentrate, making sure every puff of vapor goes exactly where it's supposed to. With a carb cap in your arsenal, you've got the power to fine-tune your dabbing symphony and extract maximum enjoyment from each dab. They come in all shapes and sizes, crafted from an eclectic mix of materials – glass for that classy touch, silicone for durability, and metal for a bit of industrial edge.

The Downstem: This unassuming hero is the vital connector that bridges the nail to the water chamber. It's like a secret underground tunnel for vapor, whisking it away to get cooled and filtered. You can tweak the length and diameter of the downstem, and just like that, you're customizing the performance of your rig, tailoring it to your exact vaping preferences.

The Water Chamber: Fill this baby up with water, and it's like creating a magical oasis for vapor. It's the cooling sanctuary that tames the wild, hot vapor, transforming it into a smooth, mellow stream that caresses your throat on inhalation. The size and shape of this chamber? They're not just random design choices – they're the keys that unlock different vaping experiences, from a quick, punchy hit to a long, luxurious draw.

The Mind-Boggling Types of Dab Rigs: Which One Will Steal Your Heart?

Traditional Glass Dab Rigs: These are the timeless legends, the OG dabbing heroes that have stood the test of time. Each one is a unique work of art, painstakingly handcrafted by master glassblowers. You've got the no-nonsense straight tube rigs – simple, easy to clean, and perfect for those just dipping their toes in. Then there's the beaker rigs, looking like they've stepped straight out of a mad scientist's lab with their wide, stable bases, oozing an air of scientific cool. And don't even get me started on the recycler rigs – they're engineering marvels, recycling water and vapor in a dizzying dance of efficiency, delivering a vaping experience that'll leave you weak at the knees.

Silicone Dab Rigs: If you're a globetrotting cannabis connoisseur or a bit of a clumsy daredevil, these are your trusty sidekicks. Silicone rigs are as flexible as a contortionist and tough as a tank. Toss them in your backpack, take them on wild adventures – they'll survive any bumps and bruises along the way. Cleaning them is a piece of cake too – just disassemble and give them a good scrub with soap and water. Sure, some purists might gripe that they lack the delicate flavor finesse of glass, but they more than make up for it with their unbeatable durability and portability.

Electric Dab Rigs: For all you tech geeks and convenience seekers out there, electric dab rigs are the future you've been waiting for. These bad boys are armed with state-of-the-art built-in heating elements that you can control with the tap of a finger. No more wrestling with torches, dodging flames, or risking singed eyebrows. They're the perfect gateway drug (pun intended) for newbies looking to ease into the wild world of dabbing without breaking a sweat.

Mini Dab Rigs: When stealth and compact power are the name of the game, mini dab rigs step up to the plate. These pint-sized powerhouses might be small in stature, but they pack a wallop. Ideal for sneaking in a quick dab on the sly or when space is at a premium, they prove that good things really do come in small packages.

How to Rock a Dab Rig Like a Pro: Your Step-by-Step Playbook

Rig Prep: Setting the Stage for Dabbing Greatness Fill that water chamber with some crystal-clear, filtered water – it's like laying down a smooth runway for vapor. Double-check that the downstem and nail are snugly in place and squeaky clean. If it's a shiny new nail, give it a little preheat ritual to get it primed and ready for the main event.

Nail Heating: Igniting the Firestorm Got a traditional rig and a torch? Hold that torch steady, about an inch or two from the nail, and let the flames do their work. It usually takes 30 to 60 seconds to reach the sweet spot, depending on the nail's pedigree and the torch's muscle. With an electric rig, it's as easy as setting your desired temperature and kicking back while it heats up to perfection.

Concentrate Loading: The Delicate Dance of Precision Grab your trusty dab tool – it's your magic wand for this crucial moment. Gently scoop up a minuscule amount of concentrate and carefully place it on the red-hot nail. Remember, these concentrates are like dynamite – a little goes a long way, so start small, especially if you're new to this explosive world.

Capping and Inhaling: The Grand Finale of Cloud Chasing As soon as that concentrate hits the nail, swiftly slap on the carb cap – it's like slamming the door on chaos and controlling the airflow. Then, take a slow, deep inhale through the mouthpiece, and feel the vapor zip through the water chamber, getting cooled and filtered before filling your lungs with pure bliss. It's like sipping on a heavenly elixir.

Cleaning and Maintenance: Keeping Your Rig in Tip-Top Shape After your dabbing adventure is over, don't be a slacker! Empty the water chamber and give it a rinse with warm water. Whip out a pipe cleaner or a small brush to banish any gunk lurking in the downstem and inside the rig. The nail? Heat it up until any residue burns off, then give it a gentle wipe with a clean cloth or use a specialized nail cleaner.

The Staggering Benefits of Using a Dab Rig: Why They're the Real Deal

Unleashed Potency: A Pinch of Power, a Tsunami of Effect Dab rigs are like the express train to euphoria. They vaporize concentrates that are packing a THC punch way beyond your average flower. With just a teensy-tiny speck of product, you can be catapulted into a whole new stratosphere of cannabis-induced bliss. It's like getting a front-row seat to the most explosive fireworks display with just a single spark.

Flavor Explosion: A Symphony of Tastes on Your Palate Thanks to the laser-precise vaporization process and the purity of concentrates, dab rigs are the ultimate flavor factories. You'll taste nuances and flavors that were hiding in the shadows with traditional smoking methods. It's like going from listening to a muffled radio to sitting front-row at a world-class orchestra – every note, every flavor, is crystal clear and mind-blowing.

Efficiency Maximized: Zero Waste, All Gain Dab rigs are the efficiency wizards of the cannabis world. Concentrates are so concentrated that you're squeezing every last drop of goodness out of them, with minimal waste compared to smoking flower. It's like getting a VIP pass to a never-ending party where the drinks never run out.

A Healthier High: Breathe Easy, Dab Happy Vaporizing with a dab rig is like choosing a cleaner, greener path to getting high. Since the concentrate is vaporized and not burned, you're dodging a whole host of harmful byproducts like tar and carcinogens. It's like trading in a smoky, stuffy room for a fresh, breezy mountaintop – your lungs will thank you.

Cautionary Tales: Navigating the Dab Rig Jungle Safely

High Potency Hazard: Tread Lightly or Pay the Price These concentrates are no joke – they're like nitro boosters for your brain. Always start with a microscopic dose and be hyper-aware of the potential effects. Overdoing it can send you on a wild, out-of-control ride that might end with you feeling like you've been hit by a freight train, both physically and mentally.

Cleanliness Crusade: Keep It Clean or Suffer the Consequences If you slack on cleaning your rig, it'll come back to bite you – hard. Residue will build up, fouling the flavor and choking the performance of your rig. And if you let it go too long, you might end up with a moldy mess that'll make you gag. So, make cleaning a non-negotiable part of your dabbing routine.

Heat Safety: Don't Get Burned – Literally! When you're wielding a torch to heat the nail, be on high alert. The risk of burns and setting your surroundings on fire is very real. Keep a fire extinguisher close by, follow the safety guidelines to the letter, and don't let your guard down for a second.

Legal Labyrinth: Know the Rules or Risk the Wrath of the Law The legal landscape surrounding dab rigs and cannabis concentrates is a tangled mess that varies from place to place. Do your homework, know what's legal in your neck of the woods, and play by the rules. Ignorance is not bliss when it comes to the law – one wrong move and you could find yourself in a world of trouble.

Wrapping It Up: The Endless Adventure with Dab Rigs

So there you have it, my fellow cannabis crusaders! Dab rigs have flipped the script on enjoying cannabis concentrates. With their kaleidoscope of types, badass components, and a boatload of benefits, they offer a gateway to a whole new level of cannabis cool. But remember, with great power comes great responsibility. Master the art of using and maintaining your dab rig, and you'll be set for a never-ending journey of cannabis discovery. Whether you're drawn to the elegance of glass, the sturdiness of silicone, or the high-tech wizardry of electric rigs, there's a perfect dab rig out there just waiting to be your partner in crime. And as the cannabis world continues to evolve and expand, who knows what mind-bending innovations are lurking around the corner. So, are you ready to take the plunge and embrace the wild world of dab rigs? I bet you are! Let the adventure begin!

[battle-subway-twins]

"Ah...?"

Elesa just completely spaced out within the moment. Since Ingo wasn't wearing that tunic anymore there wasn't any unnecessary obstruction in the way. Black, fitting turtle neck not too out of the ordinary but...

It was fitting well. VERY well. More than enough to be seeing defined muscles. No way. When did Ingo get ripped? She needs to check this herself. SO, Ingo will just have her palm press against his chest and soon explore a bit on his torso feeling any definition.

"Oh, my~!

It is...! Ingo you've gotten quite FIT."

It wasn't that common for Ingo to go without his new Pearl Clan tunic these days since it was a comforting item now. However it was far too warm for the thick piece of clothing today and it did need a good washing according to Emmet so he'd begrudgingly given it up for now. He'd even found an extra turtleneck in his wardrobe so he could wash his thicker Hisuian version with the tunic.

What he didn't realize was how well this shirt fit against him apparently so when Elesa had come over he thought nothing of it. Instead he's focused on preparing tea for them both, a new quirk of his apparently according to Emmet. He jumped a bit when suddenly he felt hands against his chest as he was setting the mugs on the coasters. He froze a bit at the contact since he was rather unsure if this was normal or not for them and just blushed fairly brightly.

"Ah, I have? Thank you, um, I suppose that's to be expected given how active one must be to have survived in Hisui..."

[battle-subway-twins]

Ingo nods to her question as he walks further into the apartment behind her and chuckles softly. It wasn't really surprising to him that his brother was normally the object of Eelektross's affectionate nature. Normally it was pretty endearing to Emmet but at the moment... Not so much, merely because he was not a fan of the gross sneezes landing on him.

"Sadly he's got some electrical build up already since when he sneezed the first time he zapped Emmet pretty good. Sounds like the other two sneezes got him too just not as bad. Hopefully it won't get too bad."

He blinks when she suddenly hands him the box and takes it easily so she can take off her jacket and shoes.

"Thank you, what kind of cake is it out of curiosity? And you aren't catching us up to much aside from dinner then probably whatever movie we find interesting before bed."

"Ahh, right on time then am I?"

There was a soft hum as she walked in. Oh, Elektross had a cold? Poor dear, but she can't imagine how that would be given the usual affection that pokemon shows towards Emmet.

"Hard to decide who I feel more sorry for. For his sake hope he doesn't get electrical build up too. My Emolga's caused a blackout in my apartment months ago."

Her heels tapped against the floor as she came in as she spun around to hand the box off to Ingo.

"Good thing I brought a dessert then. Though I'd come over to see what you two were up to."

While she passed that off to him she would just hang her jacket up.

[thevoidknights]

@electrifying-supermodel plotted for a Pokemon AU starter

It wasn’t often that the Vesils would hear a commotion near the cave that Ghost has chosen to hide their siblings, the Shelis and other Vesils. The Bug/Dark-type went to the front of the cave cautiously, wanting to ensure the safety of their siblings. Not immediately seeing anything Ghost began to venture further out of the cave, wanting to see the source of the noises. When they didn’t see anything still they began to calm and relax at least until they spied a human and froze immediately, keeping their gaze upon her intently. Humans were never a good thing they discovered in the past. 

[emmetrain]

@electrifying-supermodel​  , continued from here!

Emmet was not expecting an answer that quick, thinking his favorite gym leader would be at work still. He fumbled with his phone to open the messages quickly, a dumb smile on his face as he read them. His heart swelled at the cute face and the nickname. He hated the nickname, of course, but it was still... sweet when Elesa called him that. He had a name, a full one, she could just say Emmet! (Though, he didn’t want her to stop.)

Emmet put a hand before his mouth as he chuckled at the joke, and then looked around to ensure nobody could see him stooping so low. He had a reputation to keep!!

He pulled a mean face as he pspspsd at his Eelektross to come. “You have to look disappointed, alright?” He patted his companion’s head, as Eelektross put his head on top of Emmet’s, as he arranged the camera to get both of them.

[Incoming Text] eLESA. :)

[Incoming Text] This is definitely his reaction to you and not because I denied him treats.

[Incoming Text] Indeed, we should have dinner three of us soon! :D

[Incoming Text] I won’t let this unscheduled detour of Ingo derail me from serving a great dinner though! You should come!! :>

[Incoming Text] But please leave your sense of humor at home. We do not need it here. >:)

[sugar-petals]

boyfriend!KAI HAVERTZ: d u a l i t y (m.)

↳ ⎡ a chaotic headcanon all about kai’s sweet and sexy sides. 🌿 

# word count. 7.9k 

☼ genre. established relationship au, fluff/humor, smut

WARNINGS. ⚠️ hurt and comfort, x fem!reader, mature themes + explicit language (minors dni), romance mixed with thirst & possessiveness lite, oral sex: both receiving, pretty boy/prince kink (oof), sub!kai if you squint, brief mentions of alcohol and online harassment, body shaming 

♡ 【 ＮＯＴＥ】› every now & then i emerge from my cave to write for the sports fandom. i usually create football intro posts, today it’s plot and banter ✍️ featuring guess who: the supermodel incarnate. a handsome mf too fascinating not to create a detailed universe about (yep, sit back and snack a pretzel). since this football season couldn’t be any more stressful - holy hell 💀🤕 - here comes the soft!kai wholesomeness, some juicy nsfw distraction while we’re at it, and a big portion of unhinged crack. in that sense, hope this has something entertaining for everyone. enjoy!

read on AO3 

being constantly head over heels for each other is your couple energy. my goodness me, the reaction of your friends is absolutely tell-tale. they’re either going ‚aww… never seen anything like this‘ or ‚oh my god just get a room, ye freakin’ lovebirds!‘. it’s always either-or, which is where the dual nature of the whole relationship already shows. it radiates the ultimate comfort, but also… hell yeah, electrifies. that just can’t get boring. the topic of having two sides of a coin is pretty much the red ribbon of kai and you being together, and there’s a lot to say about it.

kai is a model boyfriend in every meaning of the word. a textbook cuddly romeo slash elven king /and/ an actual model stunner (geez, all that body — he’s just a masterpiece). oh, lucky you. but, even if you’re always glued to one another, you are also decisively independent people by the sheer force of irony. this goes down at the flick of a switch to suit your individual needs. kai is always in the know. you figured out in mere weeks just how to respect each other’s me zone. you’re the type to run around attached at the hip with a couple scarf at the christmas market, but also stray apart for your own business all the time when needed. makes for a nice balance. no pressure, but also no sense of feeling desolate.

if you crave your alone time, your tall ass babe — who’s really good at picking up on those things — is suddenly busy with training, paperwork, or dozing off for days like he’s now sleeping beauty. cute, pretty, gorgeous, lovely, showstopping, never done before. that way, you can live out your hermit fantasy the way you want. going feral in nature, driving your bike around anywhere, or wrapping yourself into a blanket burrito to just live online for days and days. he won’t bother you. kai himself is the type to seek retreat for healing time with his animals, you’re similar in that regard. his social media is switched off for a day or two, the phone’s for emergencies: just for him to return back home with some hay in his hair, ready to be obsessed with each other all over again.

from the outside, this might seem like an on-and-off process to a perfect stranger, but it isn’t. you really yearn for one another in the distance, and never really part for longer than a week. if possible, with a schedule of that scale. the separation being involuntary… is a different thing. repeated away matchdays without you attending the stadium are hell for needy kai who’s gonna be in a terrible unkissed mood walking and talking and looking like he morphed into some kind of lovesick robot with the exterior of kai lukas havertz. the poor lil’ babycakes honestly, he doesn’t deserve that. his teammates are always gonna hear one sentence. i miss my girlfriend, i feel so bad. it’s common knowledge that he’s perfectly capable of being a productive citizen, but the no-gf days just put his brain into a blender. you do your best being patient and send pics of you nestled into his jerseys, or random memes to bridge the time. it helps for an hour, but not a whole weekend. when germans are feeling all alone, they turn into tragic broken 18th-century poets that ran out of ink. it’s the great havertzian existential crisis, oh boy.

this shit’s gonna eat him up from the inside. you have to be with each other in person. other people around him will also start to feel the longing as if it’s their own. kai is definitely wiping away some tears when he’s switching off the light by himself in a random hotel room. dizzy from jetlag and his body hurt, he then so painfully realizes again and again how it’s precious time lost with you. if he’s not already on video call, your woeful honey boy looks through his camera roll three times a day just to see you smile or prank him for breakfast, announcing you will stan fc cologne. every picture you drop on socials is a holy grail. without his gf brainrot, kai simply cannot function. truth is, he feels incomplete when there’s no ongoing comments to sincerely tell him he’s so sweet and pretty an obnoxious amount of times a day. at least ten times. sixty is your record. forty to go. you know the drill. records exist to be broken.

and don’t think you’re the only one, showering him with compliments like that. kai is always the first to interact — even when he’s on pitch getting axed by yet another witless defender, your man carries his phone in the other hand retweeting your latest one-liners. he often types out a whole emotional paragraph but deletes it before hitting send. kai’s gonna say it to you the next time you’ll sleep with each other (which is always under the category ‚very soon‘, so don’t worry). instead, his messages are to the point. he knows heart emojis you didn’t even know existed. this man is a walking notification squad, he’s whipped, he hypes you up, he needs you, he’s fanboying 24/7, he will do anything for his queen. if you asked him to volley kick none other than break-iano phone-naldo into the rings of neptune to forever keep him floating there for the sake of mankind, he will do it. and yes, he smiles and coos at his screen so unapologetically like he’s reading fluff on ao3. post some pics cuddling the dogs? he’s blowing up your devices with likes and excited yelling in two seconds.

and meanwhile, in your world: everyone in your social environment is gonna be bombarded with the ‚i miss my idiot so much, why is he not here‘ faces of yours on the regular. even if you don’t say it out loud, everybody knows. it’s incredibly obvious to all your friends that the lack of your favorite cuddle bug’s presence has left one giant spiritual void. at home, you turn into a cryptid couch potato for days on end, cry-masturbating to some arguably stunning kai nudes (somebody hang ’em in the louvre already) or having sad phone calls at 3AM when it really becomes too unbearable. if it weren’t for the dogs, that house would be too big and too empty. almost spooky, in fact. imagine then the splendid nights when kai returns.

this is gonna be a firework of emotion and rolling around in the sheets. unless the more heated phone calls are concerned, you bet your season ticket that kai has not touched himself otherwise. even under the shower it goes, this doesn’t work man, i just can’t. let’s be real and honest: he’s all wired to you. his dick is like, „not sorry! closed hours until further notice :3“ whenever it doesn’t sense the aura of the queen. he couldn’t get it up with ten blue pills an hour. havertz junior is fast asleep downstairs. kai solely wants his one and only couch potato cryptid and no one else. man, is he in love. the prince of habsburg will really do anything for his goddess. he’ll sell his leg hair. only the scent of your skin makes him flustered and safe, and lord knows kai will always ask to steal a hoodie before going on a journey. he once made the whole chelsea bus yearn for love when he wrapped the sleeves around his upper body in his deep sleep while talking to the sweater. he also mumbled something hot which we’re not gonna recite here. play sucker for you by the jonas brothers: that’s exactly the theme.

yeah, let’s talk about some more uplifting bits as well, all in good humor. when it comes down to it, one of the best parts of the famous kai duality is that he is both a consummate living glam boy toy straight out of a 2010’s haircut magazine, but also a 100% trophy boyfriend kinda type. all built into one person, shoutout to his parents. they really created something. taking the trophy part literal here: give it up for the big game player, he has a few. regardless, and goddamn, doesn’t he kinda qualify as a glittering trophy himself? because he’s bedazzled with wonderfulness and the whole world wants to win his heart, badum-tss.

you’re very proud of him always. he has you dishing out the cutesy forehead kisses for real. theoretically. his forehead is way up high there, and the bean already has back problems from bending to tie his shoe laces (his dogs decide to help him out frequently). not to mention from carrying the entire ‚only romantic guy in a 1000 mile radius‘ agenda on his back. so, kissing his knees is also okay. easy to reach. they need some TLC from all the running and bruises, win-win scenario. and who said knees aren’t attractive. you’re gonna be out there routinely flirting with your baby in his DMs like oh hello, setting another standard there my westphalian prince, god of all leg and foot, your revealed ankles would have truly caused a scandal in the victorian age tabloids. like come on, we have to dig up the truth: every proper wag has a full-fledged leg and foot fetish. legs are literally 90% of her man’s job. do you think she won’t notice? and even if you did not once think about shit like sexy blue football shoes and a perfectly fitted pair of socks before: your boyfriend’s body changed your mind.

nice leggies aren’t even the tip of the iceberg with kai. boy can just stand there and it tells anyone that 1) your flirting game is A+ and truly unhinged, otherwise you’d not be able to bring him along now, 2) your taste is maybe a tiny bit bizarre but most definitely amazing, and 3) the viscount of vampire castle aachen is quite clearly yours. he’s clinging to you all the time anyways. moth to the flame, white dog hair to black fabric sweater. people on the street are gonna assume he is in mortal danger because kai is the type to hold onto you for dear life just as a habit. he walks while hugging you. he sits while hugging you. not even the most oblivious person will be confused as to who he belongs with, and who he came with. oh well. i’ll say it. literally came with. you know exactly what i mean. this is one hell of a physical relationship.

anyway. more on that later, basics first. talk about clothes again: you always have matching couple shirts. eyecatching, fashionable ones. you were the one picking them out: because of your faultless sense of detecting things that look super exquisite, as evidenced by your choice of sexy partner. you seriously got a feel for it, though. i’m not kidding. anyone can tell from a fucking mile away: these people color coordinated the living shit out of their fashion game, it’s them against the world. kai’s instagram is plastered in ‚#dressed by gf‘ captions, january to december and back again. the unspoken rule remains: there’s no person more taken than this man.

you do style the fuck outta him. he is your canvas. a mannequin. a statue. the male kate moss in flesh. all-black paris fashion week coats or a sweet peach-colored hoodie, he can do both. his duality extends to everything. you can put some square glossy sunglasses on him, a zip-up jumpsuit, he can rock a fancy umbrella, golden watches, high maintenance felt jackets, sophisticated chelsea boots (ah, perfect) with pointed toes, or straight up cheeky see-through detail blouses like he’s sir lewis hamilton doing a track walk on his home circuit, ready to take pole position. kai looks so good and fucking stylish.

[important editorial note: let us be perfectly distinguished and not cause a shitstorm. subject sir lewis is still the superior power dresser and undisputed sports world fashion king. we live in a democracy, and this is a football post, but nobody can contest this objective fact. he showed up at the met gala dressed as a fancy groom with an entirely transparent bridal lace gown layered underneath. he accepted his GQ award in a sexy grey bdsm harness (omg, can kai please start wearing things like that). he wears a different color every day of the year, no exceptions. he goes the extra mile for custom tailoring. he gives us something to look at. he is a spectacle. he has the best ponytail in formula 1 history. he even makes his own fashion and it’s all vegan. plus, in this dead boring day and age, lewis seems to be the only person left on the planet who knows what a proper pattern is and is not afraid to use it. do i need to go on? i rest my case. i solemnly swear i did not intend to overshadow the sparkling beauty of sir lewis by praising the venerable subject kai lukas havertz in the same breath.]

you encourage kai to take risks with his outfit and dress gentlemanly, or experimentally, not just in athleisure. kai can go pretty polished. he’s interested in how you select an outfit and goes right along (adding his favorite perfume, kai is the best-smelling person in history). you don’t have to guess: he bodies these looks so hard, serge gnabry was left shaken. the fashion chef himself. and let me tell you. the lovechild of anna wintour and the weeknd is truly the judgiest mf to ever walk the german national team ever since toni ‚beast mode‘ kroos retired, so his approval truly means something. serge likes all of kai’s fashion insta posts like it’s his morning newspaper. as if he wasn’t famous enough, kai attracts some major clout for how he is your haute couture muse, and turns even more heads than he usually does. everybody wants to sneak a peak. kai can deliver some major en-vogue moments because he has the combination of build and attitude, and the gorgeousness of the face simply cannot be hidden. facts.

kai has no problem that you’re a wee bit possessive at times, the „that’s my lovely man right here“ style. it’s charming to him. loyalty and a clear sense of belonging are super important in kai’s little private world, always, always, always. you’re never gonna give up on him, and so will he. don’t even think about him abandoning you for an arbitrary influencer from california beach so-and-so. remember, his favorite words are my girlfriend. he drops that a hundred times a day in any conversation. anyone from the outside would be hard-pressed to ignore his devotion. and you? will bust anyone’s ass if they tried to harass him and steal kai from you. when your prince gets fouled, the spirit of manager tuchel enters your body, making you run onto the field to book the player yourself. pardon, that was a joke. it’s the spirit of manager /kepa/ that enters you.

kai needs a strong hand to begin with, but a gentle one, which is another paradox about him. your resident vampire prince without caring physical affection is like cherry pie without the cherries, timo werner without the speed, jorginho without penalties, and lukaku without inter. listen, this man is touchy touchy. he needs his curly hair stroked and his tiny waist hugged all the time, he needs someone to fend for him, stick up for him, and warn him not to hit his head when the door frame is low. when you’re not home to smooch his marks and sore spots, he feels terribly isolated. but he also doesn’t want to be patronized, or be a manchild to you. you doubt the latter is achievable, but you’re not gonna aggressively direct his life, that’s not gonna happen. your philosophy is, gotta observe the person how they treat beloved animals and close acquaintances, and that’s how they wanna be treated. it’s obvious as fuck by how kai goes about handling his interest in donkeys or dogs.

one day he is shy and unsure, needing nothing short of your protection; your five minute embraces and kisses and tender words, your advice and your strength and your guidance. the other day, he’s confident and enduring, that goes for anything. he will shoulder all of your troubles, he will rebuke the haters, he is wise, he stands tall and sexy. this aspect of his duality is the most insane. how kai can go from let-me-stand-behind-you pupper to silky radiant wonderboy with the hands on his hips pose. kai’s duality in terms of esteem is pretty interesting and keeps the two of you on your toes, that’s for sure. a lot of people can’t handle someone who is both so seemingly vulnerable yet glamorously poised, but you chose kai and you own that shit.

he has an unbreakable calm (with a mind as empty as mendy’s goal), but is also batshit crazy. your camera roll is proof how there’s no limit to king kai’s facial expressions, nor is there a limit to how far he can stick out his tongue. lord have mercy when his weird ass meme-ing mimicry turns sexual and picks up on what you did together last night. he has one um unique o-face rendition he’s pulling to make you laugh, but don’t tell anyone. meanwhile, the chill he has in front of the goal translates to everyday conversations as if nothing happened. his sexual side is strictly bedroom and strictly texting. other people won’t catch him saying something explicit to you or about you in interviews or locker rooms.

kai is very ardent, stubborn, bitchy, and cranky when it comes to moral and ethical issues. it’s always clear to you he already made up his mind and stands up for what is right. this dude got a major backbone (literally. his spine is just so fucking long, oh christ). and on the other hand: kai is the most unbothered babycakes on the planet. when the situation calls for it, he looks like he doesn’t give a fuck, and he talks like he doesn’t give a fuck, he says that he doesn’t give one either, but ironically, he often does. he can’t pretend, he can’t lie to you, you see right through anyway. but the unbothered part is still true to some degree. sometimes, he always asks you to decide the most random stuff for him because he has no stance. he’s either 100% decided (e.g. on the fact that dogs deserve the world) or a floating blob with no preference at all (die or das nutella. classic german grammar debate. he shrugged it off as unsolvable.). it’s hilarious how his mentality works.

a trouble-rousing part of his duality has to do with age. after all, kai is still very, very, very young, a duckling fresh out of the pond — but seems a whopping decade older than being actually 22, especially when combined with his on-pitch mannerism or a nice black suit. people make fun of you because your boyfriend is so extremely skinny and taut in the face, or has the type of heavy glance that’s easily dubbed as uninterested, haughty, or weak. that he comes across as ‚completely spent‘ or ‚comes around looking fucked up‘ is something that gets thrown your way pretty often. you know he’s not built like leon ‚the rock‘ goretzka or glows with beaming joy like n’golo kante’s soft cutie cheeks. that’s obvious. he’s just born that way, his way, duh. but the whole critique still doesn’t sit right with you, especially since the jab is aimed at you as a couple, so the insult is double. attacking your boyfriend’s appearance is a no-go. that gives you fury.

you like that kai has a mature look to him. being a babyface heartthrob wouldn’t really suit him, let’s be realistic. his look is unique. actually, you didn’t even think too much about that until people brought it up. a face like that, why not, though? and why is it up for debate? in your eyes, kai is just kai. your cuddly boyfriend with the nice curls. he doesn’t have to look like a disney breakout star, or be ‚easy on the eye‘, or be an SLB (sweet liddol bean) at the beginning of his journey. if people want something like that, they should look elsewhere and consider the living SLB embodiment that is none other than jamal musiala. stan jamal, people.

kai’s no longer a teenage dream either, he’s of frickin’ age. he still needs a bit of bubble wrap, mostly to protect him from stumbling over his own legs, but not a fuckton of it. and, vice versa: that he’s not endless decades older than you is something you consider a pro to begin with, not a vicious con. what’s wrong with a man not being settled in life, you don’t even know what the standard is supposed to be. césar azpilicueta? and he’s a godly stupendous unmatched ideal 99% of the population can’t even remotely reach! loser or winner, you want kai.

everyone is in their own phase, all generations need one another. you enjoy that kai is young and new to the wide world out there. you don’t shame him for not being perfectly experienced, or super bossed up like he runs everything. it’s what is nice and endearing about him. he’s edgy and sexy and he learns from mistakes, looks up to others, works hard on himself, is on eye level (unless it comes to knowledge about donkeys, but you give that one to him). and, the elephant in the room when it comes to long-term relationships — him being very young means, hello: a lot more years to spend together! best believe your boyfriend’s not going anywhere anytime soon. kai hates relationship instability. he’s already made up his mind to go the distance. is his name manuel neuer? because he’s a keeper.

his age also softens any power imbalances, and: he’s in the best possible hormonal phase to be in love with making out. kai's really affectionate. what’s not to like. his age is an all-around advantage. you can come up with 29 more reasons on the fly. but also, how old he is doesn’t have to be a topic day in and day out. in your couple time, you haven’t talked about it at length more than once or twice. it’s not an earth-shattering fact to you, and everybody ages every day anyway, time flies. baby kiki (that’s how his mom calls him, you learned) will be adult kai havertz in a blink of his handsome eye anyway.

if people think he’s just a useless gay gen z bitchboy or a james charles football copy with acne, it’s on them: and you can enjoy the very fact that you’re dating a dashing cutie for yourself at the end of the day, and he dates you. that’s what it’s all about. you like him with the scarring and not just without, you think it’s sweet how he’s popular with guys wherever he goes, and that he has a structured face a camera broadcasting him to a world audience would love… is absolutely a compliment. oh honey you got all of this, and all that stellar body, too. 190 centimeters of good boy, 6’3 of sex god. who wins.

you get super defensive firing out arguments to protect kai regardless. admittedly, and that’s a guilty pleasure, you have slayed many a twitter troll like you're thiago silva’s wife. if you see some vitriol blowing up in the fandom and it crosses your feed, you’re suddenly the danny devito meme that goes so anyway i started blasting 😏💥. last week you got into an ugly tweet fight about kai's physique and began ranting that how he won’t gain weight or superhero level muscle is neither his fault nor his obligation, and if his face is exhausted, well, who’s working hard! and, while we’re at it, guess who stays up extra time at night to make his girlfriend very loved and happy? taking both his job and his relationship seriously, you know, like a great person.

you just kept dragging people left and right all day like, just get out, the uninterested look is a damn sexy bedroom gaze, by the way, learn to differentiate. kai just knows how to be seductive all the time, got a problem with that? also, no, he’s not a plastic prince, that bone structure is very real and not some wobbling derma filler shit, you tested, officially, with kisses, that’s a real fucking jaw. the brows are naturally this way, too, kai slays, he looks just fine, thank you very much. you can feel not attracted to him, but that’s no excuse to critiquing his health from your limited standpoint.

and hey, maybe, coincidentally, you know, he’s not like uh ‚radiant‘ or whatever because you sitting on his face all the time blocks out the sun with all those essential vitamin d nutrients so that’s on you. let it be known to the plebeians that the royal viscount of aachen prefers to live in the shadow. so there’s that. the raving mob of king kai fangirls and fanboys agreed and hit retweet, the haters ran for the hills after you dropped your tirade, news outlets just loved the fodder, kai felt very assured and honored, and you were moving on. no time for body-shaming. you think he’s as handsome as it gets, and not „despite xyz“, but „because xyz“. and anyone who tries to devalue his red hot appearance needs to mind their own messy biz. in a perfect world, kai would be flamed for his strange t-rex arm posing and wild rolling eyes in other people’s instagram videos, and yet he gets shit like that! this is just draining.

alas, you concede one thing. at one point, you had to admit that kai is a questionable dancer. jorginho will beat him in any tiktok battle on god, and rüdiger will shake his hip literally once and obliterate kai in five seconds. at the same time, kai is gifted with levels of foot- and leg-related skills that most other human beings can and will never even fathom. add even more hand-eye-foot coordination since he’s playing the piano… he’s gaming… he’s into formula 1 simulation… he has a lot of sex with you to practice getting really great at it… there i said it, the list goes on. he’s a physical wunderkind but also the world’s worst twerker.

last week he uploaded a recent ass parade on reels. people took to the comments writing stuff like, nothing jiggles here omg, you think your ass is austria but it’s actually the netherlands. kai replied c’mon, i’m working on it! he hates the gym but honey boy will go and try to conjure a 3D booty. tell mason to go join him and kai will stay motivated, as well as have a frame of reference. on the other hand: as i said. you like kai the way he is. everything is already in place how it should be. no improvement necessary. he couldn’t walk around flaunting a massive eden dumptruck without looking a little weird and unbalanced, could he. the only person who can pull off those #insane (hint, hint) legs and a great behind at that height is who? leroy sané. he gets a free pass. leroy’s ass and figure are top-notch. he is the moment. but we digress. the old rule remains, kai looks pretty head to toe. his name is fine. mighty fine.

more duality in the house of havertz… we’re getting more nsfw here. surprise surprise, you love to be very sexually active with him. he’s too hot not to be. the release is amazing, the couple time perfect. you are beyond infatuated with this man’s vibes and body, there’s no way you’re not fucking him back and forth all day every day, from deep and loving to wild and passionate because he is just sizzling and stunning and delicious. and when i say wild, i mean wild. kai is gonna forget in which direction the opposing goal stands after you fucked him brainless shortly before kickoff. you’re gonna scream from the edge of your stadium seat, oh god, my prince, please run the other way, your name is not mats hummels!

and then, oh wonder. kai is the most monk-like person in the world. hell, the pope himself. pater havertz innocentius XXIX (= the 29th). someone who’d rather be a farmer, a fisherman, a shepherd. no thoughts of sex in sight sometimes. his pronounced softie side cannot be underestimated. remember: even if the sky is falling down, even when n’golo kante ever stopped smiling (a truly apocalyptical scenario, not even the gods above could save us), even when tumblr wouldn’t know who mason mount was anymore, the day that thomas tuchel became an incompetent manager: kai would remain the last romantic. much like his chiseled bone structure: this is set in stone and marble.

touchy-feely is the word. hugs before fucks. smoochie before coochie. petting before sweating. no dreamy physical contact and a lot of laughter for kai is an absolute libido killer, if not the ultimate deal-breaker, the #1 reason to nag, his princely pet peeve. he needs something to smile about, and he needs comfort. both for the soul and body. you embrace him a lot, cheer him up, and make sure he feels very warm. kai gets cold so easily, it’s ridiculous. heated blankets all the way, baby. the DFB socks stay on during sex. heating bill off the charts. kai wants to have sex not to go from feeling unwell to elated, but he wants everything to feel nice throughout. it’s an extra effort to make sure the atmosphere is perfect, but your boyfriend needs his safe haven like that.

on top of that, he simply cannot have a good romp if he’s worried and preoccupied. kai lukas havertz turns into a sexless creature whenever he’s got a lot on his mind. the stress just kills his boner, and a person who would dismiss him emotionally? wouldn’t even get in the proximity of his pants. he loves you because you get his feelings and opinions most importantly. kai would not go to bed with someone who gave him real weird vibes, even if it was just all carnal, no strings attached. like picture someone who would mistreat animals in front of his eyes. oh my god. or someone who didn’t think about the environment, or tried to be pushy taking advantage when he was feeling messed up. kai is often level-headed, he tries his best thinking positively, but he has his ups and downs, too. he’s your hero for overcoming them. it would suck ass if someone was manipulating that for their own benefits. kai knows he’s someone who has something to offer, so he has to give it very carefully. if you think about it, he has a lot to lose, and it would be easy to break his heart. his sarcasm can only shield him so far. i know this sounds like a lot but yes, kai needs to be touched with velvet gloves; his feelings have to be protected from being played with.

if he were single at this point in time, he would go as far as being drunk and allowing someone to grind up on his lap, but… as soon as he’d trail to a backroom with them and a moment of sobriety would hit, kai’s mood would be ruined if they were not having a working conversation. if he asked them what they would like him to do and got an ‚umm… whatever you want!‘ in reply, he’d feel frustrated. maybe it has something to do with how he’s used to having managers and mentors all his life, since day one. he isn’t wired to say, „that’s how it’s done, deal with it“. to a certain extent, kai needs a partner who tells him what to do. that turns him on. all else is just the cruel underchallenging of a pretty bottom (perfect title for his autobiography so far, would be a million seller).

monk havertz innocentius also descends from his cloister when the weather is too sunny to be ignored. leaving the house and fooling around outdoors together is really important to him. he’s a dog person, remember. if the rain stops in england, the sex can wait. he’s gonna take his less expensive football with him, the one you can kick into some river or a pit of mud from hell. you drive to a hidden place without paparazzi and have endless fun practicing super long passes on a random meadow, somewhere out there. that’s his next best-kept secret: because he can pick up your wonky crosses and strangely angled shots, kai is perfectly prepared to outsmart and anticipate even the most difficult rival teams. like. kai can run after any mile high shot you’re giving him, and even throws himself into said river to retrieve the ball (sexy. he’s hotter than daniel craig crawling back on land with that shirt sopping wet).

mind you: even if it’s tempting, you’re not mad that kai is arguably a hundred times better than you. who cares. you allow each other to shine in your own ways. there are plenty of things and situations where kai needs your input. for instance, when it comes to telling an actual, well-crafted dad joke. his are still a little lame, he admits to it. in any case, i know, this bullet point escalates into a drag-em-all buffet like it’s atleti’s defense. what i wanted to say is that sure, kai is easy to envy, but also easy to cheer on. he doesn’t roast you for looking like the harry maguire to his kevin de bruyne, but works with what you have, and it’s just outdoors football for fun anyways. you’re not a professional player, he has to be the one downsizing his skill here.

talk about envy. you might be playing outside a lot, but you also play… inside. all your friends wish they had their own personal habsburgian heir to go down on them like it’s a won world cup final. everybody wants a kai clone. oh yes. the sexual duality extends to oral in particular. admit you’ve noticed this about him already, you perv. he has a thing for that. one hundred percent. this guy is so possessed by the holy spirit of saliva, blink twice and he’s scoring with a header two times a night. we know that’s kai’s specialty. that’s why everybody wants a piece of your bf, bestie, haven’t you noticed. his rowdy daring tongue knows no time-out.

like. it begs to see the light of day all the time. why is it always hanging out right in everyone’s face, oh my god. it’s naughty, i told you he’s havertz thee stallion. but to your knowledge, that’s his intricate courtship ritual. the more he sticks it out: the more he’s down bad. hold on to your labia because santa kai is coming to town, ready to bestow you with the gift of being a slobbery maniac at cunnilingus. everybody knows that kai is not a coward. and anyone can guess he’s really unusally messy. and even if he was all neat and virginal in the beginning. that the royal ruler of havertia is in the vicinity of crazy people that radiate „i give so much head, it made me nuts“ energy — and i mean the likes of kepa, and out-of-control specimen going by supposedly biblical names such as joshua — literally does not help. one day, kai is gonna feel inspired and lose his mind completely as well.

someone’s gonna go all out between those lovely legs of yours. not an ounce of hesitation from the very start. he’s konfident with a k like kai. he literally knows he’s not gonna embarrass himself. zero performance anxiety, let’s-a-fucking go. this face is an expensive sex toy, and this man is a pussy worshipping machine. at full throttle. how much more can he scream at the top of his lungs that he wants to please and spoil you so fucking badly. his eye contact is going to drive you up the wall, the feel of his nose, the curls between your fingers. oh, have mercy. the curls. the curls! the waves at the shore of the habsburgian empire. he wants you to grip and tug at them, how else are they so long and grabbable. thanks, you’re dripping wet by that thought alone when he’s not home on saturdays.

and that’s only the beginning. he pulls out every ace from up those long ass sleeves he got. kai is gonna wind his whole face around to get fucking covered in you. you know what i’m talking about. he really does that. jesus christ my sire, please don’t get an eye infection. he really knows no bounds to his debauchery. the man who routinely wants to be held carefully in your arms for the entirety of a bus ride is really gonna suck and nip and dip at your clit until you’re screaming out loud. oh, kai. you relentless bitch. but as beyoncé sang. it feels so good to be alive.

a toast to this oral aficionado. this is truly the hardest-working mouth at cobham and we all know it doesn’t mean talkativeness, kai is just impossibly eager to feel you writhe and cum on his tongue between matchdays. yep, i said it. he is that type. he can’t imagine life without giving head. he would just give up, retire himself into a remote barn in the west german countryside, and dry some straw for donkeys to chew on until he’s old and grey. no head, no fun. even if kai’s a little tired, he won’t let that shit stop him. he’s firmly convinced you always deserve your treat, and he’s gonna carpe diem with the limited time you have together. definitely an orgasm chaser here, louder harder stronger, that’s not for everyone. but he’s always aiming high because he wants to make you blissful, and knowing his lil’ weirdo brain inside out: you date him exactly because he works that way. what counts is, you’re moaning and you’re ascending and you’re getting noisy as hell, saint joshua would be so proud of you.

in comes the uno reverse card! you almost forgot this post is about duality, did ya. kai is also one hell of a bj enthusiast like no other. there’s no denying. he’s no less capable on the receiving end: and yes, he considers it hard work. pun intended. boy can keep it hard for minutes and minutes and minutes. the rest is up to you. do whatever you want on and with and to that dick. he does not care. whatever outlandish kinky things you’ve read about in this or that pseudo-scientific article, he’s there to satisfy your greed. come on, i told you he’s a boy toy bottom. kai has huge standards for his own methods, but here? even being completely off with your skills doesn’t faze him. extraterrestrial sounds, bad technique, awkward speed, fuck it. kai says who cares, the fact that it’s resembling a blowjob is enough. if it’s your lips, your throat, your tongue, your chin, your spit, going all over him — he’s in habsburg heaven. his arms are limp on the bed as are his legs, a starfish par excellence. prince kai havertz is actually /pillow/ prince kai. it’s kinda cute, but also hot how he surrenders.

just do your thing how you see fit. he’s dying. crumbling. suffering. disintegrating. corroding to igneous dust. people think that supposedly, kai’s inner spirit already left his body anyway, but this is actually where it happens. he’s very sensitive to having someone really suck him off, especially after a shower when he feels nice and warm and comfortable. and, just so you know, like a true german: he will nitpick with the terminology (ah yes, the return of bitchy kai): „a blowjob is not a deepthroat session is not a facefuck!“ mh, very true, king, very true. these are all different disciplines. you can show him you know which one is which. nuance scores the goal, as does strawberry flavored lube. eureka, what a nice invention, makes the ample buffet even tastier. he’s all groomed and shaved, imagine the glide.

by the way. you will find firsthand factual evidence that he can work his hips for 45 minutes times straight. like not just bucking. really all-out moving like a serpent because this man is a desperate grunting hoe for you. he’s terribly, terribly slutty, like… look at him. your honor, he is thirstier than thomas müller after a match of carrying the entire national team on his back. they’re paying the prince a lot of money so he is able to muster that stamina on the pitch, so you can hold it against him (well — playfully of course). no problem: kai likes a challenge. a good facefuck that lasts a halftime? let’s plot out some stable positions and take it slow. his arms are long enough to reach your clit, he’s gonna have you soaked on either end. he has figured out the right amount of being all inside of you rested across your tongue, or pulled out in the right moments so you can toy around with all the length he’s giving, and kiss it, and lick it good, and tell him exactly how he should move. duh, he’s gonna be like say no more, let me do it for ya.

kai havertz 29 should be kai havertz 69, i’m serious. for a madman sucker of this scope, eating you out while feeling your lips on his tip? he’ll never be the same. 45 minutes, jot that down. to be entirely truthful, yes, he’ll look like you murdered him in cold blood afterwards because he really puts his heart into the flow. but it’ll be worth it. even if that’s going to surprise you, he’s gonna cry his eyes out because it was so unbelievable, and needs some major personal attention, you know, ASMR time. kai and aftercare are inseparable.

and on your part? perfectly happy. you never had to chug this much water in preparation, you never tasted that much prime dick all your life, your lips have never felt stimulated like that, and you haven’t heard a guy moan and gyrate his soul out like this. you’ll never catch yourself mumbling „mh, mh, so good“ like that elsewhere. if you can mumble at all, that is. no time for talk, you want to be busy with your mouth in a different way. that dick is so hard and pretty and flushed and basically „hi, working hours open again!“ because hey. he loves you so much.

all tension will have left your either bodies and you can sleep tight like angels after cleaning up. second shower for kai? even better, he’s snug and warm again. but don’t you think it has to be a marathon every time, okay. here goes the duality all over. if you want ten minutes of intensity and rush, kai will sweetly oblige and ask, „so what’s on the menu, then?“. tongue in cheek, ever the pleaser, ever the teaser. i told you way before, you’re so lucky. quickies are not his top-most specialty, usually because he is the deep and steady type, and calm as you like. it’s you who’s going a little rougher sometimes for good measure, and he’s down for that. kai likes upbeat and energetic people. he won’t accuse you for losing your nerve, he knows he looks like a hottie. but he can catch up with you, i promise, five minutes and he’s giving you a whole damn bucket load to do whatever you want with: gotcha. the german punctuality of it all. with a schedule like that, kai has to learn being organized.

cum play is only the next conclusion to arrive at. the nasty brat is gonna slurp it all off your fingers. the duality of him means he’s not just a romancer but also, kai’s dirty, you can swap it around on your tongues and enjoy the amazing texture. this man has the most controlled diet in the world, baby. of course he tastes astoundingly good. and kai doesn’t have a major gag reflex, bless his horny soul, so you can shove your fingers in his mouth as far as you please. he’s just gonna glare you down and stick his tongue out like it’s nothing. he knows the shit he can take. pity there’s no endless supply of his cum, so he has to practice recovering quickly every round. but we know he’s the prince of recovery, so don’t worry too much about it.

if you really want to know the details. kai has one long veiny dick for the taking, grower not a shower. he has a tendency to cum in waves at once, six to seven slow twitches, with a silky — hah, got ya, this one you won’t ever forget — clean texture. you quickly discovered his favorite way of cumming. that would be you gripping hard above the base, sort of around the middle actually, and working with the upper third, without the lips fully closing so it makes a satisfying wet noise. he doesn’t need you going balls deep. the stimulation and teasing and lip friction are enough. so, among the big three, he likes plain blowjobs the very most, with enough spit and handwork involved. brace yourself, the moans will be heavenly soft and desperate. yeah, he’s extra, and he’s vocal. unless we’re talking safe word system, of course. not many words. they’re not needed. he’s an athlete, he feels it all in his skin and bones, and his kisses will always tell you what you need to know.

the afterglow is exactly as you’d expect. after a ton of shampoo and water went down the drain, you are the classic two-big-towels-wrapped-around-us couple on the living room couch. drying off, the dogs will still stay in the different part of the house, and you will lay there humming and murmuring in silence for a while just to cuddle it all out. but they will join for bedtime when you’re both tucked into each other's serge gnabry-signed stylish PJs. now’s the time to cling and smooch for like half an hour plus. after he’s done making some silly faces, kai keeps talking and talking, staying pressed firmly against you with his eyes closed. then you keep talking and talking, until you’re both drifting off into the twilight zone. it’s just a nice and protected atmosphere. the dogs are curled up on the duvets, and so are you underneath. sleeping beauty kai is back.

you went crazy in the sheets, and now you’re right there glued together. as the germans love to say: same procedure as every year. well, every week, in this case. when you look at him doze off next to you, kai’s so cute, like the senior puppy in this bed. like, a comically elongated pupper, 6’3 is one hell of a doggo if you think about it, but since he’s in a fetal pretzel position now, it sort of counts. it’s easy to snooze that way when you spoon him, and there’s nothing left to be desired. oh, he’s the bestest boy, you can attest. and you do realize. kai is an amazing boyfriend in more ways than just being really soft on the one hand, and super sexy on the other. it’s the whole package deal we’re talking about. it’s the truth, your tall loving prince just has a lot of good things to offer.

ao3 crosspost

››››› ♥ multifandom masterlist ♥

【 final note.】my contribution to mending the chelsea heartbreak, i hope you liked this wild ass ride and enjoyed your snack. excuse any editing/spelling mistakes or related grammar issues, i happen to be german myself 🇩🇪 thank you for reading, i’m sure i’ll post some more football stuff during world cup season, in the meantime leave a comment/tag or so 👋 - caro 

© 2017-2022 sugar-petals. all rights reserved. no reposts or translations allowed. all depictions are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

[edie-baby]

to have and to hold | juri vips

summary: Juri Vips was a bastard of a teammate. Mostly just because you were insanely in love with him and his flirtatious ways. Juri senses a change in your behaviour and when things begin going back to normal, Juri just fucks it up again. (Similar premise to the Mr & Mrs imagine with Liam, but different[?])

word count: 2894

warnings: swearing, still. i don't think i should have to put warnings about swearing anymore, it's basically a given.

Working with Juri Vips was a fucking trainwreck. There was no light way to put it, it was messy, it was painful, and yet you could never stop fucking staring at him. Being his teammate in F2 for the past year and a half, the two of you had gotten quite close, to the point where his family invited you on vacation with them when they were going, and you had joined them once, but realised about two hours in, that it was a thinly veiled attempt from literally his entire family to get the two of you together.

And while you were all for it, being forced to spend so much time with Juri, while he was shirtless nonetheless, was a literal dream come true, it was also incredibly painful for you to stop from pouncing on him at any given moment. Because as much as his family thought there was something between you, it was purely Juri’s charisma and character to be almost constantly flirting with you.

You remember the first time the two of you, a few other F2 drivers had come along as well, had gone to the beach and he had seen you bust out the bikini you knew made you look like a hot piece, he hadn’t shut up about it, or you, for weeks afterwards.

“Well look at you, little miss supermodel. I would have thought you’d be walking catwalks with legs like that, not pushing pedals like the rest of us. God, you look like you just stepped out of my dreams and onto this beach. If you keep looking like that, I think I might have a problem to deal with later in the shower.” He had hollered, and many of the guys around you either joined in or had nothing to say but gawk. Juri’s comments had cemented themselves in your brain however, calling back upon them whenever you felt less than top dollar, which you had to admit was becoming more often in recent months.

Juri had noticed your slowly waning confidence, of course he had. His gorgeous view of you in crop tops, little skirts, and tight shorts had turned into oversized shorts, hoodies, and ill-fitting jeans. All of which still made you the most beautiful girl in the world, but there was something missing from your aura, a general happiness that had been lacking since the new season started a few months ago. In the entire time Juri had known you, you were never one to listen to other’s opinions of you, whether they be good or bad, the only people you had ever listened to and taken words to heart from were himself, your parents, and your boyfriend.

Somehow in the span of about three minutes, Juri had tracked the four most likely culprits of your diminished ego. He knew he hadn’t said anything harmful or damaging to you since the season began, as many of your conversations had revolved around racing, other drivers in the paddock, or your family. Your parents, he was confident in, he had met them many times before, and they were always genuinely warm and welcoming, he supposed there might have been another side to them, though he believed he would have picked up on it by now. Which leaves only your boyfriend, whom Juri had zero confidence in.

Tye was nice, almost disgustingly so, but he was also much too proud of being nice for it to be genuine. He would open car doors for you, give you flowers every few months, and once bought you a necklace with a pendant of his name. But you would never forget that he did those things for you, because as soon as you would mention something relatively negative, those few acts of kindness were shoved down your throat.

Juri, of course, was not privy to that information. All he knew was that Tye’s possessive behaviour and complete lack of care for your wishes meant that there was something beneath the surface Juri was sure was the reason for your confidence, or lack thereof.

So when you came into work one day, to continue shooting some videos for the YouTube channel, wearing a gorgeously fitted pair of jeans, and a halter-neck singlet, Juri knew something was afoot. Also notable was your lack of gold necklace and your beaming smile toward the Estonian.

“You gonna keep staring like that, or do you want to take a photo?” You asked, your voice holding the teasing lilt Juri had missed in the past weeks. Without breaking his gaze from your body, Juri reached into the pocket of his shorts, his hand retrieving his phone and taking a photo of you standing there, tight clothes and bright smile in all its glory. He smirked when he saw your barely concealed smile.

“You’re in a much better mood than usual. What happened?” Juri couldn’t help but ask, the drastic shift in your mood was more than intriguing to him. Your smile widened, taking the last few steps toward his position in a chair behind the large conference table.

“I lost 80 kilos last night.” You whispered, leaning in closer to Juri, the glint in your eyes, the proximity and the tone were all so familiar to him that he couldn’t help but meet you halfway, barely three inches between your faces as the words processed in his mind.

Juri glanced down at your body confusedly, trying to figure out where exactly the 80kg had disappeared from. Then, the pieces began clicking into place. The lack of gold necklace, the tighter clothes, the glowing smile, none of which would have been staring Juri in the face if Tye had a say.

“You dumped Tye?” Juri questioned, his eyes lighting up, his raise in volume betraying just how excited he was for you, and himself. You nodded, eyes softening as you watched the pure joy cross Juri’s face. Him being happy was something that always warmed your heart, but Juri being happy about you finally being happy? You were sure your knees were about to buckle.

“I’m glad. I can have you all to myself now.” Juri grumbled, reaching for your hands that were braced against the arms of his chair. With a sharp tug, your balance was offset, and your body was tumbling toward Juri’s. You landed with a giggle in Juri’s lap, his own laughter joining yours and the two of you simply enjoyed each other’s presence after having an intangible wall built between you during your relationship with Tye.

Juri couldn’t hold a taken woman like he loved her, not when that taken woman wasn’t his to hold. And you, how could you revel in the feel of man’s touch that was anyone’s but the man you supposedly loved. You couldn’t break out in goosebumps, or have a shiver roll down your spine when you felt the familiar pressure of his calloused fingertips pressing into the skin of your back, desperate to keep you close. You weren’t allowed to sigh in content when you felt the warmth of his body seep into your skin, or whimper when his hot breath rolled over the skin of your neck.

But now you could. Now, without the moral implications of enjoying another man, you could sink into this all-consuming feeling you have when Juri is near.

“Morning you two. We’ve got a video to film in the garage if you want to follow me?” The social media manager, Georgina,  a lovely woman in her 40s whom you always went to for advice and style tips, poked her head into the room you and Juri were tangled in, a cheeky smile on her face when she spotted the somewhat compromising position. A blush fell heavy on your cheeks, and you were quick to try and scramble away from Juri.

He had other ideas though. When Juri began moving, you clutched onto him for dear life, terrified of falling to the ground even though it was only about two feet. Your arms circled around his neck, your legs fully wrapping around his hips from where you were straddling him on the chair. His large hands came to rest on the underside of your thighs, hoisting you up higher on his body. Your legs clenched around his middle, the feel of his fingers pushing into the soft skin of your legs was electrifying, and you were sure if you didn’t have a video to film, you would have been telling the Estonian to find an unoccupied office to take what he needed from you.

But alas, you had a job to do. So, still wrapped around Juri like a vice, he carried you through the Hitech office, nodding to other staff you passed, and occasionally nuzzling his nose into your neck to get a good whiff of your perfume. Juri had said multiple times the scent was intoxicating and could bring any man to his knees. You may have gone out and bought an extra bottle to ensure you never ran out after that.

After a few minutes, you stepped into the garage with Juri, well, he stepped in you just kind of floated in. The scent of grease, rubber and a slight hint of fuel invaded your nostrils, and you sighed in content. Juri chuckled at your actions, he always loved watching you step into a garage, or out onto the pit lane to take in the smells of burnt rubber. You told him every time he laughed at you that it evoked a calm feeling within you, it was nostalgic, filled with happy memories from your childhood and the memories of races you shared with Juri on track.

“Alright lovebirds, can we get you in these chairs and we’ll start explaining while we finish getting set up.” Georgina stated, smiling fondly at the love between her two youngsters. Juri sat you down in one of the chairs sitting before the cameras, not leaving your side for long as he planted himself in his own chair and dragged you as close as possible.

Georgina explained the rules of the game, and the way you would be playing it, choosing you to sit in the background listening to music whilst Juri answered questions about you. First, they gave you a list of questions about yourself, asking to circle the correct answers and they would be compared to Juri’s during the game.

“Ok Juri, the first question. How old was Y/N when she started karting?” Georgina questioned. She watched you in the background closely to ensure you couldn’t hear anything, but you were blissfully unaware of everything around you, headphones in your ears, legs tucked up on the chair, scrolling through your phone with the occasional giggle escaping your lips. Each time Juri heard the angelic sound, he would turn to look at you with a look so soft it made the entire team’s heart swell.

“Uh, I think she was 10, I know she started late because she had to argue with her parents to let her do it with her brothers, and I think 10 is about the right age.” Juri answered, looking as though he was thinking quite hard about it. It had been a long time since the two of you discussed your start in karting, it was one of the first conversations you had together, and since then you hadn’t had to talk about generic teammate topics. Juri was proud that he remembered something seemingly insignificant from a year and a half ago, but supposed when it came to you he could never forget a thing.

“Alright, next question. What is Y/N’s biggest fear? Is it A, the ocean, B, goblins, or C, heights?” Juri’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he heard the second answer, trying to figure out why it was even an option in the first place. His eyes focused on one spot on the floor, his brain moving a mile a minute to analyse conversations he had with you.

“Well, we’ve been to the beach together a few times, and thinking back I don’t think she’s ever gotten into the water. So maybe the ocean, but she also said once when we were looking at a castle that she doesn’t like gargoyles, so goblins could be a thing. But she’s definitely not scared of heights. She’s gone skydiving, bungee jumping and climbed bridges and things like that. So I’m going to say the ocean. I feel like I would definitely know if she was scared of something like goblins.” Juri laughed, his eyes still glued to the spot on the floor, his thoughts flowing through his mouth with little consideration of how they could be interpreted.

“What is something Y/N never leaves the house with?” Georgina was hopeful for this question, she was sure it could be the catalyst for the two drivers to finally own up to their feelings after reading your answer. Juri listened to the multiple choice answers, but none of them sounded just right.

“So, the rings sound the closest, but sometimes she will wear lots, and other times only a few, and when she can’t wear them on her hands, she’ll thread it onto a necklace to wear under her race suit, or something so yeah, I’d say the rings.” Juri answered, turning to look at you behind him, wearing the exact ring he was talking about on the ring finger of your right hand.

“And what ring is the one she wears on her necklace?” Georgina probed, knowing the answer and just wanting to see the way Juri heated up when he talked about it.

“Uh, it’s a diamond ring that has a J engraved on the inside.” Juri answered, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. A smile broke out on your face as you watched Juri, his flustered state always made you giggle as he was such a confident and put-together person usually. As a habit, you began spinning the ring on your right hand around, feeling the shape of the diamonds and knowing the initial carved into the inside was a claim over you.

“Do you know where she got it?” Georgina asked. She was getting frustrated, Juri was much more calm about revealing the intimacy of the ring than she had hoped.

“I gave it to her. About a year ago, and then she gave me a necklace with an (your initial) on it. I wear it every day, and it’s the only piece of jewellery I wear while I drive.” Juri answered, his fingers reaching up to toy with the thin gold chain hidden beneath his shirt. He looked over his shoulder at you, spotting the spinning ring immediately and smiling at you.

You looked up at him, a dazed look as you stared at the gorgeous man in front of you. He could see the stars in your eyes, staring at him as though he hung the moon, and if he was honest with himself, if you asked, he would. There was nothing you could ask of him that would be too much, even if you didn’t ask, he would do everything for you. No one had ever held this power over him, he wasn’t even sure it would feel this good if it were anyone else, but you just did something to him. You unlocked a part of him he didn’t know existed.

You were just, everything. To him. You were everything he ever wanted, ever needed, even everything he didn’t know he needed. You opened him up, poured sunshine into his life in the form of your smile, happiness penetrated his bones because of your laugh. He didn’t want to lose that again, didn’t want to lose you to another man. He needed you, and he needed you now.

It was like slow motion, the way Juri surged out of his chair toward you, his hands cupping your jaw roughly as he guided you to your feet. The laptop on the ground pulled the earphones from your ears, your phone clattering to the floor in your surprise. Your hands reached up to fist in his shirts, not wanting to lose this proximity. You had him in your grasp and you’d be damned if you ever let him go again.

Juri pressed his lips to yours, as soft and warm as you’d imagined them so many times before. You kissed him back with ferocity, the eighteen months worth of emotion poured into a kiss to communicate your feelings in a way that didn’t need words. He kissed back just as fiercely, his hands holding your face still to allow him to do exactly what he needed. You were pliable to his every demand, putty in his hands. Juri had always had this effect on you, every fleeting touch or brush of a hand on your waist made your knees weak and your stomach flutter with the force of a thousand butterflies.

Juri pulled away, barely a breath between your lips as he panted slightly. Your eyes were trained on his lips, the fullness of his bottom lip, the redness from your assault on them making them look all the more kissable.

“So, how about we switch that ring to the other hand and really make this a Mr & Mrs video?”