#no one was catering to le so i catered to myself

[pulquedeguayaba]

You Hurt My Feelings - Dir. Nicole Holofcener (2023)

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 12 (18+)

a/n: thank you to @bahablastplz for editing & shmeems for proofreading.

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Chan.

[ read chapter eleven here ]

Chapter Twelve: Of Delays and Professor Bang

On your way to school Monday morning, Chan tells you to stay with Hyunjin again tonight. There’s no hiding the look of confusion on your face as you turn to face him. You don’t know if he assumes you and Hyunjin have already had sex or if it’s a new revelation—you wouldn’t be surprised if there were an iridescent aura surrounding you after the night you had with Hyunjin. Isn’t that what Chan wanted? You don’t want to read too deeply into his words, however you can’t help but feel like he’s pushing you away.

Chan’s eyes remain focused on the road. Even if he were looking at you, you’d have no idea what he’s thinking. You never do.

“Have another night with him, since the challenge starts this week,” he adds to his alarming statement with a shrug, as if it’s no big deal.

Maybe it is.

“Is this a game of hot potato?” You ask, half joking. “And I’m the potato being tossed around?”

“Is that how it feels?”

“A little bit.” You softly admit.

“If you’re uncomfortable, remember you can always le—”

“Chan,” you cut him off sharply. “I’m not saying I want to leave. I’m actually starting to settle in and enjoy myself. I’m just expressing how I feel. People have feelings, you do know that, right?”

He turns to look at you when he stops at a red light.

“The SKZ house is not a place for feelings, y/n. You do know that, right?” He counters.

You suck in a breath at his words and face forward. Clearly Chan has overcome his hangover and is back to being an asshat. 

Hyunjin has no problem with your feelings. To hear you out when you express them, to cater to them, to protect them. Chan tramples all over them, like they’re dirt beneath his feet.

That can’t be entirely true, though. He showed that to you yesterday when he apologized.

You sigh and lean back against the headrest. It’s like he wants to provoke you sometimes, to make you angry, make you snap…to make you leave.

It infuriates you that he believes he could have such an influence over you. If he were smart, he’d give it a shot when you’re at your weakest—when he’s teasing you to the brink of insanity. You’d agree to damn near anything in those moments. But right now, with your full wits about you, he’s just pissed you off. 

You fix your posture in the seat, feeling your determination to not let him get his way increase. In this car ride, on your way to your shared class, you make the decision to do whatever it takes to make Chan break in November. You’ll make him see he can’t push you around, that two can play this game. You’ll have him begging you for once. 

On Tuesday, the duration of your afternoon class is filled with reminiscing about your bonus night with Hyunjin. You try to remain focused, but your thoughts keep drifting back to him and the things he did to you. That boy is made of magic and being with him, having him inside of you, makes you feel like you are too.

After class you wait in the parking lot for Changbin and Seungmin as usual for this day of the week. You’re dreading the thought of going home and being in Chan’s room. With tomorrow being November 1st, you can only assume he plans to get in a month’s worth of you in one night. And even more, you know you’ll cave to his needs the second his lips are on yours. But you can delay it. You can make him wait. 

When Changbin and Seungmin make it back to the car, you put your plan to stall going home into action. 

“Minnie…Binnie,” you address them ever so sweetly as they approach. 

Changbin arches a suspicious eyebrow, Seungmin grins. 

“How do you guys feel about a pit stop at the mall?”

“What for?” Changbin asks, unlocking the car doors.  

“I need to pick up something.”

No, you don’t.

“Sure,” Seungmin agrees.

You smile at him in return and get into the backseat.

“I have a strict food court tax, as the driver,” Changbin informs you while starting up the car.

Your smile widens. That’s just perfect. Another pit stop.

“I got you, Binnie Boo.” 

Changbin scrunches up his face at the nickname. 

“Oh, but if I were Hyunjin, you’d eat that right up.” You roll your eyes.

“Well, yeah,” he admits without hesitation. “That’s the love of my life.” 

He holds a straight face for a second before breaking out into a smile and you all laugh as he backs out of the parking space. 

Your detour to the mall ends up taking three hours. It’s officially Halloween day so the inside is crowded with parents and their young children trick-or-treating at the stores. Just as planned, you all end up stopping at various stores along the way to the one you need to get to (you’ve no idea which, but it’s okay). Changbin gets a hat from LIDS. Seungmin buys a bracelet from a kiosk. Then you all head for the arcade and when they’re planted in the seats of a race car game, you leave them there for a bit to complete your imaginary errand. You go to a nearby clothing store and pick out a new pair of jeans and a couple of form fitting tops, remembering the suggestions Jeongin had for you what feels like forever ago.

Hyunjin reaches out to see where you are. Chan does not. 

When you meet back up with them you go to the food court and get Changbin a meal from Hot Dog On A Stick at his request, and treat yourself and Seungmin to pretzels from Auntie Annie’s, even though he didn’t ask for anything. After you kill some more time eating, the three of you stop at Spencer’s to see what kind of odd items they have on display. 

There are shirts with suggestive images and phrases, lollipops and shot glasses shaped like dicks, sex card games, drinking games, and even vibrators and anal plugs tucked away in the back corner. You each purchase something wildly inappropriate (you make sure to checkout when they’re both preoccupied to avoid judgement or teasing for your items) and then decide to leave the mall. 

There’s a smug look on your face as you check the time—it’s nearly 7:00pm now.

Mission success.

The drive home takes an additional twenty minutes and when you enter the neighborhood, trick-or-treaters are walking the sidewalks. You convince Changbin to drive around so you can look at everyone’s exterior decorations because another ten minutes won’t hurt. 

It’s 7:30 when you make it back to the house. Changbin has you and Seungmin exit the car first. He opens the garage door so Seungmin can back out the other Tesla that’s on the charger and swap it out for this one. You let them handle that and take your backpack and shopping bags into the house. 

Jeongin and Charlotte are at the door passing candy out. Hyunjin, Han, Lee Know and Felix are in the living room, but you don’t see Chan. You set your bag by the stairs, wave to the couch surfers, get a wink from Hyunjin, and go to the kitchen, right in time to help Allie and Rhiannon make dinner. 

You text Chan when dinner is done, but he tells you to bring up your plates. Plural. 

You have a lot to lug up the stairs. You put your backpack on, slide your shopping bags onto your arms, then pick up the tray with your plates on it. When you make it to his door you kick it gently with your foot, but loud enough to be heard.

He opens it within seconds. You haven’t seen him all day, so the sight of him in dark jeans and a tucked-in, light blue, pinstriped button up shirt with the top two buttons undone makes you forget what you’re even doing. He’s wearing two different styles of earrings again—a thick silver hoop on his right ear and what looks like silver links on his left. Your eyes fall to the necklace and the silver infinity pendant resting on his skin. He takes the tray from you and steps aside. 

“Thank you,” you say, snapping out of your daze.

You’ve never seen him dressed up in this way before. What was he doing all day? He probably went to church to ask forgiveness for the things he’ll do to you tonight.

He shuts the door behind you and sets the tray on his bed as you start to walk towards your own. Before you can reach it, his hand grabs your left wrist, spins you around and pulls you towards him. 

What’s with these men doing that to you? And why do you like it so much?

The breath is knocked out of you as you collide with his chest, the shopping bags falling from your right arm. The bag on your left is held in place where his hand is holding your wrist. You slowly bring your eyes up, lingering on that necklace and the skin beneath it, then to his eyes.

“What did you need to get from the mall?” He asks in a low tone. 

You resist the urge to arch an eyebrow. So, if he hadn’t texted you about where you were this afternoon…he must have reached out to Seungmin or Changbin instead. 

“Stuff,” you reply, hardening your gaze. “Did you need me for something?”

You know there’s now only three and a half hours until midnight. Until November. And you still need to eat, and shower—plus he has an early morning class on Wednesday. Oops. Must have slipped your mind.

It didn’t. 

“I had plans for you,” he replies calmly. “What did you have to get?” 

It’s none of his business, really.

Not accepting your silence, he looks down at the bag on your wrist. You’re not sure which one fell to the floor, but you silently pray it was the one from Spencer’s. 

He lets go of your wrist and removes the bag from it, then holds the bag up in front of you.

“Spencer’s, huh?”

You watch, cursing yourself mentally as he reaches inside the bag. You had felt so damn smug about returning home late and now this is your karma. You can feel the tides changing already, knowing what he is about to discover.

The first thing he pulls out is the deck of cards with “Naughty Party” written on it. 

His eyes flicker from the deck of cards to you and you feel your face flush. 

He reaches in the bag again and you pray he doesn’t see or feel a particular item you purchased. When his hand comes out of the bag again, this time he’s holding a large pink and purple, cotton candy flavored, dick shaped lollipop. You quickly snatch the bag from him as his eyes light up with laughter. 

“That was just an extra stop…I didn’t specifically go there for…” your eyes move to the lollipop and card game in his hand, “that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he replies as if he doesn’t believe you.

“We should eat before the food gets cold,” you say, tentatively walking backwards until you’re near your bed. You place the bag down and your backpack on top of it, wanting the other item in the bag to remain hidden. 

He sits on his own bed, opening the deck of cards. He uses the stick end of the dick lollipop to cut through the shrink wrap securing it. 

“I’m actually not that hungry anymore,” he declares. And just like that, he has the upper hand again. “You ate at the food court, right?”

Jesus Christ, do all the members report back to him with everything you do? Or did he ask? The former would make you annoyed…the latter makes you feel disgustingly warm inside.

He sets the trash and lollipop aside and opens the box to take out the cards. You sit on your bed, watching his amused face as he looks through the deck. He separates them on the bed into the five piles you read on the back—icebreaker, foreplay, naughty, kinky, and drink or dare. 

He stands from his bed, picks up the tray with your now abandoned dinner on it and puts it on his desk. He then walks to your bed and holds out his hand to you. You place yours in his with a quiet sigh. 

He leads you to his bed, bringing you to stand in front of him. He rests his hands on your hips and leans over your shoulder, his cheek just barely touching yours.

“No icebreakers or drinking,” he makes his own rules, of course. “Pick a card.”

That leaves only foreplay, naughty or kinky. Which is the lesser of the three evils you’ve gotten yourself into? You pick up the foreplay card. 

He leans over you more to see what it says, gripping your hips, holding you against him. Your heartbeat picks up as he rubs the side of his face against yours. You want to lean back into him, to tell him to forget the game and just do what he wants with you—but this is what he wants now.

“What does it say?” He asks.

“You are desperately trying to get better grades in class. Your partner is…” you stop reading, eyes widening at the words. 

“Your partner is your teacher,” Chan continues for you. You can hear the smile in his words. “Convince them to give you a good grade.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, cringing and simultaneously wanting to vomit at the idea of roleplaying. Roleplaying with Chan, no less. 

His hands fall from your hips, and you feel him backing away from you. You keep your eyes closed, wanting to kick yourself for even purchasing this game. This is not how you thought tonight to go, and this is not how you intended to use the deck of cards. Karma circled back around quick for your defiant behavior today.   

You hear him shuffling around behind you, opening and closing drawers. Then the room falls silent.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Chan says. 

You toss the card onto the bed and let out a deep breath. You open your eyes and spin around.

Chan is leaning against his dresser, a pair of circular, gold framed glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose, a red book with gold letters on the cover in his hand. The props combined with the outfit he’s wearing, are perfect for his ‘character’. The sight almost makes you smile—if you weren’t so fucking nervous. You chew on your bottom lip, not knowing what to say or do.

“Ah, y/n.” Chan begins for you. “What brings you to my office?”

He has a teasing smile on his face. You take a step forward and clear your throat.

“Well, Cha—“ 

He shoots a stern look at you, one brow arched. 

“I mean, Professor Bang,” you correct. “I wanted to talk about my grade in your class.”

He snaps the book shut and sits it on the dresser. He pushes his glasses up.

“Ah, yes. They’re not quite what I expected from you,” he says, crossing his legs, then his arms in front of his chest. 

You feel silly. So silly. You can’t help but appreciate how serious he’s being. It encourages you to get more into it. 

“I know,” you look down at your feet and take a few more steps forward. “Things have been really hectic with work and school; I haven’t been able to keep up with the assignments.”

“I see,” he says flatly. “I wish you’d come to me sooner, it’s too late in the semester now. I don’t think there’s anything you can do about it at this point.”

You slowly look back up at him, trying your best to make your eyes look sad. You chew on your bottom lip again, this time as part of the act. 

“Please, sir.” 

His lip quirks at the corner hearing that, but he keeps a straight face. 

“I can’t fail this class,” you shake your head, walking forward until there’s only a few feet between you. “I know you’re an understanding teacher. There must be something I can do. Some kind of extra credit.”

His eyes fall from your head to your toes, then back up again. Part of you wishes you’d had on better clothing rather than a jacket and jeans. Though—you had rushed to get ready this morning after untangling yourself from Hyunjin and only have on a sports bra beneath the jacket. You could use that to your advantage. 

“I’m sorry, y/n, I really don’t think that’s possible.” He shakes his head. 

You force out a sad sigh as you bring your hand up to your jacket zipper. You start to  pull it down, watching his face, watching his eyes move from yours down to the skin slowly being revealed. 

“Sir, I really can’t fail this class,” your tone actually sounds desperate. You stop the zipper just beneath your navel.

“I really don’t think this is appropriate, y/n,” he tells you.

You tentatively close the distance between you. He’s looking directly at your exposed cleavage as you approach. You reach out for the buttons on his shirt.

“I’ll do anything to pass this class, Professor Bang,” you say, emphasizing his oddly fitting last name. 

You tentatively undo one button, looking from your hands at work, then back up to him. 

You’re not sure how far he’ll go into character, if he’ll try to stop you. You’re also not sure where this sudden confidence emerged from. You’ve never seduced anybody before, you don’t know what you’re doing. The fact that he’s playing along makes it a little more comfortable. The plus side to this debacle is that it’s good practice for next month. 

That’s how you have to look at this. You can make this work for your long-term goal. You can give him a night he won’t forget with this act. Something he’ll want more of. Something he’ll want to experience with you again. 

You fight against the smile threatening to give away the villainous plan that’s just been sparked in your head. 

You’ve got two buttons undone and he hasn’t stopped you. You push up onto your tiptoes, moving your mouth closer to his. 

“Anything,” you whisper, letting your lips brush against his. 

You kiss along his jawline as your hands keep working on the buttons. You tug on the shirt to pull it out of his pants to finish unbuttoning it, nipping at his neck.

“I could get fired for this,” he says.

With his shirt unbuttoned you slide your hands up his chest, to his shoulders. 

“I swear I won’t tell anyone,” you say, pushing his shirt down. You lay a trail of kisses from his right shoulder, across his collarbone, to his left shoulder, while your hand tugs at the button on his jeans, then the zipper. 

His hands grip your hips. You slip a hand beneath his boxers. His cock is already hard when you cup it, and it feels like the biggest win. 

“I promise.” You hook a finger under his chain. You stand flat on your feet and use the chain to bring him down towards you as you squeeze his cock. His eyes bore into you as he licks his lips. You’d give anything to know what he’s thinking right now. Is this really working? “It’ll be our little secret.”

His mouth crashes against yours and he lets out a groan, pulling your hips against him. 

As expected, his lips on yours instantly makes you feel ravenous. You run your hands along his chest as his tongue enters your mouth, caressing yours. You’ve missed the taste of him—not that your time with Hyunjin wasn’t amazing, but the unknown and unaddressed feelings between you and Chan make your intimacy equally pleasing for drastically different reasons.

You push away from him when it becomes too much, needing to take a breath. He seizes the opportunity to finish unzipping your jacket.

“You left the house like this?” His tone is rough and accusatory and makes you wonder if the roleplay is finished. “In just a bra and jacket?”

“Yes,” you’re hesitant to reply.

His lips are back on your skin, leaving a trail of heat as he kisses along your neck while removing your jacket. You tilt your head to the side and arch your back, wanting more of his touch.

“No shirt,” he continues, unzipping the sports bra at the front. “That’s the kind of student you are?”

His hands are on your hips again and he guides you back a little. You drop your hands from his chest and stare up at him, silent. He slides the straps of the bra off your shoulders. As soon as the air hits your nipples you feel them tighten.

He lets out a low breath at the sight. You both remain still.

“I thought you were a good girl, y/n.”

You’re not sure when he took the upper hand again, but you’re thankful for a moment to not think of what your ‘character’ would say and just bask in the feeling of his lustful eyes on you.

“Show me what you’ll do for your grade,” he says, reaching out to cup your breasts. He pinches your nipples between his fingers, making you moan.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and start to pull them down along with his jeans, lowering yourself to your knees. He steps out of them, and you look up. The only remaining item of clothing he has on is his shirt. It’s halfway off, hanging from his biceps—broad, sculpted shoulders and ripped abdomen on full display. You move your hands to his cock, lightly caressing it with your fingertips.

You hold the base with one hand and use your other to glide your pointer finger across the tip until that clear fluid starts to emerge. You lean forward and take him into your mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you push forward to take in as much of him as you can. He grips your hair with both hands, pulling on the strands while you flick your tongue from side to side along the bottom of his shaft.

You squeeze your cheeks together, sucking hard as you pull off his cock, causing a loud popping sound when it comes out.

“I want you to fuck my mouth, Professor Bang,” you say, looking up at him as you readjust yourself on your knees.

His jaw clenches and his eyes light up as he tightens his grip on your hair. He positions your mouth back over his cock. You take a deep breath and open wide. He holds your head in place while his hips thrust forward and backwards, slowly at first, then faster and deeper. It takes every bit of concentration to keep your gag reflex in check as his cock slides further down your throat.

It’s messy. There’s saliva all around your mouth, probably dripping down your chin. He likes it this way. He's grunting and groaning, and you love the sounds he makes. You love that he’s making these sounds while he’s in your mouth. Only you can give him this pleasure. This Chan is not an asshat. This Chan wants you. Needs you. You rub your hands up and down his thighs, scratching lightly with your nails.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants each time he thrusts.

When he pulls all the way out, you lean forward to take him in your mouth again, but he stops you. He’s breathing heavily and with the way he’s gripping his cock, you can tell he almost came.

The amount of self-control he has in these moments is concerning. At least for the goal you’ve set to accomplish next month.

He motions for you to stand, and you do. You use the back of your hand to wipe your chin.  

He unbuttons and unzips your pants, pushing them down halfway and having you do the rest. As soon as you’ve stepped out of them, he grabs you by the waist and picks you up. His grip on you is firm, yet effortless, as he turns around to sit you on the dresser.

You love this dresser. It might be your favorite dresser in the world.

He adjusts you so you’re close to the edge and spreads your legs apart. He keeps his hands on your knees, bending down slightly to get eye level with your pussy.

It's in these moments that you know. No matter how he treats you any other time of day—the look in his eyes right now says so much. He wants you in a way you’ve never been wanted before. Whether or not that extends to anything other than a physical connection is for you to worry about later.

He slides his pointer finger along your folds, then rubs circles around your clit. He looks up to catch your eye. There’s a playful glint there when he speaks.

“You’ve worked your way up to a C,” he announces, stepping back.

You scoff and bite back a smile.

He turns around and walks to the bed, leaving you spread open on his dresser. He picks up the dick-shaped lollipop from the bed.

“That’s not what I bought that for,” you say as he pulls the wrapper off, walking back to you.  

With one look he silences you and lets you know he doesn’t give a fuck what you bought it for. It’s his now, and so are you. He can do what he likes.

When he’s in front of you again, he pushes the lollipop against your lips. You resist for a moment.

“Do you want to fail my class, y/n?”

Your eyes are on him, but his are on your mouth as you shake your head and drop your jaw. He pushes the lollipop into your mouth, and you close your lips around it. It’s a nice contrast from the salty taste of him lingering there. The cotton candy flavor fills your mouth as he slowly moves it in and out. When he pulls it out, you already know what’s coming next, and you don’t know how to feel about it.

He puts one hand on your stomach, pressing down until you lean back against the mirror. He slides the lollipop down your chin and neck, stopping to circle your nipples, making them sticky then licking them clean. He then lowers it between your legs, pressing it against your center to moisten the tip before sliding it around your folds.

His focus is entirely on what he’s doing; watching intently as he pushes the dick-shaped lollipop into you. You squirm on the dresser, trying to push aside thoughts of what it will take to clean yourself after this. The packaging said it was safe for internal use, but again, this was not what you had in mind for it. When he leans forward and sucks your clit into his mouth, though, you don’t have to try anymore. Your only thoughts are of what you’re going to do without this for a month.

Though, technically, you can receive…right? You’ll have to clarify the rules later.

Chan kisses his way up your stomach, nipping as he gets to your breasts, then full on biting when he’s at your neck. And they’re not soft bites either. You moan loudly, always in depravity when you’re with him. You’re not sure there’s anything he could do to you that you wouldn’t like. And that thought scares you.

The bites at your neck turn into sucks and you lean into it, knowing he’s marking you. He pulls himself away before he can do too much damage, breathing heavily and resting his head on your shoulder as he keeps moving the lollipop in and out of you.

Your hand makes its way beneath his chin to lift his head up and make him look you in the eye. You cup the back of his neck and pull his mouth to yours. You part your lips and your tongue dashes out, seeking his, letting him taste the mixture of himself and the cotton candy flavor. You arch your back until your breasts meet his chest, hardened nipples poking at this skin. He groans into your mouth as you suck on his tongue.

“I want an A, Professor,” you say, pushing him away.

A low growl escapes his mouth as he reclaims your mouth. He withdraws the lollipop from you as he kisses you deeply and messily. His lips and tongue are everywhere, uncontrolled. He grips your hip with one hand, pulling you closer until your center is pressed against his stomach

When he breaks the kiss, he lets out another long, low breath and shakes his head. You want to know so badly what’s he’s thinking. You want him to vocalize how much he wants you. How much he needs you to please him.

He takes a small step back, lollipop still in hand. You watch as he brings it to his mouth, parts his lips and slides it inside. You don’t know why, but it makes you feel better about the whole predicament watching him take the candy phallus into his mouth. You can see him swirling his tongue around it, taking your juices off of it.

He slides you off the dresser to your feet, removing the lollipop from his mouth and placing it on the dresser. He leans down and cups your face, kissing you softly and briefly. He taps you on the ass and nudges you towards the bed.  

You crawl on the bed as soon as you reach it and start to turn around. He’s right behind you. His hands land on your hips to hold you in place, keeping you on all fours near the edge of the bed. He’s silent, pressing his cock against you as his hands roam freely up and down your back.

You’re not expecting it, so when he withdraws a hand and delivers a hard smack to your ass you tense up, then moan. The pain he delivers always feels good.

He grips your hips once more and positions himself at your opening, slowly sliding inside of you.

You let your head hang down as you savor the feeling. You missed this. You will continue to miss it if he doesn’t break. He rests in you for a moment, hands still gripping your hips tightly while he’s completely buried in you.

When he pulls out, you brace yourself. He thrusts forward, hard and deep, groaning. You love how vocal he is when he fucks you, too. He doesn’t do feelings, he doesn’t do words, but he makes sounds. He makes it apparent how much he likes the feeling of his cock inside you.

“Arch your back,” he says, moving his hand to the middle of your back and pressing down lightly.

You spread your legs further apart and turn your face on the side to rest your head on the mattress. You arch your back, moaning as the adjusted position allows him to sink deeper into you.

He continues to slowly withdraw then thrust into you quickly, repeating the motion again and again. The cards left on the comforter spill onto the floor as your joint aggression rocks the bed. When you start to move your hips back against him, he picks up the pace, thrusting harder, deeper. He leans forward to reach around your hips and rub your clit. The sound of your thighs connecting to his, yours shared moans, his grunts, fill the quiet room. You fuck him back, panting as you feel your release approaching.

“Professor Bang,” you manage to get out, gripping the sheets, thrusting back against him even harder. “Can I come?”

Roleplay or not, you haven’t forgotten his basic rules.

He chuckles, taking his other hand off your hip to grab your breast, using it for leverage to pull you back on to him.

“I don’t know…” he teases breathlessly, “Can you?”

“May I?” You correct, squeezing your eyes shut as if it will help you hold back.

“You may,” he says, releasing your breast to spank you again.

He keeps rubbing your clit and slapping your ass every few thrusts. The stinging pain combined with the feel of his cock pumping in and out of you reaches its peak. You bite your bottom lip to keep from full on wailing. You bite so hard you break the skin, feeling the taste of copper in your mouth as you try to stifle your moan.

“Chan,” you pant, “I’m coming. I’m coming!”

Your words are breathless as you push back against him with all your might and let your orgasm course through you.

He doesn’t stop his movements until you reach back with your hand, pressing it against his stomach. He slows his thrusts little by little before pulling out of you completely.

The hand holding you up and your thighs shake until they give out. You fall onto the bed with a satisfied sigh. He’s still standing behind you, taking slow, deep breaths. You look over your shoulder to see him stroking his cock. How is he still holding back?

“This is just practice, y/n.” He announces, seeing the look on your face.

Fuck, you’ve got your work cut out for you.

“Do I at least get an ‘A’?” You ask.

“Solid B+,” he says with a smile.

“Fuck you, Professor,” you laugh.

He stops stroking himself, sits on the bed and delivers another smack to your ass.

“Eat,” he commands.

“What about you?” You ask curiously.

“I have two and a half hours left ‘til midnight,” he says. “Eat quick.”

When you wake up Wednesday morning, you’re actually kinda thankful to be getting a break. Chan fucked you, and fucked you, and fucked you some more last night. You didn’t think it would ever end, but you had no complaints at the time. This morning, however, your body is feeling it. Your thighs feels like strangers to one another after spending so much time spread apart, with either his cock or mouth between them.

Later, everyone gathers in the basement and Seungmin unveils two large pieces of paper. The first has each member’s name on it, the second has all the girls’ names and their assigned members. Score boards.

“Anytime a member puts money into the pot or breaks, we will keep track of it here,” Seungmin says.

“And you guys don’t lie or try to cheat?” Allie asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“No reason to,” Seungmin says. “It’s just for fun, remember?”

It’s hard for you to imagine they see this as fun. Though perhaps they all just want to strive for the win and feel like an alpha male, beating out their other members.

“Who won last year?” You ask.

The members are silent, looking amongst each other.

“I’ve won the last three years in a row,” says the voice that was moaning and groaning in your ear last night. Your eyes meet with Chan’s and suddenly your heart and aspirations sink. How the fuck are you gonna get him to break then?

a/n: I'm using the 2023 calendar for this so if there's any confusion it's now Wednesday, November 1st in the story. More soon! Likes, reblogs & comments make the tumblr world go 'round <3

[ read chapter thirteen here ]

tag list:

@iflmho / @stayatinykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie /@conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland /@hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy /@ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @teti-menchon0604 / @you-make-skz-stay / @zandra-42 / @seungminindabuilding / @slytherinatheart / @loveuwoo /@hyunjinhoexxx / @chartrucewhore / @torothecatt /@fun-fanfics / @yaorzu-blog/ @yjeonginlvr/ @tenshimara / @a-person-with-void / @ilovetheworldilivein / @dhillomilo /@skzfelixlove / @luvvvash / @blondechannie

[twsthc]

twst character playlists 🎧☆

⚠️ warnings: i have bad music taste. also a lot of nightcore. sorry.

last updated: october 10, 2023

🌹 🎼

Riddle: Bôa - Twilight , Laufey - Let You Break My Heart Again , Nakaniwano Shoujyotachi - SHISHAMO

i was thinking about putting in regal classical music or something, but its like, the whole point of riddle is hes a KID and that was taken from him

this is what he sounds like on the inside; a sad teenager lmao

Ace: Estelle - American Boy , Pharrell williams - Hug me , Bruno Mars & Cardi B - Finesse

teenage boy pilled

HUG ME! BRING IT IN! WOOO!!

Deuce: Beastie Boys - Fight for Your Right , Childish Gambino - Girls Look Better , ROAR - Christmas Kids , Wheatus - Teenage Dirtbag

2 people simultaneously agreed hed listen to the Beastie Boys in my discord so here we are!!

Cater: Azelia Banks - ANNA WINTOUR , Magdalena Bay - How to Get Physical , Katy Perry - California Gurls , Mitski - Washing Machine Heart

Azelia and Beyonce are in there cuz pop culture and cater and blah blah blah

i personally think hes a nightcore avril lavigne kid

Trey: BTS - 134340 , Sion - lies , Hyeln Joo - Hair Cut (미장원)

i would give you some super deep and understandable reason for these but.

idk!!! it just sounds like trey. this is what he sounds like.

🥩🎶

Leona: A Tribe Called Quest - Electric Relaxation , MF DOOM - Hoe Cakes , Sade - Smooth Operator , Kendrick Lamar - We Cry Together

i had to consult the african council (my dad) for this one

ATCQ of course, and Sade because my dad asked politely

Ruggie: GROOVY - Jersey Luv , Tay-K I <3 My Choppa , Lil Gnar - Sticky Rice , Odetari x 9lives - I LOVE YOU HOE

i dont have to explain myself to you

(hes african american boy coded)

Jack: Ice Cube - It Was A Good Day , Micheal Jackson - Rock With You , Bell Biv Devoe - Poison , De La Soul - Me Myself and I

i think he would be into oldies and ruggie would tease him for it

micheal jackson stan

🫧🎵

Azul: ABBA - Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! , Dalida - Love In Portofino , Caravan Palace - Lone Digger , Caro Emerald - Tangled Up (Lokee Remix)

old sounding music for the "nostalgia" (he wasn't even born during these eras)

the songs that play at the lounge and it kinda got stuck in his head

he fantasizes about preforming these songs in drag btw

Jade: Antonia Carlos Jobim - Girl From Ipanema , Laufey - From the Start , CAPSULE - TICTAC

songs he listens to on long hikes while thinking about violence

Floyd: 41 minutes of Roblox music , Megurine Luka - Tako Luka Maguro Fever , Euday L. Bowman - Twelfth Street Rag , ₳С₴łĐ₳ - PRIVET PRIVET 2009 ST

haha get it spongebob music because hes a fish

(gets booed off stage)

🌞🎼

Kalim: Serani Poji -Pipo Pipo , 레드벨벳 - Day 1 , takeshi abo - LEASE , MAXIMUM THE HORMONE - ChuChu Lovely...

cutie patootie happy-go-lucky songs

i feel like Takeshi Abo - LEASE is what goes through his head on loop 24/7

Jamil: Paramore - Renegade , Bôa - Duvet , beabadoobee - the perfect pair , LeTigreWorld - Deceptacon , Mitski - Washing Machine Heart

Paramore - Renegade was actually a recommendation! thank you yorick :3

otherwise i think rock/soft heartbroken songs go well with him

👑🎶

Vil: Lana Del Rey - Doin' Time , Magdalena Bay - Killshot , Kitty Kallen - It's Been a Long, Long Time , Mitski - Liquid Smooth

queen. flawless. stilettos. category: bad bitch.

too classy for this world, forever that girl

Epel: KYLE - Don't Wanna Fall In Love , Ram Jam - Black Betty , WHAM! - Everything She Wants , Hot Freaks - I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend

a mix of older and newer songs i guess

i hc he works on a family farm (for fun and allowance). hed be blasting Black Betty in his left airpod while wrestling a sheep in the mud

music taste slightly influenced by deuce and jack methinks

Rook: Vendredi sur Mer - Écoute chérie , Camille - Le Festin , ラムのラブソング , Shelly Duvall - He Needs Me

you know i had to do it to em

okay but these songs unironically fit rook to me idk

☠🎵

Idia: 【らき☆すた】スーパーアハアハデラックス , 初音PV新作くるみ☆ぽんちお.flv , Caramella Girls - Caramelldansen , 6arelyhuman - Hands up!

the first one represents how i hc he listens to those 16 year old anime tohou remixes on a daily. he injects them into his veins.

nico nico douga war veteran. u u uma uma...

Ortho: Nanoray - DesktopBuddy , METAROOM - S.N.U.F.F.Y

cute and electronic sounding songs!!

🐉🎼

Malleus: Malice Mizer - Ma Chérie , this entire playlist , Yoko Kanno - Green Bird , NASTYONA - My September ,

being honest idk much about malleus

all i know is he would listen to malice mizer and he is gay

Silver: The Smiths - Heaven Knows I'm Miserable now , Burn The Ballroom - Kiss Me You Animal , Wienners - GOD SAVE THE MUSIC

lilia influenced his music taste a lot

Sebek: deaf, doesn't listen to music

Lilia: Mothy - ヴェノマニア公の狂気 , MASA WORKS DESIGN - 狐の嫁入り , Kenshi Yonezu - KICK BACK

trying to stay true to his war general roots while also remembering hes a gamer otaku thing now...

also hes in the "light" music club so

[celestiall0tus]

Tales of Bloody Bug and Chat Noir - Chapter 29 - Christmas Party

Beginning || Previous || Next

            Alix finished wrapping her present for Chloe��s Christmas party, then checked the time. She would need to head out soon. She sighed and got ready when she heard Tikki make gagging noises. She turned as Tikki spat up a small red stone that looked like half of the yin-yang symbol.

            “Ew, Tikki, what is that?” Alix demanded.

            “A kwagatama. It’s a symbol of great friendship between a holder and a kwami.”

            Alix’s eyes widened as she picked up the kwagatama. “For real? You mean it?”

            “Yup. And it’s more than just a mere symbol. With it, you can speak with other ladybug holders. And, well, I spoke to Plagg and there’s someone I want you to meet. She was also a ladybug, but not for as long as the others. I hope that, maybe, she may be a new guiding light for you.”

            Alix’s face softened as she scooped up Tikki and nuzzled her. “Thank you, Tikki. So, when do I meet with them?”

            “Give me a week to retrieve her with Plagg.”

            “Retrieve her?”

            “Yes. See, this ladybug holder doesn’t exist anymore. Technically speaking that is. Plagg and I need to pull her out of the void and restore her. Just be warned. When we restore her, a certain… condition will be unmet and need to be fulfilled once again by other means.”

            “What’ll happen?”

            “I don’t know, but I trust in you. I know whatever may come, you and I will be able to face it together as one with Adrien and Plagg.”

            “You can count on it.”

            Tikki beamed. “Thank you. Now, let’s go! You don’t want to be late.”

            Alix nodded. She got ready, grabbed her present, and headed over to Le Grand Paris. She stepped into the main lobby to see it decked out with party decorations, tables filled with catered sweets and drinks, and a swarm of guests. She glanced around for her secret Santa when Adrien tackled her in a hug.

            “Alix! You made it,” Adrien cheered.

            “Adrien! Of course, I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

            “He’s just worried since Lila and Marinette are lurking around here,” Kagami said.

            “What? Why are they here?”

            “Lila likely stole an invitation, and Marinette’s family is one of the caterers.”

            “Have they given you any trouble?”

            “None more than usual.”

            “Well, why don’t we enjoy the festivities, yeah? Oh, but first I need to drop off my secret Santa gift.”

            “Oh, that table over there with all the gifts on it,” Adrien pointed out.

            Alix nodded and dropped off her present before she joined Adrien and Kagami in the festivities. Alix basked in their companionship as they were later joined by Mylene, Rose, and Ivan. They all enjoyed each other’s company when Juleka, Luka, and Nathaniel joined them. Juleka and Nathaniel approached Alix, looking away, then up at her.

            “Alix, I’m sorry for what I did as Evillustrator. I… I wasn’t myself, you know that, right?” Nathaniel asked.

            “I do. I also don’t blame you for anything,” Alix said.

            “What? Why? I almost-.”

            “Nathaniel, I chose to die that day. All you did was give me an easy way out without realizing it. Besides, you shouldn’t be apologizing to me, but that guy.”

            Nathaniel looked away. “I… I should. And I admit that I acted like an ass to him. I was just angry because I look up to Bloody Bug. She’s so strong, bold, and fearless. There’s nothing that she won’t do. I mean, she faced a dragon head-to-head without a hint of fear in her eyes. So, when I was given that diary, I thought it was actually hers and that I’d get to meet her again.”

            “But when you saw that guy, all that hope was crushed,” Alix finished.

            Nathaniel nodded.

            “Well, tell you what. I’ll find that guy again and we’ll work something out. If he was able to write something that convinced you that it was Bloody Bug’s, then he’s one hell of a writer. One that you might be able to work with to create an amazing comic book.”

            “Yeah. Yeah! I’ll do my part too. If I see him, I’ll try to make amends.”

            “Good. That’s what I want to hear, Tomato. Now, Juleka, what do you want?”

            “I want to apologize for how I’ve been to you. Or, well, how I was that one time after Marinette was first akumatized.”

            Alix raised a brow and crossed her arms. “Go on.”

            “I’m ashamed to say that I let myself be fooled. I believed Marinette and Alya’s word about your character over what I’ve grown to known. If not for Rose… and Luka… I just might still.”

            “Wait. Rose I believe, but Luka? What has Luka said about me?”

            “It’s not what he’s said, but what he hasn’t. He’s not exactly subtle, yet no one else seems to notice. Quite a paradox, don’t you think?”

            Alix furrowed her brow. She glanced back at Luka, who stood beside Rose. His eyes widened when they locked eyes before he turned away. She pursed her lips and looked at Nathaniel.

            “Hey, see if you can’t find that guy here. Maybe you mend the bridge,” Alix suggested.

            “But-!”

            “Now!” Alix hissed.

            Nathaniel raised his hands and ran away. Alix sighed and pulled Juleka away from the group.

            “Juleka, Luka doesn’t have a crush on me, does he?”

            Juleka looked away.

            “Balls. I’m ending this.”

            Juleka panicked and pulled Alix back. “Don’t. Please.”

            “Juleka, I’m not about to let this fester.”

            “But he’s changed so much. Don’t ruin this for him, please.”

            “Juleka, it’s cute and all, but I have no interest in romance. If your brother was interested in the more, uh, physical side of a relationship while keeping things platonic, I wouldn’t mind so much. But he doesn’t seem the type.”

            Juleka knotted her brows in thought as her eyes darted back and forth. “Alix, are you… would you happen to be… aromantic?”

            “Aromantic? What’s that?”

            “It’s when you don’t experience romantic attraction, but still experience other types of attraction. Most aros that I’ve heard about hate romance with a passion, but Rose told me that some aros do crave companionship, even without the romance piece. Something about it being a queer platonic relationship.”

            “Queer platonic? What is that?”

            Juleka held up a finger. She dipped into the group and spoke with Rose. Rose’s eyes widened as she ran up to Alix.

            “I heard you have questions about the LGBT. Ask away.”

            “Uh, right. What’s this about queer platonic relationships Juleka had mentioned?”

            Rose gasped. “Are you aromantic, asexual, or both?”

            “Juleka said aromantic, but not asexual, so just aromantic I think.”

            Rose bounced excitedly. “That’s amazing! Ok, see, this is usually more common in aros, but not unheard of for the other two. Basically, a queer platonic relationship is where you have a relationship that is between friendship and romance. Most people would refer to it as friends with benefits, but it’s not. I’ve never experienced it myself, but it seems, how do you say, intimate in its own special way.”

            Alix furrowed her brow. “That… that honestly sounds nice. Like, really nice. But I doubt people would be interested in that.”

            Rose smiled and took Alix’s hands. “Well, no, but you’ll find those people that do. It’ll be disheartening as you go through people you’re attracted to for them to turn you down, but in time, you’ll find the ones that’ll accept that part of you. Just like how Juleka found me. You’ll find your someones too. I know you will.”

            “Thank you, Rose, but also do me a favor.”

            “What’s that?”

            “I know Luka has a crush on me. If he ever brings it up to you, let it drop that I’m aromantic and what that entails. Would you do that?”

            “Absolutely. Better to not let that one fester. Luka is a wonderful boy, but he has a gentle heart that is easily broken.”

            “I’m glad you at least see reason. Unlike Juleka.”

            “Oh, Juleka tries. She just… she wants the best for Luka. However, what she thinks is the best isn’t always the best, but there’s also no convincing her otherwise until she makes up her own mind. It can be frustrating, but once you know, it’s easier to handle.”

            Alix hummed. She glanced at the group when Chloe’s voice boomed in the lobby.

            “Good evening, everyone! I hope you’re all enjoying this little get together. It’s almost time for the secret Santa exchange, but before that, a little game and a personal gift from me to all of you.”

            Alix watched as Chloe moved to a wall lined with stockings stuffed with assorted goodies. She tilted her head, her curiosity peaked.

            “Sabrina and I put together a parting gift and a game. Each person may take one stocking and will find a random assortment of treats and prizes. But there’s a little something special in fifteen of these stockings. Those lucky to pick one of these stockings will find themselves in possession of an all exclusive, front-row, VIP, backstage ticket to Jagged Stone’s concert to kick off his Miraculous tour! And, not only do you get to meet rock hero, Jagged Stone, but also the heroes that safeguard our great city!”

            Everyone erupted into gasps and excited chatter. Alix tilted her head and tapped Adrien on the shoulder.

            “Is money bags being serious right now?”

            “Yeah. She got those tickets as part of the you-know-what. We all technically did, but we just gave her ours and told her to figure out who to give them to,” Adrien whispered.

            “Wait, they gave you guys those tickets? For what? To give to our friends?”

            “Yeah, exactly. I didn’t like that, so I told Chlo to find a way to pass them out without drawing too much suspicion. I suppose this works, right?”

            “I’d say so. Good job.”

            “Now, before you take your parting gift, exchange your gifts, and check in with Sabrina. Once you have, you may take a stocking. And thank you again for coming to the one and only Bourgeois Christmas Extravaganza!” Chloe exclaimed.

            Everyone rushed over to the present table to retrieve their gifts. Alix glanced over and saw Luka grab Juleka and rush over to the table as well. She was taken off guard by the sheer excitement and hope in his face. She hummed and maneuvered through the crowd to Sabrina.

            “Oh, hi, Alix. Did you get your present already?”

            “Uh, no. You know which of those stockings have the tickets, right?”

            “I mean, yes, but-.”

            “Could you make sure the Couffaines each get one? I just saw Luka drag Juleka away with such hope in his eyes. I think he wants one of those tickets.”

            Sabrina’s eyes misted over as she placed a hand over her heart. “I’ll make sure. You can count on it.”

            Alix smiled and gave Sabrina a quick hug before she headed over to the table and grabbed her secret Santa present for Adrien. She smiled and returned to the group and handed it to him.

            “What’s this? Was I your secret Santa?” Adrien asked.

            “Yeah. I know you’re coming over for Christmas anyway, but you know, a secret Santa is a secret Santa. So, here you go.”

            Adrien opened the gift and gasped. He carefully took out a picture frame with a collage of photos with him with the Kubdels. In the bottom right of the collage was “The Kubdel Family” written on it. Tears fell from Adrien’s eyes as he hugged the frame.

            “Thank you, sis. Thank you so much.”

            “Anytime, bro. Now let’s find my secret Santa, get our parting gift, and blow this joint.”

            “Could we get ice cream?”

            Alix snorted and laughed. “Alright, we’ll get ice cream. Let’s go.”

            Alix turned towards the table but stopped when she saw Mylene in her path. Mylene smiled and held up a wrapped present.

            “Merry Christmas, Alix.”

            Alix’s eyes widened. She opened the present to find a silver bracelet with assorted charms.

            “What do you think? I made sure to get different charms for all of us, to remind you of us. See? I’m the leaf because I’m a nature warrior. Oh, and Ivan is the skull and cross bones because of you both liking that heavy metal music. Rose is the unicorn because it’s Rose. Nathaniel is the painter’s palette, Chloe is the diamond, Sabrina is the dog, and Adrien is the cat. Lastly, there’s the roller blades for you. Oh! And the little heart. Take a look.”

            Alix looked at the heart charm and saw “You’re not alone” engraved on it. Her breath caught as she turned it over and saw “We’re with you” engraved on the back. She smiled, put on the bracelet, and hugged Mylene.

            “Thank you. I love it.”

            Mylene smiled and returned the hug. “I’m glad. Merry Christmas, Alix.”

            “And Merry Christmas to you too, Mylene.”

            Alix and Mylene waved good-bye as Alix and Adrien headed over to the line to Sabrina. Alix watched as other partygoers got their stockings. Most didn’t get a ticket while a few lucky ones did. She watched as Luka and Juleka moved up to the wall with certainty and took down a stocking. She watched as the twins searched their stockings and each found a ticket to Jagged Stone’s concert. She felt joy swell within her seeing Luka’s pure, unfiltered excitement as he and Juleka danced and celebrated at both of them getting a ticket.

            “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Luka this anything,” Adrien commented.

            “Me either, but I like it. You?”

            Adrien sighed and smiled. “It looks amazing on him.”

            Alix smirked. “My, Adrien, do you like Luka?

            “Huh? Of course, I do. I’ve wanted to be friends with him since I met him. So, seeing him like this makes me happy. Maybe, someday, we can be friends.”

            Alix smiled and patted Adrien on the back. “I’m sure you will. Just give him a little more time. He’s only just begun to come out of his shell. Don’t rush him.”

            “Don’t worry. I learned my lesson.”

            Alix chuckled. She and Adrien approached Sabrina, showed her their presents, and headed up to the wall. They each grabbed a stocking and checked them. They both got an abundance of sweets and beauty products, but no ticket. She sighed in relief and headed for the door with Adrien. They stepped out into the cold air and walked down the sidewalk for a bit before they disappeared into an alley. They transformed into Bloody Bug and Chat Noir. Bloody Bug took her yo-yo out, opened it, and put Adrien’s present inside for safekeeping.

            “Alright, ready?”

            “Always.”

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[final-girl96]

Joseph Quinn’s upside-down year

He’s gone from hustling for bit parts to playing a beloved character in one of the biggest shows on TV, thirsted after by fans and fellow celebrities alike. Inside the surreal year of 2022’s buzziest British breakout

By Jack King

5 December 2022

Coat, £1,970, Jil Sander by Lucie and Luke Meier. T-shirt, £7.90, Uniqlo. Hat, £325, Lock & Co. Hatters.Ben Parks

When Joseph Quinn took the call that would come to change his life for good, he was standing in his kitchen in South London. His agent was on the other end of the phone. “He called me, like, ‘Who’s that?’ And I was like, ‘What do you mean?’ So he goes, ‘I’m sorry, is that Eddie from Stranger Things?’” Quinn recalls. “I literally fell to my knees. Like, What? Are you sure? It felt like it’d just fallen out of the fucking sky.” It was November 2019. Only three weeks prior, in the very same flat, he’d recorded his first self-tape for the hit Netflix series with the help of his then-girlfriend and flatmate. “Obviously, at that point, I’m just fucking suspicious about the whole thing. This never happens. And here we are.”

Flash forward to today: after storming into the public consciousness as the sci-fi throwback’s latest anointed breakout, starring as punkish pariah Eddie Munson in Stranger Things series four, the 28-year-old has just flown out to LA for the third time in his what-the-fuck year. It’s a rhythm he’s still very much getting used to. Resultantly, we’re chatting over Zoom, myself in London’s Mile End, a short swim down the Thames from the unassuming world of his adolescence. “I love South London. I still live there – you get accused of heresy if you leave,” he jokes. “I might want to branch out somewhere different, because you don’t want to feel stagnant. But my life’s there: I went to school there, it’s where I met all of my friends.”

Jacket, £1,400 and trousers, £725, Etro. Shirt, £99, Boss. Boots, £1,750, Dior. Ben Parks

He scored his first job, on the 2015 TV drama Dickensian, in his third year at LAMDA (“I was a jammy fucker,” he says), the hallowed Hammersmith drama school where British acting royalty – Cumberbatch, Cox, Ejiofor – cut their teeth. It was while he was in his graduating class, in fact, that he met Fabien Frankel, then a first year, now enjoying his own rise apropos of the Game of Thrones spin-off House of the Dragon.

“It’s fucking hilarious,” Quinn says of Frankel’s new-found stardom. “We’ve shared similar anxieties about the ridiculousness of our situations.” The two are good friends; Frankel, for his part, brims with praise. “As much as it pains me to say, he was always just a brilliant actor,” he says of Quinn. “There was always some magic on stage. Sadly we’ve never got to work together, but we’ve always stayed close.”

Quinn’s early luck with Dickensian, as it turns out, was a touch premature; after that show ran its course, Quinn didn’t work for nearly a year. But an influx of parts eventually came his way: first a gig as a Stark soldier in an episode of Game of Thrones, then, suddenly, a job on stage opposite Olivia Colman at the National Theatre. “He is utterly joyful, naughty, and fun,” Colman says of Quinn. “He puts the work in. You know you’re in safe hands.”

Coat, £3,200, shirt, £1,950 and trousers, £1,300, Prada. Shoes, £980, Church’s. Ben Parks

A steady trickle of work followed: BBC’s Howards End mini series, opposite Matthew Macfadyen; as the tragic revolutionary Enjolras in the Beeb’s not-a-musical adaptation of Les Mis, reuniting with Colman; under Steve McQueen in the first part of his critically acclaimed anthology film series, Small Axe. “I’ve been so lucky that I’ve not had to graft, and wait tables, and do the traditional catering jobs in between to keep the lights on,” Quinn says. “I’ve been fortunate enough, and savvy enough with my money just about, when things are looking a bit bleak, to book another gig. And that keeps the wolves from the door.” It was around the time of the London Film Festival premiere of his first major indie film, the psychosexual slow-burner Make Up, that he sent in his Stranger Things audition tape.

A few days after the call came in, he met the sibling duo who puppeteer Stranger Things, the Duffer brothers, over Skype. “They were very nice, and very kind,” Quinn remembers. “I was very disarmed by the whole thing. Kind of like, ‘Are you sure?’ And they said, ‘Yeah, we really want you to do it.’” In total, 287 actors read for the part, according to the Duffers, who describe the process as one of the longest casting searches they’ve ever had. “At one point, we remember getting nervous,” they say. Munson was abrasive and unlikeable on the page; they needed him to be lovable, without wanting to be loved. That confluence of traits seemed an impossible bullseye, until Quinn’s reels arrived. “Joe was hilarious and charming, but with an unpredictable, wild edge about him,” they recall. It was a no-brainer. The call was a formality. “He’s a director’s dream because he takes what’s on the page and sprints with it.”

Blazer, £2,360, and shirt, £500, Gucci. Ben Parks

Quinn’s anecdotes from those early days are cut with the sincere self-deprecation you might expect of a guy still scrambling to catch up with his own ascent. This is the stuff that Faustian bargains are made of, after all: over a billion hours’ worth of Stranger Things series four was watched within the first month of release. That’s a lot of eyeballs. “I was talking to Dan Cohen, the [executive] producer of Stranger Things, about it,” he says. “He talked about the over-nightness of these experiences now, with these streaming platforms. One moment you’re fine, and then it drops. It’s on in millions and millions of houses. After that, it just kind of snowballs.”

The first table read came next. “It was a very weird experience. I was sat next to the lovely Jamie Campbell Bower, who’s had experience in these bigger shows before,” he remembers. “Obviously, because everything has to be documented on this show, they were filming the table read to keep the fans satiated. The setup was that the pre-existing cast were on a very long table, and we were behind them, being kept secret from the cameras. We were shouting, delivering the lines to the back of the cast’s heads, which felt very odd.” Both he and Campbell Bower, as Quinn recalls, were “shitting it”. Following that, he had weeks of fittings, kitting him out in the idiosyncratic metalhead threads that form Munson’s outcast armour. He had his first day of shooting, and then… whiplash. “[Stranger Things co-director] Shawn Levy came out at the end of the day and said we’re going into… a lockdown of some kind,” he says. “A hiatus of two weeks. Which would’ve been nice.” It would be another six months before Quinn returned to set.

Shirt, £500, Gucci. Trousers, £924 and loafers, £650, Dolce & Gabbana. Ben Parks

What felt to him like a decade later, the show finally bowed to the masses. He watched the Stranger Things series four finale, wherein Munson goes out with self-sacrificial aplomb, with his little sister, dad, and his dad’s wife. Do they treat him differently now? “No, definitely within your immediate circle you hope nothing changes. It’s a very weird thing to comment on… [if] you take into consideration the actual fucking fresh hell that people are going through now, it feels like an arbitrary thing to feel threatened by,” he says. “Eighty per cent of it is amazing. Professionally, 100 per cent is amazing. 20 per cent of it is… fucking bizarre.”

Somewhere within that 20 per cent: the online drama between co-star Noah Schnapp and Doja Cat soon after the season aired, when the former publicly shared a DM from the rapper asking Schnapp to play Cupid between her and Quinn. “I’m kind of hesitant to talk about it really, because I didn’t do anything,” Quinn notes. “It’s not something that I put out into the world. But I do think she’s an incredible artist. It’s flattering.” This intrusive level of public scrutiny obviously comes part and parcel with sudden, incandescent fame. The tyranny of Instagram gossip and fans reading telescopic paparazzi photos like tea leaves are the unfortunate by-products of being at the top of the screen-acting game. Nevertheless, it must be difficult to adjust to. “People will weave narratives about you that aren’t true, I guess,” he says. “And I think accepting your powerlessness over that [is best]. If you’re going to correct people constantly, you’re going to end up exhausted.”

Blazer, £2,360, shirt, £500, trousers, £890 and boots, £1,230, Gucci. Ben Parks

But being famous, a term he loathes to use for himself, isn’t all bad. Take the sudden groundswell of cultish Munsonmania, perhaps no better demonstrated than at London Film and Comic Con this summer. “It was the first time I’d ever encountered the fandom,” he recalls. There were rumours that Quinn was “mistreated” by the staff during a meet and greet, blindsided by the sheer number of Munsonites, but he was quick to debunk them, a point he reiterates now. “It was very overwhelming. I don’t think the Con were prepared for the numbers. I certainly wasn’t.” In a viral video widely shared online at the time, a fan expressed their impassioned gratitude: for Quinn’s time at the Con, for bringing Munson to life. Quinn seemed emotionally overwhelmed, dabbing away tears with the inside of his elbow, barely conjuring a murmur. An outsider might conclude this to be the moment that the pin dropped. “I don’t want to sound too saccharine about it, but it is moving,” he says. “If you have a curiosity about people and storytelling, for a character you’ve created with the help of others… for that to resonate with people, it feels very profound, you know?”

And then there are the holy-shit moments. First up: in late July, he made his chat-show debut on Jimmy Fallon, though that came within a whisker of being cancelled. “I was sick before I went on,” he says. “I stupidly had oysters for lunch on the day, thinking that I needed some vigour and vitality and that’d get me through it.” Turns out his mind was playing tricks: that stir in the pit of his gut was the product of acute anxiety, per the show’s backstage nurse. But he still went on. He met Kevin Hart, “a consummate pro,” in the green room backstage. “The nerves just bounce off him, I think, whereas they were just leaving bullet holes in me,” Quinn says. A month before our interview, he was named one of Variety’s 10 Actors to Watch for 2022. Patton Oswalt introduced himself to Quinn at the swanky brunch coronation thereafter. “He just feels so many miles away from my life. For him to come up to me was very weird.”

Jumper, £1,050 and shirt, £680, Dior. Ben Parks

Stratospheric parts like Eddie Munson are a “lottery ticket,” as Quinn puts it. And at the end of it all, he’s effectively coming away with a blank check. Is he going to put his energy into indie roles, like the drama he finished shooting over the summer, Hoard, or is he marching up to the Broccolis to demand Bond? “Yeah, I’ve just got off a Zoom with Barbara, actually…” he jokes. “I don’t know. It’s such a fucking cliché, but it’s about connection to the material. With Hoard, I’m specifically excited for the director, Luna Carmoon, and the lead, Saura Lightfoot Leon. That’s a lovely experience, completely different to these behemoth sets. But you want range.” A judicious answer. Really though: Bond? “I think I’d be fucking stupid to say no to that,” he says, laughing. “But, come on, it’s not even worth entertaining.”

Even that is on the presumption that Munson’s Stranger Things journey is over. “Yeah, I’ve said I don’t know because I really don’t know,” Quinn says. “Shawn Levy has said it publicly. I think [his return] would be very, very, very unlikely. He seems pretty fucking dead to me,” he says, punctuated by a sharp chortle. He takes a moment.

“It’s just a beautifully written arc. The beginning, middle and end are so powerful as it stands, so I think to just crowbar him into a narrative… you don’t want him to overstay his welcome,” he continues, ever the diplomat, seemingly wary of disappointing the legion of fans who made him. But a sense of certitude undergirds his prudence; the feeling that, after years of cohabitation, he’s ready to let Munson go.

“He did the job that the Duffers wanted him to do,” Quinn says. “By no means am I ruling it out. That’s a decision for the grown-ups to make. But Stranger Things was doing fine without Eddie. I think they’ll be fine next season without him, too.”

PRODUCTION CREDITS

Photographs by Ben Parks

Styling by Fabio Immediato

Grooming by Brady Lee

Jacket, £239, shirt, £99 and Boss Bottled parfum, £86, Boss. Ben Parks

[urwendii]

2, 6, 16 and 18 for the fanfic writer ask game. :-)

2. Do you read/reread your own fics?

Listen I have a hate/love relationship with my own writing so most of the time it's actually painful for me to reread it outside proofreading , but i force myself to (mostly bc i tend to forget what I wrote) and i'm like wow this caters exactly to my own tastes, amazing, and then im shocked when the author (me) has not updated yet.

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

For our common otp: omg yes, without any surprise I think im already on my 3rd reread of E's entire serie, mostly because im connecting DOTS hehe. I love Frotu's A Portion of Thyself it's one of my fav comfort fics. I just wanna squish their Mairon.

Another one i recently added back on the Must reread List is Son of the Suns, an anakin centric sw AU i loved to pieces a few years back.

16. At what point in the process do you come up with titles?

At the very beginning, even before writing the chapters. I usually come up with them during the outlining because there's a logical continuation behind them.

18. What's one of your favorite lines you've written in a fic?

Ú calo is my less popular fic when ironically i believe it's my best poetic work, there's this paragraph i just really love. Im putting the french version too because it's actually even better than the english.

eng: She makes him King of Men, a mortal baptised on the shrine of her smile. Her aura is a tiara of gold and silver, her hand the divine guide of which he dreamt. From her words he is born anew, like a parched man drinking from her light, feasting on her storm. She crucifies her enemies, their shadows blinded by the torrent of her Justice, and from the ashes of his heart, with his name he delivers the anointing of his Love. 

fr: Elle le fait Roi des Hommes, mortel baptisé sur l’autel de son sourire. Son aura est un diadème sertie d’or et d’argent, sa main, le guide divin dont il rêvait. Par ses mots il renaît, tel un homme assoiffé qui s’abreuve de sa lumière, se nourrit de sa tempête. Elle crucifie ses ennemis, leurs ombres aveuglées par le torrent de sa Justice; et des cendres de son cœur il dépose de son nom l’onction de son Amour.

And finally i usually love every line i wrote for Ossë when he's annoying Mairon x)

[pottyperfect]

Jasmine Farm needs your support!

Hi my name is Marc Frederic ‘better known as ‘Le Charcutier Anglais’.

I am asking for your support for one of my students, Maria Christina Poblete whom I’ve trained in butchery & charcuterie over the past few years and of whom I still mentor.

She is a young single mom of 2 children from the Philippines in South East Asia. Having formally qualified as a chef at Catering College, she turned to butchery & charcuterie to further enhance her skillset.

She is Philippines only qualified female Charcutier along with being a co-author with myself of a book titled ‘A World A-Z of Sausage Recipes. (All the proceeds from this book will also be contributed to Maria’s dream).

Maria has been working abroad for some years now to support not only her own 2 children but also her mom and siblings. As it is they who stayed home to care for their father who for many years suffered from kidney disease before his untimely death earlier this year. The salary Maria earned these past few years paid for all her father’s kidney dialysis treatment as well as looking after her family.

Albeit Maria and her family are still grieving, she has decided it’s now time to concentrate on her own dreams, just as her father would have wished.

Maria has chosen the National Flower of the Philippines the all year round blooming Sampaguita (Jasmine) which symbolises Purity, Fertility and Hope to be her own personal symbol of hope. Hence the wonderful name ‘Jasmine Farm’ was born.

Her aim is to return to her home country from the Maldives where she currently works and set up her own small pig farm, butchery & charcuterie business.

Here she intends to not only teach her own children this wonderful artisan craft of charcuterie but she also wishes to encompass her local community into the many social activities and educational opportunities she can offer by sharing her new found knowledge Including the safe handling and production of meat along with the many self sufficiency farming practices.

Maria wishes to introduce traditional rare breed pigs to Jasmine Farm such as the British Berkshire Pig (Kurobuta) along with Western farming methods such as high animal welfare being a priority.

So whether you are a butcher, baker or candlestick maker, please consider a donation to this very worthwhile cause. Your donation no matter how small, could make a huge difference to so many people in a far away place.

Rarely in my long career have I seen exceptional talent, Maria is probably only the second such person I’ve come across who far exceeds all expectations.

Not many people know this about Maria, she is an International Judge for ‘Great Taste’ the worlds most respected food & drink accreditation scheme, based in the United Kingdom.

Lets not waste this opportunity of her being able to pass on her skillset, especially to those who need it most.

Thank you on behalf of Maria, her family and her local community for your kindness.

[thoughtsbylilyf]

According to the selective exposure theory, people choose to seek out media that align with their own personal beliefs and opinions. People may ignore media that contain opinions opposing their own, whether they’re aware of it or not.

Similarly, there is the uses and gratifications theory, which describes that people choose to engage with specific types of media to fulfill specific wants or needs.

I kept track of all the media I consumed in one day, and I’ll be analyzing whether my media usage relates to these theories.

Throughout my day, I will scroll on TikTok. TikTok is usually the first app I open when I want to take a break and spend some downtime on my phone. Considering the uses and gratification theory, I use TikTok as a source of entertainment. When I want a quick source of entertainment, I often go to TikTok to fulfill that need or want. Whether or not I engage in selection exposure on TikTok, I believe I do, but not necessarily intentionally. One of the reasons why TikTok is so popular, and the reason why I like it so much, is the curated “for you page.” My FYP is filled with videos catered to my likes and interests. TikTok uses algorithms to know exactly what types of videos I like to watch and recommends creators accordingly. Because of this, I don’t often get exposed to videos that don’t align with my interests, opinions, etc. I also don’t often go searching for such videos. So, I believe I do engage in selective exposure on TikTok.

I listen to a lot of music on Spotify throughout the day. I like to have background noise as I’m walking around, doing homework, doing house chores, etc. This day I decided to listen to a podcast, which I don’t do very often. I listened to the podcast “High Brow,” hosted by Mina Le, which typically discusses society, fashion, pop culture, and trends. For uses and gratifications, I would say I sought out this podcast for entertainment as well. I wanted something to listen to as I was cleaning my apartment to keep myself from getting bored. As for selective exposure, Spotify does recommend various different types of podcasts to me. However, as someone who isn’t an avid podcast listener, I decided to lean into something I knew I’d probably enjoy. I subscribe to Mina’s YouTube channel, and I enjoy her videos and the topics she discusses. I do typically agree with her opinions, so it seems I’m still guilty of selective exposure.

Lastly, I used Snapchat throughout the day to keep in touch with friends and family. Since moving away from home, I use Snapchat often to send snippets of my day to my friends and family from back home. Snapchat definitely fulfills my social needs.

After analyzing all the media I consumed in one day and why I chose it, I can see that I definitely do engage in selective exposure and that certain media do fulfill certain needs for me. I never really thought about why I chose certain media before. Now I can recognize that I do engage in the selective exposure theory. I tend to stick with media that aligns with my own interests and opinions. With this in mind, I’ll consider branching out with my media use in the future!

[chris24robin]

why are you leaving new orleans? one of my fondest memories of that place was happening upon a show of yours :(

before i say any of this, i want to establish that i lived 32 of my 36 years in the new orleans metro area. i worked as a drag, burlesque, and cabaret performer in the city from january 2015 until a week and a half ago, and it was my full time career from january 2017 until november 2022. i have a deep love and gratitude for both the city and its nightlife industry.

but it doesn't feel like home anymore, and it's dying.

when i moved back to new orleans in 2014, it was, in my opinion, the last real refuge of bohemian life in the u.s. rent was quite inexpensive, and there was a both a rich cultural legacy and a vibrant creative scene.

today, the city's infrastructure is still horrifically unprepared for the climate apocalypse we can all feel coming, while the local government has no interest in updating/upgrading anything that doesn't directly cater to The Laissez Les Bons Temps Rouler Tourism Experience, at the continuous expense of the people who live and work in the city.

the entertainers, restaurant servers, bartenders, and other hospitality and retail workers who make the city so memorable and magical for the people who visit just won't be able to afford to live there much longer as they are priced out in favor of turning the neighborhoods that don't regularly flood or lose electricity into blocks of overpriced homogenous short term rentals. i think hurricane ida (which was worse than hurricane katrina imo) was a real eye opener on how very much on our/their own the people who live in the new orleans metro area are.

regional politics: the current governor of louisiana is a conservative democrat who (mostly) had the backs of the lgbtq+ people in the state, even as his personal pro-life politics and the continuous rising tide of anti-black racism made it a dangerous place for a lot of people.

however, there is essentially no chance that any democrat could win the governorship in november. we're looking down the barrel of an extreme right-wing governor riding the coattails of the current moral panic surrounding lgbtq+ people, with republican supermajorities in both legislative houses and a packed conservative court. i would not be surprised if, like florida, texas, and tennessee, there is a blatantly obvious long term goal of making it illegal for lgbtq+ people to exist in public, and the next step is either incarceration or execution, whether we choose to acknowledge the elephant in the room or not.

there are personal and creative reasons, which i won't detail publicly beyond: three years ago i lost personal and professional relationships with people i thought were close friends and collaborators for the high crime of taking the most ethical and principled stance i could in a shitty situation that they themselves fueled. and one day we're going to have to acknowledge that messy, unresolved friend break ups are way more painful and have much longer lasting echoes than romantic break ups.

i felt like there was no longer a place for me in the city to do the creative work i want to do without it being a form of regression bordering on self-harm, and i felt increasingly cynical and bitter, which is not who i want to be. my bookings in new york will likely never compare to the career i had in new orleans pre-covid, but i'd rather indifference to hostility.

i gave myself a solid year of weighing my options before making my final decision. i know the noble idea is to stay and fight for your home, but i'm no longer capable of fighting for a relationship where the other party is never actually going to love me back.

meanwhile, i've had a full time remote job that i quite like for almost a year, so i can live anywhere i choose. and my father, with whom i had an extremely complicated relationship, passed away a year ago september 23, which gave me the space to reexamine exactly what it is i'm hoping to experience in this life.

i want to feel hopeful and inspired again. i want to write stories and music that matter to me. i have not even tried to date or hook up in almost seven years, but i might like to try again some day. and new york seems like a good place to start exploring all of that. if you can make it there, etc.

and if it doesn't work out, i'm only 36. i can go anywhere.

tldr: sometimes you know the party is coming to an end, and you don't want to be the last one there, especially when you're no longer sure if you're actually wanted. but there's a big world out there, and there's a chance you might find what you're looking for if you're courageous enough start the search.

[diilchasp]

alright just wanna preface this by saying this post is made on the basis of a myriad of half baked thoughts that have flitted through my brain over the years. my relationship with god and religion is confusing even to myself. and i think the conversation surrounding god and religion will never reach a common ground. these are my thoughts only, which can and probably will change in the future.

given the current trend, the number of people who consider themselves religious is dropping and will continue to do so in the future, at probably an even more accelerating rate.

here's the thing, although i do agree that a LOT of issues are caused directly or indirectly due to religion, i think a lot of people hold themselves back in the fear of karm.

that being said, a lot of perpetrators of violence are religious (not even counting violence that can be directly linked to religious beliefs)

BUT. we can say that as time goes by, education will be more accessible which can be linked to increase in tolerance. moreover the very obvious and rapid denunciation of religion will also lead to the power being taken away from religious individuals. the blind and unyielding trust in them will be replaced with scrutiny.

moreover, religious fanaticism will probably take a hit too.

as for unrelated crimes committed by religious individuals, i think they can be countered with education and (hopefully) better justice systems. talks of therapy and mental health have also started to loose the stigma surrounding them and although it may take quite some time to get to the peak, i think we're steadily heading that way.

all pluses upto here right?

yeah so let's say atheism is at its peak right now. this is how things can slowly start to descend.

nietchze argues- that humans enjoy being wicked just for the sake of being wicked or- the carnal delight “de faire le mal pour le plaisir de le faire,” to act wicked for the pleasure of being wicked.

a lot of times a myriad of torture and execution methods were displayed in royal marriages and festivals as a sick form of entertainment.

he argues is that bad conscience, in its developed form as the feeling of guilt, particularly associated with Christianity, is a form of legitimized cruelty turned inwards upon oneself. Nietzsche posits a fundamental human tendency to experience pleasure in inflicting suffering. He assigns the origins of bad conscience to ‘internalization’, in which aggressive instincts, curbed by civilized society, express themselves towards the self. The Christian God is invented as the perpetual guarantee of our deserving punishment for having aggressive animal instincts. Thus, bad conscience gains its value from the same origin as the instincts it opposes. (src)

now without having a god to cater to, will we slowly start loosing are morality, morality that quite possibly originated as a response to fear of god and what waits for us beyond death.

this may sound stupid because it is almost like we were born with a moral compass that was etched into our brains, but that is not the case.

and i am not saying that as soon as atheism takes over people will start torturing one another.

ok wait lemme bring out my notes from the gay science by nietchze lol-

[the parables of a madman]

so the arguments that have been put forward go something like this-

[alright so the graph above doesn't represent time frame (obviously) and is a very rough representation of what i am trying to convey]

but something that we havent considered yet is spirituality. i do think that religion will probably loose its pedestal in the next century, but imo, spirituality will not traverse the same path.

a society devoid of religion is not synonymous with a society devoid of suffering. and that is what spirituality does. it provides comfort of a meaning.

"People want to escape suffering, but if they can’t get out of it, they want to find meaning,” Norenzayan says. “For some reason, religion seems to give meaning to suffering – much more so than any secular ideal or belief that we know of.”

ok now i want to argue that people are being more cynical ab religion due to a number if stuff, moreover, spirituality as a whole is a more fluid and inclusive term for a myriad of varying beliefs.

as for suffering, that is something i agree with whole heartedly. the only thing that tethers me to theism is the hope that justice is served somewhere somehow. my mind refuses to even entertain the possibility of death being the final stage, because it just makes the world so much worse than it already is

But even if the world’s troubles were miraculously solved and we all led peaceful lives in equity, religion would probably still be around. This is because a god-shaped hole seems to exist in our species’ neuropsychology, thanks to a quirk of our evolution. Understanding this requires a delve into “dual process theory”. This psychological staple states that we have two very basic forms of thought: System 1 and System 2. System 2 evolved relatively recently. It’s the voice in our head – the narrator who never seems to shut up – that enables us to plan and think logically. In addition to helping us navigate the dangers of the world and find a mate, some scholars think that System 1 also enabled religions to evolve and perpetuate. System 1, for example, makes us instinctually primed to see life forces – a phenomenon called hypersensitive agency detection – everywhere we go, regardless of whether they’re there or not. Millennia ago, that tendency probably helped us avoid concealed danger, such as lions crouched in the grass or venomous snakes concealed in the bush. But it also made us vulnerable to inferring the existence of invisible agents – whether they took the form of a benevolent god watching over us, an unappeased ancestor punishing us with a drought or a monster lurking in the shadows. “A Scandinavian psychologist colleague of mine who is an atheist told me that his three-year-old daughter recently walked up to him and said, ‘God is everywhere all of the time.’ He and his wife couldn’t figure out where she’d gotten that idea from,” says Justin Barrett, director of the Thrive Center for Human Development at Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena, California, and author of Born Believers. “For his daughter, god was an elderly woman, so you know she didn’t get it from the Lutheran church.” For all of these reasons, many scholars believe that religion arose as “a byproduct of our cognitive disposition”, says Robert McCauley, director of the Center for Mind, Brain and Culture at Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia, and author of Why Religion Is Natural and Science Is Not. “Religions are cultural arrangements that evolved to engage and exploit these natural capacities in humans.” src

what i mean to say is that even though we might be able to get rid of religion, i dont think we'll ever truly get over spirituality.

“With education, exposure to science and critical thinking, people might stop trusting their intuitions,” Norenzayan says. “But the intuitions are there.”

this poses a challenge to everything i said above the graph (for the better of course)

[ketso]

Episode 6

I gave birth at Bara - finally. But my baby is a smaller than the average new-born as he was born before time, so he had to stay in hospital a little while longer. But today, he's getting discharged. Wandi is here with me. She offered to take us to my mom's house in Sebokeng. I'm actually happy to go and be with my mom.

Thanks to Wandi and Sipho - my honorary baby-daddy who couldn't be here today because he had to go to work - I have enough stuff to get started on being my son's mother.

I get my son and in no time, we are in Wandi's Polo using the car seat that Sipho got for us. My baby looks like a very happy baby. I'm sitting at the back of the car with him.

"Are you happy to be a mommy?" Wandi asks me.

"Honestly friend, I am. I didn't think I'd feel this way. I was so scared I wouldn't do okay with him. But he's here and he's perfect. I'm not even angry that he looks like Keith so much", I say.

"He was at the hospital, you know. I saw him", she says.

"Ai Wandi, I'm not interested."

"But you must prepare yourself to see more of this guy. Angisho kubo it's next door your mom's house? What happens if he goes to visit his mother while you are there with the baby? He's not just going to look at you. You must remember phela that it's his wife who turned on the deal. Guy still wants his child." She says.

I'm just quiet.

"For all we know, you'll be his second wife", Wandi says and laughs.

I actually just shake my head and giggle.

My baby's name is Selaelo. My mother named him, and I like it. She's been phoning me since yesterday. She cannot wait for us to arrive.

Wandi and I chat away for the almost one-hour drive to Sebokeng. We finally arrive with Selaelo fast asleep.

I hear my mom ululating her way to the gate to meet us. Now neighbours are coming out to see what the fuss is about. Oh Lord, even Keith's mother walks out and sees us. I cover my baby with a light blanket so the whole street doesn't see him. As I pull him out, I see Keith right behind me. I actually almost drop my baby. His car has even parked Wandi in.

Wandi and my mom take our things and help each other in taking them into the house. Keith is still staring at me. I'm still frozen in front of him.

He lifts the light blanket and looks at the baby. He becomes emotional instantly.

He tries to pick up my baby and I just find myself saying, "Don't touch my child."

He looks at me.

I look at him.

I now move him out of the way, and I head into the house.

Wandi is sleeping over today. My mom absolutely loves her, so she never comes to Sebokeng and just leaves. She also knows. So she packed an overnight bag. She has already parked her car in the garage as well. It's 7pm and my mom is serving us food. My mom loves cooking. She does catering casually. I say casually because everyone always asks her to cook for their functions, then she's too scared to charge them. So I charge for her. And she can cook yong. Wandi lives in our kitchen when she's here. My mom sent a full home-cooked meal for Wandi's mom when she came out of prison. My mom also met Wandi's mom when she came to visit me there in Soweto. They actually got along very well.

Wandi, my mom and I are chilling in the TV room eating while Selaelo is on my mom when we hear a knock at the door.

So late vele?

And my tummy is instantly tight as if I know what's about to happen. And I feel like Keith is about to happen.

I go get the door. Wandi is right behind me.

Keith's mom and some aunts are right there... with Keith.

"Dumelang", the mom.

"Keith? What is this?" Me.

"Re kopa ho kena", the mom.

"Why are you doing this, Keith? You and your wife said you don't want this child when I could no longer do anything about my pregnancy. Why are you determined to disrupt my life every chance you get?" Me.

"Basetsana, re kopa ho kena re buwe le batho babaholo", the mother.

"Keith!" Me.

My mom has given Wandi the baby and she tells Wandi and I to go to the bedroom. Then she lets Keith and his family inside the house.

"Why is he doing this?" I keep asking Wandi as I pace up and down the room.

She has my baby in her arms.

"I don't know, Bassie. But you are making me dizzy. Sit down, or go eavesdrop on that conversation."

I look at her. That's actually a good idea.

"Or, we can text his wife and tell her to come get her husband. I still have her number", I say.

"Bassie! You wouldn't!" She says.

"I don't want Keith near my child. I feel like he's about to bully me into an arrangement and it's not fair!"

"Bassie, you need to think about this and think about Selaelo. Because this is what it's going to come down to. Selaelo needs both parents in his life. And at some point, you and Keith might need to give him that."

"Selaelo needs people who are not going to want him one day then drop him the next day. Keith is controlled by that wife of his and my son doesn't need the rejection when Keith doesn't get through to his wife".

"That’s not for you to decide, Bassie."

"It is. I'm his mother and his sole legal guardian as it stands."

I'm already texting Keith's wife: "Your husband is at my house with his elders trying to co-parent with me".

Text message sent.

Wandi shakes her head at me then says, "And what happens if they get an expensive lawyer that will force you to give this child back to them as per your initial agreement?"

Okay, I didn't think about that.

...

My phone will not stop ringing. I even have to switch it off. And we've been told to wait as Bassie's mother phones people from her family to come and have this conversation as well. She said she feels ambushed. So, we are waiting.

I can hear my son crying from the living room. I just want to go in there and hold him. My mom has had to restrain me twice now. I just want to hold him. That's all. When I saw him earlier today, he was my perfect little boy who looked exactly like me. Even my mom cried. I don't want Bassie to make this difficult for me. She has to let me help her. She has to. I want to be involved in my son's life. I don't even know his name. I feel like crying, honestly.

My mom's phone rings. My mom shows me her cellphone. It's Ria. Eish eish eish.

I take my mom's phone and step outside to take this call.

"Hey", me.

"Where are you and why is your phone off?!" She's actually yelling at me.

"I'm at home. I told you I'll be staying here a few days." I say.

"I'm coming to stay there with you", she says.

"No. Why?!"

"Why not?! I'm your wife. I thought I was always welcome to your mom's house!"

Ria -"

"Keith, now that your childhood sweetheart gave birth to a child we were supposed to raise together, is our marriage on life support? You think I don't know that you are there trying to negotiate a co-parenting agreement?"

How does she know all of this?!

"Baby, listen to me -

"No, you listen to me! If you don't come home in the next hour and abort whatever mission you are on there, you and I are done. Do you understand me, Keith? I refuse to come second to that baby for the rest of my life. That girl should've aborted that child the minute we pulled out of the deal. She kept it on purpose and with intention to come between us. If you let her win, you and I are done."

The line goes dead.

I'm wrapping my head around what she's just said when I see Bassie stand in front of me... with my son. Her friend is here too, checking the coast.

"Bassie?"

"Hey Keith. Ujwang?" She says, rocking the baby in her arms.

I'm staring at my child.

"Do you want to hold him?" She asks me.

I nod my head instantly, putting my mom's phone in my pocket.

She hands the baby to me.

He's perfect.

He's wide awake.

I have to rock him too now. He's a bit restless.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" She says to me.

"He is."

"I never thought I'd love him like this. I spent six months of my pregnancy trying my best to be detached from him because I knew I had to give him up when he's born. Then I spent the last three months of my pregnancy adjusting to the position that you and your wife put me in while trying to fall in love with him."

I look at her.

"He doesn't deserve that kind of instability, Keith. And we both know you won't be able to give him the stability that he needs. You've proven it, Keith."

"I made a mistake, Bassie. I should have never let Ria do that to you and my son."

"But you did, Keith. You let her do that."

I look at her.

What is she trying to do?

"Look at him, Keith. Look at him. Think about what you are trying to do. Does he really deserve the uncertainty and the drama? You know I can look after him. You know he's in good hands with me. Just stop all of this. Give him the peace that he deserves."

"Bassie, I know you are trying to punish me for -

"I'm not punishing you, Keith. I'm trying to do what's best for him considering the cards that I've been dealt with. Please."

I look at my son.

I look at his mother.

She extends her arms, taking him back from me.

"Please Keith. Don't go through with whatever you are trying to do." She says then she turns around and heads back to wherever she comes from.

...

We ended up leaving because Bassie's elders didn't arrive. They said this was too short-noticed and my family was not going to bully them into a meeting so late at night. So we left. It also gave me a lot to think about. I held my son in my arms for the first time yesterday. He is so small, but he's mine. He looks exactly like me. I also heard what his mother said. And I guess I've just shown her how much I've failed to protect them from Ria. I haven't shown them the parts that I need them to see... like me being involved in their lives and never letting anything happen to them.

I can't just leave them alone the way that Bassie has asked me to. I cannot. I've wanted this child since the day Bassie told us that she's pregnant. I became attached to this child the day Bassie let me feel him kick in her stomach... I think that was the day that Ria decided she's done with the arrangement and she wanted nothing to do with the child. She accused me of being in love with Bassie. If I were in love with Bassie, I would have been with her. Bassie and I have history and truly, if a relationship was ever something either of us wanted, we'd have pursued it. We love each other, yes. But we are not in love with each other. And I've explained this to Ria. She didn't believe me.

I sit up on my bed in my mom's house. I look outside of the window. My window is aligned to Bassie's window. There is a fence between the two houses, but it isn't high enough for me to not see what's happening in there or for her to see what's happening in here. Her curtains and windows are open. She's always hated the heat. Always. Once the sun comes up, her windows and curtains are open so she could get some air. Growing up as a teenager, I loved watching her getting ready for school with her windows and curtains open. Sometimes she'd catch me staring and laugh at me.

But she's also watched me wrapped in a towel multiple times. I just laugh at how silly we used to be.

Today, she's pacing up and down her room with our baby in her arms. I did hear him cry a few minutes ago. She must be trying to calm him down.

She's such a beautiful mother. I can't let them go. I can't.

"So you chose this over coming home?" I hear a voice. Eish, she's here.

I close my curtains and give her my attention.

She looks nice in her blue jeans and white tank top.

"Hey baby. You look nice." Me.

She pulls some face at me.

"Love, don't be like that." I tell her. I know she's about to manipulate me.

"I feel like you treat me this way because I can't have children. Do you think I'm proud of the fact that I cannot have kids, Keith?"

I knew it.

"Baby, we had spoken about this and we found a way around it. Bassie willingly helped us. We dropped her right in the middle of our agreement. And now we are expecting her to just deal with a baby she never even planned for alone. You not being able to have kids is not your fault. I don't blame you or look at you in any type of way because of it. But what you made us do to Bassie, that I'm looking at you and judging you because it was cruel!"

She stares at me.

"And I want to be part of my son's life." I say.

She laughs.

"I'm going to talk to her - because at the moment, she wants nothing to do with me - but, I'm going to talk to her. And I'm going to be part of our son's life." I say.

"So, yesterday, I told you that if you didn't come home, we are through. And you didn't come home. Now I come here and instead of begging me to forgive you, you are telling me this nonsense."

What exactly am I supposed to be begging her for?

"So we are through. I'm never going to give you a divorce because we share way too much together and it wouldn't be a good look for me - especially with my family. But I want you to move out of our house. You can live your life. I'll live my life. I expect you to show up and be my husband at important events and at family gatherings on my side of the family. You'll let me know what you need me to show up for in your life. You can keep your cars, but I want the house. You can do whatever you want. I love myself way too much to be competing with that child and its mother for the rest of my life. Have your babies and raise them with your childhood sweetheart. But I'm done."

I love her - truly I do. But right now, I'm relieved.

I just nod my head.

"I'll get the helper to pack your things. You'll tell me when you want to come and pick them up." She says.

I nod my head.

She turns around and walks out of my bedroom. I'm not even dressed. I had that entire conversation with her naked. I didn't even notice.

...

I've showered and I'm dressed up now.

My mom is making white porridge and a whole lot of eggs, bacon, viennas and and and... she's honestly just wasting food. I know she doesn't eat like this when I'm not around. And today, I honestly don't have an appetite. I just want to go next door and speak to Bassie.

"I saw your wife's car this morning. I didn't even come out of my bedroom. She just gives me heartburn that girl", my mom says.

I laugh a bit then I tell her how our conversation went. She just shakes her head throughout.

"I told you to not marry that girl. I told you she's a problem. And we all know that you love Basetsana. You've always loved her - since you were kids."

"All I want right now, mah, is to be a father to my child. I'm not looking for my next wife."

"Well, we go back today. Hopefully, she's also had the night to think about it".

"She asked me to stay away." I tell her.

Even my mom is hurt.

"I can't do that, mah. That's my child. My only son." I say.

"Let me actually go next door. I need to give Aus'Mathapelo money for our Stokvel", she says.

"Let me take it for you, mama."

She gives me a weird look.

"I need to talk to Bassie, mah. I'm desperate. Please."

She goes to the bedroom and gets the money. She gives me the cash and I leave the kitchen.

As I get to the gate, I see Bassie out here seeing her friend off. They wave at each other, the friend hoots her car then she drives off.

Now Bassie looks at me.

I look at her.

"She seems like a good friend", I say.

"She is. She helped me get through what you and your wife put me through." She says.

"I'm sorry, Bassie." I say.

"I know. I'm just not ready to forgive you." She says.

"Will you forgive me at some point though?" I ask her.

She looks away from me.

Then she says, "I saw your wife's car here this morning".

"Ja. She came to tell me that we are through."

She looks at me and says, "Really?"

"Yeah. Do you mind if we take a walk and talk? I just want us to talk", I say.

"Selaelo is asleep. I have to be here when he wakes up. My mom has gone to Vaal Mall. She won't be back for some time."

"Selaelo? That's our son's name?"

She nods her head.

"Mama gave me money to give to her for the stokvel. That's why I was actually headed here. I can wait for her if that's okay."

"Or you can just give it to me and I'll give it to her when she gets back", she says.

"I need to talk to you, Bassie. Please." I beg her.

"Let's go inside", she says after a long pause.

I follow her to inside of the house.

Selaelo is actually sleeping in a cot that's placed in the TV room.

"Mama says we should let him get used to some noise while he sleeps, else he will be a light sleeper and be a problem", she says.

I laugh a bit because I actually find that funny.

"We are not abusing him, I promise." She says. I laugh again.

She's in the kitchen for a while then she brings juice and biscuits for me. She's having milk.

"What did you want to talk about?" She asks me.

"I want to be involved... with the baby."

"How exactly?"

"I want to be a present father. I've even given up my marriage to make this happen".

"Why now? Where were you when I was alone and pregnant? When your wife almost killed my child and I?"

"I cannot turn back the hands of time and undo the things I wish I never did. But I want to be present now. I need you to allow me to have access to my son. And I don't want the whole you have him sometimes and I have him other times, we can actually co-parent together."

She looks at me for a while. Then she says, "So you are getting a divorce?"

"Not really. We are going to live separate lives. But we have to stay married for the things we've accumulated together. We will show up for each other as and when needed, but we live separate lives."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"The point is that I'm able to be part of you and Selaelo."

She's still observing me.

I don't know what her silence and observations mean.

Selaelo wakes up. Yerr, he has strong lungs. He is a screamer. His mom picks him up from his cot and talks to him, trying to calm him down.

"Please hold him. I need to give him medication before I give him the boob", she says.

I take him from her.

I stand up and try to calm him down.

"What's wrong with him?" I ask.

"He is a premature baby. So, the meds just help with some of the side effects from that", she says.

"Oh okay." I say.

"I'd like to put him on my medical aid, if that's okay", I say.

She just looks at me.

"Hold him tightly. He fights me every time it's medicine time. And he's very strong." She says.

I hold him. And she's not lying, he fights!

But she forces the teaspoon in his mouth.

He swallows then cries. We both actually laugh at him.

Now she takes him from me and starts saying sorry as she soothes his back.

"Do you mind if I breastfeed?" She asks me.

What kind of a question is that?!

"It's just... my boob will be..."

"I don't mind, Bassie." I say.

She sits down.

She lifts her t-shirt.

I sit next to her.

She pulls out her boob.

The minute my son puts his mouth on it, he calms down.

This is beautiful.

"He has a reflux issue. So when I feed him, I have to hold him like this, else he will choke", she tells me.

"Thank you for teaching me how to look after him." I say.

"I'm also still learning. It's only been a week."

"You are doing a good job. You make this look beautiful", I say.

She laughs.

Selaelo starts crying.

"Sorry", Bassie says to him. He stops crying and keeps eating.

"He likes attention. So when you hold him or feed him or do anything with him, give him your undivided attention." She says to me.

We both laugh.

Now that he's done eating, Bassie shows me how to make him burb. She puts a burping towel over my shoulder so he doesn't mess on me.

Little man is so chilled. But he cries when I speak to his mother. So she asks me if she could go and shower. I really don't mind.

"Just let me know if you need anything", she says.

"Shup", me.

It's just my little man and me now.

[elagrume]

Shooting Final exercice

07/12

oooooooouuuuuuuffff 4 am is early. Due to the scene being a deserted night to shoot, we thought it best to shoot early in the morning rather than at night to avoid having extra background noise, but more importantly to not have anyone extra in our shots. We got up at 4 am three days in a row to shoot practically everything except for the Orson Welles close-up and the german lady at the window. Thank goodness Tom had coffee at his flat because I would have died. Although on the call sheet I wrote about providing catering by having a place to get coffee nearby, it didn't occur to me that everywhere would be closed at 4 am. Last minute I decided to get cereal bars to give us some energy (like when on a hike), but unsurprisingly no one seemed particularly keen on them. So note for future shoots: get guilty pleasure snacks, especially if it's an early shoot. On set was stressful. I don't think I felt very confident with my group and shooting was pressured by our time restriction with the sunrise. We were also 4/5 or 3/5 from our group on set which meant we were juggling the jobs at times. The last day of shooting was when I was most tense: we discovered last minute that where we wanted to shoot wouldn't be possible. It was a scramble to find somewhere new, and the sun was rising. Eventually, thanks to the help of our cast, we found what we needed and set up quickly. As Producer/AD, I was discussing with DOP and Director how to do the shot but lost my patience with them at their lack of seriousness. Discussing how to do the shot was their job, not mine. I come from a background in group work, so I have high expectations of what working as a group should be. However, I am aware that it is not the case for everyone, and need to learn to do group work with those who aren't as familiar with it as I am. The most challenging piece to film was the shadow under the archway. We had the car front lights on to cast the shadow, but no matter how we placed the car (taking location restrictions into account), we didn't quite get it. I was cast as the shadow so I was running back and forth between the DOP, Matthew in the car for lights, then back to my mark, back to DOP, and DOP running to change my mark. I was exhausted by the end of day two. From the little footage of the take we decided to go with, I'm a little disappointed. It was what I had most been looking forward to shooting, but other than that, the rest looks pretty good. Truth be told, by the end of this first trimester, I am very much looking forward to changing production group. Although my group is full of nice people, they aren't people I feel I work with or collaborate well with. I am an organised person which is why I took on roles that required organisation, but I am a more creative person. I didn't feel creatively comfortable with this group, therefore I am itching to show what I am capable of next trimester. During these Christmas holidays, I have planned with friends to recreate some of the exercises given in class to reinterpret them to my liking with people I collaborate well with. In addition, I intend to do plenty of reading (film, art, psychology) and go out to exhibitions, feeding myself ideas and visual/artistic references.

recently watched: Lady Chatterley's Lover by Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre, Trainspotting by Danny Boyle, Phantom of the Opera by Joel Schumacher, Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain by Jean-Pierre Jeunet (for the 100th time), Wednesda by Time Burton, Promising Young Woman by Emerald Fennell

shooting day 3: 01/12/22

[lovejoshua]

your coworkers can really make or break the experience, but so can your superiors. there are so many elements that make the experience, some having bigger parts than others. but something as big as corporate, that is hard to change and i could definitely understand why that is a deciding factor in your desire to leave. i hope that you are able to find another job soon. one with a good environment and friendly coworkers and a much better corporate ~

there are definitely a lot more than people think. my favorite sanrio character is actually tuxedo sam. i love this fancy little penguin for some reason ~

those sound so cute and endearing ~ shows that are catered to children actually have more appeal sometimes. whether it’s the animation or the script, i do find myself enjoying a few children shows here and there. i also enjoy watching children shows for learning new languages, since the structure is easier to understand and break down ~

i do not believe you have… obviously, one of my favorites is txt. to add a few more to the list without giving myself away, i would add ateez, enhypen, stray kids and le sserafim ~

signed, 🩻

thank youu 🥺🥺 i actually just applied to two so fingers crossed i get considered 🤞🏼 (and that one offers me more money than what they posted)

TUXEDO SAM!!! an underrated character. i remember i was introduced to him when i watched that hello kitty show i talked about where they played fairytales. he was prince charming in the cinderella episode 😭

kid shows are so fun!! it's really for everyone to watch, bluey being a big example as the show is loved by kids and adults

hmm very interesting 🤔... /j since all of those groups have had comebacks this year, which one would your favorite be?

[totowlff]

bet

➝ request: could you write a one-shot where the reader rewards our daddy wolff for the mercedes double podium?

➝ word count: 5,6k

➝ warnings: smut, mentions of ferrari (it can be a trigger, i know)

➝ author’s note: this was a week where i needed to take time off from miss lauda and all her narrative. after writing over 10k words in three days, i felt completely mentally drained. furthermore, i found myself completely doubting my ability to continue writing things that really make sense to me and that are good enough for you. so i decided to dedicate myself to this request on my askbox, especially considering the summer break. i leave here my thanks to raya and babi, who always read everything and give me the strength to keep posting, even though i think my content doesn't deserve it.

It was already dark outside the hospitality when you finished wiping the last light-wooden table with the alcohol-dampened cloth. The fatigue of a whole day's work was accumulating in your body and you couldn't wait to go to your hotel, take a hot shower and curl up on the comfortable bed in your room at the Grand Prix Hôtel in Le Castellet.

However, you had lost the bet with Lena over who would take pole position that Saturday. And, as a consequence, you should stay until the last employee leaves the Paul Ricard team structure. And, if that year's trend was followed, the men who were holed up in the meeting room on the upper floors wouldn't leave that space until several hours later, when the paddock was completely deserted.

To say that the season was being difficult was to understate the true impact of the W13 on the lives of all the employees who traveled around the world to race. As much as you only participated in the catering team, far from the real action that took place on the track, you could see in the expressions of the employees you served that this was one of the most difficult years they had ever faced.

They were tired looks. Stress. Frustration.

“And we've just reached the halfway point”, you thought, settling yourself at one of the tables in the space, right in front of a television. On Canal+, the device was replaying a program called En Pole, in which Julien Fébreau discussed the results of the qualifying session with reporters in the paddock. However, you were little interested in hearing more about the far-from-satisfactory performance of your team's car.

Pushing back a strand of your hair, you pulled your cell phone out of your pocket, unlocking the device and clicking on one of the many notifications that had accumulated throughout the day. While you were replying to one of your friends' messages, inviting you to spend a few days with her in Nice, you heard something that caught your attention.

— Voyons maintenant l'interview réalisée par notre reporter Pauline Sanzey avec Toto Wolff, team principal de Mercedes, juste après la séance de qualification.

You looked up at the television almost immediately, dropping your cell phone on the table in front of you. The image of your boss filled the screen, his expression frozen in a serious, impassive mask, his fingers running through his dark hair, quickly arranging the strands.

— Salut Toto, quelles sont tes impressions sur la séance de qualification? — the reporter asked in French — Avez-vous remarqué des progrès sur la voiture?

— Nous avons donc expérimenté les niveaux d'aileron arrière et les températures des pneus — he said, in heavily accented French — Une fois que nous avons mis les nouveaux pneus en Q3, nous savions que nous allions être les troisièmes plus rapides, comme nous l'avons été toute la saison et ce n'est tout simplement pas assez bon pour nous.

You hadn't understood a word he had just said. However, you didn't even need to have any knowledge of that language to know what he had said. The speech was the same for all reporters, no matter which of the six languages he spoke.

“We're the third fastest team on the grid”, you thought, drumming your fingers on the pale wood in front of you.

— L'équipe aura-t-elle beaucoup de travail? — the woman asked.

— Oui, nous allons travailler dur dans la nuit et essayer d'être en meilleure position demain en course — he replied with a smile on his face.

Before you could hear another question from the French reporter, you heard an accented voice behind you ask a question.

— Lost another bet?

In one leap, you turned your face back to find Toto leaning against one of the tables, a playful smile on his lips.

— Yes — you replied, the corner of your mouth curving.

He walked over to the table you were sitting at and pulled out the black chair next to you. Watching him settle down beside you, your chest filled with the familiar yet mysterious heat that had accompanied you since the day he'd first noticed you.

It was a rainy Saturday morning at Spa-Francorchamps when Bradley, the Mercedes communications director, asked that an espresso be taken upstairs to Toto's office.

— And try not to kill him this time, Y/N — he grinned, before turning his back on you and disappearing through the automatic door, tucking the hood of his raincoat over his head.

You and Cathy looked at each other, your face turning red. The first time you took that order, you ended up using regular milk when making the drink. After Abel, also from the catering team, returned with the drink untouched, you discovered that the team principal was lactose intolerant. “A big mistake”, you thought, as you searched the cupboard for a cup and placed it on the counter.

— Let me do it — Cathy said, smiling — Get the milk for me.

You went to the fridge and grabbed a carton of lactose-free milk. Putting it next to your colleague, you were about to go get the cocoa to decorate the drink when Cathy called you again.

— Can you get me the almond milk?

— Why?

— It's what he prefers.

You blinked.

— Are you sure?

— Absolutely.

— Abel told me he liked his espresso with lactose-free milk.

Cathy looked at you with a mischievous smile on her face.

— Want to bet?

If there was one thing that fueled your race weekends, it was the small bets you made casually. It could be about the number of bottles of champagne you would serve that Sunday, which driver would take pole position, or simply the color of clothing Lewis would wear that day. It was all reason for you to come up with some bet whose prizes ranged from beer cans to even a night off.

— What?

— Cleaning of all hospitality tables in the next race week.

You thought for a few seconds. There were many tables.

— Deal — you extended your hand in a friendly shake with Cathy.

— I'll finish here, you take it and ask him, ok?

— Fine — you replied, going to get the cocoa from the hospitality kitchen.

With the coffee ready — and made with lactose-free milk after much insistence on your part — you walked upstairs to Toto's office, nervousness taking over your body. You had never stopped to realize that, aside from requests and occasional words of gratitude, you had never actually talked to your boss. "And now I'm going to ask him his favorite kind of milk", you thought, your pulse roaring in your ears.

Stopping in front of the door, you took a deep breath before giving two soft knocks and placing your hand on the knob. After a murmur that you interpreted as an invitation for you to enter, you opened the door, revealing the team principal sitting at his desk, eyes glued to his iPad. With his rectangular-framed glasses on the end of his nose and his team shirt with two buttons undone, he was the full picture of concentration.

Approaching slowly, you placed the saucer with the cup on the pale wood desk.

— Your coffee, Mr. Wolff — you said softly.

— Thanks — he muttered in response.

You hesitated for a few seconds, standing in front of Toto, who took the cup and brought it to his lips. “If you don't ask, you won't know”, you thought to yourself, swallowing hard. Then he raised an inquiring look at you, an eyebrow dramatically raised. Suddenly, your chest filled with something warm, cozy and at the same time frightening.

— Any problem? — he asked.

— No, no, no problem — you was quick to say.

— Then why are you standing there?

— Well, it's just that — you started to stutter, your hands getting cold — I…Actually, we…Yeah, I'd like to ask you a question.

He set the drink back on the table.

— So do it.

— Do you prefer lactose-free milk or almond milk?

Toto stared at you for long seconds.

— Why do you want to know?

You blinked.

— Do you want the serious explanation or the real one?

The corner of his lips curled up.

— Both.

— The serious explanation is that we, caterers, don't want to commit assassination attempts anymore — you said, bringing a smile to Toto's face.

— And the real one?

— Me and Cathy bet which milk you prefer in your coffee.

The team principal smiled, taking his glasses off his face.

— What is the prize?

— The loser cleans all hospitality tables in the next race week.

The smile got even wider.

— And you chose what?

— Normal, lactose-free.

— Then let Cathy know she's going to have a lot of work next week — Toto replied with a wink.

The bet you won ended up being the first step in getting you closer to the team principal. Between coffee orders and conversations in empty hospitality about your latest triumphs over your catering colleagues, the two of you started to have a relationship that went beyond the respect that the hierarchy imposed on you.

You were friends.

Not as close as you'd like, but friends.

Good friends.

— What was the bet this time, Y/N?

— The pole position.

— You bet on Max? — he smiled, taking the phone with its fluorescent yellow case from his pocket.

— Yes — you muttered.

— A pity —  he replied, leaning back in the chair beside you.

— I thought you'd support me, Wolff — you said, with indignation — Not that you'd be happy about my misfortune.

— It's just that your disgrace means you can stay here longer with me — Toto replied with a sly smile on his face, making your cheeks flush.

One thing you'd discovered about your boss in those months of conviviality was that, in addition to being a handsome, intelligent, impulsive man, he was charming. “Extremely charming”, you thought, running your tongue discreetly over the lower lips.

The flirtation game between you had started with harmless compliments, which you responded to without any effort, after all, you were talking to Toto Wolff. However, as the words became bolder and your heart began to race each time he approached you to speak to you, your head lit up with a warning signal. "Get down, Y/N, you're just another employee", you kept repeating to yourself whenever you caught yourself daydreaming.

— Do you like my company that much, boss? — you asked, smiling.

— Yes, Y/N. I like you very much — he spoke softly, his chocolate eyes fixed on yours relentlessly — More even than I should.

— Just because I know how to make your coffee the way you like it? — you broke the conversation, trying to ignore the tingling sensation that ran through your legs towards your core.

Toto just smiled.

— As well. By the way, would you mind making me a cup?

You got up almost immediately, smiling.

— Of course not, boss.

Heading behind the counter where you spent most of your day, you quickly pulled out the ingredients to make the espresso. While the coffee machine was heating up, you went after the cup and cocoa to decorate. In just under ten minutes, you've set the finished drink in front of Toto with a smile on your face.

— Star and all — he commented, noting the company's star etched in the coffee foam.

— Of course — you replied, sitting down next to him again — As the boss deserves.

The corner of his mouth curled into a smile before he raised the cup to his lips. As he sipped his drink, you looked back at the television, where the presenter was showing the order of the starting grid. Seeing the names of Lewis fourth and George sixth, you let out a sigh of resignation.

— What's it?

— Not a good position on the grid, right? — you returned the question.

— Do you think it's bad?

— If we pinch a podium with that shitbox you call a car, we're in profit.

Toto looked at you somewhat shocked by your words.

— Don't talk about W13 like that.

— I'm just repeating what you said yourself.

He took another sip of coffee.

— I still think you're being rude to the car.

— I prefer the word sincere.

— Besides, I'm sure we'll get a podium this weekend.

— If Ferrari destroys Charles and Carlos' race, maybe we have a chance. That's if their engine doesn't abandon them like it did in Austria.

Dropping his cup on the table, Toto turned to you, his face serious.

— I'm not talking about relying on luck, Y/N. We found the ideal configuration today. I'm sure we'll be on the podium tomorrow.

— I admire your optimism, Toto, but sometimes it's better to put your feet on the ground.

He gave a mischievous smile.

— Do you want to bet?

Your lips curved.

— What?

— That we'll be on the podium tomorrow. 

You shook your head in the negative.

— You're crazy, completely crazy.

— I'll bet you, Y/N — he said, in a firm tone — We're taking home a trophy tomorrow.

— What happens if you lose, which is the case tomorrow? — you provoked.

Toto brought his face closer to yours.

— I'll do whatever you want — he said softly.

— What if I lose?

— You will do what I want.

— Bet — you gave a smile, getting up and reaching for him to shake his hand, in order to seal that informal contract between the two of you — I hope you're ready to lose.

Rising in front of you, you lifted your eyes to face Toto, your expression carrying a certain arrogance. That bet was in your bag.

— We'll see, Y/N — he replied, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

The next day, you barely had time to think about the conversation with Toto the night before, such was the movement in hospitality. Running around, serving guests, cleaning tables and helping the staff in the kitchen, you didn't even see the moment the race started, a few feet from where you were.

The reactions of people gathered in the space in front of the screens installed on the walls of the structure were your only point of reference for what was happening on the track.

— Nice start from George! — someone cheered.

— What the hell is Ocon doing? — a man complained.

— My God, Leclerc crashed! — a female voice exclaimed.

— Ferrari fucked up Sainz’s race — a woman snarled.

You only managed to stop to look at the screen when you finished pouring a few glasses of champagne at one of the tables in front of a screen. Tucking the tray under your arm, you noticed that Lewis was firmly in second position, while George was just over half a second behind Sergio with the virtual safety car almost gone.

And there were less than three laps to go.

— Y/N — you heard Cathy's voice call out to you, but you waved your hand for her to wait. It was clear that George was preparing to catch the Mexican from Red Bull Racing. And you didn't want to miss that for nothing.

— George is trying to get as close as he can to Sérgio Perez before the end of the virtual safety car — the narrator announced, causing all conversations to cease within the hospitality.

— Looks like someone was caught sleeping — the commentator said, as the silver car darted around the corner, passing Sergio's car with ease. The maneuver caused the environment to fill with applause, screams and whistles. Watching the Brit increase his lead into third place, you smiled briefly.

Until the image left George and focused on Toto.

Watching the race from inside the garage, the team principal was dressed in his usual dress, with the sleeves of his white shirt pulled up to his elbows and rectangular-framed glasses balanced on his nose. Toto was talking to someone on his left side when he realized he was being filmed. Looking boldly into the lens, the impression was that he was staring at you deep in your eyes.

And then he winked.

— Son of a bitch — you muttered, heading toward the bench where Cathy was standing without taking your eyes off the screen, the lap counter indicating that the race leader had just opened the penultimate lap.

— Did you say something, Y/N?

— No, Cathy — you forced a smile, placing more glasses of champagne on your tray.

— Are you sure? — you heard your colleague ask you, as you looked back at the television, which showed George rounding turn six with the Mexican driver on his heels. “Maybe he can hold the position”, you thought, carrying the tray with more glasses of champagne to the guests.

— And Max Verstappen opens the last lap here at Paul Ricard! — the narrator announced, causing the conversation to escalate even more, as if their words could make Lewis and George move faster.

The silver car with the number 63 on it took off along the main straight, towards the first chicane, while Sérgio continued to look for a space to overtake the Englishman, without success.

— Come on, George! — a man shouted at the screen.

Dropping the tray onto one of the tables, you couldn't concentrate on anything other than the race. Biting the inside of your cheek, you watched the dramatic dispute between the two cars with the chill building up in your belly.

— Hold him, Russell! — another boy exclaimed.

George was brilliantly defending himself against the onslaught of the number 11 veteran, not looking the least bit nervous about the pressure the Mexican was putting on him. If on the straights the W13 lost the advantage, on the corner exits the Englishman shot up, increasing the hundredths between them.

— Almost there, almost there — a woman said beside you, nudging the corner of her thumb with her teeth.

— While Pérez tries to make one last attack on George Russell, Max Verstappen, after starting in the front row, sees the checkered flag and, for the second year in a row, wins the French Grand Prix! — the narrator's voice echoed through the speakers scattered around the hospitality.

However, the agony was not over.

As Lewis crossed the finish line, taking second place, everyone was apprehensive about the half second difference between Sergio and George.

Another attack on the last corner.

— Go, go, go — you muttered.

— And it's a double podium for Mercedes, with George Russell holding on to Sérgio Perez for third place!

Hospitality erupted in screams and whistles, even louder than before. The guests were simply in an uproar. You applauded with a smile on your face, almost in disbelief at what had just happened. After a terrible six months for the team, that double podium tasted even sweeter.

— Y/N — Lena yelled at you in the midst of the commotion — I need you here!

Taking one last look at the screen, which showed the two silver cars parking in front of the number 2 and 3 signs, you returned to the bench, where Lena asked you to go upstairs and organize the meeting room where the debrief would take place after all the ceremonies were done, interviews were given and photos taken.

With a bale of water bottles in hand, you climbed to the second floor of the structure, walking down the short hallway to the frosted glass door that gave access to the space where Lewis, George, their race engineers, as well as the performance and Toto would reunite after all the celebrations

You had just set the bottles down on the table when you remembered the bet. You had definitely lost and by a good margin for him. However, what bothered you was not the defeat, but the reward that you had agreed upon. You had committed to doing whatever he wanted.

“What the hell can he ask of me?”, you thought, positioning the bottles in front of the chairs, along with the scratch pads and black pens emblazoned with the silver star. Possibilities began to pop into your mind, one stranger than the other.

Spend an entire weekend serving him coffee.

Clean the hospitality toilets.

Staying late the rest of the weekends, taking care of the structure.

Being forced to wear that hideous graffiti-style shirt for the rest of the season.

“I bet he's going to be creative”, you thought as you finished opening the blinds and windows of the meeting room. With the space prepared, you were walking towards the stairs when you ran into him.

Toto.

— There you are, Y/N — he flashed a wide smile that made your chest fill with heat — I was looking for you.

— You were? — you asked, a little awkwardly.

— Yes, I wanted to talk to you about our bet.

— But don't you have a debrief to do?

— I have some time left, Lewis and George are still talking to the press and the engineers are exporting the data.

You stared at Toto, not sure what you should do. Then he stretched out his arm.

— Could you accompany me to my office?

— Yes — you replied, walking past him and heading towards his office inside the hospitality. Entering the cubicle, Toto closed the frosted glass door behind you before walking over to his pale wood desk and leaning against it, eyes glued to yours. Anxiety built in your belly with every second the team principal spent studying you.

— Well, what do you want me to do? — you finally asked, pressing one cold hand against the other.

At your frankness, Toto laughed.

— You're direct — he noted.

— Someone has to be.

— I like that about you — Toto added, making your cheeks heat up.

— Thanks? — you said, not sure if that was the right answer.

— You're welcome.

You looked at each other again in silence, Toto's chocolate eyes roving over your face, as if he was considering what to say.

— Back to the point, I accept my defeat — you finally said.

— That's good.

— But considering our agreement, I need to know what you want me to do.

An almost devilish smile appeared on Toto's lips.

— Do you have any idea?

You blinked.

— Don't you know what you want me to do?

— I know, I just want to know what you thought.

— Well, among the possibilities considered are spending the entire weekend serving you coffee…

— It's what you already do.

— Cleaning the hospitality toilets…

— Definitely not.

— Staying late at hospitality for the rest of the season…

— That's a good idea, actually.

— And being forced to wear that graffiti-style shirt for the rest of the season.

— You don't like that shirt?

— It's hideous, Toto.

— I think it's cool for a more casual event.

— Still ugly.

— It's a matter of perspective, Y/N.

— Ask Lewis if he'd wear it and you'll know if it's a good shirt or not.

— Lewis showed up shirtless in Miami, he's not any parameter.

— Okay, it could be for George.

— He only wears striped shirts.

You laughed.

— Have you noticed too?

— It's impossible not to notice — Toto replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. The movement of the veins under the white skin made you swallow hard. “Control yourself, Y/N”, you thought, looking up back at his face.

— Well, did I get close?

— No — he said, slowly getting up from the table.

— Not even a little? — you asked, feeling your heart beat faster inside your chest.

— Not at all — Toto stopped next to you, his face hovering over yours.

— So tell me…

— What?

— What do you want from me, Mr Wolff? — you asked in a low voice.

Instead of answering you, you felt Toto's fingers brush your arm, slowly moving up your skin. The touch made you feel a shiver run through your body, but you didn't dare move, your eyes glued to his chocolate irises. His hand crept up your shoulder toward your face, his thumb brushing your cheek.

— A kiss — Toto replied, in a whisper — I want a kiss from you.

A blue screen appeared in place of any coherent thoughts in your head.

He wanted to kiss you.

Your boss wanted to kiss you.

Toto Wolff wanted to kiss you.

— Of course, if you want to — he added — If not, I can choose something else.

You blinked.

— No — you stammered, the butterflies in your stomach growing — You don't have to choose anything else, Toto.

— Are you sure? — he questioned you, touching the tip of his nose at yours.

— Why?

— Because if I kiss you, I don't know if I'll be able to stop — Toto said, his other hand sliding around your waist, stopping flat against your lower back. The feeling you had was that you could melt at that very moment.

— Then I'm absolutely sure — you replied, inching the last few centimeters toward his lips. Expecting a fierce kiss, prompted by the long months of teasing, you found yourself surprised by the delicacy with which his mouth touched yours. Timidly, his tongue asked for passage and your taste buds were flooded with the taste of the champagne Toto had probably drunk in the garage along with the team.

Sweet.

Acid.

Addictive.

The deliciously slow exploration you made of the team principal's mouth was reciprocated through his hands, which roamed from your lower back to your butt. Pulling your body against his, his fingers played with the fabric of your team dress, which you'd made a point of wearing often since Toto had said you looked good in it. “Always for him”, you thought, your fingers squeezing his shoulders until the knots turned white.

Pulling your face away from his, you felt him press his forehead to yours, the panting of the two of you being the only sound in the cubicle.

— Y/N — Toto whispered.

You opened your eyes slightly and smiled.

— Yes?

— I just realized I lost the bet too.

— What do you mean? — you asked, chuckling.

— I told you we'd have a car on the podium. And we had two.

— And?

— You can claim your reward as well. What do you want me to do?

— Can I ask for anything? — you looked up innocently at Toto.

— Anything, Perle — he whispered, the thumb that had been on your cheek sliding toward your lips, contouring the reddened skin from the friction. Then you parted your mouth, reaching far enough for his finger to enter your mouth, without taking your eyes off Toto.

Tracing the digit slowly with your tongue, you let your hand slide down his chest. Feeling him move his thumb inside your mouth, you brushed your teeth lightly over his skin as your hand continued down until your fingers felt the leather of the belt he wore. All it took was your fingernails to lightly scratch the edge of his pants for Toto to get the message.

— Y/N — he said through gritted teeth, taking his finger from your mouth slowly.

— What?

— Use words. I want to listen.

You bit your lip lightly, the butterflies in your belly long ago replaced by a scorching heat.

— I want to taste you. For real.

A mischievous smile appeared on his face.

— Do you want to taste me? — Toto carefully repeated the words.

— Yes — you replied, your fingers playing with his belt buckle — I want to.

— You know I don't have much time, don't you?

— You said yourself that Lewis and George are with the press and the engineers are exporting the data in the garage. I think we've got enough time for you to fulfill your end of our bargain — your hand lowered a little further, feeling for the first time his stiffness through the fabric, a wave of arousal coursing through your body — And I don't think it would be nice for you to show up hard at the debrief, would it?

Toto bit his lower lip hard.

— What do you want me to do, Perle?

You looked at a point behind him and smiled.

— Sit in your chair — you said, bringing your face close to his.

Almost immediately, Toto took your hand and pulled you toward the black office chair, slouching into it. Looking up at you, he seemed to be waiting for your next move. Or your next order.

— Unbuckle your belt — you said, the tone in your voice oddly firm. His fingers quickly moved to the black leather belt buckle, undoing it with ease. With an obstacle out of the way, he looked at you again. Approaching him, you splayed your hands over Toto's thighs, your fingers lightly squeezing the muscles through the fabric.

— Unzip your pants — you said, kneeling between his legs. He obeyed immediately, his fingers undoing the buttons and unzipping his pants quickly, revealing his boxers underneath. At the sight of his cock outlined by the white fabric, you bit your bottom lip.

— And now? — Toto asked.

In silence, your hands slid down his legs towards the point that interested you. Scratching your fingernails lightly against the skin just above the elastic band of his underwear, you looked up at him again, finding Toto staring at you intently, waiting for your next move or your next command to him.

— You will be silent — you took the fabric and pulled, revealing his completely rigid cock — While I taste you. Can you do it for me, boss?

You wrapped your fingers along his length, moving your hand along it a few times, testing the waters. Searching his face, you noticed a small roll of his eyes as your thumb circled his tip, smearing the pre-cum that was already oozing out of him. At that reaction, a smug smile appeared on your face.

— Winning turns you on, boss?

— Yes — he said softly — It turns me on a lot.

— I noticed — you muttered, your thumb tracing the path of a vein that pulsed along his shaft.

— But that's not the case today — Toto said through gritted teeth.

— No? — you asked, moving your hand again along his length.

— Today it's you, Y/N — he gasped, squinting to keep from making a sound, as you'd ordered.

— Are you turned on for me just today? — you raised an eyebrow before taking the tip of your tongue to the vein you had previously run your finger through, lightly feeling Toto's salty taste. “This man is a delight”, you thought, watching his face twist into an expression halfway between satisfaction and agony.

— Y/N, I'm always horny for you. Every time you wear that dress, every time you —  he started to answer you, in an attempt to explain himself. However, you shut him up with one quick movement, placing him completely in your mouth.

You heard a deep sigh of satisfaction fill the cubicle as you began to suck him more vigorously, moving your head along his cock, the tip of it brushing your throat with each thrust. Concentrating on that moment, you didn't even notice when his hand landed on your head. However, all it took was for his fingers to pull the strands of your hair, in an attempt to control the rhythm with which you sucked him to you to take him out of your mouth and lift your face to Toto.

— No hands, boss — you said — It's my reward, remember?

Toto stared at you, completely dumbfounded. Realizing he just didn't say anything, you took another vigorous lick down his length, eyes glued to his.

— Use words — you repeated what he had told you earlier — I want to hear from you.

— As you wish, Perle… As you wish — Toto gasped before you took him between your lips again, your tongue dancing along his cock as your cheeks dipped around his shaft. Looking up at him, you noticed he was still looking at you, lids fluttering as he resisted the urge to close them to enjoy the pleasure you were offering him.

The feeling you had was that you were the most powerful woman in that place.

And all you needed was to kneel.

— My God… Perle… You… Your mouth — the team principal babbled as the office filled with the sounds of your mouth against him. Toto was definitely not being silent like you had asked him to, however, you couldn't care less about that. Hearing his growls, accompanied by his looks, begging you to keep going, made you want to satisfy him even more.

Accelerating the movement, you brought your hand to his member, in order to help your mouth in the task of bringing him to orgasm. And it was at that moment that you saw whatever resistance he had mounted crumble.

— Fuck… I… Oh my God — Toto gasped, his eyes lost, his mind stumbling over the words as he tried to form some coherent sentence — Perle… I'll…

You continued to move at a relentless pace, the tip of it hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. Your saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth as your eyes filled with tears. But Toto was so close. And so were you.

Then he came, a strangled growl leaving his throat as yours was filled with his semen, hot and thick. Swallowing it down diligently, you finally took him out of your mouth, running your thumb along the corner of your mouth to wipe away the saliva that had collected there.

Realizing that Toto was still catching his breath, you decided to put him back together again. First, you put his cock back in his underwear and zipped up his black pants, taking the opportunity to check that not a single drop of his cum had landed on the black fabric. Finally, you carefully rebuckled his belt. Then you looked up again at Toto, who was watching you intently,

— Y/N — he said quietly.

— Yes, Toto?

— Can we make another bet?

— What do you want to bet? — you asked, lifting yourself off the floor, your knees reddened.

— That I'll put both cars on the podium again.

— And what do you want if you win?

— I want to taste you. For real.

You leaned on the arms of the chair Toto was sitting on, bringing your face to his.

— Bet — you replied, kissing him again.

[giacomettislament]

Hi! It says requests are open, could you do something for Lilia, Cater, Rook, and Trey where the s/o has a heavy praise kind but also has never done anything? So like they take the lead and move their s/o’s hands and stuff for them? And praise them a lot?

Either that or a super flustered s/o who says they’ll let him do whatever he wants to them for the night and is embarrassed? Either one is fine. Thank you so much for your time. Happy holidays!

the nose (le nez)

“my heart burns.”

cater. rook. lilia.

content warning(s): blood, slight corruption kink

—Cater loves how cute you are underneath him, too shy to make eye contact with him but too desperate for his touch to let him go. It’s the kind of silent affection that he loves most, where you cling to him and don’t let go for the rest of the night. Your sensitive body reacts so cutely whenever he touches you, and all he needs to do is kiss your neck a bit roughly or slide his hand in between your thighs to get you to melt and beg for him like your life depended on it.

“I’m going to be real gentle with you, okay?” He coos. His lips trace all over your bare neck and shoulders, and his hands squeeze adoringly at your hips. He rocks hips suggestively into yours, moaning airily when he grinds his hard cock against your dripping sex. “You’re so cute- so fucking cute… I just wanna keep you here with me all to myself forever.”

You swallow thickly, your core tightening up whenever you feel Cater’s hot dick pressed up flush against your entrance. “D-Don’t say things like that… I’m not used to any of this.”

“Ehhh, you have nothing to worry about! I’ll take good care of you. Gonna make my baby feel good. Gonna make you feel so damn good…,” He purrs, his mouth connecting with your jaw in open kisses. The sound of him sucking against your skin feels so lewd, and you shudder against his body when the arousal twisting inside of you grows unbearable.

“C-Cater…”

“Just like that, baby…,” he murmurs, flicking his cockhead against your pulsing entrance. Your heart hammers inside of your chest, fear and lust clawing at your gut, but you want him to fill you up so badly. Your walls keel for the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out and pounding into that sweet spot deep inside of you.

You look up at him with doe-eyes. “I want you, Cater…”

“I want you too,” he whispers back. “Keep your focus entirely on me, got it? I’m going to shower a pretty little thing like you with as much love as I possibly can.”

—Rook’s body feels heavy on top of yours, his thick legs and strong arms keeping you caged by his body as he slowly works you open on his cock. Having his dick inside you feels weird, but your entrance drooling with lube, Rook’s pre-cum, and a bit of your own juices that the hunter had generously smeared all over your crotch. Your lower walls burned but in a way that made your chest tightened up, your hole milking his thick member for all it was worth.

Rook took your hands, placing them over your chest. “Ah, mon amour… If you make such alluring expressions at me, I won’t be able to control myself. Won’t you touch yourself for me? I want to see all of your hidden faces.”

You let him curl your fingers around your nipples, your fingertips rolling over your swollen buds. You gritted your teeth, a small whine escaping your tense lips as jolts of electricity shot down your spine and settled in your core. Rook moaned softly when you tightened up around him, his dick buried deep inside of you. His tip rested right underneath that one spot you wished he would fuck into you, but your cheeks burned with embarrassment at the thought.

“It feels so lewd…,” you sniffed, groping your own chest under Rook’s guidance. You didn’t even touch yourself that much on the regular, but Rook continued to move your hands from your chest to your sex, making you mewl out his name whenever he had you brush your fingers against a particularly sensitive spot.

“Oh, you’re beautiful… Absolutely breathtaking, mon ange,” Rook gasped. You whimpered, your stomach twisting and curling in on itself as he forced you to grind down on your palm. Your hips bucked up and down Rook’s cock and jerked against your own hand, and the huntsman chuckled darkly into your ear. “Everything you do only excites me, my love… I just want to hold you down and ravish you.”

Your sex fluttered around his dick. You inhaled deeply through your nose, smiling up weakly at him through all the fuzzy pounding in your head.

“Then… Then do it, Rook. I’m here for you.”

—Lilia giggles, his fangs bared as he hovers above you. You don’t know if you’d describe the emotion swelling up inside of you to be fear. If it was fear, you’d be running away from him rather than inviting his touches. His breath is cold against the crook of your neck, but when you cup your hand around your sex under his guidance and touch yourself the way he wants you to, your body flares up with a heat you’d never had before.

“There you go…,” he whispers languidly. You shiver against his chest when the tip of his sharp teeth graze against your ear, his tongue licking the sensitive skin. “You’re doing so well for me… You look so innocent playing with yourself like that. I want to corrupt you and bring you down with me… What do you say to that, my sweet lamb?”

You fuck yourself on your fingers, feeling the slight stretch in the ring of muscle wrapped around your knuckles. Lilia palms himself, stroking his dick with his own hand in the same rhythm that you’re wiggling your hips to.

“What do you mean…?” You reply back, breathless. Your stomach twists and turns, and you need something bigger than your fingers fucking you. Your mouth waters at the thought of being dominated by Lilia, choking out his name and cumming all over his cock while he’d press you into his bed over and over again. You wouldn’t care if anyone would catch the two of you; all you needed right now was him.

“Look at you, all pretty and spread out for me like that. You’re absolutely irresistible,” Lilia replies back. You jerk down on your fingers and scream when he bites playfully at your ear, a small stream of blood trickling down. His tongue deftly laps at the stinging wound, and the dizzying combination of pain and pleasure is almost too much for your inexperienced body to take.

Lilia holds you, teasing his dripping cock and watching you fumble with yourself. You don’t know how to respond, other than to do as he wants you to do, and he smiles sweetly at you.

“A little more, dear one… A little more, and I’ll give you whatever it is that you want.”

x

[italoniponic]

Twst boys... the audacity

so this was actually a random idea that started as a simple "someone has the audacity of this type of person" and it just got into uh, something. I can't even manage to describe this post lol

good luck on that

tw: some got a stronger language than I intended... maybe it's nothing but just for sure, there's this warning maybe I'm giving myself too much credit

Riddle has the audacity of someone who can make math calculations in his mind and gets always the right results

Ace has the audacity of someone who can turn the blame back on you and get away with it, people are convinced of his innocence (especially if you’re an older kid/brother)

Deuce has the audacity of someone who called his teachers by the first name a dozen of times and can deck a punch both sober and drunk 

Cater has the audacity of a Instagram blogger who has +300k followers and remember all his Starbucks orders without missing a single detail

Trey has the audacity of a grandmother of 5 children and 13 grandchildren that has been baking and cooking her entire life and that’s why you should listen when you’re being said that you should put the dry ingredients first

Leona has the audacity of someone who says that he doesn’t need to call his dad because he’s already capable of beating the shit out of you

Ruggie has the audacity of someone who ran away from all the angry dogs in his neighborhood and survived 

Jack has the audacity of someone who will be called and relied on by church old ladies who needs him to reach the top shelf or put something higher because only he is tall enough

Azul has the audacity of someone who knows the names of all 500 types of Italian pasta that exists and also knows how to differentiate them

Jade has the audacity of someone who forgot what kind of mushroom he found, ate it and nothing happened 

Floyd has the audacity of someone who can bend backwards like a Soleil ballerina, grab his own ankles and walk around

Kalim can’t spell “audacity” but has money enough to erase the word from modern dictionaries 

Jamil has the audacity of someone who will taste your food, know exactly what you did wrong but will only say “it has a strange taste” and won’t elaborate further, seeing you look at him in despair

Vil is the living embodiment of audacity

Rook has the audacity of someone who knows all songs from the Les Miserables by heart, both in english and french

Epel has the audacity of a entire farmer village from the countryside that will look at you struggling eating a ear of corn and say that is because you’re from the city

Idia has the audacity of someone who built himself watching anime, knows most of the old classics, the medium tiers that nobody knows, the hyped ones and the obscure ones, so yes, he’s the god of the weebs

Ortho has the audacity of machines who gains conscience but can’t properly comprehend humanity flaws, therefore he’s superior and humanity will be slaved by machines like it’s a Isaac Asimov romance 

Malleus has the audacity of someone who will simply move you out of his way just with his hand, without actually putting that much effort in it like a a prize claw machine

Lilia has the audacity of an older senior citizen who would say “where were you when I was in the war? exactly, not even in your father’s scrotum” and sips from his pure coffee, no sugar cup

Silver has the audacity of someone who sleeps during a whole movie or lecture but somehow remember all the details 

Sebek has the audacity of someone who knows Latin and, on top of that, knows how to conjugate his own name in Latin 

Chenya has the audacity of someone who never fell in any “deez nuts” jokes and always retorts a “mom joke” with a even heavier “mom joke” because he already hates his mother + the real influence behind the whole “ligma”

Neige has the audacity of someone who passes out in the middle of the street, stays in a unconscious state for a long time and when wakes up, he says calmly “oh that was just a minor inconvenience”

(fun fact: Neige doesn't have a smug face so I had to joint his angry expression with a smile to create this mildly uncomfortable with the situation he's in but Chenya said it was going to be fun, so I'll do my best to appear "bad")