#talking about the hair and not the camera quality

[guywrestlingaddiction]

That Wresting Moment: Model v Model - Chase Lundquist v Jett Bentley (88wrestling.com)

Wresters come in all backgrounds, so for this moment I thought I'd start by running through who does it best and we begin with two really really good looking male models that somehow made there way to the ring; Chase Lundquist v Jett Bentley in Muscle Model Mayhem.  

Rex Brody v Nick Milani (muscleboywrestling.com)

SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.

The Backstory

Our fight opens typically enough, the guys are pure shredded muscle.  So much so that Jett points out, "I'm the shredded one" and Chase comes back in disbelief with, "Oh you're shredded [removes his shirt revealing shredded abs]?"

Bonus modeling points for Jett sporting the Cindy Crawford mole

Chase: These are real abs right here.

Not the most aggressive start to be sure, but soon we're off as our two shredded muscle models fighting it out.  

The Action

Chase is the aggressor in the first round; putting Jett in a few holds while he prances around the ring.  Yes, prances - these two are models after all.  

Our two models take turns a lot.  Putting each other in leg locks.

Now make no mistake, there are some highlights between the two.  Chase getting some hits in on Jett's sculpted body...

... and Jett, finding his way in gay wrestling, just enough to put a little hurt on his golden opponent.  

The Moment 

But let's face it, we all came here to watch two models and what do they do best.  So this moment is all about our men posing and boy do these two strike a pose.

Is this Cameron Matthews quality wrestling, or Mason Brooks trash talk, or Morgan Cruise level domination? Perhaps not.  But we didn't come for all that anyway so it's unfair to judge our two young, shredded studs by all that; we all came here for two guys that are really really good looking. 

So let's face it, the wrestling is not the focus here.  In fact, we are here for one thing - to see shredded, golden muscle studs, straining away under something like wrestling holds.  

Jett trapped with no where to run

Those made for the camera muscles that could grace any runway are the same muscles lubed up with sweat and pushed to their limit.  So yes, this is a wrestling match with a focus other than the wrestling and yes those are fighting words, but model v model offers a slower paced, less physical fighting form that does the sweaty job without leaving a single hair out of place.  

#gay wrestling #88wrestling.com #chase lundquist #Jett Bentley

[krynutsreal]

augghhhh auyyuhuuuu

last ishimond week prompt yes I'm gonna ramble about it at the end so beware (with doodles to accompany it ofc)

OOK SO

i like to think that for this au/prompt they r in college or some shit and kiyo doesn't have many friends ofc, he is dedicated to his studies but Aoi wants to help him "get himself out there" and be more open. So she and makoto (who was dragged along) set kiyotaka on a blind date !!

While on Mondo's end it was Takemichi and Daiya who set him up. They are very aware of the rejection streak Mon has gotten over the years and thought that this will get him to (hopefully) get him to stop moping around abt these kinds of things.

of course, Mondo is pissed about this, saying that he doesn't need the pity bullshit but he eventually agrees to it.

what they both did not realize is that they have both already met before, which results in a very awkward blind date

ok that's all 👍 have a nice day guys

#if any of u hav any asks abt these or like ...want to know more abt the doodles then #hiiii twirls hair #i like talking about them a lot if its not obvious by now #danganronpa #kiyotaka ishimaru #mondo owada #ishimondo #mondo oowada #ishimaru kiyotaka #makoto naegi #aoi asahina #kry k(art) #ishimondoweek2022 #THE CAMERA QUALITY ISBSO BAD IM SORRY GUYS #blind date au

[evera-era]

pretty on camera.

ellie williams x afab!reader

warnings: tlou!au, slight coercion, dirty talk, oral e!receiving, fingering, spanking, ellie is kinda rough, sex tape !!

a/n: writer’s block has been pretty horrible so i’m sorry for the delay on this </3 not proofread (yet… will do later)

You hear Ellie’s footsteps behind you. She enters the bedroom you’re in, giving a small sigh. The two of you were currently on patrol, scouting a cabin. This route typically didn’t give you any problems; it could be a bit of a drag.

“Everything good?” You ask, opening up a desk drawer.

“Yeah, it’s all clear.” She replies. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” You mumble. “Fuckin’ around a little.”

She scoffs, smirking. “Don’t let Maria find out.”

You picked up a small glass marble sitting in the corner of the drawer. You roll it between your fingers.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” You add.

Ellie shrugs, watching you. You set the marble down and look over at the bed. You pause for a second before getting on your knees to check underneath it.

“Depends,” She replies, shifting her weight on her feet. “What’s in it for me?”

“We bein’ PG?” You ask her.

You can hear Ellie emit a small chuckle from above. During your search, your eyes catch onto a bulky, grey object. Upon further inspection, it appears to be a camcorder. You furrow your brows in disbelief.

“No fucking way.” You say under your breath. You grab it and pull it out to examine it. You push yourself up from the ground, opting to sit crisscrossed instead.

At first sight, the camcorder was dusty, but in relatively good condition. You were hesitant about whether it had any battery left, and if the battery would even work. But it was worth a shot.

“Check this out,” You say, chucking the camera at Ellie. She catches it in a swift movement.

“A camera?” She comments. “Wouldn’t be the first we found.”

“But it could be the first that works,” You reply. “C’mon, let’s try and turn it on.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, thoroughly believing the attempt would be futile. But she does what you say.

When a small flash of green blinks on one of the buttons, her eyes widen.

“Holy shit,” She mumbles.

“I told you!” You exclaim, getting back onto your feet. You join her and peer over her shoulder.

The quality isn’t the best, but it’s working. Ellie navigates the menu to see if there’s any memory on it. A small video plays, only for a few seconds, of a black screen.

“That’s it?” You question. “Anything else?”

She frowns, scrolling through but ultimately getting nowhere. “If that’s the case, there’s a shitton of storage left.”

You look at Ellie from the corner of your eye. She squints at you.

“What?”

You straighten your back, looking away in a dramatic fashion. “Nothing… totally nothing.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Seriously — what?”

You look up at her with a sly grin. She blankly stares, then shakes her head.

“You’re fucking insane.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You don’t have to!” She hisses. “You’re such a fucking whore, I swear.”

You giggle at her reaction before sighing exasperatedly. “Okay, okay. Fine. Don’t make a porno with me, it’s fine.”

You begin heading for the door before Ellie clears her throat. You turn to look over at her.

She looks up at you through her lashes. “I mean… I didn’t say that I wouldn’t.”

The only thing that can be heard is the faint ticking from the face on your watch. You raise your eyebrows at the auburn-haired girl.

“Are you saying you will?”

She stumbles on her words. “I— Shouldn’t we at least wait ‘til we get back to Jackson?”

“Technically, we should.” You smirk. “But should we?”

Ellie’s face flushes. You walk up to her, taking her hands in yours as she watches you closely.

“C’mon.” You whisper, hooking your finger through her belt loop. “You’re not even the slightest bit curious to see what it’s like to fuck me on camera?”

Her face reddens even deeper as she looks over at the wall. When her eyes meet yours again, she gives you a stern look.

“If we get in trouble, it’s on you.”

“So… is that a yes?” You say. Ellie bites down on her lip, nodding.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

You get on your knees, quickly pushing your hair back and out of your face.

“Don’t worry, Els. I’ll make it up to you real soon.”

“You fuckin’ better,” She whispers.

As you unbutton her pants, Ellie struggles to get the camera on the right setting. It’s hard for her to think straight.

“How the fuck do I even work this thing?”

“You were doing it just fine a moment ago,” You comment.

“Yeah, well… wasn’t bout to get laid a moment ago. Mind’s foggy.” She huffs. “Ah, there we go.”

She wipes the lens on the bottom of her shirt before pressing record. You look up at her, smiling.

“Wanna tell them what we’re doing, Els?” You ask coyly, looking between her and the camera.

“T-Them?” She stutters. “Wait, we’re sharing this?”

“No,” You giggle. “Well, unless you want to.”

Ellie’s silent, distracted by your actions. You place a small peck above her pantyline. “C’mon, babe.”

“Okay, okay,” She sighs. “Uh… this is Ellie and Y/N. About to… fuck… on morning patrol. Totally not my idea to do this on the job, by the way.”

You flick her thigh.

“Ouch!” She whines. “Gosh. As you can see… my girlfriend is very, very naughty.”

“Mm, how so?” You press, tugging down on her underwear.

“Do I have to narrate everything?” She moans. “I… I can’t think straight like this.”

“You’re so cute,” You comment. “Alright, fine. Just hold the camera still.”

Ellie does as you say, stabilizing the camera with one hand and placing the other behind your head. Her fingers entangle themselves in your hair as you take the first lick, running your tongue up her folds.

“Mm,” You breathe against her skin. “For someone with no intentions of doing this, you sure are wet…”

“Shut up,” She groans, tightening her grip on your hair. “Not my fault. Your ass was basically swallowing your jeans.”

You hum in delight, dragging your tongue back and forth along her slit. She folds her bottom lip under her teeth, hands slightly shaking from anticipation.

You bring your eyes back up to the camera as you engulf her clit into your mouth. She hisses, her mouth watering, desperately trying to hold onto the camera when all she wants to do is pull you up and bend you over.

“Fuck,” She grunts, dropping her other hand from your hair and bringing it around to cup your face. You moan against her touch, continuing to lick and suck on her swollen bud.

“Shit,” She murmurs. “Fuck yeah, right there.”

She watches you closely through the lens, becoming wetter at the mere sight of you on a pixelated screen.

You’re such a slut for doing this, she thinks. Making her film you while you pleasure her, while you worship her cunt. For encapsulating this moment into a camera you found mere minutes ago. And on patrol, no less.

“Taste so good, Els.” You mumble after pulling away to catch your breath. “So sweet.”

“Yeah?” She purrs. “Stick your tongue out, lemme see.”

You obey her command, and she has to stop herself from letting her eyes roll into the back of her head.

It was so slutty, the way her juices coated your tongue in a translucent shimmer. Her green eyes bore into yours as she puts her thumb in your mouth, watching as you lick and suck on it.

The sensation alone sends zaps right to her cunt, which was practically dripping. You brought your hand out to it and delicately spread her pussy lips apart.

“Such a good girl for me,” She murmurs, watching you intently. You look up innocently at her as you insert one finger, then two.

Ellie groans in response, clenching onto the camera as her pussy clenches onto your fingers.

“So tight,” You whisper, taking a second to let her warm up to the feeling before pushing deeper inside. “And warm.”

After a few strokes back and forth, you began picking up the pace. She was squelching around your fingers — filthy, she thinks, such a filthy sound — and she was nearly seeing stars.

“Goddamn,” She mutters, tempted to grind against your touch, but opting to capture you in your essence instead. She brings the camera down a little more, so it’s lined up perfectly. You take notice; looking at the lens while you begin sucking on her cunt yet again, your fingers still pumping.

Ellie wants to speak, but can’t even form coherent words. Instead, she drawls into guttural, breathy moans as she copes with the stimulation. She was practically losing her mind from this, and eventually, her steady hold on the camera dwindles.

“Baby,” She winces, looking down at you. “Babe— fuck— I’m so fuckin’ close.”

You nod your head, lips still attached to her cunt as you continue fingering her harshly. She sighs, throwing her head back.

“God, fuck,” She hisses. “Just like that, princess. Fuck! Make me fuckin’ cum.”

It was hard to hear the obscenities she was grunting out when she was so wet, but you moaned against her nonetheless. It wasn’t often you got to see Ellie let herself go; seeing her get to that point was almost rewarding.

The orgasm that ripples through her body is strong. Her mouth is agape, eyes clenched tight as she comes undone. The look on her face is almost painful, but you know it’s not — it just took a lot out of her.

When she comes down from her high, she blinks a few times, trying to combat her blurry vision. She pants, palms clammy around the camcorder as she looks at you. You were wiping your mouth off and sucking your fingers clean.

“How was it?” You asked innocently. Her gaze becomes concentrated, like a switch, and she tilts her head towards the bed.

“Fuckin’ amazing,” She huffs. “Your turn.”

You become slightly shy at the proposal. “What? B-But—“

“No but’s,” She replies. “C’mon, ass up.”

You blush. You had assumed that once you got her off, she’d be ready to go back to Jackson, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

So you do as she says, peeling your pants off before climbing onto the bed on all fours.

“What, you don’t have anything else to say?” She asks, switching the camera to her other hand. She places a hard slap on your ass, and you moan.

“Hard to speak when you’re the receiver, huh?”

You bite your lip as she aims the camera to get a full view of your ass. Her thumb pushes into you easily, thanks to the accumulation of slick that gathered at your core. Your cheeks warm at her movements.

“C’mon, baby.” She says. “Tell them what I’m doing.”

“We— We’re—“

Another slap, right on your ass.

“Speak up.”

“I— Ellie’s touching me,” You murmur.

“How?” She whispers. “How am I touching you?”

“Fingering me…” You add. “Ellie’s fingering my pussy.”

“And what a sweet fuckin’ pussy you have.” She grunts. “Turn over, lay on your back.”

Once your back hits the bed, Ellie straddles you almost immediately. You’re met with the camera lens once again.

“Look at that face,” She smirks. “So fuckin’ hot.”

She pushes her index and middle finger inside of you, making sure to catch what she’s doing on film. Meanwhile, outside of the frame, you’re scrunching your eyebrows up in pleasure.

Ellie was ruthless. She knew your hot spots, and practically abused that knowledge. She knew how to make you cum, and how to make you cum quick. You were kneading at your tits in an attempt to absolve the overstimulation.

“E-Els,” You whine, grinding up against her hand.

She doesn’t say anything, so set on the way your pussy looks around your fingers. You mewl.

“Ellie,” You moan.

“Hm?” She says, looking up at you. “What, gonna cum already?”

You nod, teary-eyed, toes clenching at the edge of the bed.

“Look at the camera and say it.” She whispers.

“G-Gonna—“

“Who?” She cuts you off. “C’mon, use your words… who’s makin’ you cum?”

“You, Ellie,” You breathe out, using your hands to pull at the bedsheets behind your head. “Ellie’s gonna, fuck, Ellie’s makin’ me cum.”

“Atta girl,” She murmurs. “Good girl.”

You moan, rocking your hips gently in an attempt to gain more friction against her hand. Your orgasm comes rather quickly, and has you whining and pulsing hard around her fingers.

Ellie makes sure to catch your o-face on camera; if by some miracle this camera turns on again later, she would need that content for lonely nights.

“There you go,” She says quietly, taking one last full-view shot of your body before shutting the camera off. She tosses it over into the pillows and leans down into you.

“My god,” You moan as Ellie presses several kisses against your breasts. She looks up at you, placing a final kiss against your lips, making you smile.

“See?” You whisper after a moment. “I told you it’d be fun.”

She nods meekly, raising her eyebrows. “I… didn’t think I’d enjoy it that much. Was definitely worth it.”

You look up at the ceiling as she rolls over to the side. She begins pulling her clothes on.

“Babe?” She says, looking over at you.

“I know I kinda fucked the shit outta you just now, but we should really head back. Y’know, if we don’t wanna get our asses chewed.”

You groan in response. She chuckles.

“Alright, alright. I’ll give you five minutes to get cleaned up. Meet me out front, okay?”

You grin, rubbing your eyes. “Okay.”

Ellie leaves a few seconds later. And when you go to reach for the camera, you realize she took it, with the rest of her belongings.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou2 #ellie x fem reader #tlou2 fanfic #kinktober 2023

[inf3ct3dd]

ellie headcanons pt 4.!

warnings: literally nothing

content: loser!ellie x reader

authors note: brewing a full length fic in my mind rn… this might be the last hc post 😓!!!

pt.3. taglist!

- loves matching with you. keychains, shoes, outfits, literally anything. if you have dyed hair, she’d dye a piece of hers to match you.

- makes up elaborate plots to kiss you bc she’s too cool and nonchalant to ask for a kiss 😕😕

“ugh, my lips are just sooooo dry…”

“didnt you literally just put chapstick on 5 minutes ago?”

“yknow chapstick these days…so…low quality.”

“is this your weird way of asking me to kiss you?”

“noooo what!!! thats craaaaazy i have nooo idea what you’re talking about!!!”

smooch

“you’re so stupid.”

“i feel sooooo moisturized right now”

- always fidgeting with something. probably has a rubix cube keychain 😕🔥🔥

- speaking of, she has an excessive amount of keychains. like so many.

- covers her eyes and peaks through her fingers every time you change infront of her

- definitely audibly said “woah” when she saw ur boobs for the first time

- has so many dumb socks. dinosaurs, minecraft, pickles, literally anything she likes she has a pair of socks for

- scarily good at roblox obbies. you literally can’t play with her because she’ll be done in like 5 minutes 😞

- loves those papas cooking games. her faves are the taco mia one and the sushi-ria

- arizona green tea 🗣️🗣️

- will put on awful accents for hours on end just for fun 😞 esp the italian accent. it’s ridiculous 💔💔 or that frat dude accent

“suhhh dude”

- definitely built her own pc. put a picture of you in it too ☹️☹️

- calls you “dude” or “bro” on accident sometimes

- absolutely constantly argues w ppl on the internet. if she gets bored she just tells them to kts and blocks them 😕

- MAKES THE BEST PASTA EVER!!! it’s literally her favorite food and she’s constantly cooking it. even makes her own sauce 🔥🔥

- tries to do tricks while she’s smoking and just ends up a coughing mess

- her default pose in every picture is just her doing a thumbs up and looking at the camera like this 😐 but whenever she takes a picture with you she is absolutely CHEESING

- randomly takes 0.5 pictures of you constantly. has a whole album in her phone of all the pictures

- barely ever uses instagram, and all her posts are just pictures of you.

- “i could take a bear in a fight.”

- loves balancing things on your head when you fall asleep around her. one time you woke up to like 20 cheerios falling on your lap

- whenever she’s home alone she puts on insanely random outfits and then forgets she’s wearing them. one time you came home to her sleeping on the couch in a full suit

- lets you stand on the cart in the grocery store so she can stand behind you and push it around

- has had the same backpack since the 5th grade. she’s had to sow it back together 20 times and she refuses to throw it away because its “special”

- stalks all your reposts on tiktok when she’s bored

“was this about me???”

- absolutely disgusted by like…any type of canned food. she will not go near it. ESPECIALLY SARDINES

- makes a million typos every time she texts you. her messages are like ancient scrolls you have to decipher to read

“sre tou comungw over todqy ??”

- every time she wears a hat she wears it backwards

- hates sharing her food, but will constantly eat yours

“just a little bite!!!” and she eats like half of it 😒

- has the julien baker rainbow guitar strap

- literally loves apples. so much. apple juice, apple pie, apple cider, literally ANYTHING that has apples in it/ is apple flavored she will DEVOUR IT

- whenever she cooks for herself, she just eats it straight out of the pot/pan.

“whats the point?? ‘s just more dishes to wash 😒”

taglist: if ur name is crossed, i cant tag u :((

@princessguardian444 @mina-281 @leatheredhearts @r3wbeef @dinaissoprettyoml @forelliesposts @lov3lylotus @melissabarrerass @greencacty @as2rid @kingofmylastkiss @dollietes @ellieslilsIvvt @pl9ys @bbygrlshelbs @gayh0rr0r @sawaagyapong @paran0id0blivi0n @bubs-world @mag-mfm @bearieio @slutshies @horror-whoree @calystas-morning-tea @ilovaffles @fr3sh-tragedies @iloveeyousblog @maris-koffin @emonopolyman @elliesgflol @girlwonderchloe @brunettedolls-blog @beestar120 @ddreabea @ibloom4u @elliesmellsbad @thecowardwrites @owmoiralover @yuyans-stuff @minixmel @ellesslutt @swtsuna @saggykneecaps @4rt3m1ss @clouded-whispers @baldph0bic @elleatethat @certifedcrybunny @staxz8 @astridnyx31 @0rb1t-s4turn @amandla111 @kalia31 @spinnyshark @cewcumbers @urnewghostfriend @dinasmoon @teeveegirl @iwantsoda @lunascerebro @matildalee @rach-0000 @er-or101 @our-horse @armins1ut @syrenada @seventeenelliesgf @jellysangelstar @f3r4lfr0gg3r @ilovelyby @people0know @sapphicsstars @hi2647 @mousymaven @echostinn @bratydoll

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams headcanons #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #the last of us 2 #lesbian #wlw

[melobin]

જ⁀➴ casting couch 𐙚 wonbin

part of the riize as porn plots series.

summary - as a newbie to the porn industry you go through the same hazing process as everyone else. the casting couch. you were just as nervous as you were excited when you found out famed porn star park wonbin would be conducting your interview.

wc - 4.3k

warnings - experienced porn star!wonbin x amateur female porn star!reader, dom wonbin dom! wonbin, finger sucking, hair pulling, nipple play, oral f and m receiving, face fucking, spitting, manhandling, unprotected sex, rough sex, being recorded.

a/n: sorry for taking so long !!!! i've been sick really sick , don't recommend it. i'm still sick but i've been trying to finish this up for a while!!! i hope you enjoy, not proof read!!

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

“all you have to do for the mean time is sit there and look pretty, once the shoot starts we’ll ask you a question or two and then wonbin will come in and talk to you, sound good?” you nodded at the director, trying to not let the bright lights blind you too much as he spoke “try not to worry about the cameras too much, pretend like we’re not even here”

it felt strange to say the least, you’d never been on such a high budget set before, everything you’d done was alone in the space of your own bedroom or filmed on a shitty low quality camera, something to do with amateur porn was that they loved their dark lighting and low resolution cameras. so this was all so new to you, daunting in a way, but nothing was as daunting as working with park wonbin. 

wonbin was one of the most famous porn stars within your generation, he was pushing 22 and had only been active in the industry for around a year but that meant nothing, once people got him in their sights they never let go. you understood the obsession, wonbin was one of the most gorgeous men you’d even seen. big pretty eyes, longish hair, toned body and that gold, glistening necklace that always adorned his pretty neck, he beat everyone else by at least a mile. he also knew how to fuck, every video he had been in he had easily reduced the female start to tears with his cock. he was filthy, messy. rough. the dream.

one thing about wonbin was that he was incredibly difficult to hire, he may have been a porn start but he was still cautious about where he put himself and who he stuck himself inside of. people don’t approach wonbin, he approaches them, so it was a shock to you when his manager contacted you saying wonbin wanted to work with you personally. he was searching for an official partner to work with, so he wouldn’t have to rotate between women, it baffled you when you found out he wanted to do a casting cough interview because he thought you’d be perfect for the job. you accepted the offer immediately, you would’ve been insane to not take it. even if you didn’t get the job in the end, you would’ve been walking out of here having been fucked by park wonbin, that’s enough of an achievement for you.

“wonbin’s here, all we’re gonna do is ask you a few questions, try and act a bit ditsy just for the show, you ready?”

“yes” the female makeup artist crouched in front of you, gently dabbing a brush against your lips before standing up. 

“you’ll do great” you smiled and thanked her. you weren’t wearing much, just a short dress that hugged the top half of your body, pushing your tits together and flowed out a little bit at the bottom, it barely covered your ass but it didn’t matter, you had nothing on underneath the dress anyway.  

the camera man sat in the chair across from the black couch you were perched on, he held the large camera on his shoulders as the director cued for the shoot to begin. it was quiet as you waited for the camera man to talk he spent a few seconds just recording you playing with you hair and smiling to yourself.

“you ever done this before?” you forced a giggle at the camera man’s question.

“i’m not a virgin silly” you twirled your hair around your finger, playing along to any other question he asked before you heard the door handle turn. lord, he was here. you weren’t necessarily nervous about the shoot, but you were nervous about meeting wonbin.

you gulped when he opened the door, shutting it behind him before turning to look at you, a small smile played on his plump lips as he eyed you. he didn’t say anything at first, he let your eyes flick down his body. he wore a lose white shirt with a low neck line, collarbones on show with his necklace sat gently against his skin. he was insanely gorgeous, there was no doubt that he caused a thirst to erupt inside of anyone that looked at him.

“aren’t you just the prettiest little thing” he reached a hand out to hold your jaw, thumb pressing against your bottom lip. he pulled it down causing you to open your mouth before he placed his thumb flat on your tongue, watching as you closed your lips around the digit and sucked on it, tongue slowly lifting to circle around it. the one little action had wonbin hooked already, he had wanted to fuck you from the moment he first laid his eyes on you. he’d stumbled across a video of you fucking yourself with some toy in your bedroom, the way you whined when you first pushed the toy into your sopping cunt had his cock throbbing  and the sight of your abused cunt after you’d finished playing with yourself had him spilling all over his hand. wonbin had to give it to you, not many people could make him cum from a video alone but you had him with your very first one. that’s when he knew he needed to have you.

wonbin was a natural, he didn’t seem phased one bit that there were cameras filming him, it felt as if he actively ignored them and done whatever he wanted, what he would’ve done even if they weren’t there. you admired it but it also turned you on, he was so shameless, as of he knew you’d accept anything he wanted to do, even if it was going as far to humiliate you in front of the millions of people who would inevitably be watching this video. 

“got the perfect lips for sucking cock, don’t you?” you nodded, humming around his thumb whilst looking up at him, not breaking eye contact as you took his thumb deeper into your mouth. he grabbed your hair with his free hand, pulling your mouth off of his thumb before looking down at you. his hand dropped to the front of your dress, fingers hooking over the neckline before pulling it down, exposing your bare tits to him. he squeezed one in his hand, slowly loosening his grip before pinching your nipple, pulling it away from your body before letting it go.

“why don’t you find out?” wonbin pushed his tongue against his cheek, amused at your question. of course he wanted to find out, he’d be an idiot not to. 

“show me, baby”

you stood up from the sofa, falling to your knees and looking up at him as your fingers went to the zipper of his jeans. wonbin parted his lips as he watched you, eyes trained on yours whilst you pulled his cock out of his jeans. he had nothing on underneath the rough fabric, he was ready for whatever you were willing to give him.

you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, pumping him in your hand, thumb brushing over his slick tip each time you reached his head. you brought your other hand up to push up his shirt, nails lightly digging into the skin of his abs as you lifted yourself to press your tongue against them, saliva wetting his skin whilst you traced his abs with your tongue. you felt wonbin shiver slightly under the touch of your tongue. his eyes stayed on your as your tongue got lower until it left his skin, hand still pumping his cock as you stuck your tongue out and pressed it against the side of it. letting his cock rest against your tongue before you closed your lips around the tip. 

wonbin groaned as he felt your tongue press into the slit of his cock, the taste of his precum filled your mouth as you took him a little deeper before taking yourself off of him. you held him in your hand as you collected as much saliva as you could in your mouth, moving your head to spit on the end of his cock before wrapping your lips around him once more. 

park wonbin was the only man you wanted to impress, so that’s what you done. slowly inching your mouth lower on his cock with each bob of your hea, your eyes still on his, you took him until there was no more of his cock to take, gagging around him slightly but no letting it stop you. wonbin loved the sight beneath him, your nose pressed against his abdomen with each push of your head forward, eyes watering and spit falling from your lips. the sounds you were making were downright filthy, you sounded like you were enjoying sucking his cock and that just made wonbin harder. 

he watched cautiously as you pulled your mouth off of his cock, closing your eyes and letting out a few deep breaths as a string of saliva still connected you to him. wonbin’s hand found your hair, brushing it out of your face before gripping it and pulling it back so you had no choice to look at him, he expected you to be surprised by his actions, maybe moan, what he didn’t expect was for you to smile at him and let out what he could only describe as a sadistic laugh. 

“do you want to use my mouth, binnie?” he almost groaned at your words, deciding to hold himself back and laugh back at you instead. 

“you know exactly what i want, doll” you kept the smile on your face as you watched him wrap other hand around his cock, keeping the other in your hair. he could see the excitement in your eyes even when he guided his cock into your mouth, you leaned closer to him and held the backs of his thighs as he pushed his cock deeper into your mouth. you let him use you, his thrusts gradually increasing in speed as he fucked your mouth, fingers tightening their grip on your hair the longer it went on. eventually you had tears falling from your eyes, but the look you had in them urged him to keep going, you were more than happy to let him use your throat until he was filling it with cum but wonbin had other ideas. 

at some point he had to pull his cock out of the warmth of your mouth, if he didn’t he was going to cum and wonbin didn’t want to do that until he had your sweet cunt wrapped around him instead. he pulled you off of him by your hair, watching as you gasped for breath but still smiled up at him. you still looked so pretty with tears falling from your eyes and your lips wet and swollen. wonbin wanted nothing more than to ravage you and make a mess of you, he wanted to see you wrecked because of him, he wanted everyone to see how pretty you’d look all fucked out because of his cock. 

wonbin signalled you to stand up by pulling on your hair slightly, you followed his instructions, finding his lips on yours as soon as you were up. the kiss wasn’t gentle, his tongue pushed into your mouth only seconds after he placed his lips against yours. his felt soft, it was a drastic comparison to how filthy his tongue felt in your mouth. 

“you’re almost too good at sucking cock” his fingers move your head away from his by pulling at your hair “might need to keep that pretty little mouth all to myself” wonbin pressed his thumbs against your bottom lip before laughing, fingers tightening in your hair as he turned your head to look at the camera, hand dropping from your mouth to squeeze your tits again “everyones gonna be so jealous of me when this video comes out, doll”. you shivered as you felt his lips by your ear, lips parting so you could whine at how he was treating you. 

wonbin’s hand fell from your hair to unzip the back of your dress, watching you as the straps fell down your arms and the dress fell to the floor. his fingers trailed down your bare back before reaching your ass, squeezing it in his hand before pulling it back so he could strike it against you. you moaned at the rough contact of his hand hitting your ass, wonbin just laughed. 

“you’re so fun to play with”

“bet i’ll be even more fun to fuck” you turned to look at wonbin with a smile on your face, he groaned as his eyes flicked down your body. your fingers pushed the material of his shirt up, tracing his abs as you pushed it over his head. 

“i can’t wait to find out” once you pushed his jeans down properly you took a proper look at wonbin, he was utterly delicious from head to toe. every inch of him was devourable. 

you weren’t sure what his next actions would be, you let yourself try to be natural in front of the camera whilst his fingers touched your body. it took you by surprise when he curled them around your waist and pushed you down onto the sofa, your back almost sticking to the material immediately due to the layer of sweat that had accumulated on your skin. you watched wonbin carefully as he dropped to knees in front of you, fingers digging into your inner thighs as he held your legs apart. 

“hold them” he gestured for you to hold your legs apart and replace his hands with your own, as soon as you did he was bringing his fingers to your pussy, using both hands to spread apart your lips so he could get a clear look at you. he let the camera see, he let it watch the way you whimpered when he lightly brushed his finger over your swollen nub and he let it watch as he collected as much saliva as he could in his mouth before spitting onto your cunt. you gasped at the filthiness of his action, taken by surprise but incredibly turned on as you felt his spit drip from your cunt.

wonbin pressed his tongue flat against your cunt, licking a direct line from your hole to your clit, sopping up every drop of spit and your slick he could with his tongue before spitting it back onto your clit. wonbin was filthy, you could already tell that he liked it wet and messy, he liked you wet and messy.

something else wonbin really liked was the way you tasted, the taste of your cunt filled his mouth and took over all of his sense, he was obsessed from the first lick. you melted against his tongue, filled his tastebuds with your sweetness whilst digging your fingers into your own skin. the camera stayed next to you both as he continued to lick at your cunt, moving closer to where wonbin’s lips wrapped around your clit and he harshly sucked on the nub before releasing it and flicking his tongue over it, all whilst continuing to hold the lips of your pussy open with his fingers.

the feeling of wonbin’s tongue flicking over your clit was indescribable, it sent shivers through your body as the pleasure over took you. your nails dug deeper into your thighs as you tried to keep them open for him, eyes watching the way he buried himself into your cunt and lapped up every drop of slick that you had. you wanted nothing more than to push your fingers into his hair and pull on the strands but you knew he wanted you completely open for him, it made it easier for him to abuse your clit with his tongue and leave you a wreck because of it.

you weren’t sure if his goal was to make you cum, considering he didn’t let you make him cum you half expected him to do the same to you but he didn’t. once wonbin got a taste of you, he needed to feel your cum fill his mouth, need the taste of it to completely overtake all of his senses. you were the sweetest thing he’d ever had the chance to taste and he wasn’t going to let that go so easily.

so he pressed his face a little closer to you, positioning himself so he could quickly flick his tongue over your clit, he tortured the swollen nub before his lips closed around it once more. he had no plans to let you relax as he sucked on it and pressed his tongue against it, he loved the way he could see your thighs tremble from the corner of his eyes and how your eyes stayed on him despite the fact you were falling apart. he knew part of you was putting on a show for the camera, trying to keep somewhat of a professional front despite the fact he was making you lose your mind. 

wonbin lifted his head for a moment, your slick covered his lips as he looked at you “you’re gonna cum on my tongue” his words were short and to the point, it took it by surprise when his hands pushed away yours and replaced them on your thighs, stretching you by pressing them further apart and diving back into your cunt. tongue licking up your slit, circling your hole and pressing in so he could coat himself in you again before he pressed his tongue flat against you and licked up to your clit.

wonbin groaned against you when he felt your fingers grab and pull at his hair, the vibration of his groan made your back arch, hips bucking forward to be closer to his face. he let you grind yourself into him as you whined, babbling about being close.

“i’m close god wonbin i’m so close” the camera was a little further back now, it captured the entire sight of wonbin holding you down and licking up every last drop that left you. you were sure before going into this that you weren’t going to be as into it due to the cameras and the people around you two but wonbin took that thought away from you. somehow he made the experience more intense, wonbin was definitely talented with his tongue and he was eagerly to make you cum with it.

your words caused wonbin’s lips to close around your clit, he was determined to push you over the edge with his mouth, he needed it to happen before he could even think about fucking you. he knew he was pushing you closer with the way he sucked on your cunt, he could feel the way you was harshly pulling at the strands of his hair and how you cried out his name. your voice was higher in pitch, moans coming out in frequent and desperate tones. he felt your clit throb under his tongue as your orgasm hit you, he kept his lips wrapped around it just to be sure he gave you the most intense orgasm possible.

you were shaking by the time wonbin pulled away and let go of your legs but he didn’t give you time to calm down before he was standing up and grabbing you, he manhandled you in the position he wanted you in. he had you knelt on the sofa, your forearms resting over the back of it as he pressed on your lower back and made your arch your ass out. you felt the tip of his cock press against your overstimulated clit, your thighs shook at the sudden contact.

wonbin looked down at his cock, lips parting to let a string of spit fall onto it. he pumped his spit over his cock whilst dragging the head down to your clenching hole, wonbin groaned at the feeling of your wetness seeping onto his cock, he couldn’t wait to fuck you. he watched carefully as he pressed the tip of his cock inside of you, the camera being close to where the two of you were connected in order to get the perfect shot.

the stretch you felt as he pushed inside of you made your head spin, the groan he let out only caused you to tighten more around him, wonbin was sure that if you squeezed around him anymore he wouldn’t be able to move “you’re so fucking tight around me”. wonbin’s own voice sounded shaky as he spoke to you, a deep husk surrounding his tone as he pressed the rest of his cock inside of you “starting to think no one’s fucking you right, sweet girl”. 

he gave you a few moments to catch your breath but it wasn’t enough, the moment he pulled out of you and pushed back in he was taking your breath away. whilst his movements weren’t exactly rough to start off with, the force behind his thrusts had your thighs shaking, the intensity of your previous orgasm staying with you as he dragged his cock along your walls. 

wonbin had his hands on each cheek of your ass, his nails dug into the skin of them as he pulled them apart to be able to watch himself slide into you, each time his cock left you it came out wetter than before. he was obsessed. he was sure to let the camera see it too, letting it focus on the way his cock stretched your open and wedged itself as deep as it could go inside of you. 

his hands moved, he leaned forward to wrap his hand around your neck whilst his other hand held your jaw, his thrusts speeding up and gaining more power behind them. with how he was holding your jaw you couldn’t close your mouth, moans of his name fell from you because of it, curses following behind. 

“gonna let them see you, pretty girl?” wonbin’s voice hit your ear as he pressed his lips against your neck, the camera found its way in front of you, recording the way his fingers dug into your skin and how you cried out his name “everyone gonna be so jealous of me” his voice was barely a whisper in your ear, as if he didn’t want the camera to pick up on the words he was whispering to you “need everyone to see how well i fuck your perfect little pussy”. 

you could only whine as he spoke to you, his words falling into a groan as you tightened your grip around him and began fucking yourself back against his cock. the camera man walked around the two of you, the camera being focused on the scene of wonbin fucking into you harshly from behind whilst you met his thrusts. you were a wreck as his fingers tightened their grip on your throat, your moans turning broken and your fingers digging a little deeper into the back of the sofa.

“feel so good, binnie” you choked out, wonbin felt as if he was at least four thrusts away from spilling his cum inside of you so he pulled out. his hands left your skin as he stepped backwards before they found you again, fingers digging into your hips as he turned you around, your back was propped up by the arm of the sofa as he knelt against the sofa and spread your legs apart. 

wonbin groaned as he pushed his cock back into you, he kept your legs spread as he began fucking you again. he watched the way your cunt took his cock eagerly, he found himself engrossed in the way your cunt spoke to him with each harsh thrust he made forward, how it let out wet cries and squeezed around him. it was just as pornographic as your moans were, wonbin thought you were perfect. 

“gonna fill you up so well” he was close and he was sure to let you know, he needed to hear you begging him to fill you up with him cum and have it leak out of you.

“please” was all you could whine out, wonbin repositioned your legs, letting one hook over his shoulder whilst the other fell to the floor, he moved his body to cage in yours as he fucked you, hide hands grabbed yours and pinned them down against the arm of the sofa either side of your head. you tried to focus on his face as his hair fell in front of his eyes but you found yourself watching his necklace that hovered over your face, barely grazing the skin of your lips with each sharp thrust. the star that hung off of the chain glistened under the harsh lights of the room, you found yourself mesmerised by it, knowing you’d be lying in bed later that night picturing the way it swung over your face. 

“gonna make me cum so hard, doll” wonbin had a whine in the tone of his voice as you squeezed around him, one of his hands left yours so he could press it against your clit, he used his other hand to run his fingers through his hair as he leaned back on his knees, hair falling back into his eyes as he fucked into you. he was sweaty, his body glistened under your gaze, as did his face. you found it hard to believe you were being fucked by a man who looked that good and wanted to make you cum again “cum around my cock, sweet girl”. 

you were more than happy to listen to his words, your cunt clenching harder around his cock as he drove you to the brink of your orgasm. your moans got louder, your legs shook and your fingers reached out for something, anything to grip onto as your orgasm washed over you. 

then it was wonbin’s turn to cum, his thrusts grew more frantic as his fingers dug into your thighs once more. he was determined to cum, determined to fuck you full of his cum and have everyone watch him claim you as his. and that’s exactly what he done, the after maths of your orgasm had you clenching tightly around him, squeezing his cock for everything he has as he came inside of you, thrusts slowly until he was barely dragging his cock against your walls. wonbin came with a broken moan of a short fuck, he made sure he didn’t pull out of you until every drop was inside of you. 

wonbin’s final show for the camera was by slowly pulling his cock out if you, he was sure to watch the way his cum slowly built up at your entrance and seeped out of you, letting the camera catch every moment of it. 

“i think you’ll be perfect for the job”.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

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#riize smut #wonbin smut #✧ melody posts #✧ hard hours ✧

[chrollohearttags]

commissions corner • the winning team

your boyfriend finds out your old flame is his new rival on the field and makes sure you don’t get wandering eyes for him….anyone else.

content warning and themes: black fem reader, college au, football player reiner, thigh riding, small argument and him being jealous, spit play, slapping, rough sex, oral, dirty talk, choking, overstimulation, full nelson, unprotected sex, pet names, fingering, breeding

word count: 8.4K

📝: this was a piece commissioned by @spiralflood and I cannot thank you enough for entrusting this to me and letting me write this fic for you. I do hope you enjoy it. Thank you so much for your support and patience. I apologize that this has taken so long but I hope that it was worth the wait and I look forward to working on your second piece.

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“Welcome back to the college playoff, folks! This has been one of the most intense matchups we’ve seen in this season thus far.”

“I have to agree, Jim. We’re seeing professional levels of playing here tonight. Especially from the quarterback. Braun is playing as if he has something to prove here..ten points in the first quarter..”

And they had no idea how true said sentiment was. As the announcers spouted off data and statistics about the game that was transpiring, onlookers and listeners alike tuned in to get the latest updates on the biggest one of the season. Homecoming. An annual ceremony..almost religious experience in the college town (y/n) (l/n) and so many other bright scholars called home. Including the illustrious football team’s star quarterback and your boyfriend of three years, Reiner Braun. A burly, stackhouse of a man who was as gentle as he was strong. He had a kind heart and iron clad determination. It was just a few of the redeemable qualities you loved about him. Including the fact that he held an innate obsession with you. Not in the sense that he was predatory or dangerous about it. But he was absolutely infatuated with everything about you. From your warm, loving personality to your equally kind heart. A lady who worked hard and always extended such compassion to everyone. Not to mention your beauty. In his eyes, you were truly a once in a lifetime type of woman. A rarity and any man, lucky enough to find you was blessed beyond relief. Hence why, he went above and beyond to prove his devotion.

“And even on the field, he’s a loverboy. Braun going over to the bleachers to steal a good luck kiss from his girl. How sweet.”

as you diligently cheered him on from the stands; seated front row in a plaid skirt, black turtleneck and platform heels..tights hugging your on your thighs, those broad shoulders and blonde hair would come jogging towards you..a giant smile on his face and hands clutching his shoulder pads. His signature white, khaki and red uniform for the Warriors stained in brown and green spots from the tumbling around. Running plays and colliding with others who possess equally brute strength. It was all in the fun of football and his love for the sport. But if there were one thing that Reienr adored more than anything, it was you. Rushing back over, he’d meet you halfway for a searing peck, one captured by the television cameras who were filming for ESPN..shortly before cutting to enthused cheerleaders, shaking their pom-poms. Everything was going on around him and he was solely focusing on you.

“Hey papa. You’re doing so good out there..I’m so proud of you!”

his face flush with his cheeks burning red once you complimented him. Truthfully, it was the only encouragement he needed. That team was as good as finished as long as he had his number one fan there to cheer him on. “Thanks, sugar. I’m glad you came to see me..I know how busy you’ve been with your dissertation and all comin’ up..” “Please, I wouldn’t miss it for anything, Rei Rei.” squishing his cheeks between your hands in a cutesy manner as you kissed the top of his forehead. It may have been a bit embarrassing if some of his teammates caught him but he could care less. He was all in when it came to his lady. However, it would seem that he wasn’t the only one with wandering eyes..just as the two of you shared your precious moment, another player would wander up, clutching his own shoulder pads and parading around with somewhat of a cocky smirk plastered across his face. He obviously was on the opponent’s side..donning a blue, white and silver uniform; akin to the Dallas Cowboys but adorn with a shield insignia. He was gnawing at what seemed to be an old piece of gum before spitting it to the ground and nearing Reiner.

“Well well…look at you, Brauny. You never told me you had a girlfriend..she’s cute.”

the culprit’s name?

“What the hell do you want, Jaeger? We’re opponents and we’re damn sure not friends so I can’t understand why you’re talking to me.” “Woah, calm down! I’m just making a lil’ friendly conversation during our break. We’re out here to have a good game..I know we’re rivals and all but no need to get your jock strap in a bunch, dude. Stop taking shit so seriously.” Eren Jaeger, the Titans’ wide receiver. He was infamous for his fast speed and countless returns. In this season alone, he had scored nearly two hundred points by his lonesome. He was set to become a first round draft pick upon graduation at this rate and he was on his way to being in the big leagues. However, he is just as well known for his less than savory attitude. In truth, he was a cocky son of a bitch with a mouth slicker than oil and a very obnoxious aura that just exudes arrogance. If he couldn’t fight so well, he’d probably end up with his ass beat everyday. Of course, the ladies didn't seem to mind or care all too much, because he was so handsome and that they may have been the only ones he treated with a shred of decency and kindness. Which was only done so long enough to get in their pants and after that, they were discarded to the wayside with everyone else. His teammates could barely even stomach him and Reiner, needless to say, was his biggest hater. Not so much for his reputation or popularity among the girls but his narcissistic personality. Football was Reiner’s biggest love in life next to you and when someone desecrated it with their selfish disregard for their teammates and no respect for his opponents, he could never like his ass! Releasing a deep sigh, pinching his nose, Reiner was turning to face him and tell him to kick rocks but it was unbeknownst to him, as he did so..Eren would surprise you both.

“Maybe you should start taking shit seriously. You’re such an annoying—“ you were in the midst of trying to calm your man down, patting at his chest to stop as this was super unbecoming of his gentle and docile demeanor. Tonight was supposed to be his night and you’d be damned if some insufferable asshole ruined it! However, when the brunette nightmare stepped closer and all but dismissed Reiner with a hand to his face; fixating his emerald eyes on you..(y/n) all but froze in your tracks. It was as if you were looking a ghost directly in the face. He was like a relic from your past…a reminder of the nonsense you used to put up and deal with before finding the best thing to ever happen to you.

“I knew I recognized you from somewhere..God, I could never forget a face so pretty. Damn, you sure look good, (y/n). Or should I say..(nickname used strictly by Eren).” Eliciting sudden shock and fear in you. Fear that Reiner was going to kill this dude and get himself ejected from the game for off-field misconduct. The thing you were most concerned about were not his attempts to drum up the past as to get underneath your man’s skin but to keep maintaining order. Because this was exactly what he wanted. See, as someone who was always so used to having their way, it ate Jaeger to his core that there were two things Reiner had that he never could: a championship and you. He was an S-tier player with a grade A rank but he had yet to gain a trophy, hence why he wanted your boyfriend off of his game so that he could hopefully get his team to victory. He was merely the wide receiver so he was limited in what he could do to ensure victory. That was mainly up to the quarterback, but if he snuffed out the opposition’s, it would make things much easier. When it came to you, it ate him alive that this brown nosing, goody two shoes bastard was the one getting to have all of that and had you acting all saint-like. Knowing damn well that wasn’t who you were!

“What is he talking about?” “N-nothing.” Because the truth was..Eren had you first. He was the first one to truly get you out of your shell and those clothes! You lost your virginity to him right after high school and after a couple times together, he had all but awoken your demon. In essence? You had become somewhat of a freak and after a while, he couldn’t even tame you. In his words, you were ‘the best pussy he’s ever had.’ Knowing that you were some nerd who kept your head in the books only to then give him head under the table was insane. Even more so with this wholesome image you were so desperate to portray. What he didn’t bet on was for you to lose interest after you found out he had multiple women on his roster. He figured since he was the one to take your innocence and corrupt you, you’d be super attached but that wasn’t the case. Your self esteem was a lot higher than what he bet on and it ate that prick alive to know that you moved on so easily to someone who appreciated you. However, he was betting on the fact that you had never told Reiner about your past and how you let him fuck you while his best friend filmed it or that he had explored your body in ways that the little farmer boy only wished he had. You probably played coy; acting all shy and sweet. You were a slut, his first and he had that trump card if nothing else.

“C’mon, (nickname)..don’t be like that. Share with the class. Tell our sweet Rei Rei how you used to kiss me just like that..”

letting the words linger on with a bit of a flare to them..licking over those pouty lips as his gaze wavered with flashbacks of you two together plaguing his mind. However, all Reiner could see was red and it was then that you wished this little ten minute intermission would hurry up and finish already before things got out of hand. But he had to finish putting the nail in the coffin!..

“Of course…that was after you topped me, right? Had that lil’ throat nice and trained, isn’t that right, baby?—“ and it was then that your boyfriend lost all semblance of control and lunged towards him, jacking Eren up by his shoulder pads. Luckily, everyone seemed to be preoccupied so it gave you time to rush over and defuse the situation and pry him off of this dumbass. Of course, he didn’t give a shit, he had gotten the exact reaction he had hoped for. “Rei, Rei! Stop it! Please!—“ but he was already too irate. “Shut up and stay out of this, (y/n)! I don’t know who the fuck this jackass thinks he is but I’m about to beat the hell out of him.” Just in the nick of time, some of his teammates spotted the situation and decided to help by prying the two apart and a couple of the Titans did the same. He was too good of a guy to squander his opportunities for an evil soul like this. “You proved your point, Eren. Now leave and get the fuck out of here.” And unbothered as always, he’d take his leave and bow out. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, my love.” Laughing as he walked away with his equally as stupid homeboys. Once your man realized he had not only lost self control but hurt your feelings, he quickly simmered down and took a few breaths. Grasping the guard rails, Reiner banged his hand against it..head lowered and heart thudding.

“Look, Rei. I’m sorry, I don’t know what—“

“Don’t worry about it, alright? It’s okay…I’m sorry for yelling at you. But we’ll talk about this later.”

even with frustration and anger riddling his whole body, he still found it in his heart to show you compassion and kiss you on the forehand, telling you that he loved you before being whisked off by his teammates. It was time to resume the game and for him to focus. His teammates had to give him a bit of a pep talk on the way back to the field, in hopes he’d calm down before their hothead coach spotted it and benched him. They had too much riding on this game for unchecked emotions to ruin it. You’d surely never hear the end of it if they lost because of this. Maybe not from Rei but the town would surely be talking! For right now, all you could do was watch and wait..and Rei? It was time to channel that energy into the game and leave it all on the fifty yard line!..

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the game resumed as scheduled and Reiner seemed to be a bit more grounded after that, as well as play! Once the third quarter kicked off and he got out there, it was an entirely different game! Where the Titans held a five point lead before the second half, that all but changed because he told the coach they were implementing a new technique..one that would involve knocking Eren’s dumb ass silly. Tackling him from his blind spot and combatting that super speed. Although he was as fast as he was, he’d never see it coming. And Reiner wanted to witness it. Running play after play, the Warriors ran roughshod on the team and especially their wide receiver..knocking him to the ground a couple times, which severely upset the pretty boy player. If there was one thing Eren did not take kindly to, it was defeat. He hated to lose in any form or capacity. On or off the field. The fact that he was being outclassed by some country bumpkin asshole from the sticks and he had your pretty ass cheering him on to boot was driving him insane. Sportsmanship be damned, he was going to get his lick back! Just then, he’d circle the sideline and as the camera panned to running down the field, he’d blow a kiss in your direction and at that exact moment, the lens captured Reiner’s reaction! Needless to say, it wasn’t one of happiness but utter shock and anger. His rage could barely be sated at this point and the normally gentle giant was ready to tear that little twig into pieces. He was such a snobby, arrogant prick and tonight, he had gone too far. In order to keep himself from losing control, he paced the sidelines and grasped a paper cup, dousing himself in some of the liquid. “Hey, Braun. Get your shit together man..don’t let that asshole make you lose your cool. You know (y/n) doesn’t want him and you shouldn’t let his childish antics get under your skin. You blow this and you can kiss the rest of your scholarship and future goodbye. Don’t do this, man. Trust me.” His teammate and quite possibly someone who normally would not have been so poised, talked him off the deep end. Porco Galliard, the Warriors’ fellow wide receiver and an equal hater of the cocky player. He and Reiner weren’t exactly the closest but they had an equal hatred of Eren and his crew. They were tired of him but if they managed to keep their cool, he was as good as defeated. Even so, Reiner’s mind was elsewhere and obviously checked out.

“Make it through the game, huh? That’s all?” Clutching his shoulder pads, Reiner nodded profusely as if he were trying to reassure himself. Suddenly, the whistle would blow for both sides to return to the field and he’d rush back on the grass alongside Porco and they’d resume the rest of the quarter, heading into the final one. If all he had to do was get through the rest of this without strangling him, then he had to be the bigger person and keep a level head. But once he finished up…

all bets were off and he was going to handle his business for sure. In a way that you or no one else would expect!

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another hour or so passed before the final play was called and the scores were announced..the crowd waited with baited breath, clutching their chests in the cold temperatures as the star of this game shined once more. “He’s going for it…AND HE SCORES! THE WARRIORS WIN SIXTY TWO TO FIFTY ONE WITH A HUGE UPSET BY BRAUN! Let me tell ya’ something folks, we have not seen playing of this caliber in a very long time.”

“Yeah, Jim. I’m not sure what pivotal shift Braun underwent after the second half but he was on an entirely different level. What an exciting game!”

excitement and celebration ensued throughout the stadium and the city. Cheers erupted in the stands, outside in the parking lot where tailgaters listened on and at the local bars and restaurants packed full of fans. The long, drawn out game had finally concluded and needless to say, everyone was ecstatic; ready to celebrate!…everyone except Reiner that was. At least in the way that the rest of his teammates and the town were planning on. Whilst both sides of football players shook hands, gave congratulations and even hugs, for those that were not at odds on personal matters, Reiner couldn’t even be vexed. His fellow brethren were attempting to give him his flowers but he was too busy darting back towards the bleachers..making a beeline straight for one person. Despite his loss, Eren was still as smug as ever and completely unphased. Because truthfully, he didn’t care. He didn’t care about the game, his teammates or anything else..already, the dancers on the sidelines, majorettes and cheerleaders were already flocking to come help ‘console’ the wide receiver. As far as he was concerned, he’d still won. Living rent free in Reiner’s head, crawling underneath your skin and quite possibly causing problems in your perfect little relationship..what more could he ask for?! Meanwhile, (y/n) was waiting on the sidelines now, having rushed to the field, the second the final score was announced to await your man’s arrival. But alas, you weren’t greeted with the reaction you were expecting..the normally jovial, sweet Reiner with his awkward smile and adorable laugh was stoic and stone faced as ever. Not even speaking a word as he neared you. For someone who had just won a super important game with such a wide score margin…he seemed rather upset!

“Rei! You did it! I’m so proud of—“

the words could barely even escape your mouth before you’d feel yourself tugged towards the opposite sides of the bleachers and away from the roaring crowd. Everyone seemed to be far too busy with their own nonsense to pay you two any attention. His larger hand cusped around your own as he drug you along away from potentially prying eyes. Where was he taking you? Your guess was as good as any..but soon enough, you’d be finding out in a major way.

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“I just don’t understand why you’re so upset, Rei. I already told you. He means nothing to me. Never had, never will. Besides, it was long before I met you…I didn’t know he’d be such an asshole.”

“It’s not that, sugar. I just..damnit, why’d ya’ have to sleep with him or all people, ya know? I’ve known him for as long as I could remember and he’s the worst. You could’ve done so much better..” Meanwhile, you two had made your way back to the off campus apartment you shared not too far from the college. Living together made situations like this a bit awkward..despite being upset with one another, you couldn’t exactly stray off and cool down when needed. Luckily, you guys did have your own separate bedrooms for studying and storing your own stuff. It wasn’t for a lack of love or care in the slightest. Sometimes you just needed your own space. Too bad, he wasn’t hearing any of that tonight! Taking an Uber back to the complex, the two of you stared out of the window, trying not to cause a scene or argue. But the second you hit your living room, the gloves were off and he let all of those hard feelings be known. You attempted to give him the silent treatment for his outburst and erratic behavior but alas, here he was; his big six foot four, two hundred eighty pound ass planted on your bed..surrounded by plushies and Hello Kitty merchandise.

“Well hindsight is a bitch, isn’t she? Trust me, had I known what type of person he was, I wouldn’t have even looked in his direction..” gradually, you’d make your way onto the bed and drape your arms around his broad shoulders, in an attempt to soften your sweetie pie up. It wasn’t in him to act in such a way or even become jealous but something about Eren truly unsettled his spirit. Guys like him deserved nothing but the worst and they damn sure didn’t deserve to have a queen like you underneath his body. The thought of him even touching you disgusted Reiner to his core. Honestly, how could he have possibly ever satisfied someone like you? The mental picture alone made him want to strangle that asshole. But you had a far better solution for his frustrations and a much more suitable outlet for his anger..your body. Tracing a finger along his shoulders and along his shoulder blade, you leaned down to kiss him as you remained draped across his back, you’d begin to subtly place kisses along his jawline and jugular, hoping to make that scowl on his face turn to a smile soon. And it would seem that your little ruse was working like a charm.

“Seriously, baby..do you really wanna spend one of the biggest nights of your football career fighting..over that asshole nonetheless? I mean..you won the playoffs. Don’t you think we should be..celebrating instead?” Proposing as you dredged the tip of your tongue across his earlobe. Leaving a trail of butterfly pecks along the way. Your words and gentle touch melted into him like butter on toast. You were right, there was no need to concern yourselves with the past. Tonight was all about your man and his victory..so you were going to ensure that he got his proper congratulations. But he too had plans of his own. Plans to ensure that you kept true to that statement about not letting him back into your life or thoughts because he was going to ensure that he was the only thing on that pretty little mind of yours.

turning around to face you, Reiner would merely scoff before narrowing his eyes to meet your own. “Yeah, I guess you have a point..” With a smirk on those pouty pink lips, he’d slowly bridge the gap between you two before initiating a searing kiss. Sloppy pecks ensued with his tongue swirling around inside of your mouth; flickering against one another to take control. The moment had quickly shifted from accumulated tension to pure unadulterated lust. As quiet as it was, you had been holding back your carnal desire for him all night. Watching him sprint up and down that field…his tongue wagging as he panted from the heat. Oh, how you wished it were between your thighs. So much so, you had to squeeze them together just to fein off the thought. And when his jersey came off after the game…removing the gear for a shower and you’d catch a glimpse of all the jarring battle scars he had acquired during the game, you wanted to kiss and brush each one. But more so, you wanted to add to the collection. Screaming his name and scratching that back. Perhaps though, the moment to turn you on the most was when he decided to lash out at that asshole Eren. Ready to risk his entire football career and go to war behind his baby..it was enough to make you rip him out of his jersey and fuck him right there! Eventually, this impromptu makeout season would escalate to him pulling you onto his lap and allowing you to straddle it as the sensual kissing continued. With a beefy bicep wrapped around your back, Reiner held you in a place and in one fell swoop, he’d begin to raise your shirt and bra.

“Rei….‘need you so bad. Damn..”

and he was more than obliged to grant your request. Especially when you moaned his name so delicately and sweetly. The thought of saying another man’s drove him insane and he knew he couldn’t play around when it came to establishing that you were all his. Grunting into the crook of your neck whilst he was suckling on it and your collarbone; nibbling gently on your ear as well…

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you whatever you want… keep grinding on me..just like that.” Releasing a soft mutter in your ear. In a matter of moments, the two of you were a tangle of limbs. Feeling one another up and gradually tearing each other out of your clothes. But you’d soon come to see that he wasn’t much in the way of being gentle tonight. Much like his movements on the field, he needed that rough and tumble, that aggression and fire that had been harboring whilst he was out there playing. Watching you cheer from the sidelines..those breasts bouncing up and down as you gleefully shouted his name. That outfit..so innocent yet elicited the most salacious of thoughts from his mind. He thought of how he longed to hike that little plaid skirt up and bend you over in it..hoist that turtleneck and grope those juicy tits underneath. All very perverse but justified in his mind. Not to mention, that asshole’s comments had piqued his interest. He tended to take anything he spewed from his raggedy mouth with a grain of salt but he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t want to see if you were every bit of the nympho he painted you out to be.

now spun with your back facing him, Reiner allowed you to continue straddling his thigh before tilting your head back and shoving his tongue between your lips. Thrashing around and swirling your own as he invaded your mouth. “Mmph!” Whimpering so sweetly whilst you exchanged those sloppy kisses. With a smaller hand pressed to his stubble ridden cheek, (y/n) shamelessly flicked your tongue around, making him huff lightly. It was apparent that you seemed to be enjoying yourself by the obvious damp spot in the seat of your panties..rubbing against the newly exposed flesh of his thigh. Meanwhile, he had worked the bottom hem of your black shirt up your torso and soon, his massive, veiny hands took the place of your lace bra; those beautiful, supple breasts falling from the double D cups in one fell swoop. He’d pinch your nipples lightly at first, just to see how your body reacted to the sensation. “Right there, pretty girl…go slow.” Instructing you to falter your speed so that you didn’t come too quickly. Which had happened in the past. He knew how sensitive you could be when it came to sex. How the slightest brush to your little clit could send you over the edge or how a few strokes could have you leaking like a faucet. It were these little details that Eren or anyone else would never know. The small things that only your true lover could see…he was the only man you needed and ever would!

“Rei….oh fuck.” Those sweet cries spilling from your mouth when he decided to shove two of his fingers inside of it and allowed your saliva to drench them.

“I know…” arrogantly declaring with his eyes fixated on you. Slowly fucking your jaws with sweet nothings being whispered against your lips…eventually, those same fingers trailed down your exposed tummy and into your panties. Without breaking eye contact once, Reiner merely chewed his lower lip; smirking whilst working those digits around your swollen clit. He could tell that you had been holding back all night..refraining from letting lust overtake you but since you were now all alone, you were free to do whatever you wanted. He looked so good in that uniform, all you could envision was ripping it off and getting on your knees for him. But now that didn’t have to be a far off reality. At the moment though, he had control and he knew exactly what to do: “Hey, open your legs..” so that he could maneuver around and slide those fingers inside of you. Once he did so, you instantly gasped and burrowed yourself down on them. Working you over with his other hand planted to the back of your neck as security. He didn’t need you looking, thinking or worrying about anything else right now. “That’s right, focus on me, sweetheart. Focus on riding these fingers…” all you needed to do was be his good little slut. Sounds of smacking wetness began to fill the room along with the sloppy kissing that had been ensuing for a while now. The remnants of his flavor are heavy on your tongue. By now, you had become a puddle between those thick thighs and would only become wetter as time lingered on. The more he teased and tousled that sweet little cunt, the more you panted for him..whimpered his name, the stronger his desire to absolutely ravage you grew. When you’d grow too needy, he’d quell your yelps by shushing you..knowing it was futile. “Does it feel good, baby? Tell me…” “…y—yes! So good..” answering almost immediately with no hesitation. His fingers raked along the small of your back, snaking up to eventually meet your backside, which he gave an ample squeeze.

akin to a little pup, your tongue wagged; dripping with saliva and your eyes glossed over in a dumbed out expression. The sweetest part was that he was merely getting started and you were already so needy for him. But the sentiment was the exact same if he were being completely honest. That much was apparent by the growing bulge seen through the sheath of his gray sweats. Becoming larger and harder by the second. “You’re so wet, darling…what’s got you all worked up? Hmm?” Questioning rhetorically with a smug grin on his face as he bridged the distance between your faces; increasing the intensity between your gazes. He wanted to see every reaction, hear every filthy moan and mutter, all the nasty things you wanted him to do..he just wanted to know that this was all his!

“Go ahead, tell me…what’s on that pretty lil’ mind of yours? Maybe ya’ wanna tell me something. Like what you want me to do to you..I’m all ears.”

he needed that confession more than anything right now. If for no other reason than to stroke his own ego. A little selfish but every time he imagined you getting all nasty with that scum, the urge to one up him grew stronger. If he made you a bad girl, he was going to make you his little whore. By the end of the night, you were going to be doing tricks that would make a pornstar jealous. “Need you to fuck me, Rei…need you in me so bad..” uttering in a soft, broken whimper. Not one of sadness but pure overstimulation. You were mere seconds away from coming and if he didn’t pull those fingers out soon, you were going to turn his legs into a waterslide. Instead though, he’d have you get in on the fun and pull out that throbbing erect as you spoke. Tugging at that elastic waistband, you’d free his cock from behind its confines and slowly jerk him off. His compression shirt painted to those chiseled abs and steel like pecs, even catching glimpses of those stiff nipples through them. Right now, you were at one another’s mercy. One wanting the other to crack first so you could give into those shared desires.

“I think ya’ can do a little better than that. C’mon, darling.. Tell me all the nasty shit you send me in those texts when I’m in practice. All the things you say on those sexy lil’ videos when I'm in class that you don’t want anyone else to know about. When it’s just us..the side I only I get to see..” whispering the last sentence with a grumble that made your legs quiver..emphasizing the point that he had you wholeheartedly. Simultaneously, his pace increased and he’d begin fingering you even faster. You peered over your exposed breasts and tummy to see his hands moving rapidly; thrashing around inside of you. It was clear that you were about to combust. But he’d let you reach your peak, with only one condition..

“Say it and I’ll give ya’ what you need.” And at that moment, you didn’t bother to hold back. Rutting your hips, (y/n) ground yourself on his hand and release sharp breaths along with those perverse commands.

“I need that dick so fucking bad…fuck me, Rei! Please…make me come all over that shit.” sucking your teeth as you spouted the words with conviction. You’d rattle off about how you wanted him to not hold back and to fuck you with all that pent up aggression and anger he obviously harbored from the game. And he was more than thrilled to oblige. Letting that smirk creep across his face, he’d abruptly halt and withdraw his fingers…only long enough to toss you onto the mattress and pin your legs back. He’d make haste in removing those panties along with the rest of your clothing, with the exception of those thigh high socks that he thought looked so sexy. They gave you this innocuous look that he just loved. From there, he’d shed his own threads and hover above you. Taking you by your calves, he’d prop them wide open and hold you by the backs of your knees to expose that dripping warmth to the cool air and himself. It was blatantly obvious that he was just as ready by the way his cock twitched if its own volition and he splayed it across your slit. Those fat lips and clit enveloping him like a warm blanket once he slid it across. Teasing and tapping that head against your swollen bud. You’d peer down in anticipation as he shoved that shaft in his palm and stroked it; letting precum seep on your folds as he prepared to enter you. Your heat and tiny hole practically oozing for him. “You ready, baby? Ready for all this dick?” Nodding your head profusely in response as you bit down on your bottom lip. “Yes! Fuck me, baby..” with that, Reiner leaned forward and placed a hand on the headboard to steady himself, allowing you to hold your own legs open..seconds later, he was inside of you and it was the best damn feeling in the world. Better than any trophy or touchdowns…this was all the prize he needed. Sucking his teeth, he’d sit there for just a moment to gather his bearings. A perfect fit if you had to say so..the way you so easily conformed to his shape and took him with ease, he never wanted to pull out. Even so, he’d begin to move and find his pace, slowly thrusting up into you.

“Fuck…this pussy’s so warm, baby. Might not get me to pull out tonight. Shit..” admitting as he glared into your doe brown eyes; unable to stare at your pretty face for too long because he’d end up nutting too quickly. But he paced himself and started out slow. That thick, long cock stretching you open and causing you to cream with only a few thrusts in. The two of you watched it slide in and out, batting your eyes and whimpering with each one. It felt so fucking good, you didn’t know what to do. “Fill me up, baby..nut all in this pussy. I don’t care.” Whereas he normally resorts to splattering it all over your tits or plump ass but tonight, you were going to be stuffed with every drop of that warm seed. So Reiner continued feeding you those deep, long strokes..even speeding up the tempo to really get you acclimated. “You take me so good, sweetheart. I fucking love it..how nasty you get f’r me. You’re gonna let me see all of that tonight, right? Are you gonna be a good lil’ slut for daddy?” And the answer was a given. But if he didn’t want to take your word for it, all he had to do was keep dicking you down like this and you’d get nasty in ways he’d never seen.

“Keep going…fuck me just like that and you’ll see for yourself, baby.”

challenge was as good as accepted. With your arms coiling your legs, hands reaching around to stroke your clit..(y/n) massaged that swollen clit and egged him on. You’d tell him how big that dick was and how amazing it felt. Even telling him to go as deep as he wanted, until you felt it in your stomach. You didn’t want him to stop until these sheets were soaked! Which weren’t just says to inflate his head. Reiner had a bit of a praise kink and you knew if you said the right things to make him tick, you’d be crawling out of here. And just as you suspected, it worked like a charm! A minute or so later, he was jolting you around, pumping you full of cock, so much so, you were practically impaled on it. Those big tits swaying freely. “You fucking this pussy so good, daddy..damn.” Whining as you clawed at the backs of your legs. Looking for any bit of comfort in these brutal strokes. Smacking noises ensued and a puddle of frothy white warmth spilled from that little hole.

“I’m fucking you good, baby? That pussy creaming just for me…better than that asshole, right?” That much was obvious! By now, Reiner had taken the place of your hand and began massaging your bud with his thumb pad before roughly fucking up into you. It made him wonder just how long you could take this dick before you climaxed. He’d alternate his speeds just to toy with you; slowing down when you began to pulsate around his shaft and practically drill you into the mattress when you broke eye contact with him, which he hated. This was an entirely different side of your beloved Rei. One that was far more aggressive and a lot less forgiving. He didn’t have it in him at the moment to take it easy on you. You’d find yourself matching his energy and sucking on your teeth to take the brunt of the thrusts.

“Fuck him, focus on me…this is your pussy, right?” “It’s mine, all mine, baby…” “Prove it. Fuck me like you mean it. Do it.”

and with that order, he’d gladly follow. It was as if you had activated something inside of him. Sometimes, he needed that extra boost but once you got his engine going, there was no slowing down! Aggressively grunting into your ear, Reiner leaned down with his hand snaked around your throat, causing you to gasp as he restricted your air. Gasping and clawing at his abs as those strokes became a lot harsher, he’d swat you away with the opposite hand before slapping your left cheek. “You wanna touch something, rub that fucking clit..” commanding with nothing but pure lust behind those hazel eyes. You were trembling and only a mere matter of minutes from coming. But he didn’t seem to care. He wasn’t going to pull out, just as he said so if you wanted to do it, it’d be with him lodged inside of you. The silky fleshiness of that tight little cunt was something serious. Sticky, tight, wet and warm: a dangerous combination for a man. He loved no feeling more in this world than fucking the shit out of you! At this point, the headboard was banging against the wall and your neighbors were going to be pissed but he didn’t give a shit. He wanted the whole world to know who you belonged to. Your entrance was wrapped around him..the grip practically unreal and he was only able to make it halfway. For now that was..

“ ‘S too much! Rei…” crying out with a shrill whimper that only further fed his fire. Feeding you yet another heavy handed slap along with some intense kisses, Reiner shoved every inch he could muster inside of you. “I don’t give a fuck..take me. Make me fit.” Just then, his hand would coil your throat before leaning down to grimace in your face. “I said…make me fit. Open up.” Speaking for both your tight hole and mouth, which he filled with spit shortly after. Something that took you completely off guard. You wouldn’t label the sex between the two of you vanilla by any means but it wasn’t often that he exercised so much aggression. Fucking him was always so intimate….passionate and soft, but tonight, you were merely his to use. And there wasn’t a single complaint about it! You wanted him to see that side of you; to drudge it back out and let him know, it was for his pleasure only. Gritting your teeth, you’d eventually laugh and let your tongue wag around outside of your mouth in a breathy haze. You’d beg for more..asking him to feed you more saliva and deeper, rougher strokes until the bed began to quake! Your voices were so brash and loud, others may have suspected you were fighting. But it was nothing of the sort. Just fierce, explosive lovemaking between two equally obsessed partners who had something to prove.

“Right there, Rei! Fuck me, fuck me—AHH!” Belting out in a loud cry as you rapidly massaged your clit and brought forth your very first of many orgasms. Without so much as a warning, you wet up the entire lower half of his torso and cock..spraying a powerful stream of squirt juices all over that skin and that seemed to really light that dormant spark in his eyes. Watching you flood the sheets had him ready to taste it all for himself. “Wait, sweetheart. Don’t be stingy now…save some for me..” With your legs still trembling uncontrollably, he’d grasp both and part them to each side before diving head first in between. Your sensitive little clit was severely swollen..even so, that didn’t stop him from flicking his tongue around it and sucking on your delicate folds. Running his fingers throughout the thin membranes. Reiner left a few kisses on those beautiful pussy lips and inhaled the essence of your feminine scent in the process. He was so adamant on laying claim throughout every inch of your body tonight!

“Shiiit!” Exclaiming with a high pitched laugh, (y/n) attempted to place your hands on his scruffy blonde locks and shoulder blades in an attempt to push him away but to no avail. This was his and all for the taking. “Okaaay! You win...eating the fuck outta this pussy!” but with the same smugness he initially started with, Reiner continued devouring that cunt with all his might. Sucking and slurping, disrespectfully thrusting his tongue into you before spitting into those folds once more; shooting you a wink in response. “..told you I don’t play fair.” That’s when you felt yourself become full yet again, this time with two fingers..working themselves in and out. Having not too long experienced your climatic peak, you’d find yourself attempting to feign off another one. And he wasn’t going to let up until you were trickling down his chin. Trembling profusely, your eyes crossed and your chest heaved once more. In that moment, that impending pang in the bottom of your belly swelled until it could no longer be housed. His large, calloused hands gripping the innards of your thighs, pinning them to the sheets so that your only option was to grind yourself against his face. “That’s it, baby. Ride that fucking tongue…put it in my mouth. Said you were gonna get nasty f’r me so do it…” laying heavy handed smacks against your skin to keep you alert and even slapping those plump pussy lips as well once withdrawing those fingers. He wasn’t even giving you time to react to the stimuli coming from every angle. Dredging up one sticky shower of cum right after the next. It was as if you couldn’t stop. Something akin to a broken fire hydrant..

“Squirt in this mouth, baby. I want it all.” Greedily demanding with his hands roaming around your asscheeks as he dove head first into your center. But just as quickly you become adjusted to having your pussy eaten, you find yourself lying there, shaking until he leaned up and grasped your ankle..tugging you towards the end of the bed. Quite honestly, it astounded you how he had so much energy to handle you like this after playing such an intense game! But being fueled by envy and lust had that effect on a person.. “Rei..please. F-fuck!” From there, you’d find your legs folded back once more and this time, your entire body being hoisted from the bed frame. “Grab my neck and hold still…” his only instructions because he was handling the rest. By the time you realized what exactly he was up to, your legs were coiled around his torso, and you were being impaled on his cock. The look on your face told him everything he needed to know..you were loving this just as much as he was! Being bounced around and used as his own personal fleshlight. Even after being pounded into oblivion before, he was still pumping you full of cock and impaling you as he thrusted those hips upward, all while forcing you down on that shaft. “Thereee we go…so fucking tight. Wrapped around my dick like this.” That cunt clutching him with all you had, so much so, it’d make him toss his head back. You could tell it was taking its toll, by the loud grunting and grip on your ass. Not to mention the veins bulging from his forehead.

“Gonna have you so full…put all my cum in this pussy. Ready for that, baby? Huh?” Asking the question before using all of his strength to hammer up into you; jolting that body around.

“Yes! Come in me, come in this fucking pussy!” Whimpering whilst your nails dredged into the skin, clawing their way through as you attempted to brace yourself. You could feel that tip thrashing against your sensitive core, pulsating inside of you. You were still trickling down his shaft and came one more time before he was unable to hold out any longer. Gritting his teeth and trembling himself, Reiner made a split second decision to lie you back on the bed and pull you into a mating press. Hieverimh above you with a foot planted onto the bed as he buried every inch of that big cock inside of you. Suddenly, you’d feel him come to a halt..breath hitching in the back of his throat. Suddenly, you’d feel something pouring inside of you and it was the warming sensation of his nut spilling into your womb. He had been holding back not only from tonight but all the days that practice and school had kept him away from you. Brushing the side of his face, you’d talk him through his orgasm as he clutched the sheets. Telling him how good it felt and that you loved when he filled you up.

“Thank you, daddy..feels so good.”

the next thing you knew, he’d collapse beside you before roping you into a passionate, deep fledged kiss. Even cradling the side of your head as you both came down from your highs. There wasn’t a better feeling than this..

“I love you so much…you know that, right?” Declaring between long winded, baited huffs as he held you close to his chest. He’d place soft, tender pecks on your temple and lovingly caress your skin with all the gentleness in the world. A far cry from what had just transpired. Despite his rough handling and aggression, he still harbored deep, immense love for you. Love that no one else could ever replicate or even dream of giving you. Not even your ex..

“I love you more than anything, (y/n)..I’m sorry I got so worked up but it’s just what you do to me..”

“Oh Rei…I love you more. Please, don’t apologize…I’m not going anywhere. You’re the only one I want and ever will. Believe me when I say that.”

and wherever he was, that was the side you wanted to be on. The winning team..

#commissions corner #commissions #commission #fic commissions #aot fic #aot #aot smut #aot x reader #aot x black y/n #aot x black reader #aot x y/n #reiner x black reader #reiner x reader #reiner braun #attack on titan reiner #reiner smut #reiner braun x black reader smut #reiner brainrot #snk reiner #aot reiner #reiner x black reader smut #reiner snk #reiner aot #snk smut #snk au #aot au #snk fic #snk eren #cw smut #cw sex mention

[livelaughloveloak]

🌷 H.E.R

pairing :: neteyam x human! reader

summary :: Neteyam headcanons if he was dating a human reader 😋 he's a cutie patootie (James Cameron pls bring him back)

author's note :: I literally pulled this out of my ass

the type of guy to cup his hand under your chin when he feeds you something

PRINCESS TREATMENT ONLY!!

draws circles on your back when you do your lab work

brings you a fresh bouquet of flowers every week

"Aw Neteyam you didn't have to." You held the flowers in your hands as Neteyam smiled at you. "Pretty flowers for my pretty lady."

gives you random trinkets from when he was out hunting because it reminded him of you

since he's way taller he could reach your stomach while sitting down. You would be standing up with him sitting beside you, head leaning on your hip and an arm wrapped around your thigh

KING OF NICKNAMES 🤑🤑 example: my girl, mate, ma y/n, yawntutsyip, yawne

a shy guy but not afraid to show you off or to stick up for you

begs his dad to have his own camera so he can take pictures of you

has you sit on his lap while you two go for a ride on his ikran

does your hair for you. don't worry if he doesn't know a certain style you want he'll figure it out. (He begs norm or his dad for help)

this man ADORES spoiling you. If you mention something don't be surprised when Neteyam comes in your room with it in his arms

over all gentle person. he could never yell at you

"me and my gf don't argue she tells me to shut up and I do" type of guy

always plans a date at least every once a week for you guys. he loves quality time especially when he's busy with Olo'eyktan training

doesn't care about his mom's hatred towards humans, he loves you for you and her opinion won't change it

PIGGYBACK RIDES. we all know that man is tall so he's always carrying you around so you're not behind

the type of guy to sneak in your room at night so he could see you

he's very good at expressing his feelings with words

"Y/N" Neteyam whispered as you snuggled up in his chest. You hummed in response. "Mhm?"

"I love you."

he swore that he'd have a proper marriage ceremony with you one day. since you're unable to preform tsaheylu he'd go with marrying you like how "earth" people do

if you like doing your make-up he'd ask you to do his. his eyelashes were extra long after putting mascara on

he adores seeing you and Tuk bond. he wishes to have a family with you in the future when you're ready

your go to person when you're sad

"shh my love it's ok, cry it out." Neteyam rubbed his hand on your back as he felt your hot tears fall on his chest. You hiccuped and wrapped your arms around him. "talk to me once you're ready my love, I'm always here for you."

#atwow #avatar #avatar imagine #imagine #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam imagine #avatar the way of water

[a-case-of-attachment]

The Lamb & The Serpent

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Lucifer Morningstar x sinner fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Lucifer being a chaotic mess, mentions of sex, swearing, slow burn, mentions of depression, Charlie being the best supportive daughter, awkwardness, mentioned of death and violence, ducks of the rubber kind, Lucifer being awkward, fluff.

Please click -> here <- to read on AO3

The day Lucifer manages to fuck up a perfectly good friendship by realising he wants more from you is the day he walks in on you and Angel Dust watching his latest porn video like it’s a documentary and not a three way that looks more painful then pleasurable.

It’s the middle of the day, the two of you down in the parlour, spread over the largest couch and acting like it’s no big deal to be watching a friend get split open by an aggressively large rhino looking man and an equally intimidating elephant guy whose trunk isn’t the only big thing he’s packing. Though to the little porn star it probably isn’t anything all that unusual and by the way he’s going on, talking about camera angles and lighting you would think it was some kind art piece. Anyway, it’s not the porn that has Lucifer questioning his life, though that stirs something at the back of his mind that he will circle back round to latter. Much latter. When he’s alone. Preferably in his bedroom. No what Lucifer realises is that he wants to be where Angel Dust is.

The lanky demon was stretched across the sofa, his bare feet in your lap so you could slowly rub your thumbs into his soles as you both spoke about the film like it wasn’t a crass tasteless violation of the man. It looked so domestic, peaceful and Lucifer wanted that to be you and him with a desperation he hadn’t felt in centuries. Though maybe with his head in your lap instead of his feet, your fingers carding softly through his hair as the two of you just exist together in the same shared space. Oh, he could almost feel it, the ghost of a feeling that he hadn’t had in so long. 

It was round about then, as Lucifer was just about to get lost in his little fantasy that Angel noticed he was there, eyes going wide momentarily before a suggestive smile spread across his face. He had made a rather unwanted comment about Lucifer not needing to “hide all the way back there handsome, there’s plenty of room for you to slide right in. Or maybe you want a private show? I could go for a little quality time with daddy.” Lucifer wasn’t. Interested that is. Well not in Angel Dust anyway. “Noooo. No, no, no. Non. Nein. Nee. Just no,” Lucifer had repeated himself several times, just to make sure he got his point across and pointedly ignoring Angel’s rather dramatic gasp and nonsense answer of Lucifer having broken his heart.

Whilst Lucifer and Angel had been talking you had turned to look over at him, clearly surprised by his presence but it quickly softened into something fonder, something that had Lucifers insides twisting like he was full of snakes. Had that always been the way and he just hadn’t noticed? Lucifer had liked having your attention in him for quite some time, but it was hard to tell if that was because he just liked knowing you were actually focused on what he was doing or because he got a little buzz of possessive satisfaction, knowing that he was the only thing you were focused on. Either way Lucifer didn’t dislike having your eyes on him and he would be quite happy to be the only person who held your attention in such a way.

You welcomed him the same way you always did, tipping your head forward slightly and addressing him as “my King.” Not your majesty, or Sir or Sire but as if he was your own personal monarch and oh boy, wasn’t that just something. He really liked the idea of being yours. Your anything but especially your king, your ruler, just yours in general really. Lucifer could feel his cheeks getting hotter as the realisation sank in, his grip tightening on his staff as he fought of the urge to shiver under your gaze. Oh, this was bad, so very, very bad. 

You pulled him out of his little panic by asking if he was there to see Charlie. The simple answer to that innocent question was no. Lucifer was at the hotel with the sole purpose of seeing you and hopefully convincing you to abandon whatever you had planned and help him with his ever-growing rubber duckie horde. A rather lame excuse if he had ever heard one but he was running out of legitimate reasons to get you to spend time with him more often than you usually did. He couldn’t tell you that though, so he eagerly jumped on the excuse, excitedly talking about wanting to “spend some quality daddy daughter time with my little Char Char,” and cringing when he remembered what the little spider had just said to him. It sounded off even to him, his forced cheer falling flat at the end and trailing off into an awkward laugh. You didn’t seem to notice his obvious discomfort though, smiling softly at him as you informed him that “Charlie and Vaggie are out at the moment, said something about meeting with Carmilla to discuss angel defences. They didn’t say when they would be back.” Lucifer felt his heart drop, his rather rubbish excuse at being at the hotel now completely useless thanks to his poor planning.

He was just about to make his excuses and go back to his ducks when you said the best thing, he had heard all day and asked him “do you want to stay? Angel gets a little too into his performances (hey!), and I would like the distraction when he really starts getting descriptive.” Lucifer jumped at the chance, blurting out a loud and eager yes before you had even finished talking. Both you and Angel startled at his outburst and Lucifer cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure as he told you that he “suppose I could help, though its going to cost you little lamb. Those little duckies aren’t going to count themselves.” He hadn’t expected you to agree but you had sticking out your hand for Lucifer to shake as you claimed it a deal. An innocent statement on your part but left Lucifer feeling taken aback by how easily you had agreed, then again you did like his duck collection, so it probably wasn’t that much of a sacrifice on your part.

You don’t stop smiling as you push Angel's feet off your lap, the man groaning and rolling his eyes as he moves to slump in the corner, giving you enough room to move up and leave a spot for Lucifer at the end. He feels incredibly stiff and a little awkward as he sinks into the space, sitting ramrod straight with his hands on his knees. He doesn’t know what to do, has never just casually hung out like this with people that weren’t you and he’s not sure if he’s supposed to be watching Angel Dust’s performance or if he would have been better off just making some sort of excuse and going back home to wallow in his awkward patheticness. You shift next to him, curling your legs up under yourself and leaning it towards him. Your breath is warm against his ear when you speak, sending a shiver down his spine and causing his cheeks to heat again. All you said to him was that you were “glad you decided to stick around,” before turning your attention back to the tv and starting up a conversation with Angel once more but it was enough to have Lucifer relaxing, his strained smile slipping into something softer and more genuine. 

Lucifer was still there when Charlie and Vaggie came back, except somewhere along the way he had ended up getting involved with yours and Angel’s conversation. He wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, but Lucifer had found himself deep in conversation with Angel about the importance of foreplay and how “Valentino always skips it! It’s like he doesn’t understand how to please someone. It adds to the experience, gets everyone involved really going and trust me it makes the main event that much more pleasurable. That idiot just skips to the end like he’s going to blow within five seconds of getting anything on his dick. Oh! Hey Charlie, err, how much of that did you eh hear?” It wasn’t the ideal thing he wanted his daughter to hear him talking about, but he was surprisingly having fun. Plus, he had gotten to see you blush like a maiden when he had first mentioned about the benefits of having such a flexible tongue so he couldn’t say he regretted being part of it.

Charlie had been rather embarrassed about the subject of choice, even more so when Angle piped up and informed her that he was “learning all sorts of fun things Charlie. Like did you know that most women can’t get off just from getting a good dicking, they need murph!” Lucifer had been quick to put a stop to the conversation, shoving a pillow over the other mans face and shoving him off the couch. Ignoring yours and Angels giggling Lucifer had quickly strode round the couch and towards his daughter, grabbing his abandoned hat and cane as he went. He successfully managed to distract Charlie by asking “how was your day sweetie? I heard you went to see Carmilla Carmine, that must have been fun. Tell me about it.” Charlie had started talking almost instantly and Lucifer waisted no time in gently turning her around and ushering her away from the other two and the porn that was still playing quietly on the tv. 

Lucifer was listening to Charlie, hanging on every word and taking in as much information as he could because he wanted to know everything about his daughter but then he had caught movement out the corner of his eye and all his attention had snapped back to you. You were leaving, laughing at something Angel was saying as he draped himself dramatically across the back of the couch.  You spotted Lucifer staring almost instantly, offering him a bright smile as you waved, calling out about how “lovely to see you my King,” before disappearing up the stairs towards the bedrooms. Lucifer waved back sadly, his eyes following you until you disappeared from sight. The world felt that little bit dimmer as soon as you were gone Lucifer already missing your bright smile and cheerful disposition. Whilst his attention was on you, he didn’t notice the knowing look Charlie and Vaggie shared, or the way Angel Dust rolled his eyes and collapsed back onto the couch with a huff.

The weeks after that were weird to say the least. Lucifer didn’t know what to do with his newly realised feeling or the guilt he felt about moving on from Lilith when it had barely been a handful of years since she had left. He was a bit of a wreck actually, spending far too much time with his rubber ducks and complaining about how hard feelings were to deal with. It didn’t help matters that Charlie was finding every excuse she could to push you and him together. Anything from getting him to help you with things around the hotel, to sending you to pick up bits from his home that Charlie hadn’t shown an interest in for decades. 

You were always a good sport about it when the two of you found yourselves forced together again, laughing and making jokes about it and Lucifer did join in but it was strained as he panicked about how he was supposed to act around you now that he knew that this friendship between the two of you wasn’t enough. It was confusing and complicated, not helped by the fact he had no idea how you felt about him. Lucifer knew you liked him, at least as a friend but that was very different to liking him enough to let him smother you in kisses and worship at your feet. 

He had been out of the dating game for so long now, well actually he had never really been in it considering he had fallen for and married the first woman he had come across. He had zero experience with this kind of thing, and he highly doubted offering you an apple was going to do anything apart from make sure you were being fed. As much as it pained him to admit he needed help with this and there was only one person he felt comfortable enough with to even bother asking about this kind of stuff. 

Charlie was over the moon when he had finally managed to drag her away from the hotel and gotten out what his problem was. Lucifer could admit to himself that he had been worried about how she would react, fearful that she would think he was betraying Lilith, but Charlie had amazed him once again because she had been “so happy for you dad. I was, well after mum leaving you kinda closed yourself from everyone and I worried that you would you know, end up all alone. But not now! I mean look at you, going outside and talking to people. That’s amazing progress dad.” That had broken his heart a little, knowing that Charlie had been so worried about him ending up alone. Lucifer had done the only thing he could think of in the moment, pulling Charlie into his arms for a hug whilst thanking her for looking out for him and reassuring her that as long as he had her, he would never be alone. 

Charlie had laughed it off, brushing away her tears as she insisted that she wasn’t going anywhere. That had gotten Lucifer welling up, happiness welling up inside his chest until it felt like it was going to burst. He had been so worried that he had messed it all up with Charlie, convinced that no matter what he did it was never going to be enough to make up for the distance that had existed between them nearly her entire life but hearing her say that had been, well it was the best thing he had heard since Lilith had told him she was pregnant. It had been a rather emotional moment for the both of them, but it had brought them closer together. The gap between them that much smaller. 

The rest of his visit had been spent with Charlie coming up with a plan on how to win you over, convinced that Lucifer stood a real chance at taking possession of your heart. Lucifer wasn’t so sure though. Sure, he could be confident and charming but that came from being king and so much more powerful than everyone else stuck in the infernal blaze. He hadn’t needed to woo someone before. Lilith had just wanted someone to treat her like an equal and respect her whilst Eve had wanted to be free of her chains. It wasn’t like there had been any kind of competition either, Adam such a shitty husband that it had been easy to tempt his wives away from him. Though he had filled the earlier years of his and Lilith’s relationship with romantic gestures that had been very different to what humans now considered to be suitable displays of affection and he doubted you would be won over so easily with a horde of imp minions like Lilith had been. 

Charlie had so many grand plans, Lucifer franticly taking notes on things such as simple gestures like holding doors open or offering you an arm to hold as the two of you walked down the street all the way to those grand gestures like breakfast in bed and lavish gifts like diamonds and expensive perfumes. It was a lot and that didn’t even include all the date ideas she was throwing at him, Charlie already planning a romantic picnic on the hotel roof like it was a sure thing you would say yes when he asked you out. Lucifer had to put a stop to her grand schemes then, insisting that maybe it was too soon to be planning dates when he hadn’t even asked you out yet. Reluctantly she had agreed and instead they had circled back round to the little things, the simple gestures he could do to test the water before moving on to bigger and more obvious ones. By the time he left Lucifer had somewhat of a plan on how to win your heart and if there was a slight skip in his step then there was no one around to see it. 

Over the next few days Lucifer had started to implement his plan, starting with complimenting your outfit and making sure he opened every single door you went through if he was there. You gave him a few weird looks, but you never told him to stop so he considered it a win. On top of that he started to text you more, just little things about his day that he hoped would make you smile. He even phoned you a couple of times just to hear your voice. Though that had been a bit awkward. Lucifer wasn’t the best at holding conversations on the phone and the first time he had called you there had been a lot of lulls in the conversation, but you had still picked up the second time he called you, seemingly already prepared with conversation points that drew him in and had the conversation flowing easily in minutes. 

When you didn’t seem to dislike the attention, Lucifer had moved onto the next part of that plan, eggier and nervous all at once because he was about to get bolder and more obvious about how he felt. 

The most important part was to be more tactile with you. A brush of a hand here, a touch on the back there, maybe even brushing a stand of hair out of your face and sitting close enough together that he could press his leg against yours. In theory that was all fine, more than doable really, but the problem was that Lucifer hadn’t really touched anyone single Lilith and especially not in a way that was supposed to suggest something a little more intimate was wanted. Lucifer was touched starved, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop once her got to feel how soft and warm you are under his hands. Sure, he was excited for this part but that didn’t change the fact he was oh so nervous about it to.

What if you hated it? What if the very first time he tried to touch you, you told him get off and get away from you only to never speak to him again. It was a real worry, one that had him tugging at his hat and pulling his face as he shared that worry with Charlie, crying and whining about how “she’s going to hate me Charlie, I know it. As soon as I get a finger on her let alone a hand, she going to tell me to get lost and never want to speak to me again.” Charlie doesn’t say anything until his panicked and overly dramatic rant was over with, letting him get it all out even though some of the things he said were quite ridiculous. Once he was done though she had taken his hands in hers, offering a soft and reassuring smile whilst telling him that it was a “chance you’re going to have to take if you want to be with her dad. I don’t think she will turn you down, especially considering how much she’s been talking about you but there is always the possibility that your feeling might not be returned. Its something everyone has to consider when asking someone out but dad, of your serious about Y/N then it’s a risk you need to be willing to take and if not, well. At least things haven’t gone far enough that you can’t still be friends.” He’s stunned by her incite, her maturity. His little girl had grown up so quickly and was now a bright young woman capable of doing anything she put her mind to. Lucifer truly was proud of her and everything she had accomplished and didn’t hesitate to tell her whilst thanking her for being so open and honest with him.

His conversation with Charlie had left Lucifer with a lot to think about. His pride meant he didn’t handle rejection well and he knew that if you turned his advances down that there would be a period of time where his depression took over and he went back to making more silly little ducks then he knew what to do with. It would hurt to lose you because he really didn’t think he would be able to be around you afterwords without being rude or petty and he really didn’t want to be the reason you got hurt or upset. Maybe it would be better if he squashed down his feelings and just counted himself lucky to have you as a friend because he didn’t have hardly any of them, not real ones he could trust and be honest with. Asmodeus maybe, he could keep a secret and wasn’t all about the fucking like people assumed but it had been a while since Lucifer had spoken to him and well, he had never felt as close to him as he did you. The point was Lucifer didn’t want to lose you and if there was even a small chance that him carrying on with his courtship would result in that then wouldn’t he just be better off staying friends and being sure in the fact that he wouldn’t drive you away. 

The whole thing leaves him distracted and confused, Lucifer often getting lost in his thoughts when there were more important things he should be concentrating on. He doesn’t notice the concerned looks you and Charlie give him, or the hushed conversations as you glance nervously at him. He just doesn’t know what to do and he hates it, hates the fact that he feels so out of his depth when he had been so sure where he stood with you before all this romance rubbish had started. In the end though Lucifer doesn’t have to make the decision himself because you decide for him, and he couldn’t be happier. 

In an attempt to foster some sort of camaraderie between the hotel’s guests Charlie had implemented a monthly movie night where they each took turns to pick a movie they enjoyed in the hopes that it would get them all talking. Lucifer had accidentally become a part of that, Charlie having inverted him to join months ago in an attempt to spend more time together and get him out the house and Lucifer had just kind of carried on turning up, often sitting between you and his daughter and often needing one of you to explain what was going on because he had lost the plot after the first couple of minutes. Neither of you seemed to mind, even though you all knew that sometimes he did it on purpose, liking to hear your creative descriptions of what you were watching. 

This was a regularly scheduled event in his diary, so Lucifer hadn’t really though about not going until he found himself sat in the middle of the sofa, Charlie and Vaggie curled up together on one side and an very obvious space for you on his other side. He sat ramrod straight, hands clutching at his knees as he tried to come up with a plausible reason as to why you shouldn’t be sitting next to him. His mind came up blank though and before he knew it you were dropping down next to him with a sigh. You didn’t speak to him as you got yourself comfortable and Lucifer couldn’t even bring himself to look at you let alone talk to you. It felt weird, so different to how it had been, and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was how things were going to be between you now, the same yet not. 

Lucifer completely missed the first half of the film, eyes fixed on the screen yet not actually seeing it. He was just waiting for it to end and the chance to get away from this weirdness. He didn’t notice yours and Charlie’s silent yet rather animated conversation behind him, or the others looking at him like he was some new kind of crazy. He didn’t notice your loud sigh as you slumped down next to him, or the unsure looks you kept shooting him that slowly turned into determination. What he did notice though was your arm looping through his, your hand curling around his arm as you shifted closer to him. 

Lucifer was surprised his neck didn’t snap from how quickly it snapped to the side, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as he looked down at you with shock and bewilderment. You were nibbling at your bottom lip, ears turned down slightly and eyes fixed on Lucifers knee, looking very much like the innocent little lamb he often teased you about being. On the screen something exploded, the flash of light illuminating your eyes as you finally looked at him. Lucifer was captivated, trapped in their glow and oh how much he had missed this, having all your attention on him like he was the centre of your universe. You never took your eyes off him as you moved in close, leaning in so he would hear over the tv when you whispered, “is this ok?” Lucifer had barely managed to get out a yes around the lump of excitement that seemed to have formed in his throat. 

The smile you gave him was blinding but no where near as amazing of the felling of you leaning into him, your head resting on his shoulder as you turned your attention back to the tv. Lucifer continued to watch for a while, mesmerised by your ever-present smile and the way your eyes light up with the light from the tv. All his worries and fears about allowing himself this vanished the moment you had touched him because this felt right, like everything just clicked into place. And to think he almost missed out on this. With his own content sigh and smile Lucifer relaxed into it, one hand resting on your bent knee whilst he raised the other to cover your one that was curled abound his bicep. He let his head tip slightly, resting it against the top of yours and just enjoyed the closeness. He didn’t notice Charlie squealing behind him or Angel Dusts eye roll and mumbled “about damned time.” Lucifer was lost in his own little bubble of contentment and nothing short of an angel attack was going to change that. 

From then onwards Lucifer was an unstoppable force of wooing. He had no problem invading your personal space after that, nor did he mind getting his hands on you though he had been right, once he was allowed to touch Lucifer found it very hard not to and not to mention how all this innocent skin on skin contact was making him think about all the other less innocent touches he could be bestowing upon you. That had led to a few embarrassing moments where he had needed to excuse himself rather quickly to avoid you noticing what was happening. It also resulted in some rather pleasant dreams that he was always reluctant to wake from, knowing he would be left feeling disappointed and guilty when he finally opened his eyes.  

Complements came thick and fast as did the gifts though he had to admit he might have gone a bit overboard with some things. Like filling the entire hotel with white roses that smelt like freshly made popcorn or making every kind of food he could think of appear when you said you were hungry. In his excitement he might have forgotten about plates and Vaggie really hadn’t been too happy about the stack of pancakes that had ended up on top of her head. Though you had found it funny, using your fingers to scoop up some of the ice cream that was dripping down his face before licking it off your fingers. Lucifer had never really understood food porn before but that right here was enough to convert him. 

Other things had gone over better. Like a bottle of perfume that smelt like freshly cut grass, a crystal ball that swirled with the colours and patterns of a universe and your own personal rubber duck that Lucifer had spent weeks experimenting with so it would act like an actual duck, though he might have gotten it a little wrong because it had a few dog qualities that he hadn’t quite been able to get out. But hey, you had loved it, so Lucifer considered it a win, even if the thing growled at people every now and again. The first time he had seen you with the silly little thing perched on your head he had nearly combusted with how cute you had looked. He had taken what felt like thousands of photos, following you around the hotel and telling anyone and everyone you passed how adorable you were only to snap more photos as you blushed at his compliments. He would have been happy to continue just showering you with gifts and compliments, happy that he was making you happy, but it wasn’t quite enough. Lucifer wanted more and he wasn’t going to get that with expensive gifts and sugar sweet words. 

When he had been with Lilith, they had gone on the grand total of three dates and considering one of them was when she was still in the garden Lucifer didn’t really count it as an actual date because all they had done was sit next to a secluded lake and talk. It had been nice, real nice actually and from that one little date their relationship had blossomed and grown into something Lucifer would cherish for all eternity. It’s not exactly up to par with modern standards though and Lucifer really didn’t want to rehash his old material. It wouldn’t be fare to Lilith and it sure as hell wouldn’t be fare to you. You weren’t a replacement for his ex-wife and Lucifer really didn’t want you to ever think that was what this thing between the two of you was. So, he needed new material, something that was uniquely suited to you and guaranteed that you would say yes when Lucifer asked you to be his. 

The other rings were out considering you were a mortal sinner and couldn’t leave the pride ring. A shame really because they really did have some amazing restaurants and bars down in gluttony that he thought you might have enjoyed. It would have been nice to take you to Lu Lu Land, Lucifer able to show off his most successful creation, well second most successful next to Charlie. But just like gluttony that was out of the question. That left him with the rather nauseating thought of doing something in Pentagram city and that was a solid pass on his part because the city was a huge disgusting dumpster fire of nope full of psychopathic freaks that Lucifer would rather not have to deal with when he was trying to be all romantic and suave. 

It left him with a rather stressful dilemma, Lucifer locking himself away in his workshop as he tried and failed to come up with anything he thought was worthy of your time. It had him pulling at his hair and throwing his ducks around in frustration. This shouldn’t be this hard, mortals did it all the time and yet he couldn’t come up with anything better than afternoon tea in Cannibal Town because despite the fact it was full of flesh hungry sinners it was still the nicest part of this trashy city, he just didn’t think you would be a fan of being given finger sandwiches made from actual fingers. Groaning he had slumped forward, banging his head on his desk and mumbling about how he was “stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course she wouldn’t want to eat people, that’s gross and weird. Come on Luci, think, think, think.” With a headache forming and the sense of pathetic failure growing, Lucifer was saved in the form of a text from Charlie, asking for his help at the hotel. It was like a switch being flipped, the conversation he had with his daughter all those weeks ago coming back to him in full clarity. It was perfect, a plan already starting to form in his mind, and it was with a maniacal laugh that Lucifer snatched up his phone and called Charlie, roping her into his plans. 

It was a lot easier from then on, Lucifer knowing exactly what he wanted to make it perfect for you. Charlie was more than happy to help, even getting the other residents of the hotel to keep you busy so you wouldn’t notice what was going on. You weren’t stupid though and Lucifer knew that you had suspicions, especially when everyone was being a bit too obvious about keeping you away from him whenever you caught a glimpse of him around the hotel. It was worth it though, Lucifer proud of what he had managed to accomplish. All that was left now was to get you up there and woo the socks off you. 

Everyone played their part, pretending that Angel Dusts little piggy had run off and organising a search party to find it before that no-good Radio demon eat it. You were given the upper floors to search, including the roof and all Lucifer needed to do was wait patiently for you to find him and his surprise. Patiently lasted all of five minutes though and as the seconds ticked by he began nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet before giving in and pacing around the small space, muttering to himself the whole time about how it was taking you “so long. It’s just three floors you should be done by now. Maybe he should go and find you, speed things up a little.  No, no, no. The whole point is you’re supposed to be up here to surprise her Luci. What if you go down and she gets here before you find her and ruins the whole thing. Fuuuck. What to do. What to do.”  Just as he’s about to start pulling his hair out Lucifer hears it, the loud groan of the roof access stairs being pulled down. He quickly scrambles to get in position, fixing his hair and grabbing up the bouquet of red and white roses that fallen to the floor as his distress grew. He had taken off his jacket and hat, stashing them away along with his cain to go for a more casual look, a wide smirk plastered across his face as he tried not to bounce excitedly.

He heard you before he saw you, your mumbled complaints carrying up as you flung open the access hatch. You weren’t looking his way when you climbed out onto the roof, still muttering under your breath as you brushed dust and dirt off your clothes. Lucifer remained silent though, holding his breath as he waited for you to turn around and look his way. When you finally turned to him you gasped, hand flying up to cover your mouth as you stumbled back slightly. Lucifer laughed nervously, thrusting out the bouquet of flowers toward you and awkwardly greeting you with a “hey you.” You regained your composure quickly, smiling softly as you made your way over to him and tacking the flowers with a quick thank you. Lucifer stood there for a long few moments, his brain having come to a sudden hault as he watched you lift the bouquet up to smell the flowers. They weren’t real roses; you didn’t get flowers like that down here, but Lucifer had done his best to recreate them though he couldn’t really remember how they smelled so he had made the white one's smell like freshly made popcorn and the red ones like candy floss. You didn’t seem to mind, humming appreciatively as you stared back at him. 

You had pulled Lucifer out of his little daze by leaning to the side to look at the scene behind him, asking if “that’s what you’ve been up to all day?” Eager to show you what he had done Lucifer nodded, enthusiastically taking your hand and pulling you along with him. There was a large blanket on the floor, practically surround by a mountain of cushions and other blankets. There were more flowers, big vases of the roses with candy apples and fern leaves dotted throughout, with candelabras strategically places around the edges of the blanket to give the area a warm glow. He had champagne on ice, two glasses waiting nearby and several platters of food that could be easily picked up with their fingers. 

You gently placed the flowers you had been holding on the floor before sinking down onto the cushions, Lucifer following close behind and sitting close enough to you that your legs touched. Glasses of champagne were poured, food offered and the two of you slipped into easy conversation. It was surprisingly intimate, the sounds of the city nothing but a dull murmur in the background. From their advantage point they could see almost all of pentagram city, all the way from Imp City to Cannibal Town. Though all of Hell was his to rule this was Lucifers domaine and though it was quite literally on fire in some places he still wanted to show off how much power he had though knowing he was the King of Hell had never seemed to mean all that much to you.

As the evening went on and the champagne slowly disappeared the two of you got closer until Lucifer was leaning back against the cushions with you tucked up against his side, an arm draped over your shoulder as the two of you sat in silence and looked out across the city. It was comfortable, Lucifer felt comfortable, like himself for once but he knew he had to break the peaceful little bubble the two of you were in because he had a rather important question he needed to ask and if he didn’t ask it now, well, he wasn’t sure if he ever would. 

Lucifer put his mostly empty glass down before nervously clearing his through. That caught your attention and had you turning to look at him before he was ready. Whatever you saw on his face had you frowning, placing down your own glass so you could turn more fully to look at him. Lucifer could tell you were about to say something, but he couldn’t afford to lose his nerve, so he held up a hand to stop you, telling you that he “need to err ask you something?” So, what if it came out more like a question, at least he had managed to get it out. Your eyes widened slightly, ears twitching up and mouth forming an ‘o’. With a reassuring smile you took his hand in yours, nodding encouragingly and waiting for him to continue. 

Swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat, Lucifer glanced off to the side, tugging at the suddenly tight collar of his shirt. He felt your hold on his hand tightening, his eyes darting back to you and that look of reassurance and excitement that gleamed in your eyes. It was enough to calm his nerves and he placed his other hand over the tops of yours, taking a deep breath before asking that one little question that was sure to change his life regardless of the answer you gave. “Would you, like to date, me?” 

Your smile widened, stretching at your cheeks and looking almost painful. Freeing one of your hands from his you placed it on his cheek, thumb rubbing gently across it. Your voice is so soft but full of certainty and something Lucifer didn’t want to say was love, not yet anyway. It was a simple “yes Lucifer,” but it had his heart soaring like he was flying high above the city.  Lucifer couldn’t help but laugh, flinging himself forward and wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He was so happy, couldn’t quite believe that you had said yes but still unapologetically happy that you had. You laughed with him, wiggling in his hold until you got your arms free, looping them around his neck. Lucifers grip tightened around your waist, pulling you in just that little bit closer. It meant that he had to tip his head back slightly to look you in the eyes but that wasn’t a hardship, especially not when you leant down, eyes darting to his lips then back up to his eyes. It was a silent question, one Lucifer answered by tipping his head back more, his eye closing and holding his breath as he waited for you to bridge the gap. 

Your lips were soft against his, just a gentle brush against his as if you were testing it out. Lucifer dug his fingers into the fabric of your dress, a content sigh passing from his lips to yours. That seemed to be the only permission you need because in the next second your lips were firmer, slow and confident as you traded one kiss after another. It was everything Lucifer had hoped it would be, as sweet as candy apples and just as addictive.

So lost in one another neither of you noticed that the access hatch was slightly open, or the two sets of eyes looking out from the darkness. You didn’t hear the muffled cheers or the even more muffled complaint about how “disgustingly lovey dovey those weirdos are going to be now? I guarantee ya, every five seconds they’re gonna be making cow eyes at each other and professing their love. I already feel sick just thinkin’ about…Ow! Watch the goods toots.” You didn’t see the rather annoyed radio demon down below twiddling his mic in his hands or Charlie sticking her head out of a window and gesturing upwards franticly. You didn’t hear him huff and roll his eyes or him waving his mic around until colourful explosions of light filled the sky behind you. The two of you were completely oblivious to the world around you, lost in the moment. 

Neither of you had thought this was how things would end up the first time you had met and though you were both aware that things wouldn’t be as easy as they seemed right now you were willing to take the risk. Sure, there would be ups and downs, things that would need addressing like Lilith and the wedding ring Lucifer still wore and the fact that you were a sinner, bound to the pride ring. There was the hotel and heaven to consider, not to mention all the threats from within hell. Those were all things to worry about latter though because for now, with you in his arms and his relationship with Charlie so much better than it had been Lucifer was happy and nothing could take that away from him. 

At least for now. 

@lxkeee

#hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel x fem reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin charlie #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x fem!reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x fem!reader #lucifer x fem!reader #lucifer x female reader #lucifer x reader #reader insert #fem!reader

[thesecretsofthedivine]

Pick a Pile Reading | Messages From Your Future Spouse 💍🪐

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*Disclaimer: This is a collective reading - take what resonates and leave the rest. If this resonates with you, please show support by reposting (with credit), tipping, or booking with me! :)

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PILE 1 COLLECTIVE

• I love the sound of your laughter.

• You’ve turned me into a more carefree person.

• Let’s spend the day baking/cooking then heading right back to bed to cuddle!

• I feel like we could never have enough quality time together.

• You’re my favorite person in the world.

• I’m addicted to your scent.

• We should start a family (🐾/👶).

• You’re my lock screen.

• I tell all my friends about you. If you checked my notifications, all you’d see is a group chat roasting me for how obsessed I am with you.

• There is no place I’d rather be than here with you in my arms.

• I like to watch you sleep. You just seem so peaceful and still that it’s intensely captivating. I hope you don’t mind 😵‍💫.

~ miscellaneous: earth sign placements. homebodies. 2 introverts or an introvert & an extrovert. hard-working, masculine qualities in your spouse. wholesome domestic moments.

PILE 2 COLLECTIVE

• I want to drown in the sea of your existence.

• Dedicating poetry and art to you — my favorite muse.

• There is nothing in the world that I wouldn’t give to have more time with you.

• I’m afraid of loss/dying, but entering old age with you would make my existence complete.

• Please don’t leave me.

• Can I wake you up early if I’m craving your attention? It’s hard for me to contain my excitement when you look this beautiful/attractive.

• Let’s watch the sunset together and stay up late talking for hours.

• Every detail of your existence does not go unnoticed by me.

• We were meant to love each other in this life/I know that we are past life lovers who have found one another again.

• Come on, baby. Don’t be shy with me.

~ miscellaneous: water sign placements (especially scorpio or for their moon sign). 2 night owls or a night owl & a morning person. hozier songs. romantic moments caught on camera/posted online. artist x muse trope.

PILE 3 COLLECTIVE

• You light me on fire with desire.

• I love teasing you more than anything else in the world.

• You’re my best friend and lover, all wrapped into one.

• My heart feels warm and glows from the inside whenever you’re around.

• I can’t lose you. If I do, I’ll go crazy.

• Let’s go for a drive, listen to music, eat food, and forget about our worries.

• I want to be the first person you call when you’re in trouble.

• I will never judge you.

• We will travel everywhere and make the world our own.

• I want to surprise you with grand gestures (especially via gifts or shared experiences).

~ miscellaneous: fire sign placements. ready or not — bridgit mendler. sneaky smirks that make you smile uncontrollably. spontaneous memories or communication. fluffy hair & tan skin features for some.

PILE 4 COLLECTIVE

• Pulling out all my best jokes just for you.

• Give me a nickname and I’ll give you one back.

• How can I possibly deny your charm?!

• Your style is impeccable. Every time we’re in a shop together, I just want to watch you pose in front of the mirror.

• I’ll make you homemade snacks and share my family’s recipes with you!

• Spoiling you with acts of service.

• We don’t even have to speak to understand one another. Mere eye contact is enough.

• You bring out my (good) crazy side 🤪.

• I love how we can always bounce off each other’s energies so well.

• I wanna give you expensive jewelry or items with my initials on it.

~ miscellaneous: air sign placements. a quirky sense of humor. distinct eyebrows. friends to lovers trope (Monica & Chandler came to mind). latin/hispanic backgrounds for some.

#pick a pile reading #astrology #law of assumption #zodiac signs #astro notes #astro observations #birth chart #horoscope #natal chart #sun signs #astrology blog #astroblr #tarotblr #witchblr #psychic #intuitive #tarot reading #pac reading #pick a pile #collective reading #manifestation #affirmations #subliminals #spells #synastry #love reading #future spouse reading #soulmates

[capslocked]

STARLET

male reader x cho miyeon

part 1 of another name up in lights

28k words (special thanks to @passingnotions for helping make all my work possible)

“I would rather throw up,” you murmur out of the corner of your mouth, “than do another take of this scene with you.” “Okay.” Miyeon tilts her chin. The lights begin to dim over the blonde hair she has falling over an upturned brow. “Then throw up.”

It takes a few beats—while production staff scurry about the tense silence rolling through the studio—for everything to fall perfectly still.

Miyeon takes a deep breath, and whispers: “I can get you a bucket.”

“Action!” (The one where Miyeon ruins your career, and you ruin her too.)

- That first time the two of you are photographed together, it’s wholly unremarkable. The entirety of the cast is in frame, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the banner at the presser and pretending that someone had just whispered something worthy of a belly laugh into your ears. Cho Miyeon hangs delicately off your arm, hand wrapped just above your elbow, and all of you are at your most jovial—looking like you’re simply having the most wonderful time, smiles wide and beaming. Because if that isn’t part of the act. You sell the characters, the fiction, the drama even when the cameras aren’t rolling.

The second photo is what gets people talking. 

Anyone with half a brain ought to know that if you were sincerely seeing your co-star, an untruth that the general public is apparently beyond happy to eat up, you wouldn’t be so careless to post up outside a small cafe. Certainly not at a trendy place aside one of the busiest streets in the city, but these tabloids are rabid. Like a head injury, that self-condemning desire to get clicks and hits at any cost has long clouded their ability to think, and so it gets plastered right there on the front page of every rag in the industry. Don’t get it confused, the photo looks good. It’s got allure and mischief written all over it. And that’s exactly what you’re going for.

Miyeon’s hair is up, tied into a messy bun, because she’d have hated to obfuscate the work that her floral shoulderless dress was not doing in hiding from the world the most immaculate pair of collarbones you’d ever seen. Then in her hands—between her teeth—she fiddles with the earpiece of her sunglasses, shooting you with the clearest, most flagrant fuck me now eyes that only a blind person might not pick up on (doubtful still). And you’re there, smirking back at her, for even if a photo tells a whole story, this one really only ever needed a sentence: sparks flying, the two of you really hit it off. 

It’s a point of contention later—several times actually—but regardless of how you feel, the girl can act.

Now the image that really gets the media whipped into a frenzy is a lot less polished. It’s grainy and the lighting is poor and in a change of pace, the quality of the photo would lead you to believe that it wasn’t premeditated. Which, unfortunately, is exactly how it goes down.

Even still, it's all framed perfectly, infamously, a straight-up disaster. Miyeon is immediately recognizable, unabashedly blonde and gorgeous as ever. You’ve got your mouth on hers and the problems absolutely do not end there: her back is flush against the bricks of the alley, pinned under your weight, and yes, your hands are busy. One up her skirt, the other in her shirt, she’s blushing into you, and you wouldn’t know from the photo, but she’s got her fingers working at your belt and as a collection, it’s all utterly shameless. Everything up to that point had been muted in subtext; both of you know the value of intrigue, the art of letting everyone else connect the dots—this, however, unintentionally becomes a phenomenon.

Lights the internet on fire for a minute.

The shocking part of all this, what ends up being labeled a calamity by people whose opinions actually concern you, is the photo that you assume will haunt you forever and follow you to your grave isn’t even the one where you’re making out with the starlet du jour in the harsh yellow of an exterior floodlight—in the relaxed wickedness only two AM might ever know. No, it’s this photo, the press’s favorite, given how it shows up everywhere. Miyeon’s holding the award for best actress in a lead role in one hand, knuckles tight around the podium microphone with her other. She’s radiant. She’s flustering. She’s breathtaking. She even trips up on her words in a way that’s endearing. And every fool with a blog is infatuated by all of it.

Your own thoughts on the matter aside, the most neutral and economic way to describe it is unintentionally funny. You were with her when she picked out that silver sequin evening dress, sparkling in the demand of stage lights and camera flashes. It spills from where the garment ties around her neck over the lines of her body as if it has no bias itself for any form or structure, only curving on its journey to her feet at the behest of where her breasts sloped down from her collarbones, the flare of her hips just below her waist. She’s the spitting image of perfection, a damn icon—the headlines are supposed to be about her—but there you are: tucked into the corner, in a sea of faces all justifiably mesmerized by the beauty that walked delicately onto the stage and adorably needed to adjust the microphone stand down to her height. 

As It turns out, the absolute displeasure in your scowl isn’t any less captivating. Envious. Spiteful. Arrogant. You catch some serious flak for it.

For months, it ends up being the subject of commentary online, in print, on television—your names on the tips of everyone’s tongues. All with their own theories, but no one manages to guess the truth for a long time, because no one could even begin to believe it:

You hate Miyeon, and Miyeon hates you.

-

Oh, there are plenty of clues, if you aren’t already keenly aware of it, that your career is slowly sliding into obscurity. Years ago, walking into your agent's office was an event: eyes widened and turned to you immediately. The quiet smiles, the blushing, the batting of eyelashes. The pomp and circumstance of the agency’s biggest client strolling into Soyeon’s office like you were crossing the Rubicon into the streets of Rome. It was glorious and it always meant something big was about to happen.

To be clear, you’re not saying you need the attention, but today, no one even offers to take your coat, which is a shame, because it’s been raining biblically for the past week, and there’s puddles in your shoes, squeaking obnoxiously as you parade unceremoniously through a row of desks. Even so, sounding like a dog’s chew toy, it’s sheer and utter avoidance—eyes glued to monitors and unlifted from scribbled notes as though you’re simply another courier delivering a parcel (which hey, in all honesty, someone like that might even have some of that magical potential). 

“Hold up. What do you mean they’re passing me up?” you ask, eyes narrowed and leaning forward in your seat so that the blatant abandonment of all your grace and charm doesn’t get lost in translation across the length of Soyeon’s desk. “That part had my fucking name on it.”

“It did.” Soyeon drums her pen against her keyboard. Comes close to making a face. “And now it has someone else’s name on it. Someone the studio trusts.”

“Oh, for christ’s sake, he’s twelve years older than me. The character is supposed to be thirty, not a dinosaur in a Kingsman suit.” 

“It’s the silver fox thing. He markets easily to women.”

“And I don’t?” you stammer out, and Soyeon lifts an eyebrow. “Only a date night staple for almost a decade, Soyeon. Can you honestly sit there and say I wouldn’t play it better? The man plays nothing but himself in every role. Every. Single. Role.”

“Well, it just so happens that he brings people to the theater in droves,” Soyeon snaps back before you have the chance to say anything you could possibly regret. “Look, I told you I have good news and bad news, and it sounds like you’ve figured out the bad news already.”

“Oh please don’t tell me it’s charity.” You wave your hand flippantly. “We’re not doing this.” 

Discount parts for struggling actors. If they were worth more than the paper in the scripts they were printed on, Soyeon would’ve been negotiating them this very moment. 

There’s a lot about it to unpack, your fall from grace. You aren’t bringing in commissions, directors aren’t lining up in front of the firm to shove their scripts in front of your nose, and your last few films are better remembered for the comedic value of their scathing reviews than the actual screenplay or cinematography.

One such review of your most recent work, an ill-fated screen adaptation of Blood Meridian that had ‘studio interference’ written all over it right from its woeful inception, reads: I hated this movie. Hated hated hated hated hated this movie. Hated it. Hated every simpering stupid vacant audience-insulting moment of it. Hated the implied sensibility that thought anyone would like it. Hated the subliminal insult to the audience by its belief that anyone would be entertained by it.

There are plenty more just like it, and plenty worse, but it’s never done you any good, mentally, to sift through them.

“Really. I’m serious, these parts aren’t bad.” 

Soyeon has enough confidence in her voice to sound convincing, but you’ve also never heard her come across any different. You catch yourself pausing to think about it, which is a clear tell that you’re perhaps nearing wit’s end, considering you’re not one to shy away from blurting out the first thought that forms half-coherent into your head.

“Now, they’re not what you’re looking for, admittedly, but I just think with a little luck, they could end up being a fortuitous move,” she adds.

“Go on, pitch,” you say, before sinking a little lower into your chair because even though it pains you to agree with her, she’s right.

“If you’ll dismount from your high horse for a moment,” Soyeon starts, waiting for you to finish rolling your eyes, “the Coens called again—”

“I’m not.”

“The part is interesting.”

“The part is small, it’s side-cast. Don’t sugarcoat it. I’m not taking one of their rescue-shelter-for-the-has-been supporting roles. That’s the equivalent of throwing in the towel.”

“It’s done wonders for careers in worse shape than yours, to be candid.”

“Careful,” you warn her, lifting your chin and glaring—a look you are definitely not known for—but if there’s anyone in the industry who could hold her own, deflect your best, and make you feel foolish for thinking you could cross swords and come out unscathed, it’s Jeon Soyeon.

“May I remind you that I’ve been nominated for best actor three times? That no one in their right mind predicted any of those movies to be any good? I’ve got talent. Let’s not sit around and pretend like I need to be put on life support here. I’m capable.”

Soyeon just steeples her fingers together. “I don’t need the reminder. I made that exact point in a call with a producer this morning, but it’s hard to get people to look past the fact that some of your recent choices have been—”

“If you’re going to say I told you so,” you grumble, letting out a sharp sigh, “let’s get it over with.”

She doesn’t say anything right away. Just pushes a folder across the desk and into your hands like she’s betraying national secrets to a foreign adversary. “Listen, don’t walk out in disgust. At least not right away.”

It takes only a moment. You recognize what’s going on here immediately. “Soyeon.”

“I know. I know. I know.” She waves her hand. “But hear me out, give it a chance.”

“It’s a rom-com, Soyeon.” “I’m plenty aware of what it is.” “I can see it already: smart, sophisticated, funny.” It takes a lot not to curl your lip. And then it fucking curls anyway. “I thought… I thought I had climbed out of the depths of romantic-comedy-hell, Soyeon. This is like suggesting that I get back into a relationship with an abuser.”

“I know, but this one actually is different,” she says, and you take a moment to remember you’ve always respected her honesty, paid her for it, and should’ve probably listened to it on more than one occasion. It’s the reason you’re here of all places. 

“You’d kill the part,” she adds. “You spent years killing parts just like it. There’s no shame in that. And the director’s asked for you, specifically. By name. She’s willing to double your asking price.”

So maybe your eyes widen at that, even if it’s the absolute worst way to admit defeat, that you’re just as talentless as you’ve always feared: retreating back to the comfort of the role, all that expertise in acting with—no scratch that, acting at—some barely legal starlet ready to show a little skin to get ahead. 

(That’s the nature of the game, and it’s your roots, unfortunately, but it’s safe, and if the money is there, then better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.) “Ah, yeah okay, well here’s the thing: they’ve already decided on the female lead.” You lean forward, like you’d have to listen to this next part in a whisper, because anything louder than that would make it too difficult to bear. “And?” Soyeon clicks her tongue, runs her thumb across her lips, thinking of how to soften the blow. “I mean she isn’t what you’d call an actress, exactly.” “What the hell does that mean, exactly?” “Cho Miyeon,” she starts, and you’re actually just sitting there, tasting at something in your mouth like it’ll help you make sense of it, if only for the reason that you’re not quite sure who that is. “She’s, uh, well, she’s a popstar, you see.” “Oh you’re not kidding.”

There’s a sincerity that lives somewhere in Soyeon’s lack of any expression at all, perfect poker-face armed and readied. You have to squint to really take it in. Heavens.

-

Exactly how much Soyeon actually knew about this girl, you’ll never know. She claimed first that they met through a mutual friend who does publicity work for another studio, and on a separate occasion saying that they went to school together, determinedly avoiding anything like names or corroborating details. Of course you believed her, because how were you supposed to know any different?

“Wait, you mean like actual royalty?” you ask a few days later, after Soyeon explains Miyeon’s nickname to you, because in this industry, it’s really not that ridiculous a question. 

“It’s just a running gag,” she says casually, and you both watch the waiter wordlessly grate pepper into her salad until Soyeon puts a hand up.

“So,” you continue, incredulous, “it’s supposed to be funny?”

“Look, it’s a whole thing.” Soyeon picks up her fork, but doesn’t quite end up doing anything with it. “I promise she’s only half the disaster you think she is.”

“Then do me a favor: kick my shin when I’m supposed to laugh.”

“Do yourself a favor, and try to be a little amiable.”

“You say that like I don’t know how to be charming,” you deadpan, sipping at your coffee while Soyeon’s glare stands its ground.

It’s nothing official, but Soyeon had organized a script reading. The Director is off in some foreign land scouting for the perfect beach with perfectly white sand on an island that already has enough problems, and tells you in three separate text messages to just read the fucking script. You’re groaning, rolling your eyes, and then, curled up next to the fireplace in your readers at three in the morning, it hits you—like really hits you. And you’re shocked, mostly, that there's brilliance in these pages. It’s not the kind of flick you expected, the kind that has journalists at the Atlantic, real writers with academic chops and know-how, publishing articles with titles like: Why Are Romantic Comedies So Bad?

Which, hey, isn’t that a great question. There are a couple of answers, you imagine. You haven’t read the piece of course; you’re the last person that would ever need to. But perhaps among the most fundamental obligations for the genre is that there must be some degree of obstacle, a challenge to nuptial bliss that the hero and heroine must overcome, all before the story’s happily-ever-after. And, to put it simply, such obstacles have only gotten harder and harder to come by. They used to lie in heaps and piles on the ground, ripe for the picking: parental disapproval, difference in social class, unfulfilled promises, the classic and creatively bankrupt friendship-blossoming-into-romance. Nowadays there’s quite literally nothing new under the sun.

So take that all into account, and then add in the fact that you’ve got your hands on something innovative and creative and tasteful—it’s insulting, absurd even, that you’d hamstring the movie by shooting one of the leads out of a cannon and into the hands of a novice who may or may not be able to act her way out of a paper bag. The part calls for subtlety, not the ham-handedness and dramatic stylings of a girl whose experience with the camera extends to knowing when and when not to wink.

Only here’s the thing, it’s not absurd. Like at all. Because enter Cho Miyeon.

She appears in profile first, before pulling a chair out from the table and taking a seat all with the confidence of someone who’d probably be welcome at any table, anytime, anywhere. And almost immediately, you’ve got the answer to those hundred different questions of why. Why a rookie? Why a pop idol? Why ‘princess?’ 

Well, see, on a basic level, she’s fucking breathtaking.

The devil’s in the details if you aren’t disarmed completely at a glance. Dignified, regal, royal, this girl has it all, and then some. Her hair frames her face as though it were in any need of succor, perfectly messed and ash-blonde and tumbling effortless down her shoulders. She flutters her lashes; her lips part, close again in a way that is oddly captivating; and she gets a tilt in her chin that’s worth a thousand words (most of them admittedly, jesus, fuck, and my god). It’s like she not only understands every cliche in the book—but she’s gone out of her way to make them hers. “Miyeon,” she says, voice gentle and saccharine sweet, extending her hand towards you. 

It dawns on you that there’s a certain authority that comes about from saying your own name, even when you know no one has ever needed it—contrast to the way her hand fits in yours, dainty fingers, wrist flawlessly delicate; she’s five-two, arguably five-three in her socks and you’re the one who could crush her. Even so, it’s your mouth that runs dry. You’re catching your breath, and you have to clear your throat to even return the favor.

“I’m a huge fan of your work,” she adds. 

“Oh,” you start, shifting gears, getting ready to lie straight through your teeth, “me as well.” It’s shamelessly performative. And Soyeon knows that. The wince she struggles to hold back from across the table is hard not to notice.

But then so is Miyeon, your eyes trailing down her body like a palpable touch over every curve.

Black mini skirt, pre-torn sheer tights, a pair of knee-high combat boots with a hell of a heel on them, and you’re just realizing you can see how perfectly flat her tummy is, peeking out beneath where the hem of her shirt decides to taper for the betterment of mankind. Ah, you get it, so apparently idols really do dress like that—anything and everything to tell you, keep your eyes on me now.

The feet of your chair scrape loud on the floor as you stand on your feet. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

“Alright,” Soyeon tuts as she stabs at her salad, “let’s dial it back.”

It takes two tries to meet her eyes properly, these beautifully dark and dangerous things, but Miyeon just blinks at you, quirks her lips gently into a small smile. And you smile right back, just a little, because maybe this isn’t going to be so bad after all.

-

It isn’t anything like the romance Miyeon will later make it out to be. 

Even though sure, you’re both there laughing, blushing and coy—all of it enough to make the characters in the script look even-keeled, something a little more sane. “Please, it’s called chemistry,” you begin crafting excuses toward your agent when Miyeon takes a phone call on the terrace. “I have it with everyone.” And maybe that’s true. Maybe it isn’t. But be careful, there’s nothing noble about what’s going on here. 

“Sorry,” Miyeon apologizes, like she’d ever need to, pulling her chair right up next to yours. “Where were we?”

Just the part where the characters realize everything they’ve ever been looking for is right there in front of them. You spit the pen cap out of your mouth to answer: “the epiphany.”

For what it’s worth, the actual work to be done goes smoother than you expect. Sure, the initial delivery is rough around the edges and in need of a little tender love and care, but that’s far more than what you’d been prepared to give Miyeon credit for.

Not too long after, Miyeon suggests splitting a bottle of wine, something light and sparkling. It goes down easy.

Soyeon figures it’s time to fabricate some way to gracefully exit this whole thing, fingers tapping wildly at her phone, when you and Miyeon start touching each other. It’s subtle at first: she leans over your shoulder when you point something out in the script, pulls back a curtain of blonde hair right back over her ear before brushing up against you, lingers just long enough so that she can flick her eyes up to yours—doesn’t even care to look away whenever you catch her staring. And that’s just what can be seen above the table.

With a coat tucked under her armpit and her belongings all hastily gathered, Soyeon turns her face back over her shoulder one last time; she’s glaring, opening her mouth to say something but decides against it at the last moment. You get the message: don’t sleep with her.

You simply wave her off. Hide your own disappointment that she thinks you’d even need the reminder, because you would never.

“I guess I'm really looking forward to it,” Miyeon says, once the sun’s finished its daily dive into the horizon—once there’s only a mess of papers and empty wine glasses trailing in your wake. 

(The restaurant’s in the middle of whipping itself into shape before a slew of dinner reservations come through. It feels rude to camp out at a table any longer.)

Miyeon turns to you, standing with a hand on her hip like the two of you are neighbors who share a mailbox, and says, “think it could be fun.”

Oh, surely you’ve done a better job at masking a grin. Miyeon picks up on it instantly.

“I’m serious,” she adds, letting the timbre of her voice shift into this juxtaposition of suggestion and naivety that has you doing a double take, mentally. Because the lines in her picture perfect face are so very easy to latch onto—even if you’ve never seen anyone as perfectly sculpted as her, you can’t shake the feeling that all humans ought to come out looking like this—but at the same time, there’s something that lies beneath the surface, something undoubtedly complex, something that quietly chides you for having such untoward thoughts of a subject so innocent and docile.

“I’m not trying to take the air out of your sails or anything,” you say as you guide her through the door, hand pressing at the small of her back, “but these shoots can end up being a lot less enjoyable than they look.” “Of course,” Miyeon says, laughing, because here she is, the rookie, and it’s all very natural for her to appeal to some innate desire in you to come off as the authority on anything—film, stardom, the lack thereof, navigating life as a young pretty thing, the authority you’d discover in bending her over your kitchen counters—to some extent, she has you at least a little figured out. “What I mean is I’m looking forward to working with you.”

You watch her smile slant, shift quietly towards something more suggestive when you slip your coat around her shoulders—it’s a foregone conclusion, not that either of you are willing to look it straight in the face.

What you should have done is grabbed your phone and called her a car; there’s thousands of them in this city. What you should've done is driven home, alone. That’s all it should have been. Just some starlet you charmed for an evening to get your career back in order. Nothing more, nothing more. And instead of getting her for a few months plus change, you get her for life. This should’ve been extra clear when she leaned up against the passenger side door of your car, and found a new angle, something she’d only to that point allow to muse about your idle thoughts:

“And here I was, thinking you were just someone playing a part. Only ever a romantic for the camera.” 

You can’t even say it all happens so fast. 

Not when you take in consideration how you watch Miyeon delicately, slowly, purposefully grab a fistful of your shirt, balling it between her fingers, and begin to twist. This is probably where you’ll start, you think, when you explain it all in a tell-all book long past the age of your youth. Because, oh, what a pleasant surprise. She’s perfect. Flawless. A natural. You can’t keep your eyes away from her, and she’d have it no other way.

“Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” you ask, if only to resist the urge to pull her in.

“Well, I suppose I’ve got a few ideas,” she says, and there’s a glimmer at the surface of her eyes, dark and intelligent and flashing with something like danger, something like the worst decision you’ve made in years. And that’s saying a lot. “But I’d like to think you can show me.”

You give her a practiced smile, stretching just right, careful, careless, carefree. Trust me, that smile says. It’s a scene from a movie, one of many. It’s familiar. You’ve been here, with weapons in a caliber all of your own, and Miyeon’s cheeks start to ever-so-perfectly redden, porcelain skin come aflame. 

“You know,” you say, making your voice drawl until Miyeon shuffles her weight between her feet, “if it was up to the writers, I’d kiss you here.”

“If it was up to me,” Miyeon starts, chin up at you like a challenge, “I’d let you.”

The way Miyeon explains it later is that you duck your head and hold your lips next to hers just long enough to let your next breath make her swoon, all before interrupting her with a hungry exhale and an open mouth pressing into hers. A hard, biting kiss that sends shivers down her spine. That you angle your mouths just right so your tongues can slip together, so you might sweep this girl right off her feet and into your arms—if Miyeon has a face that has fantasy written all over it, then so do you, and she says you ought to know what it does it to people. She’ll be half right. 

Only when you lean into her and start filing away those mental notes of how perfect her tiny waist fits in your hands, you pause at the sound of a cricket chirping, a reminder of the neighborhood around you.

“Not out here,” you murmur, casting a wary eye over her shoulder. “Let me take you home.”

Miyeon sniffles, blinks a few times, and nods.

-

Really, it starts with you. A month before you begin shooting, you suffer from a little insanity of your own. Miyeon’s got the second boot only halfway off her foot, lit up in the soft darkness of your foyer, when you take hold of her. 

It’s not like you figured this was your last chance for happiness—swallowing down the gasp that comes off Miyeon’s lips like it were your only shot at tasting heaven—but that’s exactly how you kiss her. Mouth open and hot and heavy against hers. It’s hard to explain, and it doesn’t quite add up; you’ve got your Furies, your own personal pantheon, the girls you’ve most dreamed about and had running through your thoughts—who’d eventually find their way between your sheets in some manner or another, melting in your hands. But somehow, Miyeon’s different, you convince yourself. Or she does rather, starting with her tongue sliding languidly against yours before she decides to bite down on the swell of your lower lip. It hurts. 

She knows it hurts.

“Watch it,” you say, coming off kind of harsh, before you can realize what all is going on here. Before you come to the understanding that she’s untouchable, priceless, that you can’t afford to break her—and that it’s precisely what she wants out of you.

“What?” she asks, the corners of her mouth slanted up ever so slightly. “You’ve got nice lips.”

How you’ll ever be able to forget someone like her, you haven’t a single clue, because Miyeon uncovers and undresses you down right to the bare soul. Your mouths crash again, just enough subdued to keep your teeth from clicking together like you’ve never done this before—like you’re reading her, getting lost in a new paradox: the intrigue of her tongue caressing yours, the familiarity of her thumb rubbing circles into your back. There’s the Miyeon that was cracking wise and sipping wine with you an hour ago, and now there’s this.

“So, how are we doing this?” she asks, breaths wet and heavy as she fidgets with the button on your pants. “How do you want me?” “Well.” You’re sliding a hand up her stomach, across her ribs, until you hit the silky fabric beneath her shirt. “I’m not sure I know what you’re asking here.” “Don’t play dumb.” Miyeon looks you straight in the eye, and she’s close enough that you can count the flecks of gold dancing in her irises. Brows furrowed for a second, she ends up indulging you anyway: “I’m asking how you want to fuck me?”

Every turn in her voice sinks deeper, reels you in further, coaxes you into shoving her to the wall between the door and a coat rack. The way she yelps first in surprise as her back hits the hard surface, whimpering later in delight at the grip your hands make onto her hips, it gives you the sense that she’s flustered, unable to come off as anything beyond embarrassingly forward and drowning in anticipation—

“Miyeon,” you say, slowly, getting a good read on just how much she likes hearing you say her name. That it’ll kill her, you figure, when you’re fucking her with slow, deep, deliberate strokes—once she’s inches within cumming and falling apart and it’s arriving right in her ear. “What do you think?” That lands even more pointed somehow. More dangerous than you could have ever predicted, the charm and practiced charisma in your voice coming out in lethal force: “Maybe, oh let’s see… should I fuck you right here?”

Miyeon starts with her fingertips across your scalp before threading them through your hair. “Well,” she says, teasing the callback, drawing the syllable out as though running it conceptually through her head. “If that isn’t a spectacular idea, I don’t know what is.”

“Yeah,” you murmur into the delicate skin under her jaw, and after lifting off her shirt and tossing it aside, she kisses you with a consuming, needy kind of hunger one more time. Until you’re both just out of breath. “I think so too.” Miyeon dips her fingers into the waist of your pants before anything else. Function of the fact that men’s clothing is so straightforward and predictable, she’s able to shimmy them down off your hips until they hang unceremoniously around your thighs. “Um,” she says, sinking her teeth into her lip a moment, right after curling her fingers around your cock, “you’re like, really hard, you know that?”

“I was going to mention it earlier. You’re kinda my type.”

She leans into you, sighing a little into your neck. “Which is?”

“Oh, you know,” you say nonchalantly. “Pretty. Small. Ruinable. That sort of thing.”

“Right.” With a jerk of her wrist, Miyeon brings your cockhead flush against her stomach—pumps you there leisurely. “Wouldn’t want Soyeon thinking you were planning on ruining me.”

“Quick learner,” you murmur, bunching her skirt up over the rise of her hips.

“Well, we’re really not so different, you and me.”

“Hm.” She doesn’t know what she’s saying—you’re you—storied, seasoned, and only heeding right now to the wail of torn fabric. There’s a hole in her tights already, and your fingers work fast. Rip, tear, threads screeching undone. “I’m curious to hear what all gives you that impression.” 

“The way I see it, we both know what we want,” she says, unashamed, and the sound that escapes her mouth sounds a lot like a hiccup, some little hopeful noise or another, swallowing for air at the touches skating across her underwear, where it’s soaked and hot and begging. “Suppose that’s true.” “Not afraid to go for it either.” She tightens her grip around your cock, squeezing like she’s waiting for you to tell her to stop and running her thumb across your slit. “Won’t settle for anything less than you—”

“A word of advice,” you start, and the authority in your voice makes her melt just a little further in your grip. “From someone who’s not so different… A little flexibility goes a long way, sweetheart.”

“Oh.” It’s smug, the way she says it. Her eyes are heavy, hooded—honing the perfect hue of haughty as she drags her panties to the side. “I’m nothing if not a little flexible.” You bend from your knees, because Miyeon is tiny where she stands, up against drywall with her dainty arms thrown over your shoulders. And in a way, she’s right: you see the parallels, cut from the same cloth, the two strained noises or another buzzing in your throat indistinguishable when you hook your hand around her thigh, raise it, and barely slide yourself inside her, just an inch.

Miyeon’s mouth opens like she’s going to speak, and then hovers there, brows turning and knitting together—something you more than understand, because you’re on the verge of losing your mind too. She’s wet and slick with heat and so fucking inviting that you think the world might end if you don’t bury yourself into her this very second. Not that there isn’t near commensurate satisfaction in drawing out the moment, you fast discover, teasing mercilessly until you can hear Miyeon’s frustration. Her eyes shut tight, and her breath becomes ragged as you allow her another inch—almost keening when you pull back before pushing your cock into her cunt again, fucking her open slowly.

It’s only when you hear her beg please, please, please that you sink all the way in.

And she feels amazing. Tight and hot and clinging, she sleeves onto you like a glove. Immaculate enough to chip away at your positions regarding fate, the ridiculous notion that under the stars there was a girl out there for you, that you’re in orbit with some inevitable conclusion and her name is fucking Cho Miyeon. So outright sinful that you still need a beat to come to terms with it, and you make an effort to voice that: “Fucking hell, Miyeon.”

She lets out a whiny, punched out breath, tilting her chin to the ceiling and revealing the long column of her throat to you like an invitation, though you press your lips to her temple first, the taste of her skin and the sweat aside her brow like wine—sweet and woozy and intoxicating. There’s the rise and fall of her breathing against your chest, your fingers spread out across her creamy skin, and a sudden jerk from her hips, as if to bring you back to the present.

“Oh my god,” Miyeon gasps as your hips are drawn back again. 

Only this time you’ve got the soft cheek of her ass spilling through your fingers. Waning self-control. Even less reservation about pulling her right back onto your cock. And though you’re mostly silent each time you work your entire length back into her, Miyeon is anything but—all these appreciative noises coming from low in her throat.

It might be the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed: the way she darts her tongue out to wet her lips, how her breath hitches when you move, each and every sound she makes as you fuck wildly into her cunt—slamming in, in, in, and you can hear her begin to whimper, feel her caressing the curve of your ass with her… ankle? She tugs on you, grips you, and does whatever she can to keep you deep inside her. As though you’d ever, ever stop.

“I can’t,” Miyeon starts, and it’s nearly comedic—you’d be in fits if you weren’t delicately unraveling this girl in your hands, taking her apart piece by piece, blow by blow. The poise in her voice is gone; what’s left is shattered, unrecognizable mostly. Even those dignified lines in her face start to twist and wobble, threaten to come undone. “Please, I need… oh, please make me cum. I need to cum on your cock.” “Breathe,” you tell her, feeling her slip a little against the wall, puddling further in your grip. It surprises you, the way your words come out like the crush of gravel beneath a boot, and it grips at something within Miyeon too, clues her in on how much she needs you—sucking air in through her teeth and sinking her face into your shoulder. The lines that mark where you end and Miyeon start are quickly eroding, boundary become meaningless. “I know you want to cum, but I need you to breathe for me, Miyeon.”

Her palms are damp with sweat, wrung around the back of your neck, hair sticking to her forehead and darkening in a beam of pale moonlight, not to mention what you hear: harder, faster, more—the needy requests make it sound like she’s almost sobbing. 

“I promise, I promise,” you whisper into her mouth, “I’ll do anything for you. But first, I’m going to use this tight little cunt—gonna make a mess of you.”

Your fingers dig into her soft skin, tighter, tighter; you’ll leave bruises, marks, fingerprints, all this damage she’ll trace back to you—evidence that’ll queue memories like a roll of film, bring her right back to how you have her mewling and moaning at the end of your cock, tears welling on her lashes and mascara running dark beneath her eyes.

 “Fuck,” slips out of her, nearly pouting like it’s your fault, that she’d never curse in front of anyone and here she is, teeth gritted—because, god, she’s all coiled muscle, tightened around your cock and meltdown imminent—you get your fingers under her chin and tilt her head to you.

“Gonna make you beg, Miyeon.”

“I… fuck…” Her voice gets locked up in her throat, choking back on something that turns into a wail when you adjust your angle, hit deeper, fuck harder—“I can’t,” she whispers, “I can’t,” but you keep fucking into her tight hole, nowhere close to letting up.

There’s just something so fascinating about a girl like this, a girl like Miyeon, with a gaze that inspires all this admiration and idolatry. It ought to pierce right through somebody like you and leave you for dead, bring you to your knees, but you’re nothing like she expected; you’re everything she hoped. So instead, as you watch her gasping mouth that was coyly smiling in your favor all afternoon; her small tits spilling forward when you lift up her bra; how she’s slumped back against the wall, relaxed and trusting you implicitly to carry her weight for as long as it takes; the shadowy place where your cock is drenched, glistening and disappearing between her thighs—oh, Jesus, is that a visual—it all clicks in your head: Miyeon is so, so astonishingly submissive. 

Whether it’s the fingers at her throat, or the grip hooking under her thigh, the one thing that’s clear is this: you’re using Miyeon. Fucking her within inches of irrevocably falling apart. You, the hammer; her, the nail—pounding her further into the drywall until she’s quivering and moaning and gasping into your mouth. Oh, the places you’ll pin her. You’re relentless, merciless; it’s the fact that she gets off on it that’ll stick with you. For a long time.

“Gonna make you beg for it, princess,” you amend, lips now pressing into Miyeon’s ear, and she immediately shudders apart.

It’s filthy is the thing: you’re railing the girl with deep, harsh strokes, and Miyeon’s pussy is  writhing in both protest and penury. She’s so creamed you can hear it through all the sounds of skin on skin, the percussive soundtrack of your thighs slamming up into hers. Each squelch, the wet sinful sound of it—it’s how you know your cock is making a total mess of her wrecked cunt. More and more each time it fills her and brings her that much closer to toe-curling-climax. 

Let me, she breathes against you, barely held together. The hand you have under her asscheek is doing most of the heavy lifting. “Please let me cum, please, please, please let me fucking cum all over this cock, I need to cum on this perfect cock, oh my god—”

When Miyeon finally turns up at you, she’s biting down on her bottom lip again. Her head tilts a bit, something deep and pleading in those big, brown eyes, and it almost, almost makes you feel guilty. Nearly ashamed that this delicate little thing had fallen into your lap and your knee-jerk reaction was to fuck her so hard she started to wail, cracking at the seams.

“Your cock,” she blurts out, breath jagged and uneven, “is amazing. You are—”

Like you said, almost. 

“—amazing.”

There’s nothing you can say to that, is there?

“Again… want to… again…” she demands of you, like she’s in any position to be making any. Her hands are all over you, finally undressing you, and all things considered, you don’t have the heart to tell her no. You’re hoping that never becomes a problem.

Miyeon scoops up easily enough into your arms after her orgasm had knocked the architecture right out of her legs, wobbling against the wall and almost sliding to the floor. And It all plays out again, just minutes later, after you set her on a barstool in your kitchen and slip back inside her. Sure, it’s a different setting, but you recognize it for what it is: the same story, with the same characters and the same ending, the one where you’ve got your cock fucking hard and fast into her cunt.

“Fucking, oh my god…” she rasps, just a waving white flag short of total surrender. “You’re going to make me fucking cum again. Yes, yes, yes—”

Until everything seemingly comes undone at once. And it quickly turns into stuttering cries of please and fuck and need it and all sorts of things you’ll have to promise you never heard, filth unfitting for a perfect mouth like Miyeon’s—the one now curving into that unforgettable shape while she chokes back on moans and mewls. It hits her like a brick, and her head rolls back as she groans, furrowing her brows and screwing her eyes shut.

You tell yourself it’s the fact that she’s so sweet, so docile, and all at the flick of a switch. Just moments after you’ve bottomed out in her pussy—after you’ve sent her higher and higher to where she’s reduced to nothing like the royalty everyone expects of her: needy, begging. 

It’s whiplash really, from callous and cruel to caring and soft in a matter of seconds. Your foreheads come together while you catch your breath. That’s an image all in itself. And when she laughs slightly, there are the quiet tremors, the spasms of her diaphragm clenching around you. It’s hard to tell what’s going through her head, before she covers the exhausted huffs out of your mouth with a kiss that lives in the gray area between sweet and harsh and consuming. Fuck. You’d stay here forever.

(Forever ends up being a hell of a lot shorter than you expect. Because Miyeon takes to cumming on your cock like water takes to paper.)

“Wanna ride,” she tells you, breath having caught up to her and wiping sweat from her brow—something like an inciting incident, taking the two of you all the way to the living room. 

She doesn’t outright tell you that she wants you to just hold her down and fucking use her, but she doesn’t last long on top of you either, leaning back from your lap with her hands hooked around your neck and dragging you forward, until you’re once again spilling over her, pounding her hot, sopping cunt like she needs. 

You’re cautious, usually—responsible. It isn’t like you, really. The excuse you’ll settle into later is that Miyeon’s cunt is impossibly vice-tight when you make her cum a third time. She’s in the midst of being swallowed up in the cushions of your sofa, the soles of her cute little feet pointed skyward, knees folded to her shoulders and pressed under your weight while you make sure she’s well fucked through the apex of it all.

“Good girl,” you tell her—the praise cutting straight to her final lifelines, tearing them to ribbons and leaving them for dead—and you’re shifting the angle, the depth to try and get her to scream the exact same way she did the first time. “Go ahead Miyeon—cum for me, princess. You’re going to fucking cum all over this cock again.”

And she does. Hard.

Quivering. Squirming even, she comes apart, fucked deep and hard into the springs of a chaise lounge and leaving stains on leather that won’t ever quite go away. Though it doesn’t manage to arrive with anything like an announcement, as it had before, heralded by curses and the elegant simplicity of meekly choking out the word cumming through a fit of gasps and hiccups. Her voice now is so fragmented, so utterly debauched and ruined, that she only manages to husk out a pathetic whine.

“So fucking pretty, Miyeon,” you rasp, watching the blush sear right across her nose, “so gorgeous when you cum for me. And god, this fucking pussy…”

The hands on the clock spin out, numbers running forward and back, and you’re long past the point of temperance. Each stroke in and out of Miyeon’s tight, throbbing, well-fucked cunt twists further at the knot in your stomach, the edge of your own, eager to indulge your fair share of recklessness: “Miyeon, sweetheart, I’m gonna cum.”

Miyeon understands immediately. She’s whimpering, nodding, sinking her fingers into your back—it’s not even a question. “Inside me,” she repeats, several times, until you’re hilted completely in her pussy. It’s hot, sweltering, perfect, and you can’t bring yourself to care that you’re pressing a handprint into her thigh so hard that it hurts. That the sounds leaking out of your throat aren’t anything particularly becoming or that you’re fucking your cum deeper into her cunt with each waning thrust or that you’re not sure if you ever had a better fuck.

“Fuck,” you groan, slumping on top of her petite frame once you’re completely finished. So thoroughly milked and drained.

Miyeon brings her small hands up and cups your face. Just stares like you’ve got something stuck to it. Her gaze drops to your lips—and you’re left thinking for a moment that she’s going to kiss you again, though it never does arrive.

“Hey,” you say finally, panting. Both of you are heaving restless. Everytime her chest rises into you, you’re acutely aware of how her small breasts feel against you, her heart still racing as your softening cock is still warm inside her. “You’re staring.”

“Well, I was going to mention it earlier,” she starts, fluttering her lashes and pressing her lips to the crook of your neck, “but you’re kinda my type too.”

-

The least unusual thing happens.

And if you end up thinking for even a moment that Miyeon is being sincere when she suggests you exchange numbers, you haven’t been paying attention. “You know,” she says, sitting in your lap and tapping her number into your phone, “for work.”

“Ah, of course,” you answer, willing to be fooled, if only just a little, “for work.” 

- Narratively, it’s all out of order: the banal text messages, the playful back and forth, the coy innuendos, the precarious game of being interested without asking too many questions. Both of you are quite content to play your cards close to your chest as though she doesn't know how good your fingers feel in her cunt or that you’re somehow not aware of the small freckle on the seam of her pelvis, another on the inside of her left thigh. That’s just how it goes. But it’s fine, you figure. Especially when you compare it to the alternative: of taking things too fast and careening straight off a cliff. To where, historically, you've burned up in a violent supernova of messy hookups and drunk calls and regrets you’ll carry with you into the next life.

A nice change of pace, if nothing else.And it’s hardly anything unusual either, or at least until you’re standing in the grocery checkout line a few days later. Miyeon decides enough with all that about the rules of engagement. She’s going to call you:

“I was planning on swinging by in a bit to grab my watch,” she starts, and you can make out another voice, maybe a friend? A roommate? in the background of the call, getting shh’d by Miyeon before she continues, “I left it in your bathroom. I think. Maybe on the bedside table.”

“Yeah, I was going back and forth on deciding whether that was purposeful or not.” “Accidental. I swear.”

“Still a little convenient though, isn’t it?” “Nothing convenient about not having my watch.” She laughs out loud. Maybe it’s a bit of vanity on your part to make assumptions, but you’ve got her pieced together, at least a little. Everyone else already reveres and adores her—it’s the fact that you’ll level with her, that she loves a proper challenge.

“Well, I won’t be back for quite a bit. I’m running a few errands.” You smile at the lady at the register. She’s halfway into figuring out who you are.

“Why don’t you do me a favor then… bring it with you to the press event on Friday?”

“Now that’s a surprise,” you tell her. “I’d figure you’d take the chance at face value, to get yourself back over to my place either way.”

“Look, if you’re going to make me need an excuse to sleep with you… let’s put our heads together and come up with something later.”

Oh, of course. Let’s, she says, really leaning into the plurality of it, hoping it’s something you can get used to. And given the fact you figure that Cho Miyeon has never been hard pressed to be anyone’s favorite anything, she is incredibly optimistic you’ll see just how sweet of a deal that all is. You’re answering the woman behind the register first: “paper bags are fine.”

“Are you at the grocery?”

“I am.”

“Sounds fun.” she says, after a considerable pause—the length of which tells you she’d rather dip into the mundane with you than hang up. “What’d you get?” “Breakfast cereal, bananas,” you tell her, staring straight into the conversational deadend. If only you knew any writers. You clear your throat, but Miyeon beats you to it, pulling the emergency ripcord: “What would you do if I was there with you?”

“Dunno,” you start, “take you to the bathroom maybe. Go down on you until you cum.”

At this point the cashier has put it all together. She recognizes you, and is unsure whether to be shocked or disgusted or what, so she just hands you your receipt as you shoot your near-award-winning smile back at her and gather your things.

Miyeon laughs. “Has anyone ever told you you’re horrendous at phone sex?”

“I’ve never had phone sex,” you tell her, “seems like a waste of time when you could be instead, you know–”

“Okay,” she interrupts you, “first off, it’s like the first rule in the geneva convention of phone sex: you’re supposed to ask me what I’m wearing. And just for your information, I’m wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt.”

“What color?”

“Yikes. So bad at this; you’re supposed to tell me to start taking it off. It’s a gray shirt, the pants are blue. What are you wearing?”

“A pair of khakis. And a sweater.” “Great. Take them off, slowly.” “Miyeon, I’m in the middle of a parking lot.”

“Okay prude, then you tell me what to do.”

You end up listening to Miyeon from the front seat of your car for almost half the hour. There’s a wistful hum from the other end of the phone every time you tell her what to do with her hand, walk her through every area of her body you want her to touch and how. You let her know about the finger you’re tracing over your own pants and she can’t help but let a soft noise out at the thought of it.

“If you invited me over for dinner right now,” she says after she cums, slightly out of breath, “I wouldn’t say no.”

You stifle a laugh. It’s folklore at this point, but there’s wisdom in it surely, so you’ll lean into that old rite of passage and play hard to get. Love is all about the complications, all the ways it can go wrong: endless rules and customs to observe, obstacles you’re determined to put in the way.

“Oh princess,” you start, knowing exactly how it’ll land in her ear, what it’ll do to her. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

-

The press event itself is simple and straightforward. There’s only ever going to be a singular moment during a movie’s production where no one in the cast wants to murder someone else and it’s in that brief period of time before filming starts. So grab onto that by the horns and show the media what a fun time this is all going to be. Go team, go. 

It’s the same series of questions as always: how did this cast come together, what do you think of the scripts, how is this going to be a challenge for you, what are you looking forward to, etc.

You’ve been through this song and dance enough times now to keep your answers evasive and beguiling, because at the end of the day, it’s the most productive way to do anything in this industry. It’s routine. It’s practiced. But the thing you notice almost right away, is just how infatuated the press is with the girl at the end of the table, how they heel almost immediately to her every gesture, the way Miyeon answers questions all with the confidence of someone’s who’s been at it for ages, but with the doe-eyed blinking naivety of a starlet ready to bare it all. You have to consider that part of the reason the media ends up so hot on Miyeon’s trail is all that god-given wit and charisma and charm. She’ll make fun of herself and her group mates and her co-stars and the staff, and she’ll tease the press and give them shit in a way that makes you feel as though there’s this cool, gorgeous, very important girl who’s noticing you and liking you enough to give you shit. Then sometimes she’ll wink for no reason at all, or she’ll get that flip of her hair over her shoulder just right that you think to yourself: wow, that’s an idol.

It doesn't mean a whole lot to you now, though you’ll be wringing your wrists about it later, but the takeaway here is this: Miyeon is universally loved. Full stop.

Please root for me, she says, again and again. All the stuff she’s supposed to say. I’ll do my best to make everyone happy. And she looks down the table, right at you, when she says: “My co-stars are all so wonderful and I’m so lucky to have them here with me, I’ll go ahead and thank them in advance for taking such good care of me.”

-

The press release is worth nothing to anyone with only the opinions of a bunch of attractive people paid to be on television. What it needs is photos. Specifically the ones where Miyeon hangs off your arm like you two are just a little bit more than meets the eye.

Sex sells. Suggestion is priceless.

So you’re standing there, grinning, wide and open, practiced and sure, toward the army of photographers. You look good. You know you look good. You’d know you look good even if Soyeon hadn’t crossed paths with you behind the stage just a few minutes ago and said, “wow, you look hot,” and “if I was any bit straight, I’d bang you right here.” Though it definitely helped. The exact shade of charcoal on your suit jacket is engineered to make your skin glow, and your hair is coiffed just right so that it sits effortless. You didn’t grow up imagining you’d have hairdressers or a stylist or for god sakes ever be wearing tailor-fit suits that cost someone else a fortune, but that’s how this all works. A rag-tag militia dedicated to making it look both like you’d just rolled out of bed and that’s only how things were ever meant to be—it’s your whole deal, all with the comprehensive appeal of a mischievous smile. The first flash, and you can feel your whole soul dilate in response. Hey! Look over here for me. Click. Click. Click. Raise your chin—hands at your sides—hold that for me—perfect. Click. Click. Click. It’s calming in a way. All the piercing lights, the clattering of camera shutters. The feeling that never grows stale is seeped in the familiarity of it all; your roots are here. It’s home. And there’s something unique about the blur of lights, something hard to put your finger on exactly, that it feels like the perfect backdrop to just zone out in. And the fact that you can’t really hear those anxious, gnawing thoughts in your head over all the shouting, the chattering, the commotion—boy, that feels good too. Though what you can hear is all the cameras turn, in unison. Something like a premonition.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen Cho Miyeon. You know how she looks in and out of her underwear, the way her blonde hair sits on her porcelain shoulders, how she’s all curves and pointed angles in the right places; you’ve seen her up close. Hell, she’d already taken your breath away, which in some regards is completely unfair, now considering that you haven’t any more breath to give. 

She doesn’t care; she’ll leave you asphyxiated, with a smile. Perfectly. It makes it feel like every smile you’ve seen before are just failed attempts. Like this is the real deal. Click. Click. Click.

The thing that has you lost for words is that it’s hard to know where exactly to start. Not only is Miyeon drop dead gorgeous, but here she is, pretending that she’s finding all that out for the very first time, blush burning across her cheeks like she’s not used to the attention. Her hair is pinned up, delicately placed into a perfect bun, wispy blonde strands falling aside her ears. And a pair of long, dangling earrings reflect the camera flashes aimed in her direction, scattering the light in every which way. Then it’s the fucking dress: it’s skintight, champagne, which is a good color on anyone, spectacular on her. You can’t let your eyes dip down all the way through the plunging neckline or you’d be staring at her midriff and thinking just how badly you want to undo the whole thing; pull gently on the tie at the back and let it all slump to the floor; get on top of her and have her cursing. Make her hot and flustered and moaning your name until you shoot a hot load all over that fucking tummy. Jesus. Fuck.

“Hey stranger,” she says, with restrained delivery, still smiling at the wall of flashing lights as she hooks her hand under your elbow.

“You’re late.” Maybe—just maybe—if you can somehow manage to find anything to be at fault, you can keep your thoughts as innocent as her doe-eyed countenance. She tilts her head, pulls back her soft, sweeping hair over one shoulder, and when she gets her eyes on you… god, it’s a tall order.

“Do you have any idea?” she asks, starting in half sentences because there’s not a lot of time between poses. Everyone’s looking at her, looking at the combined-unit, the you-and-her, and demanding more. “Just how hard it is to slip into something like this? I swear to god, I think I’m still holding that first breath.”

“Hey,” you whisper, clasping your fingers together. “You look great.”

“Of course I do.” Her other hand is at your waist, gentle and misleading, much like the rest of her. “Just about any girl would look good next to you.”

Falling is just not the correct term, to be precise. Too clumsy. Hardly does what’s going on here any justice. This is a meticulous process wherein Miyeon delicately binds and traps your heart into love—maybe even the platonic ideal of the femme fatale, and you’ll take twenty, thirty paces into quicksand before you realize you’re trapped, waist deep, unable to move, totally and proper fucked.

“Here,” she says, tugging gently on your arm until you’re hunched over slightly, ear sitting perfectly at her lips where they begin to part, whispering: “This will drive them crazy. Just this little private conversation. They’ll be guessing what I’m telling you here, right now, for weeks.”

You laugh as you watch everyone with a camera scoot to the edge of their seats, expecting something unexpected. On the off chance they’ll get lucky and catch the shape of that murmur out your mouth: “And what exactly is it that you’re telling me here?” “I’m curious,” she starts, “how bad do you think I want you right now?”

Oh. You register your whole body shifting its weight onto the other foot. Twice, the muscles in your legs tensing when she wets her lips with her tongue. A problem, maybe. Your eyes dart about because you’re in front of all these witnesses, and the instinctual urge from somewhere deep and unruly in your head amounts to something like a death wish: to get your hands on her in public, to throw caution to the wind and let her have access to you under all this scrutiny. It’s automatic; you’re leaning back on old habits; humor’s never failed a face like yours. “What, like on a scale of one to ten?”

She leans back, takes both your hands in hers and just grins. “I heard there’s sort of an afterparty later. You going?”

You swallow, collect yourself. “I am.”

“Yeah?” Miyeon’s lip pulls up at the corner, smirk cocked, ready to fire, and her eyes are sparkling, literally; every flash of a camera fills her dark irises with a sharp glister of gold. It’s actually kind of mesmerizing. “Me too.”

“Maybe I'll see you there,” you tell her, leading her to the stage exit.

“Hm, maybe,” she says, and she rubs a few circles into the back of your knuckles. “Though it’d be a sure thing if we go together, wouldn’t it?”

-

Truth be told, you never make it to the afterparty. You get sidetracked. You get distracted.

“Feels so good, oh my god.” Miyeon’s jaw clenches, teeth together so tight you can feel her body tense up. “So deep, so good, so, fuck—”

What Miyeon is ultimately trying to do in the backseat of your car is ride you hard and fast to the point where she’s mixing up her words, gasping for air, and blathering filth and obscenity from her pretty lips. Until her legs lock up and her eyes shut tight before cumming all over your waist. So yeah, the charcoal slacks end up being a little fortuitous.

She bucks into you hard, holding her weight with two hands on your chest, though she can’t bounce up and down on your cock like she’d much prefer. The way her clit rubs against you as she ruts into your hips like a wild animal feels awesome, even better for her, you reckon, but that’s no substitute for the heavensent sensation she gets running down her spine when you fill her starved cunt repeatedly with long, deep strokes. It’s cramped and awkward and your knees and elbows knock and scrape and she’s taking that frustration out on you. As best she can without hitting her head on the ceiling of the car.

You can certainly appreciate the irony of it. Because you’ve got the poster girl for a disney princess in a state of half-dress (half-undress? under duress? it’s not entirely clear), the champagne hem of that dignified gown bunched up around her hips, furling in supplication, and she’s fucking you in pretty much the least elegant fashion possible.

“God dammit,” she spits out before sinking her teeth into her lower lip, as you offer to help her grind on top of you with two handprints sunk firm into the round of her tight little ass.

It’s clumsy and uncouth, though still, riding you amounts to a religious experience for Miyeon, given the way her cunt is quivering, torrentially wet, and so, so, so hot. Clenching on you in something like worship, in adoration. She should probably be more embarrassed about some of the noises she’s making. They’re high-pitched, whining, desperate even. You can’t quite hear what she’s saying—not over the hollow echo of your sex through the small cabin of the car—but there are only so many iterations of, oh my god, please, fuck, faster, harder, need it, right there, faster, I, ah, ohmygod.

“Baby,” you whisper, wrapping an arm around Miyeon's waist and sinking you both further into the seat. “Fuck, I cannot believe this pussy; you’re so tight, fuck—”

She’s still smiling, though it’s absolutely devilish. Maybe that’s the praise she lives for. Everyone’s already telling her she’s gorgeous, that she’s talented, that she's beautiful inside and out, but she just simply can’t get enough of it: how you’ll slap her ass so hard she yelps and growl against her throat, cum in her cunt and tell her she’s perfect.“Want your cum, baby,” she murmurs, cheeks aflame, lips again parting open, “I want to watch you cum in me.”

“Miyeon,” you groan, “such a good fucking girl for me,” and she just nods, like a fantasy come to life.

She lifts herself up again. Comes crashing down. Good fucking god. Every little roll of her hips is a touch more agonizing than the last; she feels so fucking incredible around you that it all betokens danger. You’re buried so deep inside her that if let go of the breath you’re holding you would drown in the heat of her cunt, the velvety touch of her skin, the fact that she smells fucking amazing—all worked up and starting to sweat.

“Can you?” she asks, propping up the tall heel of her shoe onto the seat and trying to ride up and down your shaft just a bit faster, a little harder. You pull at her dress again, twisting it in your hand until you can see where your cock disappears between the creases of her thighs and into the warm embrace of her cunt. She’s fucking you reckless and sucking sharp gasps of air past her teeth, asking, “do you think you can cum like this?”

“You want me to finish in your pussy that bad, Miyeon?” you ask, shifting slightly in the space beneath her. “Want it so much, want to feel it,” she starts to pant, words disappearing in wet exhalation every time her thighs come spilling onto yours. “Want to feel your cock throb in my pussy, want to feel you fill me up.”

Even accounting for the fact that she’s so small on top of you and even easier to manipulate with nothing more than the firm grasp you have on her waist, it’s a whole ordeal to maneuver about the cramped backseat. Especially considering Miyeon would rather die than feel your cock leave her cunt. She lets out a needy whine, like you’ve done her some sort of injustice, when you find a hand under her shoulder and start to move. “Please…” she groans, grabbing desperately at the collar of your shirt. Searching hard for the unrealized potential of the tie around your neck.

You twist and turn, slide and shimmy until you’ve got Miyeon’s arms pinned behind her back, wrists trapped in your fingers and her svelte frame arching into you. It’s a little precarious, and it takes a few tries to find any sort of rhythm—holding her in place and gliding up into where she’s soaked and aching—but the moment you start slipping your cock up into her cunt, it dawns on you: you can absolutely cum like this. She’s so mind-numbingly tight, so hot, so easy to use; it’s not a challenge. Not in the slightest.

“Oh my god.” She cuts off those incredible noises, breath hitching in her throat. She doesn’t have an inkling of how to react; there’s no way around it. Not when you’re fucking her—truly fucking her—within an inch of her life and pulling her small body down onto your cock harder, faster, faster. Again, again.

Miyeon’s hair is the first thing begging to be ruined. Delicately fixed and pristinely manicured. Gentle waves tumbling over her shoulder as you trace your fingers up the curve of her spine, knead at the back of her neck, and thread into a handful of those ash-blonde locks. 

“Fuck.” Her whole body melts into you, and her voice is seeped in lust and need and want: “right there, right there, right there—”

Your fingers tighten in her hair, grip, pull. 

“Feel good?” you whisper into her neck, all this soft pale skin begging for a press of your lips.

“It feels—I, fuck.” Miyeon just stutters, eyes watering and chest heaving through all these incoherent breaths as you drive her to silence. Fuck her to submission.

“Princess,” you start, bringing your other hand up to her cheek. It’s the small details that truly send her: the thumb wiping away at the small tears on her long lashes, how you tuck a few misplaced wisps of golden hair behind her ear, dominance soft and doting—it’s not just the fact that you’ll pull her apart; it’s that you’re the one putting her back together. That’ll never be a secret she keeps from you, you figure, because she’s reduced to a whimpering, shuddering mess when you take her lips softly in yours. A chaste, gentle, unscripted kiss. Unbecoming of the reality that has you currently fucking raw and senseless into her creaming cunt.

“Tell me what you want, Miyeon.”

Sure, you’ve got in your hands the script of sin and innocence, and you’ll settle into an assigned part, a role to play. Though to be truthful, you just simply can’t help yourself. She’s delightful. The whispers out your mouth sink once more against her skin, sweaty and red and hot to the touch. She whines like your words cut right to the bone, lethal. Your hips come up, hilting deep in her cunt, and it’s enough to shake an earring loose and into the depths between the seats; you’ll spend a literal lifetime looking for it later. Her breath hitches, regressing to huffs and sharp draws of air when you drag your cock just along the right spot, apparently.

“Please, please, please,” she begs finally, sputtering with the waning energy of air escaping a balloon.

“I want to know what you need from me,” you tell her, letting your voice come out in such tantalizing fashion that it’s the kind of thing that could coerce the truth out of anyone.

“You,” she rasps, “all of you.”

How quick she turns to putty, muscles softening and tensing all at once. And you’re generously allowing her to take more, capitulating to her pleas of right there and harder please, pushing in as deep as you’ll go. You soothe her when she shudders and quakes—just a broad hand at her back—helping her adjust to you.

“Shit, Miyeon, you look perfect like this,” you mutter, watching the small tears that come from the corners of her hooded eyes. “Can’t get over how gorgeous you look taking me.”

Those small hums and moans leaving through closed lips are all she can muster. She clutches ahold of you even tighter, feeling the sharp bloom of everything trickle closer and closer like a dam about to break.

“Is that what you like to hear, princess?” you ask, fucking her right through her own orgasm and realizing it’s hopeless; you’re going to fall in love again and again with that pink stain in her cheeks. “Do you want to be my cumslut? Let me use your pussy whenever I want. You’re so tight and wet for me, Miyeon. You want my cock all the time, don’t you?” 

Some of it—maybe all of it—hits hard. She starts to shake. You’re fucking her cunt, steady and resolute, even as she fucking collapses, and her lips part like she’s going to wail, though never makes a sound.

“Words,” you order, breathless. “Oh…” It’s slow at first, that steady stream of fuck and please spilling out of her—curses flowing as easily as the air she breathes. You’ve got her at your complete control, a seeming extension of your will, and she presses her forehead to yours, gasping, “want to feel you fucking cum in me. Please do it, do it, I need to feel you, I want your fucking cum in me so bad. Please, please, please fucking make me yours. Do it, need you to use this little pussy and cum.”

You’re deep inside Miyeon, clutching hard around her waist and pulling down on it as you vault over the proverbial edge. Breathing heavy into her chest as you fuck all this hot cum into her cunt. She keeps rolling her hips, slowly, as if by instinct, to ride everything out of you, until you’re yanked back to the here and now.

“Oh my god,” she coos. Because it’d be impossible to not notice, leaking out of her and onto her thighs. 

“Miyeon.” The next sound that comes out of you is near indescribable: gravelly and plucked from deep in your throat. 

“So, so much for me,” she adds with a hint of exultation, running her fingers through your hair. 

Some part of you expected her to perhaps be more resilient, put up some semblence of a fight, but this is Miyeon, you realize—the roughness in your voice, the gentle touch of your fingers, the severity of an open palm, your lips at her throat—she loves it. Her hands are soon again cupping at your face, tongue reaching into your mouth. And she shudders at the way your cock slides out of her pussy.

“Messy,” you murmur into her kiss, quietly, and you hear her swallow when you skate your finger over her hips and down her stomach, tracing gently at the place you were pressed together, thoroughly covered in your cum, her slick.

“Uh.” Miyeon makes a face. Wrinkles her nose. “Gross.”

“Oh please,” you say as she cuddles up to you as far as the backseat of your car will allow. “You know you love it.”

-

Here’s the thing you fail to realize about a girl like her, a girl like Miyeon:

She’s more than just the physical, than the sum of her parts. She’s a feeling.

Oh, there’s plenty about the ways you touch her, the way her hand fits into yours, her hair running silky smooth between your fingers—how you can leave bruises on her thighs and marks on her neck, or reduce her to a whimpering mess with nothing but a firm grip. She laughs and it’s something that moves you to your core. She’s easy to admire from afar. And even easier up close, where you can appreciate the mastery in those brushstrokes.

But pay attention to how your blood drains from your cheeks, how the world stutters on its axis when you look at her. Because you can’t help but feel like you’re living life the way it’s portrayed in fiction when you do. Like you’re slipping into a world where no matter how insurmountable the odds, the good guy always wins.

-

“It’s all bullshit, that’s what it is,” someone is telling you with an almost unsettling confidence, even though their voice is shaky and ever-so-slurred with drink.

You’re sitting there, slightly listless, on one of the stools at a four-top, busy zoning out at the neon smirnoff sign behind the bartender like it might move if you look away for even a second. Your fingers are tapping on the table, and the fact that you can’t taste the kick in your heavily doctored gin and tonic means you’re already drunk. Probably. You’ll have to thank Miyeon later.

“Hey,” the someone starts again, “are you even listening to me?” It’s a little deep, raspy, but it sounds like it belongs to a girl.

No, you think.

“Sorry,” you say after blinking a few times and pulling yourself away from the sign. The girl sitting next to you frowns. “Have we met?”

“Yuqi,” Miyeon says, handing her a beer and setting her own drink down on the table. It’s pink and full of ice and in a ridiculous looking piece of glassware.

It goes without saying that you couldn’t show up to the main event—late, attached at the hip, and with Miyeon’s hair all disheveled and half-repaired like you two were fucking in secrecy—so Miyeon pitches the idea to you while you’re in the middle of wiping cum off your pants with napkins from the glove compartment: If you’re interested, there’s a bar nearby. My friends are there, it’s quiet but it’s nothing too pretentious.

“And you met Sana earlier,” Miyeon adds, lifting her chin in the direction toward the girl buried in her phone, tapping away furiously at a series of text messages—the way she hasn’t looked up in minutes and how her drink is nearly untouched implies some sort of drama. 

It’s kinda weird—you’re realizing you might have a type: they’re all some sort of blonde. Shockingly easy to look at too. With bodies that could fill a nighttime of fantasy, and supposedly somehow they’re best friends? Look, you’ve never seen two pretty best friends; it grinds against cosmic law, ain’t one of them supposed to be not so pretty? (Though maybe the rules are different when you land on odd numbers? If it isn’t all a little perplexing.)

“Know each other from work,” Miyeon explains, holding her hair back from her face and barely touching her lips to the rim of her glass.

“Uh.” Yuqi pops the top of the bottle off against the side of the table. “And we live together.” “Roommates?” you ask, carefully trying to keep your tone from sounding judgemental, and Miyeon gives you a solemn nod. There’ll be time to pry later.

“Look,” Sana says, only after finally putting her phone face down in front of her. There’s a story there. Maybe you’ll hear the end of it. “I’m not saying I’m proud of this attitude, okay, but that’s the truth: I make judgments based on what drink people order.” 

She fixes her eyes on you, and god, she’s gorgeous. It’s a different kind of beauty, a lot less subtle, way more in your face, and she knows she can get away with it. (Though it’s the patented hundred-megawatt smile of hers that’ll stick with you.)

“Like if you were drinking a cosmo or whatever the hell it is Miyeon’s got—”

“What?” Yuqi scoffs, and her eyebrow turns when she sees Miyeon wrap her arm around yours. “And just like that he’s not sexy or sophisticated, smart or virile? Is that it?” “I suppose…” Sana twists her lip between her teeth. “Maybe it’s context?”

“No, that makes sense,” you say, and you dab at a ring of condensation on the table with a bar napkin. “Like I wouldn’t hesitate to take a cosmo if I was stranded in an airport in February and the planes are getting de-iced and the pilots are deciding whether to take off or go home.”

“I’d order a double,” Miyeon says, and you swear she’s closer to you each time you check.

“So then tell us, what’s the quintessential manly drink then?” Yuqi asks, skeptical, and a little disappointed to even be entertaining the question. “If pink cosmos are on one end of the spectrum…” “Dunno.” Sana crosses her legs, and rubs at her chin. “I suppose anything that comes in one of those squat, burly glasses.”

“The kind that real men hurl across the bar at another man’s head,” you deadpan.

“Oh my god.” Sana springs forward in her seat, and her gaze pins you to where you’re sitting. “You get it. Do I know you from somewhere? I swear you’ve got a face that’s familiar.” “Maybe I just got one of those faces,” you tell her, and Miyeon squeezes her fingers gently around your knee. 

“Maybe.” Sana tilts her head, letting out a mostly unentertained chuckle, dry and humorless. You can see the gears slowly churning in her head.

Yuqi’s got her bottle turned up nearly perpendicular to the ceiling, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand—it’s all oddly charming—and she just lets out a wistful sigh. “Someone should make a movie, an old western maybe, where someone flings an oversized martini glass. You could start a movement.”

You’re not really thinking about anything in particular when the conversation ebbs and flows, except that you’re content; buzzed with the bitters in your drink; and the ephemeral touches of the hand in your lap, gentle, curious, teasing. There’s something laid back about being in Miyeon’s company that draws you in, something effortless, like the world seems less maliciously unfriendly, even if she ends up managing to embarrass you in a game of billiards. She finds the table at the end of the bar and readies a flip comment while rubbing chalk into the end of a pool cue. You watch as it leaves white streaks all over her chic dress, and you’re kind of enamored by the fact she doesn’t seem to care. “You’re sure you’ve played before?” she ribs, pulling a hairpin from her clutch, and clipping it to the hair at one temple to keep it from interfering with her game.

“Aren’t you a wealth of talents,” you say, in admiration.

“Do you mean, appearances can be deceiving?” she asks while sizing up a shot, grins—a smile that suggests mischief, which is normal, except that this one invites you to be part of it. “I think you might be putting words in my mouth.” 

“Oh,” she says, and with her lovely, slender, fingers pressing onto the green baize, she sockets three shots in a row. Misses on the fourth. “So now you don’t like me putting things in your mouth, is that it?”

“Hm,” you say, ignoring the obvious bait and lining up a shot. “This is going to be a weird question.”

Miyeon drops her arm and tilts her head quizzically. 

“What do you think of the script?” 

“The one that has us heartbroken and lost and wandering until we rediscover love is right where we left it?” 

“That’s the one.”

Miyeon covers her mouth to laugh when you take your shot and it misses in such grand fashion that you can’t help but hang your head. “It’s the dress shirt,” she says to comfort you.

“I’ll take what pity I can get.”

You’re watching Miyeon in action—hair carefully swept back, earrings sparkling, and heels set firmly on the floor—all together rather enchanting. She makes several more shots, aimed with perfect precision and seriousness, before finally answering you: “dunno, seems a little psychotic.”

“I mean that’s the thing about romance,” you begin, “there’d be no story if the writers weren’t at least a little psychotic.”

“Oh by the way.” Yuqi’s voice booms at that moment, with all the subtlety of a bulldozer: “I’ve gotta take Sana home. She’s late to getting plowed by her new manager. I’ll catch you later.”

“That isn’t—” Sana huffs, pinches at the bridge of her nose, and stops herself short, before reapproaching it in a more bracing way. “I’m telling you he gets all worked up whenever I’m out drinking this late.” 

“Worked up, huh?” Yuqi grins at a parody of a smile, and turns to you, laughing. “That’s how she likes him.”

“Yuqi,” Sana groans.

Miyeon rests her cue up on the table and crosses her arms, smirking in your direction. “Life imitates art, right?

-

“You’ve got a girl here, don’t you?” Minnie asks, at nine in the morning and standing in your living room. It reminds you of the fact that you have a meeting on your calendar on today’s date between you and your agency’s lawyer at nine in the morning.

She's not some expert sleuth. At least, not as far as you're aware. It could be one of any number of things that tips her off: Miyeon’s heels are in your foyer, her champagne dress folded neatly over the back of your couch, or maybe it’s the pair of underwear that landed perfectly on the corner of your television. What it is not, however, is the reddening outline of Miyeon’s lips on your Adam's apple; you’re doing a pretty good job of coyly covering that up with your palm.

“I mean yeah, I suppose you could say that.”

“I don’t know if you could’ve answered that more ominously.” Minnie laughs, shuffling past where you stand in the door frame and setting her bag down on your kitchen island, surveying the mess in your apartment. She stands before you, wearing all black and looking down her nose at you.

(She’d pretty much cornered the market on wearing all black and looking down her nose at you, and you always take a moment to marvel that anyone could live on the earth only twenty-some odd years and manage to wear all black and look down their nose at you with such timeless self-assurance.)

“If you need her to sign an NDA, I’ll have to swing back by the office to pick up the proper paperwork.” “I don’t need her to sign an NDA,” you say, turning on water from the faucet and filling a kettle. The hand you have running through your hair helps you remember that you are still very poorly put together: a mess of bedhead, t-shirt, underwear, and only a singular sock to your name. Not that it matters, you suppose. Minnie’s seen you worse.

“Wow. Things must be getting serious, huh.” Minnie drums her fingers on the counter. “Well whatever it is, I’ve got stuff for you to sign.”

“I thought we walked through all the contract boilerplate already.” “We did.” “And?” “Contracts change.” The pen she has in her fingers, scanning over a stack of papers, is poised. Her slow nod studious, blandly puzzled. “That’s why you need me.”

“Now if that isn’t an unfortunate truth,” you say, and Minnie raises an eyebrow. “Good change or bad change?”

“Depends. Have you met Cho Miyeon, the other lead? She’s cute, blonde.” Minnie hovers her hand an inch in front of her nose. “About yea high.” 

“A few times,” you answer, sorta truthfully.

Minnie tilts her head, and licks her thumb to flip through the first couple pages in the stack. “Well, the producers want you two to be seen. Together. Somewhere high profile and suggestive.”

“Okay.” You’re pouring hot water from the kettle over coffee grounds and a filter when you realize you have no idea what that’s about. You voice as much: “I have no idea what that means.”

“Well, here’s the general thought: they figure they can get some free marketing, brush up a little media buzz, get people talking about this movie if some paps snap some pictures of you two where it looks like you’re—”

“Where it looks like we’re dating. Okay, sure, wonderful.”

“Your words, not mine—or the producers, legally.” You fall silent, thinking: there’s no such thing as fairytales, it was bound to happen, a trip up, a snag, a snare. You know, in essence, it’s trouble.

“Um.” Your shoulders drop. “The producers want a scandal, Minnie.” “Again, I’m not legally allowed to call it that.” She shakes her head, before putting something down on a lined memo pad with great industry. “And if that’s your assessment, you came to it all on your own with no help from me.”

But yes, she mouths to you silently. You got it, aren’t you clever, now play along.

“Does this not feel like shaking a hornet’s nest?” you ask her. “Surely there’s a better way to go about receiving death threats; she’s a damn idol.”

“She certainly is,” Minnie says, passing you the pen and giving you her practiced professional-but-still-definitely-sardonic-smile that always manages to emote, please don’t be difficult. If she’s hoping it inspires confidence, it does not. “Sign the new contract.”

You’ve got plenty of reasons to have reservations, but here’s a fun fact not a lot of people know: there’s a part of you perfectly content shutting up and doing what you’re told. Maybe it’s something about pretty girls with dark eyes, long legs and a curl in their lip that upstages anything like subtlety—an Achilles heel of sorts. Except instead of your mother forgetting to bathe your feet in the river styx, you’ve just got some mother issues in general.

“There,” Minnie says, watching you initial on the dotted line. “Was that so hard? Someday, you’ll look back and think, yeah, that’s where it all goes to shit.

-

Three weeks into filming, you make good on your promise.

It would have been neater, perhaps, if all the sneaking around and impropriety caught up with you and used this moment as a catalyst: if, filled with embarrassment, you owned up to everything that was going on between you. Might’ve saved you some hurt.

You watch Miyeon’s hand shoot up to her mouth only to find whimpers leaking out from beneath her palm.

What if all those cameras had instead gotten pictures of you and Miyeon here, in the restroom of a cafe that Miyeon swore up and down would be crawling with paparazzi—where Miyeon had dragged you by the wrist halfway through a bottle of dry chardonnay, locked the door behind her, and flicked the skirt of a her floral dress up over her hips. Imagine the way it would look: you on your knees, face buried between Miyeon’s legs— 

“I swear… your fucking mouth,” Miyeon murmurs, fingers running through your hair. 

—all you know is that it would have been a different kind of disaster.

“Oh,” she moans, and you swallow heavily at the sight of her above you, following the movement in her face: every wince, every flinch, pleasure absolute and wringing her dry. She’s pretty as always, eyes dark and twinkling under the cool fluorescent lights. It’s that damn blush again, and you’re convinced eating Miyeon out feels like the most normal thing in the universe, like you’ve done it a million times before, and you’ll do it a million times more. Just listen to how Miyeon’s breath stutters when you lap softly at the heat between her lips, lifting her hood and swirling her clit once, twice, before bringing the narrow point of your tongue back to the shallow depth of her aching entrance. She shudders at all how you tease her, slick pooling in your mouth, down your chin; a pinched off moan filling the bathroom when you add another finger inside her. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” she says, gasping out on top of an embarrassed little sigh each time time she bucks against the touch of your hand. You spread her lips, get your tongue flatter, deeper, and she drops her shoulders, laughing in that high-pitched skittery way she does when she’s struggling not to cum all over you with her eyes clenched shut.

It’s a sight to behold: Miyeon twisting her brows and biting into her lower lip—chewing off all the lip-gloss you know she just put on because you watched her make a show of it at the table like it was the most delicate thing in the world. She looks soft, docile even, and hums out a wistful note when you squeeze your hand into her thigh. Swallows back a moan when you reach up and knead at her chest. Yeah, she is soft. Tender and malleable and perfect. How easily you keep her pinned in place with just a flex of your wrist.

“Now would you look at that, princess,” slips out of you, totally carefree, lifting your lips from her pussy and wiping the wet from your chin. She sways slightly, and you’re leaning into her space, voice nearly coming out breathy and flooded as hers, asking, “You’re so wet, Miyeon. How do you want me to make you cum? On my fingers?”

Miyeon just sighs, lust and need glittering in her eyes. If there’s anything you’ve picked up from all of this so far, from all the raunchy sex, every manner in which she’s puddled in your grip, all the times she’s begged for you to hold her down and rail her—more than anything else, Miyeon loves, loves, loves to be teased. 

But it’s the way her smile stretches, just perfectly, or even just one glance from those doleful eyes—fuck, goddamnit, one day I am really going to fucking die written into the shy curve of her lips—you’re never quite that cruel. Her panties are dropped to the floor and hanging around her ankle, soaked, ruined, but that doesn’t mean she needs to be too; you bring your lips back to her pussy. Fingertips curling up against that spot that drives her up the wall and your tongue running laps around her swollen clit.

“Oh, like that,” Miyeon whines, barely able to make any noises louder than a whimper, “just like that, please, yes, like that—”

And then you catch the aching swell of her clit between your lips. Slowly, start to suck.

“God,” she breathes out, still writhing from the fingers you have inside her, your thumb rubbing against wet, slippery skin, right how you’ve learned she likes it. And she gasps, head rolled back, brows furrowed up: “Oh, yes, oh God, you — you’re perfect. It’s — ”

That really never gets old.

Everything stills for a moment. Everything besides your fingers fucking her quietly while her orgasm quakes through her. She’s catching her breath, staring at you—skin dewy with sweat and chest heaving. Her warmth wraps around you, surrounds you, and you’d be content to stay like this forever, pressing kisses into her stomach and never, ever letting go.

That is until she looks at you, lashes fluttering, as if she’s trying to gauge your emotions. Until she speaks. “I want it,” she gasps, breath steadying, “I want your cock.”

She knows you, right down to the basics: you can never deny her anything.

-

(You’re being cautious—covering your tracks, you convince yourself—but then there’s all this evidence to the contrary, no shortage of close calls, times where you’re so nearly caught: Miyeon’s lithe, tight body grinding desperately against yours in a costume closet or her dressing room or in the backseat of your car; the way she keens when you slip your fingers inside her, how she wails in delight when you really fuck her in earnest; you cutting off those unabashed moans with your mouth or your hand or even just two fingers shoved between her lips so she might have something to bite down on.

It’s this whole thing, the sneaking around, the indiscretion—Miyeon loves it. And the danger of it all become something like a siren’s call, you are just as attracted to the idea too, that you’re masking who you are in the dark, just past drawn curtains and under fitted sheets.

“Wow, I never noticed, but you guys are, like, weirdly close,” Soyeon says once, sometime near the beginning, and perhaps when you’d begun to stare a little too obviously as Miyeon was tying her hair back. It has you both laughing off the observation as something trivial, like Soyeon was the odd one out for noticing anything at all. But fast forward a few hours, and you’re sprawled out on a set of hotel linens, having a laugh again all while Miyeon fucks herself on your hard cock, delighted at how easy it is to conceal everything in plain sight.)

-

“Um,” Yuqi says, walking into the living room of Miyeon’s apartment with her laptop precariously perched on her forearm.

You’re out there on a Wednesday, hanging out, kissing Miyeon every now and again, but talking mostly. The rationalization is that you’re practicing and memorizing lines, ironing out kinks that aren’t really there. Which is all how you know things are getting out of control, if not among the other hints: Miyeon’s added a spare toothbrush in the cup on your bathroom vanity, a pile of women’s laundry atop your washing machine that never grows any smaller, beauty products under the sink, and there’s all those damn bobby pins that show up in every corner of your apartment. “It’s just casual”, you overhear her say once, on the phone with Sana, and you do your best to never, ever think about it.

“You idiots, you’re trending.” Yuqi sits down on the sofa next to you, not at all disconcerted that you’ve got your hand in the ends of Miyeon’s hair or that she’s practically sitting in your lap. You learn pretty quick that Yuqi feels like she belongs anywhere. In some ways, that’s her charm. “And?” Miyeon asks, dismissive.

“Are you both insane?” Yuqi turns her laptop around so you can read her feed.

There’s a series of pictures on the screen attached to a headline that starts with breaking in bold capital letters, like its only true purpose is to fuck up the internet. Your eyes start on Miyeon first, the tilt of her chin, her fingers floating across her collarbones, smile radiant—looking at you the way she always does when she’s mentally undressing you. Fortunately, she’s still perfectly made up, hair tied up above her shoulders and the mascara under her eyes not quite yet running; this photo is before you made a mess of all that, gotten her moaning your name in the restroom. You’ve got your hand at the back of your neck, and you’re laughing. The glint in your eye screams complicity. 

Miyeon says emptily, “you’re overreacting.” 

Yuqi’s frown deepens fractionally, but you’re putting the pieces together. It’s pretty unhinged.

 “Christ,” you start, “get a look at some of these retweets: I’m just thinking of what those kids would look like, the genetic payout; fuuuuuuck I need to see that sextape.” You laugh. “Look, this one just says: sex.”

Miyeon leans forward in your lap, cheek nearly pressed against yours. “Here’s one: how much do you wanna bet Miyeon tops when they—”

Yuqi bursts out laughing, clearly almost snorts, and you both raise an eyebrow at her. “What? This girl here isn’t topping anyone.”

“Shut it.” Miyeon rubs her hand at her chin, turns her eyes up at you, and without an ounce of irony continues, “How much do you wanna bet? That these are your fans.”

Yeah, probably not, you think. “I’m sorry. Do you have any idea how my demographic skews? Not like your fans who are…” Miyeon’s face lights up. “Are delightful?” “Have a sock at home with Miyeon’s name on it?” Yuqi chimes in, grinning. “I mean if somebody wants to make a puppet of me,” Miyeon says, practically huffing out the words, “that’s not really any of your concern.”

Yuqi makes a face. You watch as she slowly twirls one of those long waves of pink hair around her finger (strawberry blonde, Miyeon called it, and you don’t know shit all about that, but it does sound pretty, so that fits, you guess). It goes all the way down to her waist, and you’ve noticed, possibly for a second or third time, that she looks killer in a pair of high cut jeans—what all with the long legs and an ass that more than plenty fills them out, she could be peddling denim on a Levi’s catalog.

“What should be your concern,” Yuqi says, “is that the internet thinks you’re getting railed on the regular.” It’s quick—blink and you’d have missed it—her eyes lingering for a moment on your expression before she lifts her chin and laughs, dryly, almost nervously to fill the silence. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

-

Yuqi’s expertise, first and foremost, is talking. Go ahead, take a moment to consider how wildly dangerous that is, for a girl with a face like hers and a body like that to be good at talking. Every so often you catch her staring at you with her huge, beautiful eyes, these deep pools of pure anthracite; the sort of charming that keeps you smiling and laughing without even knowing why. She’s equal parts badmash and coquettish, you realize, and somewhere in the seamlessness with which she swaps between the two is a hint that both are facades. (That there exists a third Yuqi, the one who determines which mask is appropriate for which occasion but who is otherwise veiled, obscured, entirely impossible to know.)

Whatever your theory for it, the charm, the innuendos, the suggestion, it all gets dialed up to eleven.

Yuqi suggests you stay for dinner in a way that is impossible to refuse, and Miyeon grumbles something inaudible, but you think you’re able to piece it together: this is a regular thing for them. Miyeon and you haven’t talked numbers or cleared up the bodycount, haven’t talked about anything serious at all—the most incriminating thing between you being Miyeon laying her head on your chest, cunt still full of your cum, saying, I’m really glad I met you—of all of Miyeon’s princes-in-waiting, you’d be a fool to think you were the first. And you’re willing to wager Yuqi’s done all this before.

“Hey, how do you take your whiskey?” she asks, pouring olive oil over a bowl of cherry tomatoes and chopping a sprig of fresh basil. If Miyeon wasn’t glaring at her, the quirk in Yuqi’s lip has you swearing she would’ve thrown a wink in your direction. Just for good measure.

“Neat is fine,” you tell her, and Miyeon rolls her eyes. -

It’s actually not true that Yuqi kisses you first. Not the whole truth anyway. “Hard to explain it in words, huh?” she asks, leaning into your space and nearly pushing you over the back of the sofa. Her knee is between your thighs, pressing up on your crotch in a way that feels good and threatening. She knows that’s the only thing she needs to keep you in place, so she leaves her hands at her chest, fingers toying with the top button of her shirt—ruminations of whether to unbutton it herself or wait for you to finally tear the whole thing off her.

(There’s a million different ways you could do this, but you’re perfectly content seeing how this plays out.)

“With just a few of them that is,” Miyeon says, drying her hands with a towel at the kitchen sink.

“Oh,” Yuqi starts, and her lips twist into an approximation of a smile. “You’re saying you two don’t have a label.”

“We’re coworkers technically,” you tell her, faux-casual, like it doesn’t beg twenty more questions.

“I don’t know; the internet thinks you guys are in fucking love.” Yuqi’s fingers come to a decision: slipping the button out of place with a little effort and resting at the next one down. Her neck is pale and tender and you’re only pulling away long enough from the glint in her big gorgeous eyes to know you want to get your lips on it. “And you’re telling me you wouldn’t be jealous—even a little—if I started sucking his cock.” 

She gets jealous easy, is how Yuqi explains it to you, freeing an ounce of soft cleavage, a sneak of black lace with another button. Look, it’s just chemistry—you have it with everyone. Who can fault you for it?

“Hm.” Miyeon shrugs, looking put upon, and leans back against the counter where she spends a long moment with her arms crossed, before running her thumb across her chin. “Can I mention something?” “Anything for our princess,” Yuqi says, finally touching you. Just two fingers at your sternum. “Right?” “Why is it you’re never the one bringing anyone home?”

“I’m not a slut,” Yuqi says, straight-faced, and Miyeon’s whole expression goes awry. That’s probably where she seals her fate.

Not that you think for a second Yuqi had recused herself from the attention of boys, girls—none of it in short supply—and for all her “fidelity”, you refuse to believe the things she does with her words are unintentional, that her talent for seduction is somehow innate, something god-given.

“How can you be so sure?” you ask, fingers threading through Yuqi’s hair until she tilts up her chin and smiles.

Eventually there comes a moment where Miyeon meanders around the kitchen island and gets a hold of you. Figuratively and literally; eyes hardened on you in a way you’re not sure you’ve seen before. 

Mine, is what she’s telling Yuqi in no ambiguous terms, hands hooking into the waist of your pants.  

“Tell me something,” Yuqi starts with your name on her lips, “does she beg for it? When you’re fucking her, does she whine and cry until she’s collapsed and panting? Really, I’m curious. Does she look at you with those pretty eyes and plead for you to pump her full of cum?”

“Yuqi,” Miyeon says, kind of sharply.

To be clear, you’re not totally without blame here either, seeing the opportunity as it appears, seizing it for yourself—and you say the words as you think them: “it’s kind of her thing, I guess.”

“Total cumslut, right?” Yuqi’s hands are all over your arms, your chest, and you’re spread in both directions, reaching around Miyeon’s waist, and toying at the tight fit of Yuqi’s jeans. She leans forward a little, side-eyeing the way Miyeon’s lip ever so slightly curls when she enters that anxious proximity a breath's distance away from you, whispering: “I’m nothing like that, I’m so much better.”

“You’ve got a real mouth on you,” Miyeon tells her, watching her shirt fall down her petite shoulders. “You know that?” Yuqi’s eyes are flaring hot, dripping with untoward intent, and they stay on you just long enough for her to make certain you’re paying attention before she turns to Miyeon. “I know you love this mouth.”

You realized it long before dinner, it’s true, probably long before today: Yuqi likes you, which, at present, is pretty obvious. She likes it when you smile, likes it when you rub your hand at the nape of your neck and laugh at her witty one-liners, likes it when you ruffle your hair just like you’ve done in front of the camera your whole life. Yuqi likes you just as Yuqi likes Miyeon, and she’s twisting her hand at your shirt tighter yet, hoping one of you might just kiss her. “Miyeon,” you say after an inhale, commanding tone right where you left it, and it’s comical how fast both girls heel. Isn’t that good to know. Filing it away in a mental folder of sorts, you straighten yourself onto your feet, slowly. The thing that ends up flipping the table—the thing that has Miyeon’s expression of general discontent rally to something a little more impending—is just how much taller you are than Yuqi. And when that hits her, swallow visible through the hollow of her throat, there’s a waver in that deadly expression of hers, a weakness, something you can exploit. Your hand finds purchase under Yuqi’s jaw, gently, and you tilt her face toward you like you’re about to kiss her. Only instead, you run your thumb across her lower lip and say, “I don’t blame you, her mouth is gorgeous.”

“And?” Yuqi finds her composure quickly. “What do you want this mouth to do?”

 “Oh, Yuqi,” Miyeon says, malice hidden under a voice tender and semi-sweet, before you can think to prepare an answer. She’s twisting Yuqi’s bra strap between her fingers as it comes down around her shoulder. “I want you to get me ready for his cock.”

“I,” Yuqi starts— 

“Hm?” Miyeon asks, and that’s a pitch in her voice you’ve never heard. You’re looking over both of them enigmatically, ready to walk away from this with a clear picture of who Yuqi is, obviously, but then it’s the expression on Miyeon’s face—so unbothered, so lewdly satisfied, you have to know more.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m just gonna watch.” Yuqi reaches up on her toes before Miyeon can react. 

Kisses you right in front of her.

-

It’s not really clear to you who, if anyone, is piloting this thing, only that it’s moving at near out of control speeds. And even though Miyeon’s bed isn’t even quite big enough to hold you all, that ends up doing little to slow either of them down. 

Miyeon is between your legs, preening a few strands of glossy hair back behind her ear that have real determination to keep falling in front of her face. You’d offer to help, to get your hands in it and pull tight, but you’ve come upon an acquired taste for the blowjob Miyeon’s barely giving you right now. A masterwork in its own right: a certain finesse in each flick of her tongue, the soft cushion of her pouty lips, the way every gentle kiss finds you that much fucking harder in her fingers. She drags her tongue up, tastes the pre-cum weeping from your cock. Just smiles like she knows how bad you want hold her tight and fuck her throat. The glint in her doe-like eyes tells you that you will.

She gets it. Terror lives in anticipation, not the bang. That sanguine expectation of pleasure becomes pleasure in of itself. Her instincts tell her to tease, tell her to kiss and lick; only when you’re finally shuddering a wet breath through your teeth, does she part her lips around the head of your cock and start to suck.

She takes in an inch, maybe another. Slides her tongue slowly under your cock, and christ, her mouth feels fucking amazing.

You sigh like you’re stepping into a hot bath, and Miyeon’s satisfaction is equally palpable: corners of her mouth stretching around you into a pretty little smirk, something you’re more than happy to feel running up and down your cock until she slacks her jaw and takes you in full, past her soft, wet lips.

Though when finally you look up, you realize Yuqi’s barely on the bed actually—just one knee and it looks precarious—unfazed that she’s spilling off the end; working her hands into the bottom of Miyeon’s skirt like she’s done it a thousand times. She drags her underwear down her thighs, and Yuqi reminds you that she’s got the exact kind of wicked streak that’ll never let an opportunity go to waste:

“Oh,” she says, head up over Miyeon’s ass, blinking in admiration, “she’s even buying new lingerie for you, huh? I didn’t realize how head over heels—”

“Jesus Christ.” Miyeon’s lips are still half complicating themselves with your cock; she pumps her slender fingers around you in consolation, and murmurs, “do you ever fuck? Or you all tease.”

“Well if you insist,” Yuqi purrs, a mean tilt to her voice—because in the end, she knows that she wants to; that with her small body right between you, like this, there's plenty of her to share; that when it comes to Miyeon, there always is. “Hm,” she hums, slipping a finger or two inside Miyeon’s pussy. Your vision of it being the way Miyeon’s face twists delightfully, eyebrows sewn together in a perfect discord with the rest of her angelic features. “Baby, you’re so wet—”

“She loves the attention,” you say, and Miyeon’s eyes track yours while she lowers her lips slowly down your shaft once more. “If I had to guess, the only thing better than me fucking her perfect little cunt, is if there’s an audience there to watch it.” Your hand rests below Miyeon’s ear, fingers kneading at the back of her neck and guiding her just enough so that her tongue is flat and slick where you want it. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

Yuqi separates her lips from Miyeon’s asscheek, that heavy, open-mouthed kiss at the curve of creamy skin coming to an end just long enough to catch you smirking. She’s fucking the girl’s cunt open with her fingers, slowly, reminding Miyeon that she doesn’t have it confused—that she knows she’s nothing like the princess everyone believes her to be, that she’s so much more. “Always such a good slut, baby. Go on, show me how you take that cock.” “How about you come over here,” you tell Yuqi, before looking back at Miyeon’s eyes, innocent and blinking like she isn’t taking you in and out between her tightly-sealed lips. “Help me cum in her throat.” At that, you feel Miyeon’s jaw slack open even further, and the fingers she has corkscrewing around you find room at your hips instead. It’s hard to get over how perfectly submissive she can be, the way this always plays out; you’ve never needed anything like safewords, because Miyeon trusts you implicitly. Trusts that you’d never, ever hurt her. Trusts that you’ll get your hard cock in her and fuck her until her knees are wobbling and she’s practically unable to walk. Trusts that you won’t even hesitate when she asks for more. Yuqi lands a few more kisses at Miyeon’s cunt, along her ass, and then, without warning, sinks her teeth into all that soft, pliable skin. Miyeon winces, something you can feel, a sharp moan becoming sealed in against your cock and leaking slightly between her lips like it’s the drool running down your shaft. Apparently the image of you firing off a salvo of cum deep in Miyeon’s throat is as hot as it sounds, because Yuqi is grinning like a cheshire cat as she slides off the bed. “I just hope you realize you’re on the docket for quite a lot here.”

“What’s that, high expectations?”

“A lot more than a throatpie,” Yuqi says, hopping onto the bed next to where you’re sitting, where you’re slowly fucking Miyeon’s mouth. Each time you lift her face up and down the length of your cock, you feel the back of her throat, start to catalog the noises she makes as she starts to slobber onto you.

“Yeah,” you say, fisting a second hand into Miyeon’s hair. “I was kind of counting on it.”

“Go figure.” Yuqi’s voice is low and raspy, right into your junction where your shoulder meets your neck. She reaches an arm around you, leaving ephemeral kisses at your jaw, your cheek, getting her lips right next to your ear, where she whispers, “you’re actually kinda depraved.”

“Well, welcome to showbiz, I guess.” “Hm,” Yuqi says, watching you shudder as her fingers arrive around the base of your cock, fucking you with them in tandem as you sleeve yourself in out of Miyeon’s hot mouth like she’s some toy to be used, to be fucked, to be ruined.

Your mouth opens and closes, twice, before sputtering, “I’m actually—”

“One of the normal ones?” Yuqi tightens her grip. She’s picking up all that slick drool and precum where it threatens to leak onto your waist, and it makes her touch every bit as life-endingly-incredible as the tight fit of Miyeon’s mouth. The combination of which has you groaning audibly.

“Yeah, sure,” you breathe, “something like that.” 

“And a narcissist too.” Yuqi pulls at your face to unstick your gaze from the sight of your cock disappearing between Miyeon’s soft, pretty lips. You recognize the touch of her hand as it wanders down to your balls, gently, but still very much present. And right after the silence stretches, just a little too far, she says, “aren’t you two just perfect for eachother.”

Yuqi kisses you hard. These sweltering, stinging, asphyxiating kisses that grab at your lips with no intention of letting go, and everything becomes oddly quiet. All you can hear, outside of those messy, strangled sounds from Miyeon’s throat as you fuck your cock into it, is the dull pulse of blood rushing through your head. It’s as if the two of them are pleasure in resonance, channeling onto the same wavelength: Miyeon’s tongue is doing just about fucking everything each time you pull your throbbing cock out of her throat, and she slips it past her lips—starts lapping—when you weave your fingers in her hair even tighter. She gets messier, sloppier, her composure fading like it’s the mascara beneath her eyes. You can feel the flutter of her lashes against your waist right as you pull her mouth back down your shaft. It’s hot and wet and you don’t even realize you start bucking your hips, dragging Miyeon’s lips around your cock quickly, quicker, quicker—

“God,” you mutter, final threads torn apart, and that’s the exact reaction that has Yuqi smiling against your teeth, whispering into your lips, can feel you fucking throbbing. Cum in her for me, cum in her throat. Cum.

Mnnph.

Yeah, that’ll push you right to the edge, teetering. In freefall, actually, jaw snapping shut first—fingers shortly after—you tug hard at where you’ve gathered slipshod pigtails of shimmering, silky-smooth hair, and Miyeon quite nearly chokes as you release everything into her mouth, deluge-like. You’re going to make a mess, you think. You’ll make more.

Mmnnppph.

Okay, it’s filthy is what it is; the sounds of it alone are fucking filthy. That seal of soft lips around you starts to break, leaving you with the flood of cum and spit spilling down your cock and into Yuqi’s fingers as Miyeon gasps at an overwhelmingly desperate draw of air. The struggle to swallow you down is beyond unreasonable, but she brings her mouth back onto you again—closes her eyes and sucks. 

“All of it,” Yuqi whispers still. That’s the kick, and your whole body commits to sighing as she jerks your cock into the wet heat of Miyeon’s mouth. She twists gently, pumping, pulling, fucking every last bit of tension out of your muscles and draining it thoroughly into Miyeon’s throat.

(So that’s what you like, is how you think Yuqi says it, eyes studying your torn expression in equal parts apathy and awe.

She licks your cum off the sharp edge of her knuckles, from between her fingers, and she glances down at where Miyeon is still lapping her tongue at sensitive skin and sucking and cleaning you between her lips. Her lipstick is smeared, makeup running, with tears visible at the ends of her lashes, her cheeks still burning hot and embered. Miyeon looks perfect in many ways, but only flawless in one.)

“Good lord.” Yuqi’s eyes are creased in laughter near the end of your recovery, lighting fast and pulling you over Miyeon’s delicate frame. It’s the kind of laughter that’s genuine and contagious. Sweetly harmonic.

Calling you to join in while you glide your cock between Miyeon’s thighs and press the small of her back into her mattress until she’s practically prone to the bed, tight little ass angled up, proffering, and simply begging for you to pound away. 

“And I mean this in the most respectful way possible,” Yuqi says, with a hair tie between her teeth and fixing back her long waves into something more manageable, hoping it might be something you can pull and yank. What’s the saying—a brave man dies once, but a coward ought to know that Yuqi will always, always, always get what she wants.

“You two are actually really fuckin’ weird.” Her eyes are smoldering, lips quirked into a careless little grin. “I love it.”

-

“Alright, I’m going to have to ask,” Miyeon says, “do I need to be worried about this?”

Someone probably should be. The realization you’re hurdling into is that there exists both a waking up with Yuqi and a waking up with Yuqi, much in the same way there exists both a sleeping with Yuqi and a sleeping with Yuqi.

The three of you do first wake up together, just this ridiculous tangle of limbs that really only has one realistic conclusion, and when Miyeon reminds you—bent over the bathroom sink minutes later and cumming on Yuqi’s fingers—she has to be at the studio in an hour to refilm a few of her over-the-shoulders shots, and it’s not fair that you get to laze around all day, and that her manager is literally going to be here to pick her up any minute, Yuqi and you do the most natural thing in the world. You continue waking up.

You wake up in the shower, on the kitchen island, back again in Miyeon’s room since it’s already kind of fucked up anyway; Yuqi wakes you up all while her knuckles turn white around the door handle of the refrigerator, the back of the living room sofa, and it’s not really that convincing when she turns to Miyeon, one eye shut tight, and tells her, “no, not at all.”

Because when you try to voice something similar, your words get caught pretty deep in your throat, stuck and unmoving. That's become pretty familiar. It’s all pretty fucked, actually.

Yuqi’s on her knees in front of you, fist tight around your cock and jerking all this hot cum onto her face. There’s sin tucked everywhere into these pages. Particularly on her nose, her lips, her cheek, bisecting one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows. You have your proclivities. The tendency toward destruction, toward ruin, and what is Yuqi if not a gorgeous masterpiece begging for someone, anyone to be just a little destructive and ruinous. She flinches every time it hits her, pumping her fingers around your cock again until a rope of creamy white flies right into her pink hair. 

We’re fine, is what you tell Miyeon, huffing and repeating yourself: “We’re fine, I’ll catch you later.”

Miyeon crosses her arms, and that’s when it becomes a little clearer. The juxtaposition here is striking and immediate: black heels, black leggings, pencil skirt, prim and pressed white-collared shirt, the cute little suit jacket that fits barely over her dainty shoulders—she’s dressed head to toe in business casual like she’s about to put in eight hours hole-punching or making copies or writing emails and it’s so effortlessly sexy that the only thing that could possibly distract you from it—

“He’ll be fine,” Yuqi says, not even chagrined in the slightest that she’s fucking covered in cum. You watch her stand up, wipe her eyelashes free of mess with the back of her forearm, and start leading you to the window with her wrist still flexing out tiny motions around your cock. “I’ll make sure of it.” 

“Just a reminder,” Miyeon shouts, even-pitch and tone slightly indignant, which makes a lot of sense. “You promised you’d sit in for my line reads.”

“And I will.” 

It’s almost idiotic—here you are, the expert in the room, a professional in spinning ludicrous little lies, purveyor of fantasy and fiction and fuck if it’s not obvious that you’re planning on fucking Yuqi’s pretty little cunt until you’re both forgetting how to function. Miyeon reads that from across the room. From where the stench of sex is so heavy it’s probably hitting her too.

“Oh relax princess,” Yuqi says to her, and her lips slant to something more mischievous. Her shoulders are slumped back against the pane of glass and she’s rubbing the head of your cock through the soaked folds of her pussy. Neither of you are in search of ideas, for inspiration. Want for nothing. You’ll fucking ruin this little cunt—get me screaming and so addled I can’t speak straight, Yuqi’s telling you with just the corner of her mouth, curling. 

You grab hold of Yuqi, grappling with her for a moment before you spin her around in your hands—until her tits are plastered onto the window. It’s a show of force, a drill in shock and awe admittedly, but also you’ve got two perfect rows of bite marks above your collarbone. Honest to god, a full dental record, right in your shoulder. You sense the inspiration in it. Yuqi fucks like there’s inspiration in it, like she’s trying to kill you, in a way, but you’re paid for maintaining an image just a tad more wholesome than that. Ideally with a little less blood where a camera could catch it.

“Jesus christ,” Miyeon says, tapping away at her phone. “You guys are gross.”

“He promised. Didn’t he?” Yuqi mutters against the pane, the condensation in her breath fogging immediately. If that isn’t a perfect preview of what you’ll do to her. Perfectly premeditated by the way she fucking keens when you slip back inside her tight cunt. And Miyeon is very unimpressed with all of it: “Yeah okay, whatever, I don’t care, stay hydrated or something. I’m going to wait downstairs.”

“Told you,” Yuqi purrs, grinning all over you, in the breadth of quiet that the door leaves slamming shut behind Miyeon—stage exit, fade to black; you know that sometimes the magic of film isn’t what’s shown on camera, but rather what isn’t. 

“Told me what?” you ask, still enthralled by how Yuqi is so small underneath you, how when you’re both reaching for control, you don’t really even care if she beats you to the draw.

She gets jealous, Yuqi’s trying to explain, in between the sounds of you fucking her open and raw. You hesitate. Like you haven’t always had that effect on people, blossomed into blessing, complexed into curse. You reach your hand up Yuqi’s ribs, her chest, around her throat, and let your words bite at her ear: “oh, I think you will too.”

-

“I get hate mail,” you tell Miyeon. You’re on set the following week, ducking out of the path of a mic boom that is swinging way too fucking low, and there’s this story trending that heavily suggests you and Miyeon are knocking boots and it has a few disheartened fans absolutely outraged. “Like physical hate mail, in envelopes and stamped and everything.”

“It’s because of the stubble,” she says, rubbing a finger under your jaw. The girl in charge of costuming is adamant that beard prosthetics are lazy and cheap and you are neither. Even if you need it for only one scene. “It makes you look…”

“Uncouth?”

“Rakish,” she says, blinking. And as an afterthought: “Like, of all your thoughts, the one you have of pulling my shirt up and kissing at my tits until they’re sore is somehow the least vulgar.” 

Her shoulders pull up into the slightest shrug. “I mean I’m into it,” she adds.

“That’s not fair,” you tell her, “I’m not considering anything like that.”

Miyeon pulls you aside and up one of set’s staircases to nowhere, fingers warm at the crook of your elbow, and says, “well, it’s all I can fucking think about.”

-

Take a second for some personal reflection: you’ve never really tried to make a habit of anything and at the same time been successful. When it happens, it just kind of happens. We are what we repeatedly do.

In a way, it all started in public, this thing between you and Miyeon. Your roots are here, out with the blurs of passing people, daring to be seen, to be recognized, to be identified. You had long thought—and think, you do, particularly when doing the unthinkable—that a girl like Miyeon would steer away from the prospect; fucking you instead in private, comfort realized in the security of drawn curtains and shuttered blinds. A stark contrast to the part of your lives lived out in the open, subject to scrutiny and skepticism, unguarded from microscopic observation.

She only has everything to lose, you understand. And you aren’t more than a few paces behind her either. Reckless, she’s muttering while you sink to your knees and get your fingers up her skirt, so reckless—like this whole thing isn’t her idea.

The crazy part about all this that you actually do get caught. Not just one time either. 

You’ll bring it up in discussion with Soyeon later, when you run into her at the movie’s premier event and you’ve realized the value of having a good confidant:

“I literally told you one thing,” she’ll say, hands on her hips and looking like the mother that has to call the school, has to call the parent of the window you’d shattered with a baseball. It’ll all be highly disappointing. You are unbelievable—is what she won’t be able to say, even though she’ll really, really want to—I told you not to sleep with Miyeon and you slept with Miyeon why would you sleep with Miyeon you absolute moron.

-

There’s the time on set: in a fucking storage closet of all places. You’ve got Miyeon laid back on a table, fucking her slowly. Her panties are in her mouth, and the toes of her foot are curling against your cheek. It starts with a kiss, which most people might consider poetic, just your lips against a heel, the narrow bend of her arch to where she’s got her delicate toes perfectly colored in pastel white; Miyeon’s too cock-addled to do anything like comment on the fact you take them between your lips, slowly, and again, sucking, kissing her feet until she laughs at the way it tickles.

“Oh my god,” a voice says. One of the production assistants. “Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry.”

-

There’s the time in the woods near where you’re shooting a few of the outdoor scenes. You’re stepping out of a tall brush, and Miyeon’s cheeks are so red, glistening in sweat and cum and there’s a technician running an extension cord to god knows where to hook up more lights to the rigging.

“Um,” he says, just staring and unwinding more cord.

“We were looking for her earring,” you tell him.

“In the fucking woods?” He laughs out loud, just this self-amused grunt of a laugh. “Did you find it?”

You actually can’t look him in the eye, and Miyeon is just standing there, mortified. Your forehead creases a puzzled line and you say, with absolute conviction: yes.

-

“Jesus christ, Miyeon.” You swivel on your stool in your dressing room. Think possibly to kneel, but you know what might happen if she sees you on your knees, supplicating.

Let the record show, you and Miyeon are on day six of your self-imposed moratorium—the ban that prohibits the two of you fucking eachother at work, so it’s not like it’s the fastest capitulation in the world either.

Miyeon does a spin, pleated hem of a navy blue plaid skirt flaring out to the sides—how do I look?

There are answers in your throat, no doubt—like sin, like fantasy, like a submissive, fuckable fantasy. Like it should be illegal.

“Uh—I mean,” you nearly stammer, massaging your thumb into your temple. It’s certainly not natural for you to be here, on the back foot, and it has Miyeon’s mouth slanting into a predictable smirk. In an almost inexcusably banal act, she puts a fingernail to her teeth and shimmies her waist so that you’re lost to the moment, tracking how the skirt’s fabric ruffles between her legs.

Is it the fact that some maniac in costume has gone and put her in a school uniform?

Yes. 

That's a great deal of what’s going on here, which is a whole fucking lot. Is it the way her shoulders vanish in a tailored blazer with a nostalgia-inducing insignia above the breast pocket—her fingers poking out from the cuffs and toying at the lapels? Is it that the dress shirt beneath it is made of the cheapest cotton one could find (because the thing doesn’t really need to hold up over multiple washes) so you can see how her stomach flattens, that gentle rise in her chest, the sharp angle of her collarbones, all when the light catches it just right? There’s the stockings, dress shoes, a fucking ribbon in her hair and you’re ignoring the fact that the tie around her neck is a little loose and you might be able spin it over her shoulders and tighten your grip and—

“Cute, right?” She skips across the room and perches on your knee. Really selling it.

“I’m curious,” you say, looking for a narrow gap, something to stow away into, something that might take your mind off the fact that when you look at Miyeon, you’re transposing and overlaying images of an eleventh grade crush, and that’s not a mood you were prepared to be whipped into at just the flash of blue plaid and a charcoal blazer. “When was the last time you wore a ribbon in your hair?” 

“Oh gosh.” One corner of Miyeon’s mouth frowns, ruminating. She hovers her hand up to her ponytail, twisting it gently until it bounces back into place. “It’s been such a long time actually, I don’t know, seventeen, eighteen years old?”

Okay, that’s certainly not helping. A more direct approach, perhaps: “what are you doing, Miyeon?”

“Oh,” she says, nonchalant, because isn’t it obvious, “I’m here to get fucked.”

This is trouble, and among other things, a perversion, you think, but your mouth is too dry to say any of that, and Miyeon leans in and places her fingers beneath your jaw. Tilts your chin and presses her lips to yours, gentle, feather-light.

One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand. Four one-thousand.

Shifting slightly, the inside of Miyeon’s thigh presses to the outside of yours, only ever the slightest movement, and it has you sighing into her mouth. It’s impossible to decide whether you ought admire her confidence or find fault with her gall. She’s a delightful lapful—and a handful, and a mouthful—so you’ll flirt with danger, abandon those last vestiges of inhibition, and lean into the former rather than the latter.

Miyeon’s breath lands against your lips, hitching as the kiss breaks.

“Look,” you say, lip smacking back into place when she finally lets it free. There’s a response, bubbling up from your gut, because on one hand, this is the exact kind of impropriety you were hoping to avoid. And on the other, well, nothing ventured, nothing lost—you suppose. Your eyes are flicking to the top buttons of her shirt, collar agape and that gentle invitation of cleavage snuck behind it.

“Oh my god,” Miyeon says, inches from your face, and she starts to laugh. “You have grays in your beard.”

“No there aren’t.”

“I’m serious.” She wraps her hand around your cheeks, and twists your face to the vanity mirror, like it’d be helpful. “Look,” she says, twice, pulling her lip between her teeth and staring at your reflection.

“Those are stress grays,” you amend, before turning back and shifting her weight more comfortably into your lap, soft thighs straddling yours. “Just to be clear, I’m barely any older than you are.”

“Older,” she says, smiling.

“Don’t have to dwell on it.”

“I mean there’s a silver lining to that though.” Miyeon’s fingers are spread across your face, thumbs gently rubbing into your cheekbones. She’s close enough for you to forget her manager is going to come looking for her at some point or another. “Just means I can call you daddy, and it won’t be weird.”

“Uh.”

“You know,” she adds, sliding her fingers over your ears and pressing a kiss into your jaw, “while we’re doing it.”

“No, I understood that part.” You give her another once over and firm your hands on her waist to stop her from grinding her hips any further into yours. “I’m not sure it’s age that potentially makes it weird.”

“Come on,” she says, letting her voice slip into that slightly deepened register that suggests not only will she disobey you, but you’ll love every second of it. “I know you love to play with me.”

“It’s not a trick question. What are you asking for here, Miyeon?”

“Sex,” she says.

“Yes,” you answer, blinking back at her, expression skeptical. “I was there for that part of the conversation. It was about sixty seconds ago, if I recall.”

She lifts your chin, looks straight in your eyes, and asks, “and?”

“I’m just trying to puzzle out what you're telling me.” You slide your fingertips past the waist of her skirt and onto her ass. The quiet hum of satisfaction in Miyeon’s throat says you’re getting warmer. “What it is you want.”

“Any ideas?” she presses again, the lilt in her voice filling you with hundreds—the countenance behind it providing even more. Her hips grind into you further, bucking toward your waist and silencing the anxious distance between you.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Your hand snakes around the curve of Miyeon’s ass, down to where her underwear feels hot and unmistakably damp, where you can feel the shape of her lips through the fabric and the heat smoldering between them. There’s a tiny wanton whine from her throat when you circle your fingers; a sharp draw of air past her teeth when you apply a little more pressure. “Want my fingers inside of you? Hmm?”

Miyeon nods almost immediately.

You kiss her. Slide your mouth over her lips and recognize the strawberry in her lip gloss and hold onto your exhale, breathing the same air. Her eyes open first, lashes brushing yours. “You want me to fuck you, Miyeon.”

“Want you to tell me what to do,” she says, and without even running the word experimentally around her mouth, without testing its taste or the way it feels on her tongue, she fixes her dark brilliant eyes on you, saying, “want daddy to tell me what to do.”

You’ve got all this about nature and nurture running amuck in your head to the backdrop of the sound of a large cable snapping. It’s dangerous. It’s not like you, you’re not the type, you’re telling yourself, and a lot of other rubbish that isn’t concerned by the fact that Miyeon’s here, fucking dressed like this, ponytail bobbing, ribbon in her hair begging to come undone—

Lock the door, you say to her, and she does. Turn around. Take your jacket off, and she pauses first, before twisting her arms from the sleeves and folding it neatly over the back of a chair. You’ve got a hand outstretched as she walks toward you; your panties, hand them over, and she reaches down beneath her skirt, rolling her underwear down her smooth thighs, her calves, eyes never once leaving yours—watching you watch her. 

Sit.

Touch yourself. 

Slowly; slower—

It’s almost ridiculous. You’ve hardly even laid a hand on her, and she’s got her eyes looking up at you like you’d just set all her biological clocks an hour forward, cranked up to ten-minutes-to-midnight, and replaced all her coherent thoughts with just one simple thing: how bad she needs you to cum in her cunt.

She’s settled at the front of the vanity counter, feet against your chest, head tilting back against the mirror, and she’s gently slapping her own pussy with the pads of her fingers, covered and wet in her own anticipation. Your hands are nothing like hers—these slender, delicate things—and it’s driving her up the wall. You’re spreading her thighs, opening her up, bringing the roughness in your fingers, the heel of your palm so close. Miyeon can’t help it.

“You’re such a slut,” you tell her, watching her shove one, two fingers past the glistening lips her pussy—biting back a laugh as she starts to fuck herself slowly for you. “And already this fucking wet.”

Miyeon just smiles, eyes hooded and looking at you with such perfectly sinful intent. “I thought that’s how daddy likes his little girl.”

(Don’t get it confused: it’s never been a challenge to play a character, to be someone you are not, to emotionally identify and aspire to the details of a part. But this is different. This is seamless. This is you leaning into that space, living in it, loving it. A physical part of you. Genuine and true.)

You grapple Miyeon’s wrist, pulling her hand away from the want of her pussy, denying her all of that friction. She whines, but puts up little to no fuss when you bring her hand to her face and clear your voice of anything that doesn’t inspire authority—deliver an order, sternly, with her fingers in her mouth, suck.

“Here’s a lesson.” You click your tongue as she closes her eyes and sets her jaw in motion to clean her own slick off her nails, her knuckles. “The only thing that goes in my princess’s cunt, is daddy’s cock.”

“In that case,” Miyeon says around her fingers still between her lips, a smile spreading across all of her perfected features—voice lilting, reeling you in, sinking its teeth into your skin: I think daddy’s going to have to punish me.

Oh, you’re one step ahead of her, thinking of all the ways how, and the sound of your zipper coming undone makes Miyeon's eyes go wide with want, with need. Her petite, perfect, fuckable body still locked away behind fabric, she starts hiking her skirt even higher up her hips, lazily unfastening the buttons of her shirt. 

You tell her to put her feet together, wrapping a grip onto her stockings and pulling her legs closed—twisting them to the side and letting her heels clack together over your shoulder. The gentle motion of your thumb between her thighs gets her sucking a sharp draw of air. Always so vocal Miyeon is at the slightest provocation.

Your cock is harder than it’s ever, ever been; harder yet as you tease it at the folds of Miyeon’s entrance, pushing it against sensitive skin and earning you pleased little chirrups from deep in her chest, repeating, “yes, yes, yes—”

She’s only halfway down the buttons on her shirt, collar gaping open and lolling to the sides of her soft shoulders, sliding partway downway her arms, and then it’s that fucking tie still loosely hanging around her neck—so impossibly irresistable. The motion is practiced, near effortless: you slip right into the tight embrace of her creaming cunt. When she makes it through the length of a heavy breath through pursed lips, you sink even in further.

“Oh, this pussy is fucking incredible,” you sputter, voice come to reckon with the fucking bind that is Miyeon’s body, coiling beneath your weight the deeper you cock reaches inside her. “I don’t know that I could ever punish you. Maybe I should just spoil you, princess; get on my knees and make you cum on my mouth instead—”

“No.”

“What was that?” you coax, fucking into her cunt slowly, and your little girl growls at you. You can’t help but chuckle, making a tight grasp of the tie around her neck, and start to twist. 

Miyeon’s flushed all over, eyes glassy, but emblazoned still, a spark of defiance in those deep shimmering pools that makes her all the more alluring. Her lashes flutter—whole body tensing in response—as your thighs crash into her, cock deep inside the tight grip of her cunt.

She feels amazing.

“Yes, please,” she tells you, huffing out the words and changing her tune as you begin to let her have you, let her revel in the determined rhythm of you fucking her like she’s come to expect. “God, yes, daddy please…”

It’s so easy to fuck Miyeon—muscle memory and learned behavior—so easy to sink your fingers into her ass, her thighs, her tits, wrap your arms around her waist and start fucking her so quickly it has her pussy so wet it’s not even slowing you down in the slightest when you pull harder on the tie around her neck, draw her writhing body into you, and start to use her.

“You’re fucking, god, you’re fucking tearing me open,” she tells you with her brows sinking over eyes screwed shut, “it feels so fucking good—tell me, do you like fucking me? Do you like fucking your little slut?

“Fucking love it,” you whisper against her ear.

It doesn’t even cross your mind for a second, whether she wanted to be fucked like this, wanted to be used and choked and pounded so hard her legs buckled and her muscles ached and she could barely remember her own name—she landed in your lap, flirted with this danger, both of you immediately aware of what all it entailed. 

Miyeon didn’t just invite it, the girl fucking craves it.

Just like this, she’s muttering, voice barely rasping into anything audible under the weight of your grip, fuck your little slut just like this—bathing your cock in the delicious cream and slick of her pussy so that you might fuck it all back into her. When she starts moving like this, body shaking in quakes and quivers, voice woven into her mewls and moans, you know she’s so fucking close, only in want of a little encouragement—

“There you go, good girl,” you breathe against her lips, kissing them abruptly, before letting her weight fall back to the vanity counter with just the slightest release of the tie in your fist. “Cum for me, princess, I know you want to—know you want to cum all over daddy’s cock. You’re practically sobbing for me, baby. Go ahead, just cum.”

Sheltered somewhere in quiet of those sloppy, wet, lewd sounds, the score of your cock sliding in and out of Miyeon, is the strangled cry that sneaks out of her throat, gasping: “cumming, I’m fucking cumming, please, I—god.”

Accentuated by the fact that her arms are still halfway trapped in the cotton of her shirt, she can’t do a thing from underneath you. She’s near trapped under the weight, the sheer tempo of at which you’re ruining her cunt. You’re ripping your name in moans and prayers off her lips and she can hardly move beyond that slight squirm in your arms, writhe in the way you mold her to you, overcome in pleasure at how she’s left so full, perfectly remade to the shape of your cock.

Her fingers are splayed across your ribs, holding you, bracing against you, and none of it’s anything you haven’t told her before—so pretty, take it so well, your cunt’s perfect, you’re perfect, so good sweetheart—but in aggregate, taking the length your cock, taking all of you, she shatters apart.

Your hands are on her cheeks, thumbing strands of tousled hair ever-so-gently back into place, and you’re feeling the way her skin burns bright red, feeling the way she gasps for air in shallow pants, feeling her cunt clench hard around you. It’s the moments like these, where she’s delicate to touch, soothed only by your lips pressed to the tip of her nose, her forehead—finding comfort in the arm she swings over your shoulders—she’s so wildly beautiful. 

“So fucking—” She lets her voice even out, and after multiple attempts, gets the words she wants in the right order: “so good, how do—so fucking good baby, how do you want? Cum. How do you want to cum?”

“Could fucking paint your pretty face,” you tell her, moving your hips back to life and fucking into her soaked, messy cunt slowly. The way you push a kiss into her soft lips—now wet and slightly swollen from how she’d been biting them—is a little at odds with the suggestion.

“Ha. I think I get it,” Miyeon starts, the shy smile filling her mouth taking over the shape of her ragged huffs and pants, “we throw daddy around a few times, and suddenly you’re afraid to cum inside me, is that it?”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s not it at all.” The fact that she’s recovered an ounce of resolve, chip steadily reappearing on her shoulder, is nothing more than a facade, and you’re drawing back the curtain, finding her body still wracked, plenty malleable, puddied and easy to manipulate with a firm grip around her waist. “Let me show you.”

“And just what is it that I’m—” 

Miyeon’s voice breaks almost immediately as you turn her over in your hands. Her knuckles hit the vanity counter and her legs wobble where they land precariously on the floor. She’s so wet and well-fucked that the mess you’d made of her cunt is effortless to slip back into. You allow her more, pushing in as deep as you’ll go, faster than she can blink, faster she can think to protest. It’s the angle that makes her back arch with surprised, sudden pleasure. The depth that makes her eyes shut tight, a gasp not quite making it past her lips. 

Watch.

She can see it all, in the perimeter of fluorescent bulbs, reflection staring back at her. The way her porcelain skin lights aflame. There’s sweat beading across her forehead, blonde hair darkening at its roots. Her lips are parted slightly, tender swell cushioning the bite of her teeth—her eyes are hooded, chin tilting, and she’s watching herself moan and curse as you start to fuck her. She’s perfect, and she knows she’s perfect.

You pull her skirt forward over the round of her ass, fingers sunk into the soft skin, and fuck her harder, until the counter is shaking with it, until she’s crying out, any concept of shame or embarrassment long forgotten. 

“Oh, please,” she starts, settling into your cadence, feeling delighted at the way you fill her.

Her fingers are white-knuckled as she clings to the edge of the counter, and in between breathless little noises, these sharp gasps and whines or another, between the unyielding motions of your cock in her cunt, she writhes.

“Please, please, please, please make me cum again,” she barely manages, blathering and stuttering over her own words. “Please use this little cunt, fucking use me, fuck me, fill me—”

“Anything for my princess,” you say, and after pressing a long row of kisses into the curve of her spine—a heavy kiss of your lips into the sharp edge of her shoulder—you bring a hand to the back of her neck, the slippery-smooth locks of hair already bundled and begging for your fist, becoming your grip.

“Oh my god,” Miyeon mutters, watching her body bend to your will, arching backward into your cock and becoming flush all over. Her eyes flick up to yours, begging you to fill her deeper, fuck her faster, fuck her harder. “Daddy please…”

The way her cunt sleeves onto your cock is so hot, so wet, so unbelievably tight, especially when the fingers woven in her hair flex taut—and so does she—how could you ever think to do anything but?

You pull harder on her hair, tension building in the curving bow of her body, arching further and further into submission. Her face is close enough for you to kiss, to lean into her ear, to whisper, “Miyeon, baby, I’m going to make you cum again. Gonna make you cum all over my cock. Be a good girl for me and take it.”

Miyeon’s voice is flooded, drenched and soaked in meek cries. More so by the minute. She’s whining and gasping and fighting for air like she hasn’t been coached a thousand times on how to keep a clean image. Beyond the curses and filth, the nonsensical string of obscenities falling off Miyeon’s lips, it’s gratitude: “thank you, thank you, thank you, please keep fucking me, please just use me—”

It’s obscene, filthy, it’s practically pornographic–-all framed for her to see. Miyeon’s costume is still barely clinging to her tiny frame, coming off in pieces. And you’re sliding your hand across her smooth stomach, up her ribs and hooking fingers between the cups of her bra, until it comes down far enough around her waist that it simply unclasps and falls to the floor. Every time bring your hips forward, fuck your cock harder into her cunt, you track the movement of her body in the mirror: shoulders lurching, mouth gasping, tits shaking—Miyeon recoiling. 

Even the ribbon in her hair can’t stand against the intensity of it, untangling from her ponytail and falling to the counter, defeated.

Beauty is a picture in motion, and Miyeon is nothing if not elegant. You slow your pace to admire her, hands at her breasts, her waist, still holding firm around her hair and curling her body into your control. She whines louder when you kiss her temple, rasping against the sweat building in her hair. “Make yourself cum for me baby, fuck your little cunt on my cock until you cum again.”

“God,” Miyeon rasps, nodding slightly against you with her eyes carefully fixed on her reflection, and she starts to roll her hips—fucking herself and choking back a whimper every time she finds where it’s mind-numbingly sensitive, where she’s wet and needy and begging for the hard shape of your cock. It’s unbelievable how desperate she ruts against you, grinding her way to her own release.

“Such a good girl for me.” You’re reaching a hand down to her cunt, the hot mess between her legs, and you’re slipping your fingers around where your cock is inside her, skating your thumb across her aching lips, barely touching her clit—

“I’m gonna cum,” she moans out, breathless, “you’re gonna make me fucking cum.”

A final kiss at the hot skin beside her temple, your nose in her hair—drowning in the sweet stench of her sweat, her sex—you’re telling her, “I know I am princess,” and when you release the grip you’ve made of her hair, Miyeon collapses, palms flat over the countertop.

It’s hard to miss, all written on Miyeon’s reflection in front of you, cheeks exquisitely red, lips slacking as she cums, brows twisting together and eyes heavily lidded—and that’s just what you can see. You fuck her quivering cunt, thrusts coaxed into this reckless chase as she spasms around you—holding tight to her waist, fucking her faster and faster until your cock is aching and you’re hunched over her, telling her what she’s been dying to hear: “I'm so close to cumming in your cunt sweetheart, you'll be so filled up and perfect that way, princess.”

There’s no mistaking it. Pleasure palpable in the reflection in front of you, eyes smoldering and holding onto you. The hold she has on your cock, the vice that is her cunt around you—it shouldn’t even be possible to feel this fucking amazing—is far and away too good for you to do anything else: you grab her hips, fuck hard and fast into Miyeon’s sopping cunt, and on a thrust deep and unrelenting, you let go. You can barely even register the way your cock pulsates, firing shot after shot into her tight hole.

Miyeon’s still stuttering and gasping for breath when she feels your cum pool inside her. Even like this, wracked, writhing, and barely held together, she’s breathtaking.

“God, fuck, it’s so good,” she cries out, face still spun in pleasure, in ecstasy, feeling you spill more and more inside her. “Can feel you cumming so much, daddy.”

And that’s how you stay, pouring want and jittery contentment into the air by way of your ragged breathing alone, for the remainder of the minute, the hour, what ultimately ends up feeling far too short. 

Her knees buckle and if you weren’t still pressing bruises into her hips, she’d sink to the floor, a hot mess, a real meltdown of a girl. So she remains right where she is as you soften slowly inside of her, until she has to nudge you off. And as you finally pull out, there’s cum still leaking from your slit, and you catch a glimpse of more leaking out from between her soft, reddened thighs, just a few drops that land on the floor, enough to make something inside you tighten with want.

You kiss her one last time, and say, “c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

-

“You need to come up with a better excuse than I needed to get fucked for when you show up like you are to costume,” you say a few minutes later, dabbing at Miyeon’s forehead with a handtowel. “They won’t be too thrilled with me messing up their handiwork.”

Miyeon leans forward in your lap, reaching around your shoulders and placing kisses into the broad shape of your shoulder. “I love the way you mess me up.”

You almost open your mouth again, to lodge a complaint, but nothing comes out.

(You’ve long avoided looking backward, the introspective stuff, the kind of thinking that makes your heart begin to ache in all sorts and manners of cliche. It’s difficult to look straight at the image, to take it in all at once—so full of regret and missed chances.

But for the first time in as long as you can remember, you believe in the things you’re afraid to say. As though you’re more than the weight of all your memories, that the darkness can remind you of where light can be. This is not the end of you, you remember, this is the beginning.

As though you fell so you could land next to her.)

-

It hits you in the middle of a workday. Nothing cathartic or dramatic about it like you’ve come to expect. Dramatic lighting, theatrical score, the meticulous scripting from a team of writers—there’s none of that; which is how you know it’s real.

Miyeon’s watching herself on the monitor. 

And there’s a part of it, you’ve come to understand, that never quite goes away, like listening to how your voice plays back on a recording, the uncertainty, those pangs of doubt—but you wonder, if perhaps, Miyeon can manage to enthrall and captivate even the greatest cynic, quiet her own insecurities and enchant even herself. She nods every now and again, wets her lips with her tongue when she hears her delivery, and furrows her brow. 

It’s not like that.

The sort of girl whose kisses can spin straw to gold—taste of liquor when she’s not even had any to drink—Cassis, juniper berries, gumdrops, sugar cane and molasses, all soft and steamy and sugary sweet. Quote, unquote. That’s what you said.

Don’t—

Please look at me when I tell you I love you. Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed, you will never be lovelier than you are now, we will never be here again.

The whole studio is watching it: the triumph of your lips on hers, holding her softly and kissing her like if you closed your fingers she might shatter into a million pieces. All they did was hold the camera, and it saw what it saw.

Miyeon looks at you, rubs your knuckles with her thumb and says, “you don’t like it.”

Something’s off.

“You think we need one more take?”

(It doesn’t really make sense—the fact that you can’t put a finger on it is bothering you more than anything else. It’s clean, perfect even; smells like a swimming pool: a bleached sea salt, a flower with chemical petals; and not in a good way. Looked at from another perspective, the scene is just as it’s written, as it was rehearsed, but you’re hesitating. And you don’t know why.)

“You think we need one more,” Miyeon says again, inquisitive.

You make a face, and Miyeon squeezes your fingers.

“Yeah. Okay. You think we need one more.”

“I suppose,” you say mildly, “if it’s not too much of a hassle.”

It’s not as simple as that. At least the way you see it. It rarely is. A better guy could probably recognize what it is you’re feeling and put it into words, but you are not a better guy. Spend too much time living on the words of characters and in the confines of a scene, you start to lose sense of the bigger picture. There’s you—outside of the frame, strangely unfamiliar at times, unknowable right now. There’s Miyeon, and she’s not just gorgeous and perfect like everyone knows her to be; she’s gorgeous and perfect to you.

“Here’s what I think,” Miyeon starts, staring straight through you, a pulsing rush of longing—the whisper, irresistible, magic that could make the sanest man go mad. You just want to hear me say I love you one more time.

Everyone’s eyes are glued to the monitors, witness to the story that is you and her, but you’re looking at Miyeon, directly at her, for once not even lost in the details—simply lost in everything, like a stone down a well. It does scare you. That of all things, she might be right.

-

The incident, as it will later be known, is more realistically a sequence of events, but no one has ever been interested in anything other than how it ends. 

(It's always the changes we don’t ask for that change everything.)

There are just a handful of scenes and shots that need to be filmed on location on an island in the Maldives, one that is just about everything you’ve grown to resent. Garishly extravagant resort, beaches of white sand so combed and manicured they yearn to be trampled, and the only locals in sight are either changing sheets or caked up in makeup and hanging around the hotel bar from the twilight hours of the evening and into the early morning. A real lovely place, you admit, maybe you’ll come back never.

It’s as if the universe cashes in on your bad karma all at once via the series of unfortunate events: your flight’s delayed, a storm turns a three hour layover into a two day nightmare, your bags get lost. And the moment you step onto the tarmac, the heat punches you right in the gut, and upon curling over in defeat, the humidity figures it’ll kick you right in the head—this all, by the way, before you find out the air conditioning in your room is fucked beyond repair and the hotel staff have no interest in helping you fix it.

When a series of mistakes has you shooting a scene over and over until you’re pretty sure it’s fruitless—that the exhaustion has brought you to your knees—you quickly find yourself starting to slip.

Miyeon’s standing next to the director, watching the scene playback, and hearing her say, “that’s better,” while everything that could ever go wrong in the history of linear time is happening is the best part of this whole debacle, if anything, for its raw comedic value.

The absolute worst of it, however, is the gaggle of bumbling entertainment journalists (the lowest of the low) following in the production’s wake. There’s a lot a ground to cover: the movie’s nearing completion, the premieres, the fact that everyone thinks you’re screwing Miyeon, the fact that you actually are—

How has working with your co-stars, Miyeon in particular, bettered your understanding of what it means to be an actor? The insinuation, if it’s even an undertone enough to call it that, you do find insulting.

Though it’s hardly the question that trips you up. It’s trifling. And when you force a smile, everyone takes your pandering at face value. Now whether it’s out of envy, confusion, plain old cynicism, possibly a mixture of the three, or just because the part of your brain associated with temperance and self control is melting at the current head index of a million and two, is unclear.

But you fuck up.

It’s under your breath, out of the corner of your mouth. It’s not even directed at anyone in particular. The challenge here—the thing that will come to ruin you in about one media cycle—is that the damn microphone clipped to your shirt is still absolutely live, and it’s broadcasting every thought that should stay quiet:

Acting? From Miyeon? Hah. Swallowing cum maybe… but acting?

You fuck up bad.

#miyeon smut #gidle smut #yuqi smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #idol x male reader

[malusokay]

How to be like Song Ji-a

Hey babes! I’m so excited to start my little “it-girls series”, of course, starting with no other than my favourite girly, Song Ji-a. She has it all: beauty, style, and confidence. In this post, I’ll show you how to embody her energy, break down the key elements of her style, summarise some of her best advice, and give you all the details on how to be a bit more like her. <3

Ji-a’s energy:

Confidence is key: Ji-a exudes confidence no matter what she’s wearing or doing. Take some inspo from her and start by showing yourself some extra self-love to build your confidence! :)

Be true to yourself: Ji-a never tries to fit into someone else’s mould, and neither should you! Embrace your unique style and show off your personality through your beauty and fashion choices.

Take care of your body: Ji-a is all about that healthy lifestyle, so hit the gym, try a new workout, and fuel your body with nutritious food to boost your energy and confidence. You can also motivate yourself by buying cute matching workout sets!! <3

Stay on-trend: Ji-a’s always ahead of the fashion curve, and we’re here for it. Keep an eye out for the latest fashion and beauty trends, and don’t be afraid to experiment with different looks to find your signature style. <3

Ji-a’s style:

Simple but chic outfits: Ji-a rocks effortless, minimalist looks with a twist. Get inspired by her style and try adding a pop of your interests to your outfit with bold accessories or unique cuts.

Flawless makeup: Ji-a’s makeup is seriously on point, and yours can be too! Play around with colours, shimmery glitter, and dramatic lips to add some extra charm to your look! :)

Skincare is key: Ji-a swears by her skincare routine to achieve that radiant complexion. So, start taking care of your skin and try out some new hydrating products to get that glow.

Cute Hairstyles: Try out some playful and cute hairstyles or accessorise with some fun hair clips. Don’t forget about your hair care!!

Details, details, details: Ji-a pays attention to every little detail, from her nails to her jewellery. Add some extra touches to your outfit with statement jewellery or cute nail art!! <3

Elevate your lifestyle:

Self-care is everything: Ji-a emphasises the importance of self-care, so take some time for yourself to unwind and recharge with some yoga, journaling, or a good book!

Stay positive: Positive vibes only! Surround yourself with people who uplift you, practice positive self-talk, and write down daily affirmations to keep that positive mindset. :)

Follow your passions: Ji-a is all about chasing her dreams, and you should be too! Pursue your hobbies or dream career, and don’t be afraid to take risks.

Be confident: Ji-a is all about owning your unique qualities and quirks, so let your true self shine and don’t be afraid to stand out from the crowd.

Be kind: Ji-a is known for her kind and generous personality, so spread some love and kindness wherever you go.

How to channel your inner Ji-a:

Embrace minimalism: Ji-a’s style is all about simplicity, so try decluttering your space and simplifying your wardrobe to achieve that clean, chic look.

Not everyone will like you, and that's okay: Even Ji-a has had to deal with haters and jealous people in the past (the whole fake designer thing lol...), yet she stays confident and continuously does her thing! You can do that too!! <3

Try out some K-beauty: Being Korean, many of her favourite beauty brands and products are from Korean brands. Experiment with some K-Beauty products to get that glowing complexion! :)

Be yourself: Above all, Ji-a is known for being authentic; whether she’s on camera or in public, she seems to radiate a sense of self-assurance, which spreads confidence and inspiration to others! Stop worrying about what others might think, you're beautiful <3

As always, please feel free to share your own suggestions in the comments and let me know who you want me to write about next! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

#malusokay #aesthetic #coquette #dream girl #girl blogger #it girl #pink blog #that girl #pinterest #pink pilates princess #it girl series #song jia #dearzia #glow up diaries #glow up #manifesting #loa blog #positive affirmations #girl blogging #feminine aesthetic #feminine energy

[mr-spotatohead]

-Inseparable.-

Welcome Home & Child!Reader Platonic.

Words: 3,470.

|Contains: Swearing. Slight Horror.|

Synopsis: You draw a lot, and you want attention from your mother, but she doesn't give you the attention you need. Until she puts on a show for you that caught your eye. And the main character gives you the attention you deserve.

You ran your hand across the white paper containing a green crayon. Your small, untrained hands made you pick up the crayon with your closed fist, scribbling on the paper with your grass-colored crayon. You were on your knees on the floor, with your toys and painting materials scattered around. You had your tongue out, concentrating hard on the work of art you were going to make.

"Uhum, yes, yes, I've checked that before." Your mother said in the background, her footsteps rushing, the sound of her shoes with a heel clicked against the floor. You continued drawing content to show the end result to your extremely busy mother. The cheap TV played in the background, it was something that didn't catch your attention.

You finished the drawing and got up awkwardly, happy to find your mother in the house, which was easy since she was right behind the couch. She was on the phone, her purse already in her arms, you approached her talking to her but she didn't hear you because she was already talking to someone else. She walked straight past you and made her way to the kitchen table, grabbing her car keys. You puffed out your cheeks. After being ignored, again. You walked back to the floor in front of the television. Your mother soon came close to you and bent down, placing a kiss on your head. "Sorry honey, mommy has to go out now. How about a cartoon for you to watch?" Your mother suggested already changing the channel, just watching the first thing that looked childish was enough. It was a cartoon. That was enough. You didn't even have time to show her your drawing because your mother already closed and locked the door. And left you alone again. Not that you cared, you're old enough to take care of yourself, and you are proud of it. But still, it was very disappointing not to have your mother's attention, all your drawings, all your work, your mother didn't have time, at least not anymore. You sulked now, you looked at your toys on the floor, you didn't feel like playing. Until an animated song started playing on the TV. Making you look at the screen. Your curious eyes observed how bad the quality of the show on your TV was. But that didn't matter to you. What caught your attention was the funny colors of the show. You watched the animation of the show go on like a normal day, showing a few houses in a colorful neighborhood, the camera moving closer to a greener place, focusing on a character. A man with blue hair. You kept looking at the screen, seeing that the character was concentrating on painting a picture, and when he finished, the character noticed the presence of the audience and commented. "Oh, hello, neighbor! You've finally arrived." The character smiled at the audience and that caught your attention. He moved to the side and put his equipment aside. Focusing on the audience. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it? How are you?" The character asked turning his head to the side. You, not taking your eyes off the screen, decided to sit on the floor. Curiosity on your face.

There was a silence after the question, and you wondered if the television had frozen as it sometimes does. But you could hear music in the background, so you decided to answer happily. "I'm fine! I just drew a picture, so I'm happy." "Oh, that's wonderful. When you're happy, I'm happy." The character smiled closing his eyes, with his hands together. You crossed your legs and let your hands rest in the space between them. A silly smile rose to your face. You genuinely liked that the character was paying attention to you. You, being a child with a creative mind, genuinely thought that the character was talking to you. Not noticing the generic lines that he responded to after you spoke. This character, that you just met, you don't know his name so far, but he asks you questions! He asks things of you. And that was exactly the kind of attention you wanted. And you were loving it!

"How many apples are in that tree?" "Four!" "Perfect! Four apples, one for Julie, one for Barnaby, one for me, and one for you, neighbor!" Wally was smiling and looking at you with such enthusiasm, you were jumping in place, even though you knew there was no way you could eat the apple. "Woah, time passes when you're having fun, doesn't it?" Wally said after the episode was coming to an end, at least you learned this character's name. "Well, we better get some rest, see you tomorrow, neighbor!" Wally said with a smile on his face, a little wave of the hand and then the credits rolled, you, still not satisfied, wanted more of that show. You just loved everything and everyone! Luckily, you saw the intro and the same song start playing again. You smiled contentedly, expecting more from the program. . . . This is the second day you've been watching Welcome Home, all afternoon you've been marathon watching the show, learning more about the characters, 'talking' to Wally and watching the comedy episodes. Today you were already in the living room waiting for the program to start, excited to watch them all again. Your mother noticed that you were absent in running around the house, she walked around the house, not being late this time. She noticed you in the living room, sitting on the floor watching TV. Your mother came over and when she went to ask you something, the show music started up and you excitedly hummed along. Seeing Wally already leaving his house, you smiled contently and spoke his name aloud. "Wally! Hi!!!" The puppet started with the identical opening line, which you didn't even realize was all from the show's script. But you were still happy to see the puppet answer you with the same "Oh, hello, neighbor! You've finally arrived."

You answered each question happily. Your mother looked at you with soft eyes. She saw how innocent you were to answer the TV. It was something simple and cute, that made you excited, so your mother let this channel play more often. . . .

This was the third day you were in the living room, waiting to watch your new favorite show. Your face was freshly wet, because what had happened earlier had made you very anxious. Your mother argued loudly on the phone, swearing, she even locked herself in another room so you couldn't hear, but it was difficult. So you tried to overcome this on your own, so you were lying on the floor drawing Wally, being soothed by drawing him. Your mother had to leave early today, but she would be back early too. So you were alone, waiting for the program to start. And when the music started, you excitedly sniffed and looked at the TV with sparkling eyes. Waiting for entertainment after waking up in an unpleasant way. Wally then appeared again, you were on the floor and quickly got up and sat down, grabbed your blankets and wrapped yourself up, since it was cold. Your favorite character came out of his house and started with his same normal question. "Oh, hello, neighbor! You've finally arrive-"

Suddenly, he stopped, in the middle of the sentence. You notice that the eyes of the puppet on the screen widened a little, as he noticed... something? Maybe. You curiously frowned slightly, wondering what had gotten into Wally? This is different. The pause that was taken left you confused, and then he continued, but his posture was different. "Uh- It's a beautiful day and…"

"How, uh. How are you?…" You watched the puppet in front of you with a more droopy posture, it didn't look like he was confident like all the other times. You shook your head, not thinking much. "I'm fine, how are you?" You asked just to ask, because you knew Wally would answer that anyway. But what you didn't expect was that the silence returned. The figure of Wally standing there, looking at you. Then you heard a low: "Are you sure?..."

You raised your eyebrows. Oh, he really answered you this time. You ran your hands over your face, feeling your hands get a little wet after wiping some of the liquid off your face. You looked down at your drawing and then looked into the puppet's eyes. "Hhm, I'm fine, Wally." You hummed affirming what you said earlier. But that didn't seem to have much effect, as the puppet in front of you stared at you with a silence in the background that seemed like forever before something happened.

And it wasn't what you expected. Because the image of Wally looking at you was soon replaced by the continuation of the episode. The view was of a clearing and a butterfly fluttered across the screen. You were surprised by Wally's strange behavior, but you ignored it.

The episode continued as usual, although Wally didn't appear for a few minutes. The characters are in a situation and need help, it was in this part that Wally would ask for your help in this situation. But he wasn't there. You questioned for a few seconds until the screen started to crash, the voices of some characters in the background still talking, but the screen was a mess, there were two scenes trying to appear on the screen, the colors were all mixed up and this made even the voices of the characters stop. Sitting in the dark with the screen all glitched made you a little worried, you remember that the last time the television was like this was on a rainy day. But it wasn't raining now. It made you get out of your blankets and look at the TV still frozen, occasionally making sounds. Suddenly an idea popped into your head. Your mother once hit the TV hard because she said it would fix it, you saw her do it, and it worked, maybe you could try it. Getting close to the TV you raised your small hand and slapped it lightly. Looking at the TV, it didn't work. Maybe you need more strength? You made your hand into a fist and when you went to lift it you were startled by the screen behaving more aggressively with colors and a loud, not pleasant, sound was made. "DO NOT" It was written illegibly on the screen, but you were able to read it despite the mess of glitches. "FIX IT." It appeared at the bottom of the screen, along with the other words. You stopped moving your hand and observed what was happening on the screen. Suddenly. Statics. The television became pure static, no music, no show, nothing. And then only two words appeared. The font was better, despite the random color streaks being made on the screen. "Let me." After a few seconds. The TV went black and a song started. You realized it was the intro of the show, without much doubt, the show started again, the animation of the houses in the neighborhood, the title 'Welcome Home', everything was normal again. You sighed, glad that it was working again, and then you saw him. Wally had his back to you, with a white canvas in front of him, he wasn't painting anything. And then he noticed you. He turned and smiled looking at you. "Oh, hello again neighbor." Wally said putting his brush aside. "Sorry about that, something happened. An... inconvenience." The man in blue said with a smile and his eyes closed, looking even a little forced. "But now! No interruptions. Let's talk, shall we?" Wally put his hands together and smiled broadly, looking at you again. You looked surprised at the screen. Talk? About what? You frowned and turned your head away. "Aren't we going to help your friends? Earlier they seemed to need help with who took their-"

Suddenly the screen changed and some characters from before appeared with a big smile on their faces. "Wowie! Thanks for finding my stuffed animal Wally and neighbor!" Sally said hugging the little toy. Julie nodded in agreement happy that they had found what was missing. And then the screen crashed and went back to the same greenish corner with Wally standing there smiling.

"See, they already found it, everyone is happy." Wally explained trying to convince you that there was no need to 'end the episode'. You frowned slightly, clearly not convinced. Wally quickly began.

"Although…" In a slightly lower voice, you looked at the screen curious by your favorite character's change of mood. "I'm out of ideas of what to paint." Wally let you look at the blank canvas with nothing on it. You happily jumped in place, taking interest. "Oh! I can help you!" You said enthusiastically, the puppet looked at you and a smile formed on his face, he put his hands on his own face, with the same kind of enthusiasm. "Perfect!"

Time passed and you two talked for hours. While Wally was painting what you suggested, you yourself decided to draw another picture, the atmosphere was fun and comfortable. You were loving this session of talking and painting.

"So, (Name)." Wally started, you hummed paying attention, not taking your eyes off your drawing. It was nice to hear Wally say your name instead of just neighbor, you told him at the beginning of your long conversation. "Why were you crying before? If it's okay to ask." Wally asked a bit monotonously, you scrabbled a bit at the colors abstractly and hummend thoughtfully. "Hmm, well…"

Wally is your friend, right? It's okay to tell him about you, he also tells you all about himself, so fair enough. "My mommy is very busy. She ignores all my drawings!" You said with your cheeks puffy. "Ah, but that's just not very nice of her, hm?" Wally commented, and you aggressively nodded several times. "But that has nothing to do with your crying, does it?"

You stopped swinging your legs and looked at the TV screen and just watched the back of Wally, who continued to paint the picture. You sighed and continued. "Yeah… Today my mom had an argument on the phone…. And she's very short-tempered, you know? She'll blow up at anything. She gets aggressive."

Your last line was probably what made Wally stop moving the brush across the canvas, as you were looking at the canvas, you saw Wally glance at you, his eyes were a tad sinister.

"With you?…"

You looked at Wally a little innocently and shook your head, "No, not with me, she locks herself in her room and breaks things right there. And I don't like it when she gets like that. That's why I was sad." As if your words were air, the puppet on the TV sighed, and turned his back again and continued painting.

"I'm done!" You smiled excitedly, the puppet looked back and watched you. "Already? That was quite fast." You laughed at Wally's comment and then got down on your knees, bringing your drawing to the screen, trying to show your drawing to the screen. "Look, look, what do you think?!" You smiled and looked at your drawing, expecting some kind of comment from Wally, but it was so quiet that you had to put your drawing down and look at him.

Wally was staring at you the whole time you got close to the screen, and the puppet raised one hand and coughed falsely. "I'm sorry, it's just that I can't see the drawing if you don't look into my eyes." Wally explained this and you were confused, the puppet explained to you how he can't see anything if someone doesn't look into his eyes. You thought that was strange but you held up the drawing while looking at Wally. And then he finally reacted, taking his eyes off you and looked at the drawing in your hands. He smiled big when he saw your little work of art, complimenting you in every way, watching your smile grow wider and wider with his company. You spent the whole afternoon talking and having fun, your mother came home a little exhausted. She greeted you from afar and went to make herself a cup of coffee. You didn't, however, do the usual thing of running after her after she arrived. You kept your conversation with Wally happy and content. Your mother noticed the change in your behavior. Like every day, you stopped interacting so much with her and started to stay more in front of the TV. Maybe this was a consequence of her actions in leaving you alone so much that now you didn't worry about bothering her. But one night. That's what changed things. You were so annoyed by your mother's neglect that you decided to turn on the TV on your own at night and talk to the only friend who made you feel good.

After the intro passed, you couldn't even keep your crying face long, after you knew that you would be happy with your friend's presence. You didn't even wait for Wally to arrive right on the scene and you quickly began to talk and talk, making the puppet in front of you look surprised by your state. You tried to wipe your full tears on your sleeves, along with your snot. "Shh, shh…" Wally tried to calm you down, you were so close to the screen, it was a bad feeling to see you in that state. The puppet managed to cheer you back up with sweet comments. Your face was red with a huge smile now. Although you started to cry in your room when you realized that your mother was ignoring you while she fiddled with her laptop, you ran into the living room in a loud, clearly sad voice. Your mother noticed her actions at that moment. And she tried to tidy things up a bit. She went into the living room, where she heard where you were talking.

What was strange, were you watching that program again? It looked like you were complaining about her to the TV. She walked silently into the living room and saw you standing near the TV, talking to it.

"Wally, can you be my best friend?" You asked, a few tears escaping and you wiped them away with your sleeves again. Your mother frowned at seeing you in this state, and just as she was about to step in to comfort you she noticed something that was probably not normal. "Of course, (Name). Best friends forever?" Wally asked smiling with half open eyes, he put his hand on the TV screen and you nodded aggressively with approval. "Forever!" Placing your hand on the TV screen where his was. Wally smiled contentedly, and since you were looking at him, he could see everything. He even managed to notice your mother in the back of the room, watching the interaction. The puppet's eyes widened a bit and he looked at you a little worried. Your mother then arrived frightened. And clearly with her heart in her hand. "(Name)." Your mother said firmly. You looked back and saw your mother's hand outstretched. "Come here." She said breathlessly. Staring at the puppet on the screen in fear. You denied it, however, and frowned. "No. I'm having fun with Wally." The nominee softened his gaze at looking at you, but soon intensified at looking at your mother. She approached you and pulled you up, quickly moving away from the TV. "(Name). Go to your room, it's not safe here." Suddenly the TV made a loud bang on the screen, two hands were there now, Wally's eyes fixed strongly on your mother, clearly not liking that you were being forced to leave him. "Stay the FUCK AWAY from them!" Your mother shouted at the TV, clearly frightened. You began to tear up again. Your mother was arguing with your best friend, that wasn't fair! "N-No, don't fight please…" You looked at Wally and he was looking at you, there was no emotion on his face except for that stare. But you still saw him as your friend. Your best friend! "Wally!" You held out your hand as if it would help you, and the TV once again made a loud bang. Your mother in panic quickly ran to her room and left you there, you still crying tried to open the door, but it was too late after you saw, your mother had unplugged the TV.

She still looked panicked and started to drag the TV away to throw it away. That night was the last time you saw your best friend.

. . . Was it?

-OO I was holding myself to not make a long one shot, I kinda see this as a rushed thing, but hey ho, I still liked writing this one :D-

#welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling #wally darling welcome home #wally darling wh #welcome home wally #welcome home puppet show #welcome home fanfic #welcome home x you #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #wally darling x you

[disneyprincemuke]

midnights, 7 * mv1

the news is out: three time world champion, max verstappen, and his girlfriend of 6 years have been broken up since the singapore weekend.

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: -

notes: wow i took thE longest break from this

(series masterlist)

(prev) // (next)

max isn’t typically the type to let panic settle in. at least, that’s what he likes to think. he likes to tell people he’s not bothered but outsiders are always quick to catch up with his suppressed emotions. 

alas, his worst fears have come true. news has broken that you’ve been broken up for almost 2 months. 

he has not been able to talk about it with daniel, so he can only imagine how things will break down in austin. 

he hopes that it’s not actually that big of a deal. plenty of other drivers have gotten themselves in messier breakups — the post doesn’t seem to touch on any speculations about how yours had come about. he can only bank on the hope that journalists are empathetic enough not to bring you up. 

but you’ve been very involved in his career and the cameras on the paddocks. they never missed the chance to have you speak into a mic or have a private conversation with you. 

pictures snapped of you together are never posted, but would be directly sent to either of you to truly encompass the privacy of your relationship. the respect shared between you and everyone on the paddocks was treasured, which is probably why your presence had been notable after you abruptly disappeared. 

he sinks into his couch, phone in hand as he stares at the pictures that sparked up speculations. it’s a low-quality picture of you leaving the red bull home, head down as your hair shied you away from the camera. the second picture is of him coming out of the building, hair dishevelled as he stood with his arms folded over his chest.

“what do i do?” max mumbles, his finger swiping over the screen again and again, staring at the two pictures. as if it would change the course of things if he did it enough. “do i talk to her?”

“i don’t know, man,” daniel sighs, his face in the far corner of max’s screen. “i mean, the best you can do is to wait it out, right?”

“rumours could spread,” charles mutters, looking away briefly with his eyes widened. “if i were you, i’d want to do some damage control. but that’s probably just me.”

max sits back, staring at the empty half of his hotel bed. your absence is always noted when he’s all alone and he's too awake for his own good, once having the luxury of your company and bright smile making him feel giddy.

the difference between this breakup and all of charles' is that there is no controversy in this one. as far as he's concerned, this is all speculation from photos that are now circulating the internet and your obvious absence on race weekends.

nobody can even really confirm if it's true unless you or max say something. for now, they're just rumours. right?

unless you've started speaking to people, and gossip platforms. but you wouldn't do any of that, or at least that's what he's telling himself. but from what he can dig out of the grave in his brain, there was nothing that happened between you that can be twisted.

but what does he know?

he can only keep praying to the fact that you'll keep it as private as you usually do.

his phone is buzzing endlessly, his other friends sending him texts as the news shocks them as much as the world. lando is asking him if he's holding up fine, martin is expressing how he feels for max, and his own mother asking him why he hadn't told her earlier.

only victoria's message will be getting an answer. after all, she's the first person that found out.

"should i talk to her?" max thinks out loud, maximising the facetime call to get a good look at his friends' reactions. "she never does well with things like this, what if people are bothering her?"

charles' picture is overtaken by alexandra's face, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. "you wanna talk to her?"

max shrugs. "i don't know. maybe?"

"would that be the best choice though?" daniel tilts his head. behind him, heidi is approaching cautiously with a small smile. "babe, what do you think?"

heidi shrugs as daniel's camera slowly turns to her. "my opinion is probably not - it's been two months. and judging by the comments that i read, i don't think there's much disrespect that has to be told off publicly."

alexandra nods as charles slowly comes back into the frame next to her. "it's up to you, max. as of right now, it doesn't seem that serious."

max sighs again, this time louder as he feels everything coming down on him. he drops his head back and stares at the ceiling. "i don't know, you guys," he sighs again loudly. "i just want to know if she's alright."

"maybe not now, mate," charles answers sympathetically, frowning at him through the camera.

"just wait it out. it could die down quicker than you think," daniel says hopefully.

max nods, now suddenly feeling disinterest in their conversation. he only craves to be by himself now. "alright, i'll catch you guys in a bit," his eyes turn to the cats sleeping peacefully on the cat tree, "i've got to feed the cats."

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold @princessria127 @ironmaiden1313 @dl-yum @crlsummer @brekkers-whore @minkyungseokie @honethatty12 @barelytolerabled @vellicora @lokigoeschoki @avg-golden-retriever

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen imagines #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke midnights

[cartierre]

CAMERA SHY | ln4

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU lando norris x fem!albon!reader

part two: photogenic

♡ liked by landonorris, pierregasly, daniel3.jpg and 293,004 others

lando.jpg had a personal photographer for this one

view all 872 comments

user1 uhm... are we not going to talk about the third slide? ⤷ user2 i was just thinking the same ⤷ user3 he can have female friends without it meaning anything

alex_albon ... ⤷ user4 ALEX?? ⤷ user5 why is his comment worrying me. what does it mean??

♡ liked by landonorris, lilymhe, y/n_albon and 254,309 others

tagged: lilymhe, y/n_albon

alex_albon more or less quality family time (i'm thirdwheeling)

view all 739 comments

y/n_albon i should become a photographer ⤷ lilymhe y/n.jpg when

user6 alex saying he's thirdwheeling with lily and y/n has me wheezing

user7 why does y/n lowkey look like the girl in lando's post ⤷ user8 hold on- ⤷ user9 just because they both have black hair? we couldn't even see the girl's face. ⤷ user10 the delusion is delusioning

♡ liked by pierregasly, daniel3.jpg, carlossainz55 and 376,002 others

lando.jpg monaco tourist guide for the weekend

view all 1,109 comments

user11 okay so him posting on this account more often than usual means he obviously wants us to speculate, right? ⤷ user12 thoughts are being thunk

user13 okay so he's showing someone around in monaco which means she's not from monaco or lives in monaco. you know who fits that description? y/n fucking albon. she lives in london. case closed ⤷ user14 maybe you should put more thoughts into studying and not sticking up your nose like that in other people's businesses ⤷ user15 my girl y/n doesn't even follow lando, nor does he follow her

♡ liked by lilymhe, alex_albon and 12,391 others

y/n_albon monaco, une belle âme (monaco, a beautiful soul)

view all 55 comments

lilymhe rue, when was this? ⤷ y/n_albon had my own photographer ⤷ lilymhe oh, so you're cheating on me?

user16 i just know they're taunting us at this point

user17 how come i never realised how pretty alex's sister is??

alex_albon your frenglish is annoying me ⤷ y/n_albon just because i speak more french than you do even though you literally live in a french-speaking country. envy doesn't suit you brother

♡ liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 398,102 others

lando.jpg cameras cameras cameras

view all 3,204 comments

user18 i'm sick. i'm tired. i'm done

user19 at this point, they're taunting us ⤷ user20 it's no fun anymore i just want a reveal

user21 i just know for a fact they love torturing us

♡ liked by lilymhe, alex_albon and 15,203 others

y/n_albon guess i'm someone's new muse

view all 89 comments

lilymhe whoever wants to claim you need to fight me first ⤷ y/n_albon he has no chance against you, dw baby

alex_albon idk how i, as your big brother, should react to all this ⤷ y/n_albon then don't

user22 props to lando because my boy captures y/n in such a beautiful way ⤷ user23 she's naturally very pretty

user24 are we even sure this is lando's work because they still don't follow each other like... ⤷ user25 i'm honestly not buying the rumour

♡ liked by charles_leclerc, mickschumacher, estebanocon and 398,406 others

lando.jpg club, dance, groove

view all 4,395 comments

user26 omg he's back! ⤷ user27 literally our boy hasn't posted in months ⤷ user28 probably because everyone kept conspiricing because of that girl who might've been y/n albon ⤷ user29 omg it's been so long i forgot about that whole rumour

user30 i'm not detecting any girl so i think lando's either single again or never dated someone the past months anyway

―

landonorris started following y/n_albon y/n_albon started following landonorris and lando.jpg

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfiction #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n

[verysium]

ACT 1, SCENE 2: blue lock headcanons

nagi found out amazon product testers were a real thing, and he had never been more happy in his entire life. if he wasn't training to become a professional football player, that would have been his dream job.

sae became a victim of the cat distribution system the moment he moved to spain. he left his window open once, and he came back to a whole secret society of strays on his fire escape.

aryu used to watch his mother do her makeup in the bathroom every morning. after she left for work, he would use her hair curlers and nail polish to bedazzle himself. if you ever ask him to do your makeup, he would tilt your chin up with one hand and ever so gently swipe on your lipstick for you.

kaiser is a whore for attention, even if it is bad attention. if you're not listening to him during dinner, he would most definitely steal the food right off your plate whilst maintaining eye contact. gives you the most shit-eating grin once you catch him.

rin genuinely cannot function around the female species. sometimes his aunties make small talk during family gatherings, and he just sits awkwardly with his baby cousin in his arms. the baby almost always cries.

sae still uses his ipod from 2005. he doesn't have any interest in music, so he mostly uses it as a white noise filler during long flights. if you send him a song recommendation though, he will listen to it.

rin kept a diary as a teenager with some of the entries completely filled with angsty scribblings about sae. he definitely had an entire section somewhere dedicated to death and existentialism. the second half of his journal is reserved solely for you though. he sometimes doodles flowers in the margins.

raichi is chronically online. he would be the type to have an entire four-page argument with a stranger in the youtube comment section. sometimes you have to remind him that the outside world actually exists, and he needs to go outside and touch grass.

sae is secretly intrigued by artists. like how can you just transfer an image from your head onto paper? is it some sort of magic? he cannot wrap his mind around anything that isn't concrete and tangible. he sometimes walks through the streets of madrid just to spy on the old people painting the sea. if you made a drawing of him, he would internally malfunction.

isagi used to help his mother with knitting and sewing. he even learned how to crochet one summer but forgot all about it once he got into football. would not complain if you asked him to do laundry or iron clothes. he is (most of the time) very sweet and kind.

bachira does not have a sleep schedule. what is sleep? he only knows 24/7 hyperactivity and the demons under his bed. would wake you up at the crack of dawn just to go hang out in some random abandoned parking lot.

sae has to physically restrain himself whenever he does shoots for brand endorsements. he would definitely tell the truth if the product was low-quality while literally being on set for its commercial. this man does not lie. cannot model for the life of him. he lost his ability to smile a long time ago, and he feels viscerally ill every time a camera is shoved into his face. if you're there to accompany him though, he will straighten up and at least attempt to look enthusiastic.

rin is terrible at any sort of class that involves creative writing. however, he does enjoy reading haikus. it's the only form of poetry he can understand. definitely sends you one when he misses you.

reo is clueless whenever you tell him that you feel ugly in your outfit. like where is the ugliness? all he sees is the most stunning person in the world. definitely recommend taking him shopping. he would go into the fitting rooms with you and give you the most encouraging confidence boost you have ever felt.

sae has the strongest enamel in existence because he bites his popsicles right off the stick. rin tried to do that once and ended up getting brain freeze.

yukimiya is the type to go from 0 to 100 in less than a millisecond. if anyone says anything remotely negative about you, he will definitely make sure they do not live to see the light of day. he does all this with the most charming smile on his face too.

shidou has no table manners. he would be the messiest eater in existence. if the dining hall looks like a velociraptor just barraged through, you know shidou was there. he only uses a napkin because you told him to.

rin wears chelsea boots and women's clothing. he has a collection of trench coats in his closet, and they're one of the only things he's incredibly proud of. at least he beats sae when it comes to fashion sense.

ness would pack you lunch every day without you even asking for it. he also uses those glittery animal toothpicks and cuts your apples into hearts. his paper notes are little menacing though. usually it has your name written a thousand times in blood red ink.

sae would let you braid flowers into his hair, but he would wrinkle his nose in embarrassment if you ever took a picture of it. he tries to act nonchalant when you gush about how pretty he is because in his mind he looks incredibly stupid. will keep that photo by his bedside and look at it when he's lonely though.

isagi is incredibly clumsy. sometimes he will act like an egomaniac before falling right on his face. the world has an interesting way of humbling him. he does keep his mood swings in check when you're around though. your presence gives his mind inner peace.

otoya has color-coded folders for every girl he has dated. he keeps their names, likes, dislikes, and contacts all separately filed so he doesn't confuse them. however, on your night out, he got so caught up in talking to you, he forgot to even update your file. the date ended with him smiling like a damn fool. you're always the exception.

aiku is the type to just be casual about everything. he just got into a car accident while on call with you? that's okay because he got to hear your pretty voice on facetime. he took a tidal wave straight to the face while ogling you at the beach? that's no problem because he got a sneak-peek at your cute little bathing suit. this man literally has no sense of self-preservation when it comes to you.

bachira was the kid who tried to mix up weird concoctions at the school lunch table. now it translates into drinking both an energy drink and americano at once. you had to pull him away from the soda fountain because he kept trying to add every single drink combination possible into his red solo cup.

sae would blatantly stare at your ass and then tell you it was for research purposes. if you press further, he will pull up the statistics showing how buttock size correlates with athletic ability.

rin is obsessed with tea only because he saw his brother drink it at family dinners. he always sat up straight on the zabuton and sipped the bitter leaf juice as a way to impress the grown-ups. unfortunately for him, he developed a caffeine addiction in his late teens.

niko would be the tech-savvy person in your relationship. he doesn't believe in traditional flowers, so he codes you an entire HTML webpage with roses on the user interface. he also wholeheartedly believes that virtual pets are real pets.

shidou is an adrenaline junkie. he has six piercings, two of which are helix. he also snowboards during the winter and speeds on the highway for fun. (don't be like shidou, kids.)

© verysium 2023 / please do not translate, repost, or plagiarize any of my works

#blue lock #bllk #fics #nagi seishiro #sae itoshi #shidou ryusei #oliver aiku #michael kaiser #alexis ness #aryu jyubei #raichi jingo #niko ikki #rin itoshi #bachira meguru #otoya eita #yukimiya kenyu #isagi yoichi #nagi x reader #sae x reader #shidou x reader #aiku x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #ness x reader #aryu x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x reader #raichi x reader #bachira x reader

[rafescurtainbangz]

Home Movie - Rafe Cameron +18

Minor DNI

Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader!

Based off of this ask by @unkown4932:

You and Rafe spend some quality time together after your birthday celebration, where you catch all the fun on tape.

2.9k <- almost all smut oops

Warning: SMUT & Swearing

Pet names, no use of Y/N, birthday sex, first-time anal fingering, unprotected p in v, oral (male receiving), recording a sex tape, hair pulling, Rafe talks you through it.

Reader's POV:

Your fingers comb through the back of Rafe’s hair, making him groan. "You know how hard it is to get you alone, princess?" Rafe chuckles, breathily as you amble toward the grand staircase. His face melts into your neck; lips meeting your skin, making your head fall to the side. "I'm glad everyone could be here for you, baby." He mumbles against your neck, working his way up to your ear, sending chills down your spine. "Fuck. I hate sharin’ you though."

"And, I hate sharing you. Tonight was perfect, baby. Thank you. Seriously, this has been the best birthday ever." Rafe pulls back slightly, meeting your gaze, his blue eyes sparkling. The corners of his rosy lips curl into a smile.

"That makes me so happy, sweetheart."

Rafe sets you down, not losing contact, lowering himself to your lips. He kisses you deeply, consuming all of your senses. His rich cologne, the sweetness of his taste, and green apple Jolly Ranchers, he can help but snag from your purse. He moans into your kiss, music to your ears as the touch of his rough hands glides higher and higher up your bare legs. He backs you up against the wall, tongue tangling with yours.

"You still up for this?" He mumbles between kisses.

"Mmm... Mhmm."

"You're gonna look so good on camera, princess," he rasps, the vibrations of his low tone tickle your ear, making you powerless. "Oh, I got you a gift. You wanna put it on for me? I'll set up the camera." You bite your lip and nod.

"After you, pretty."

A smile rolls across your lips as you see the mess of gifts arranged on the counter, a spray of rose gold and blush-hued balloons lofted on the ceiling. "Rafe," you sigh, happily as you take in the additional gifts added, a lovely bouquet of roses, your favorite pink wine, and a white apparel box with a red bow.

Rafe walks behind you, body pressing against your back, arms shrouded around your waist as you unfasten the satin, undoing the knot. You draw back the top, plucking out the tissue paper; letting out a sinful little laugh. There it sits, a VHS C resting on a nest of red lace lingerie.

Snagging the VHS you pass it to Rafe. He wastes no time, popping back the lid; pulling out the smaller cassette, jamming it into the camera. He turns back to you cupping your cheeks in his large hands, kissing your forehead, your nose, your lips. "Be a good girl and get dressed for me. Yeah?"

"Of course, daddy."

"Jesus Christ, princess," he groans, lustfully as his bare chest presses flush with yours. "How are you so sexy?" Rafe whispers against your lips, deepening the exchange a moment later, claiming your lips in a passionate kiss. His fingers drift into your hair, pulling you even closer. You reach down, stroking your hand over his clothed cock. "Lemme see you." He draws back to take a better look, moaning lowly as his eyes drink you in.

Rafe spins you under his finger, his darkened eyes trailing from the tips of your black heels to the top of your lace-trimmed thigh-high stockings. His finger traces the little straps, clipping your hosiery in place; following the line to the garter belt cinched around your waist.

"This is one selfish fuckin' gift," he chuckles, darkly.

"I love it, baby. I feel beautiful-"

"You are beautiful. Damn... You're divine, angel," he moans before you can say much more, lighting you ablaze.

"You ready?" Your hands rest lightly against his chest, feeling his heart racing underneath, matching your own.

"Haven't thought about much else today, princess."

"Neither have I," you whisper as your lips brush against his, feeling the anticipation build.

His large palms circle the fullness of your ass. "Shit..." He groans, drawing out the word as his hand meets only skin. His arm reaches further around your hip, fingers skimming your ass, reaching as far as he can, the tips of his fingers swirling your arousal dipping into your entrance. "You don't even have to take these off."

"How 'bout that?" You add, breathily, fanning the flame. He doesn't respond, just a hungry stare as he picks you up, shifting the two of you to the mattress, looking like he could absolutely devour you. He reaches down, practically ripping the button of his slacks open, going on all fours toward you as you move back to the headboard.

He kisses your forehead, retreating on the bed. One snap open, then the next. Rafe unclasps your garter belt straps, peeling the stockings off your thigh and calf, kissing and kissing some more as he reveals more and more skin. His fingers never lose contact, landing on your panties again.

Rafe drops his hips thrusting and rolling his rock-hard bulge into you. You can feel the chill of the slick between your thighs making you release an eager whimper. "Need you," you whine.

"You still wanna try, sweetheart?"

You nod rapidly at him before lowering your gaze, taking in his perfect form, tanned skin and thick muscles. His blonde fringe dusts his forehead, brushing against you as he continues to torture you with a few more hindered thrusts.

"I need you inside of me," you breathe, tugging at his boxers, drawing them as low as you can before Rafe yanks them off completely. His hard dick stands straight, weeping at the tip. You wrap your hand around his thick shaft, swiping your thumb across his tip before taking it between your lips, purring at the taste.

"I'm obsessed with you," he mumbles under his breath, his body tacking you to the mattress.

"Fuck. Me."

"Anything for you. Hands 'n knees, sweetheart."

You roll over underneath him as he rises on his knees, moving back slightly for you to assume the position. You rest your forearms on the bed, ass in the air.

"Like this?" You ask, looking over your shoulder, making his eyes roll back.

"Just like that," he groans as he takes hold of your curves, spreading your cheeks slightly. You watch a devilish smirk stretch on his lips. His eyes drift to the camera, checking his angle, making sure to get the perfect shot.

He draws his hand back slapping your ass cheek, a satisfying clap cracks through the room. Rafe snares your hips, towing you closer. You relax your body a little more, the sway of your spine deepening.

Rafe’s rough fingers meet your clit, making you release a throaty moan. "Such a pretty pussy," he groans as he works a little further back, toying with your entrance, running his fingers through your folds before slapping your cunt. "Always so wet for me."

"I'm so wet for you," you pant. "Please, Rafe. S-Shit-" You're cut short by a new sensation, as Rafe rubs his thumb over your taut hole using your slick as lube. He runs a line of spit down, making you release a little gasp as he circles a little quicker before pressing it inside, making you clutch the sheets.

"Good?" A smile spreads on his perfect lips.

"So fucking good," you moan. Rafe draws his finger out, pulling out a moan from your trembling lips. Rafe presses against you again, his pointer finger replacing his thumb.

"Want me to keep goin'?"

"Yes. Fuck, Rafe... Don't stop," you whimper.

You watch as Rafe wraps his fist around his dick as well. Your entire body starts to throb, heart banging in your chest as Rafe pumps his long cock at the same tempo as his finger, working in and out of you. A bead of precum drips from his swollen tip onto the comforter below.

Is he gonna fuck me too?

You feel heat spread across your already hot skin as he answers your question. His fat cockhead presses against your entrance, making your fingers twist in the sheets, gripping tight, eyes squeezed as he glides inside your pussy.

"O-Oh, Rafe. I- Mmm..." He sinks balls deep, the skin of his body pressed against yours, making you cry out. He lets you adjust to his size and the new sensation.

"Please..." You manage, wanting desperately for him to move.

"Gotta use your words, baby girl. There somethin' you want?"

"Fuck me," you whine.

"There's my good girl," he grunts, rocking into you at a familiar tempo, working his fingers in tandem with his thrusts.

"Oh my god," you gasp, in ecstasy as he adds another, filling you fuller than before.

"Jesus Christ," he huffs. Rafe curls his digits inside your ass, pumping both a little quicker, making you tighten around him more. "Feels so good, baby... G-Goddamn," he pants between ruts.

"So good," you cry.

Rafe’s palms the arch of your ass with his other hand, spanking your cheek before gliding it forward, forcing your body a little lower. He feeds off your whines and moans, searching for that perfect angle to send you over the edge.

"Right there," you cry.

"Like this?" He asks in a taunting tone, using your words from before. "Right there, sweetheart?"

"Yes. Yes."

A cocky smile spreads on his lips as he watches you carefully. The clapping of skin fills the room along with the lewd squelching of your cunt. "Faster," you snivel.

"Mhmm?"

"Harder," you plead through quivering lips, spit seeping out the sides of your mouth.

"Yeah?" He bullies. His hand takes a grip on your ass, rough thrusts with his fingers and cock making your body weak.

"Gonna cum."

"Mmm... Squeezin' me so tight. S-Shit," he stammers.

You scream out his name, pussy fluttering around his length as you cum harder than you ever have before. Your toes curl tight, hands weaved in the sheets as you flood his cock with your release.

Your lashes beat to a close, muscles settling around him as his fingers pull out. "Mmm..." Rafe growls from behind you as his hand rounds your hips. He grinds his cock slowly, just rough enough to make the plush of your ass recoil.

"Felt so good, Rafe," you mewl in exhaustion, feeling his hand sail up the bend of your spine, raking into your hair.

"You liked that, baby? You want more?"

"Yeah. Wanna make you cum, daddy."

"Look at the camera for me, darlin'," Rafe rasps, taking a tighter grip on your strands, guiding your fucked-out smile to the lens. You blink your eyes, doing your best to focus, ears ringing slightly.

"So fuckin’ beautiful… Holy shit," he moans as he continues to fuck into you nice and slow. "I wanna go a little slower this time," he whispers. "That alright with you, baby doll?"

"That's perfect."

"Come here, sweetheart," he calls for you.

The pads of Rafe’s calloused fingertips skate up your thighs, finding your dripping cunt. He runs a few small circles on your clit as you scratch your nails up his thigh. He lets out a deep moan as you apply a little pressure, rolling his heavy balls in your small hand.

“Can you suck me clean, baby?”

“Fuck, daddy… Please,” you sigh, dreamily as you slot yourself between his strong thighs.

"Open," he rasps, making you flatten your watering tongue. He inserts his thumb pressing down on it before inserting his cock nice and slow. "Close..." You wrap your lips around his length, feeling it strain on your tongue. "Suck, sweetheart." You taste his essence, paired with a hint of your own.

"You're lips look so pretty around my dick." You take him to the back of your throat, sucking him off to the tip, eyes locked on his. "Co'mere, baby," he croons, guiding you back in, kissing your lips, taking in the taste as well. His kiss is unhurried and deep, his tongue rolling slowly with yours, making you light-headed

Rafe pushes you back onto the bed, mounting you quickly, leaning his toned frame over your own. His kisses journey lower and lower on your body, kissing and re-kissing your skin, breathing in your perfume as his hands play as well.

His ringed fingers circle your breasts before pressing them together. He growls in satisfaction, kissing the mounds of your breasts. He flicks his pink tongue across your hardened nipple, sending chills across your body.

"Shit, baby. Look at you," he sighs, marveling at your curves, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He rolls your pebbled skin roughly making pleasure spur between your thighs, causing you to shudder out a breath. "Fuck. I love your body, honey," he groans. Rafe crawls closer, a boyish smile on his lips as he lowers himself to your ear, the warmth of his breath making a flighty giggle flee your lips. "I'm fuckin' your tits later."

"Yeah," you smile as you tuck yourself into his arms.

"Neither can I," you breathe, spreading your thighs a little wider as he takes his shaft in his hand.

You watch as he slides his cock into you slowly, plunging in with the wetness of your first orgasm. "Fuckkk. That feels so damn good," he groans. Rafe begins to roll his hips into you. You can see all of his muscles at work as he holds himself up with his forearms, his gold chain keeps cadence with his thrusts.

It's the perfect pace, the perfect depth, allowing you to savor him, every vein, and ridge, the curve of his swollen head dragging against your sweet spot already.

You look down, watching as he stretches you out; cock glistening with your cum. "It's like you were made for me, baby," he pants, breathily, pulling you from your daze, back to his beautiful eyes.

"I am..." you whisper.

Rafe's hand works up your arm, fingers intertwining with your own. "I love you."

"I love you too, Rafe," you whimper as he pins your hand above your head. His lips meet yours, kissing you passionately as he fucks you close.

Your nails scratch into his hair, making Rafe moan into your mouth. You dig your heels into the mattress, close not close enough as you meet his thrusts causing your skin to slap together.

He presses himself a little deeper making you wail. Rafe's body trembles, hips hitching at the sound of your bliss fighting himself to maintain his slower pace.

"Feels so good, Rafe," you cry.

"So, so good. Shit. I'm gonna be leaking out of you all night, sweetheart. That what you want?"

"Wanna feel you all night," you sigh.

He chuckles darkly, his deep voice vibrates against your skin just below your ear. "My dirty fuckin' girl." Rafe grabs his pillow from beside your head, placing it underneath you, changing positions slightly.

He pumps into you, building up speed. Your body starts to tighten around him, your finish surely coming soon. He separates from you, gripping your hips, thrusting at a rapid pace.

"Fuck, Rafe," you moan, fiercely.

"Are you close?"

"Yes," you whine, making him smile.

"You'll cum, princess, but not until I say you can," he orders through jagged breaths.

"Oh, fuck!" You yell, loudly as he spits on your pussy, rubbing circles onto your sensitive bud. You grit your teeth, muscles strained as you hold back your pleasure. "I can't take it-" You huff.

"You will," he grunts. Your eyes slam shut as he brushes his fingers from side to side.

"Rafe, please!" You plead. He smiles, his hand moving quicker causing you to grip the sheets.

"Cum for me, princess," he orders, and you let it all go.

"F-Fuck, Rafe," you sob, feeling your release, thigh shaking, back arching. Your wetness leaks from your pussy as he continues to pound into you.

Rafe throws his hips, pulsing deep inside as he fills you completely, his cum bursting out the seams, wetting his bed below. He thrusts slowly, brows threaded tight, milking out his last bits of pleasure.

Rafe leans down kissing you softly. "That was amazing," he whispers through his rapid breaths as you cup his sweat-sheened cheeks in your hands.

"Fuck. That was so good," you gust, doing your best to catch your breath.

"Let me shut it off. Okay?"

You nod, nose brushing against his, kissing him gently as he draws out. "Forgot that was on," you giggle as you enfold your naked body in sheets, watching as he saunters toward the camera.

"Me too, sweetheart. It's perfect. This is fuckin' perfect," he hails, holding the little cassette between his fingers, carefully setting it back in the VHS. He walks away, running his fingers through his hair, his bubble-butt bouncing slightly with each step. 

"Where are you going?" You giggle.

"Cake," he answers, merrily, turning around with it in hand, sucking some pink frosting off his finger. "Tastes like your pussy." You roll your eyes and smile as you nestle into his pillow. "I'm serious. Better even."

"Better!" You gasp, playfully, pulling yourself up as Rafe climbs on. He situates you between his legs, dragging you back, leading you to relax on his chest, yanking the covers over you once more.

"Comfy?" He kisses your temple as he holds you close.

"So comfy," you sigh, blissfully. Rafe grabs the cake, resting it on your lap digging into the dessert, giving you the first bite, then him.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

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