#I’m proud I stuck with it and put in the work

[auroratigress]

[nokia7600]

I love you!

[rosicheeks]

I hope you had fun at the party…or at least survived it.

Thank youuuu

[wildevenusian]

.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Simon had been put through life or death situations, but surely, surely this was the worst situation he could’ve found himself in.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his daughters brush in his one hand, and the pink frilly hair tie in the other.

You were away on a work trip for the day, leaving Simon to do his little girls hair- and Simon had absolutely zero idea what he was doing.

A small giggle brought him back to earth, his gaze dropping to his toddler smiling up at him in the mirror. “Daddy, we are gonna be late! I need my hair up!”

Simon mustered a small smile for his baby girl, but his hands began to sweat, and his throat ran dry. He could do this. All he had to do was put her hair up in a pony tail. He’d seen you do it a million times. “You sure I can’t just put one of my hats on ya? You’d look mighty cute if I say so myself. I may be a bit biased though.”

“No, daddy.” Your daughter giggled. “I need it in a ponytail!”

No matter how hard he tried, her hair tie would simply fall right down her head, or just simply wouldn’t look right. He let out a sigh, setting down the brush in defeat as he glared at his daughter’s hair. How on earth did you make this look so easy?

Your daughter turned to face him, a giggle escaping her lips as she stuck her tongue out at Simon.

“You laughin’ at me?” He asked, quirking a brow at his little girl, a coy smile dancing on his lips. “You know what happens when you laugh at me.”

“No!” Your daughter squealed, laughter bubbling from her small belly. But her protests were in vain as Simon’s fingers found their way to her sides and began to tickle them.

Amidst a fit of giggles. your daughter’s arms flew up in the air, in an attempt to surrender from her dad’s tickle attack. “Daddy! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Thought so.” Simon replied, throwing his little girl a cheeky grin. “Now why don’t you come over ‘ere and help me find a video so I can do this properly. Can’t have my little girl showing up to school without her favorite hairstyle, can I?”

With his daughter planted firmly in his lap, Simon placed his phone on the counter, a “how to do a ponytail” video playing as his fingers returned to her hair.

Nearly 15 minutes, and a few strands of hair later, Simon looked upon his masterpiece with a proud smile. “There, I’ve finally done it.”

She turned around and looked up at Simon, before standing on her tip toes on the stool, to place a kiss on Simon’s cheek. “Thank you, daddy.”

Your daughter would never tell him of course, but she wore that ponytail with pride that day- telling everyone it was her daddy that did it this time. Even though Simon knew it wasn’t perfect, it was in her eyes- and that’s all that mattered.

[fxrmuladaydreams]

angel on his shoulder: meet cute? (op81)

mean!oscar x sweet!reader

summary: you shouldn’t even try to form a friendship with the austrailian driver, but you can’t help but want to

notes: so he’s not really mean, more standoffish and off-putting. but i hope you guys like the first part of this story 🥰

wc: 834

Unpleasant. That was the word used to describe Oscar most often in the paddock. He wasn’t necessarily terrible, as long as you didn’t bother him. He was known to give stern glares, and eye rolls with a sigh all too often.

He was entirely different from his teammate Lando. Lando who won over crowds with his charm and cheeky smile. Oscar never entertained crowds like Lando did. Sure, he did the press conferences, but only because they were mandatory. He was there to do one job, drive.

He was damn good at it too. Having won a sprint race in his rookie year, and his maiden win in his second, he was proud of his skills. He was happy to simply keep to himself, play nice for the cameras when he needed to, and drive.

That all changed the day you came into the MTC, trailing behind Lando. His steps were quick as he rambled on about something, talking animatedly with his hands. You followed behind him, holding what looked like a few folders and notebooks in your arms, occasionally nodding along to whatever Lando was saying.

You wore a papaya colored McLaren polo, the same he was. You must be a new employee. He kept an eye on you throughout the day, watching the way you followed Lando everywhere, practically attached to him at the hip.

He was gathering his things to leave at the end of the day when he felt a soft tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see you standing there, a shy smile on your face.

“Hi, I’m Y/n.” You stick your hand out to him, offering him a handshake. “I’m Lando’s new assistant, I just wanted to introduce myself.”

Oscar nods, shaking your hand. “Oscar.” He says.

You nod. “Yeah, you’re Lando’s teammate.” You wait for a reply, but don’t receive one. “I’ve seen a few of the races. You’re both very talented.”

“Thanks.”

You feel embarrassment creep up inside you at his apparent disinterest. “Uh, I should go, find Lando… It was nice meeting you, Oscar.” You don’t give him the chance to reply before turning away and leaving.

Oscar lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. Most people tended to leave him alone, and he preferred it that way. But you looked so soft and sweet, standing there, even complimenting his driving. It was all too tempting for Oscar. You were too tempting.

You leave Oscar standing there to walk back over to Lando, who had his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face.

“I told you he wasn’t friendly.”

You shake your head. “Just because he keeps to himself doesn’t mean he’s not friendly.” You look back over at him as he finishes gathering his things. “I’ll be his friend in no time.” You stuck your nose up at Lando.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

Oscar tried to keep his distance from you, genuinely, but he couldn’t help but feel a pull towards you.

He spent his days stealing glances at you during meetings, and watching you as you shuffled through paperwork for Lando.

You started small, slowly seeping into his routine. You would offer him a coffee in the morning, claiming they accidentally made two, and that the last thing Lando needed was caffeine. Then there was the day that you baked cookies for the team. You put them all in a bowl and left them on a counter in the breakroom for anyone to grab. You knew Oscar wouldn’t take any, so you bagged him a few, and left them with his things.

He remembers the day you really planted yourself in his life. You stood next to the table he was sitting at, a bag of takeout in your hands.

“Could I sit with you, Oscar?” You ask.

Oscar looks up at you, then glances around the room. All the other tables are filled with people, chatting or working, but it seemed the only one available was the one he sat at. He tries not to feel too insecure that his table was the only one no one else wanted to sit at.

“Yeah, sure.” He nods.

You smile as you sit down in the seat next to him, rather than the one across from him.

He quietly watches as you unpack your food, making yourself comfortable.

“How was the sim today?” You ask.

Oscar shifts in his seat. “Good.” He nods.

“Lando says that he’s confident going into next weekend.”

“Lando’s confident going into every weekend.” The corners of his lips turn up, just slightly, enough to hint at a smirk.

“Is that a smile? From Oscar Piastri?” You ask, your own smile on your face.

Oscar flushes a bit at your words, attempting to stutter out a reply.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” You give him a wink.

Oscar feels a shift with you then and there, a longing to keep you close like this, and he knows he is well and truly fucked.

next part

[cutielando]

mr. and mrs. | o.p.

synopsis: in which you finally get married

my masterlist

Oscar and Y/N.

Y/N and Oscar.

Everyone knew them, everyone loved them.

Ever since the young Australian lad had entered the Formula 1 world, Y/N had entered it with him. Always by his side, always attending his races while also attending university.

They had been together for many years, practically having invented the term “highschool sweethearts”. Despite Oscar’s busy schedule and Y/N being at university, they always made it work, never letting the distance affect their relationship.

Moving together to the UK had represented the first sign that they were both in it for the long ride. Packing up their entire lives and moving across the globe to follow their dreams proved that their relationship and the love they had was real.

Real and pure.

When Oscar got the opportunity to drive in Formula 1 and Y/N started her studies, the time they spent together shortened by a significant amount, but they managed to make it work.

They talked on the phone every day, texting when neither of them could speak on the phone, they took every opportunity to visit each other when they had free time, with Y/N visiting Oscar at his races or Oscar coming home when he would have 2 weeks off between races.

They made it work.

But Oscar wasn’t satisfied. He needed something more. He needed something that would put his mind at ease when he would be away.

He needed to officially make you his.

Towards the end of the season, you had a few weeks off uni and decided to join your boyfriend in Qatar for the Grand Prix.

You hadn’t really chosen the best race to attend, the heat and the humidity making it really strenuous on your already tired body. But seeing the smile that Oscar had while doing the grid walk with you by his side made it worth it.

Being there for Oscar’s sprint win had been the highlight of your entire year. Seeing him cross the checkered flag first, seeing his name on that first position on every monitor around the paddock, the feeling was unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Up until the moment Oscar got out of the car.

He made his way over to where you were waiting for him after he celebrated a little with the team, taking off his helmet and balaclava and giving them to one of his assistants.

“How about that?” he asked, chuckling as he pulled you into his arms, careful not to squeeze you too tightly because he was sweaty.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Os. I can’t believe I was here for your first win” you said, your voice muffled because you had your face buried in the crook of his neck.

“It’s technically not considered a win bec-”

“Shut up and enjoy the moment” you interrupted, making him chuckle and continue hugging you.

As he let go of you, you didn’t notice him reaching for something behind his back, not even his assistant subtly handing him something as he appeared again from the garage. All you could focus on was him, and nothing else around you.

It only really hit you when Oscar lowered himself down on one knee in front of you, a red velvet box in his hand.

“Oh my God” you said, your eyes widening and your hands flying up to your mouth.

All around you, the McLaren team gathered in a circle, phones ready and cameras rolling to catch the sweet moment on camera.

“Y/N, I don’t even know whether words will suffice to say what I want to say right now. You’ve been by my side since we were kids, you moved to the UK with me and left your entire family in Australia just for me, and I can’t even begin to explain how much that meant to me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, I frankly don’t think I could survive on my own if you weren’t here. I want to grow old with you, I want to have kids with you and build the life we’ve always talked about having. Y/N, will you marry me?” the words got stuck in your throat, so you settled for nodding feverishly.

The entire team around you cheered, but you could only see Oscar. As he got up and slid the ring on your left hand, you threw yourself into his arms and softly cried, the moment far too emotional to be able to hold back.

Your engagement had become national news in a matter of a couple of hours. Every media channel from the world had written about Oscar’s proposal in Qatar, speculating about when the wedding would be and whatnot.

It didn’t even feel like it had really happened when you stared at the ring on your finger, the feeling foreign but so welcome and like it was meant to be.

You and Oscar had multiple talks about when you would get married, where you would have the wedding and many other problems that came with being away from home and everyone’s families.

Which is why you decided to have the wedding back home in Australia.

After the season was finished and the winter break came, you and Oscar had started planning the wedding, which you settled to have after the last race before the summer break. He had already sent invitations out to the rest of the drivers, all of them very eager to attend the young lad’s wedding.

Lando was especially thrilled, but couldn’t help making jokes about how he had never thought Oscar would be the one getting married so young.

“What did you do to him, Y/N? You charmed him pretty damn well” he’d always joke whenever you guys would hang out in the garage before a race.

Yours and Oscar’s mothers took care of most of the things regarding the venue, the flower arrangements and catering, wanting to take the load off of you while you were halfway across the world.

The only thing that you had to worry about was picking your wedding dress and flying over to Australia to get married.

And when the day had finally come, excitement flowed through your veins.

Nicole and Oscar’s sisters had helped do your hair and make-up, your mother only watching as she sobbed quietly in the background.

“Mom, you’re gonna make me cry too if you don’t stop” you told her as you watched her through your mirror, making the other girls laugh.

“I just can’t believe my baby is getting married” she laughed, wiping her tears and walking up to stand behind you.

You smiled and took her hand, mostly to calm your nerves as well.

You were really getting married. And to the love of your life, which was a plus.

After you were prepped and ready to go, your father came to fetch you to walk you down the aisle. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you held his arm tightly and clutched the flower bouquet tightly in your other hand.

But your nerves disappeared like they had never even been there when the doors opened and you locked eyes with Oscar waiting for you at the end of the aisle, Logan beaming behind him as his best man.

The ceremony went by in a blur, the only focus on your part being on Oscar. You only vaguely remembered saying your vows and saying “I do”, your memory only having imprinted the first kiss you two shared as husband and wife.

You were positive that nothing could ever top this moment, getting married with all of your friends and families present, stepping into your new life with Oscar by your side.

Nothing could ever be better.

Nothing could top you becoming Mrs. Piastri.

Being Mr. and Mrs. Piastri.

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[obsessed-with-wwe-women]

Champions Rules

R. Ripley x fem!reader

cw: smut, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, clit play, oral (r receiving), fingering, degradation + praise, domme!rhea, mami/mommy kink, mentions of alcohol

lowercase intended / not proofread, i’m a little rusty bare with me

she did it.

i mean, you knew she would but that didn’t make you any less proud. you smiled as you stared at the screen in front of you, as rhea held her title high up in the air on the biggest stage of them all.

this was a huge night for her. she opened up night one of wrestlmania with one of the best, she had her favorite band sing her out, and she won.

the look of pure happiness on her face was enough to tear up, especially when you saw her start to herself before she covered it up. you were so proud of her, she worked so hard to get here. she fucking deserved this.

she eventually made her way backstage, and when she did you ran to her, jumping in her arms and planting kisses all over her face. rhea’s arms wrapped around you with a smile as she spun you around.

“you did it!” you squealed excitedly, smiling down at the australian.

“did you doubt me?” she joked. not funny. “never in a million years.” you grinned as you placed a soft kiss on her lips. “i’m so proud of you.” you whispered against her lips before pulling away.

rhea’s eyes beamed at you as she gave you a grateful smile, giving you one more kiss before putting you down.

the rest of the night was crazy. damian had the great idea of going to the nearest club for a celebration. now, you were about 3 drinks deep as you dragged your unwilling girlfriend to the dance floor. rhea had only had one, but it was strong.

“you know i don’t dance, y/n.” she slurred slightly. you gave her a small pout, and she rolled her eyes before her hands found your hips, swaying to the beat with you. you grinned, wrapping your arms over her shoulders as you got on your tiptoes to kiss her. rhea kissed back, squeezing your hips in her hands.

she danced with you for a few minutes, but when you turned to grind your ass against her front she quickly turned you around.

“i want you.” she whispered. “not.” kiss. “here.” kiss. you replied, kissing her between each word. rhea’s hands squeezed again as her head ducked into the crook of your neck.

“i’ll take you wherever i please, and you know it.” she husked by your ear, her voice deep and her accent thick. you whined softly, tugging gently at her hair. “can’t wait to do whatever i want with you, pretty girl. my big night, you know? champions rules.” her words shot a wave a heat to your core. “take me home, rhe.” you whispered before placing a kiss to her cheek.

-

“god, you’re so fucking beautiful.” rhea’s breath was hot against your ear as she had you pressed against the door of your hotel. “you are.” was all you could reply, her teeth gently biting down on the skin of your neck. “yeah? you think so?” she teased as her knee spread your thighs, pushing your dress up over your hips.

“i bet if i stuck my hand inside of these cute little panties you’re wearing right now,” she snapped the band of the purple lacy material you wore just for her. “i’d find you soaked, wouldn’t i?” rhea smirked as your cheeks grew pink. “huh? answer me, baby.”

rhea’s left hand gripped your chin, making you look up at her. it was enough of a distraction for you to not notice where her right hand was heading.

“ye- fuck!” you cried out as rhea’s finger pressed harshly against your throbbing clit. “sorry, what were you saying?” she teased once more.

“you can be a real bitch sometimes.” you got out between choked moans. “oh? yeah?” rhea’s tone was mocking as she pressed harder. “you wanna say that again, slut?” rhea growled, pinching your clit between her fingers. “fuck! i-i’m sorry, mommy.” you whimpered, a mix of pleasure and pain shooting through your body.

“awh, poor baby. you’re sorry?” she cooed, using her free hand to pet your hair. you looked up at her with hooded, teary eyes. “my pretty girl.” she smiled, kissing the corner of your mouth softly before slipping two of her fingers inside of you.

“always so tight for me.” rhea groaned, using her thumb to play with your clit while her fingers pumped into you slowly. your cunt fluttered against her fingers when she added more pressure to your bud, and she giggled softly as she noticed. “yeah? you like that?” she asked, doing it again.

you could only nod quickly against the door as you felt your orgasm approaching. “i’m close, mommy.” you breathe out, hands gripping at her wrist. rhea doesn’t say anything, she just smirks and leans in, places a rough kiss to your lips.

she moaned into your mouth when you tightened around her, pulling her deeper into your dripping cunt. “come on baby, you can do it.” she whispered softly as she peppered kisses over your face. “be a good girl and cum on mommy’s fingers.”

that did it. within seconds after her request your mouth fell open with a cry of her name, and your thighs squeezing around her hand. rhea talked you through it, and once you calmed down she pulled her fingers out of you. you whined softly at the emptiness, but almost immediately you were cut off by a gasp as rhea brought her fingers into her mouth to taste you.

“i want the real thing now.” she said, and before you could even comprehend her words she picked you up and walked you to the bed. she gently placed you down, stripping your dress off of you. rhea’s breath caught in her throat as she saw the matching bra she had on, but what caught her eye was the silver ‘R’ in the middle. you smiled sweetly at her. “like it?” you asked hopefully.

“i love it, baby. my letter looks good on you.” she smirked before leaning to hover over you. “but i think you’d look better with it off.” she husked before reaching behind you to unclasp your bra, impressively with one hand. the moment the material was away, rhea’s lips were wrapped around your nipple.

“shit, rhe.” you sighed, tossing your head back. she hummed against you, switching to show the other one some love before slipping between your thighs. you were dripping at this point.

“all for me.” rhea moaned lowly as she licked through you. your back arched and your hips bucked against her with a cry. rhea’s arms held your hips down as she sucked your sensitive clit into her mouth. you could barely hold the noises you were making, even with a hand slapped over your mouth. you could never last long with her like this, especially if she’s already made you cum before.

“mommy!” you whimpered as your hands tugged at her hair, pulling her closer. rhea moaned against you once more as the soft pain shot down her spine from her head. her tongue piercing rubbed against you in all the right ways, and within seconds she had you shaking. “i’m gonna cum, mami.” you got out the best you could between choked moans.

all she did was nod, and it was clear she wasn’t pulling away until she was finished. it was only a couple minutes until your back arched off of the bed once more and you spilled into her mouth. rhea’s licks slowed down as she took her time to clean you up, not wasting anything.

“could be here all day, you know?” rhea said as she kissed your thigh. your head felt fuzzy and the only things leaving your mouth were quiet whines. “already, baby? i’m not even getting started.” rhea playfully teased as she sat up, gently running her finger through your slit once more. she rubbed slow, soft circles as she waited for you to say something.

“i’m okay, mami. m’just sensitive.” you mumbled, squirming as she sped up a little.

“well that’s good, just you wait, sweetheart. mami wants you to wear her title while she fucks you.” she smirked before getting off the bed and walking over to her bag.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Zayne, and Sylus react to his shy gn s/o asking him if they can sit on his lap please?

You don’t even have to ask him. His lap is your permanent seat, your throne and Sylus wouldn’t want you sat anywhere else other than his lap.

You provably didn’t even have to finish the question before Sylus’s grab your hand and pull you into his lap, smirking as you griped his shoulder to stabilise yourself while getting comfortable on his plush thighs.

‘For future reference, you don’t need to ask for permission to sit on my lap, just sit on it however you wish I don’t mind little kitten.’ He’d say as he kisses just under your jaw and your neck gently.

However the moment you are pulled into his lap, you’re never getting off, even if you asked nicely he’ll tilt his head to the side and say;

‘Isn’t this what you wanted sweetie? To sit on my lap and now you want off? I’m hurt.’ And the cheeky bastard will have a pout upon his face to emphasise his sadness at you wanting to get off his lap. Sylus is a little goofus despite his intimidating appearance.

‘That’s not what I meant!’ You’d exclaim. ‘I just don’t want your legs to go numb-‘

‘Nonsense kitten, I’d much rather prioritise you and your needs over my own.’ Sylus interrupts as he keeps you close to him, his large hands squeezing your waist, kneading it as though it was play dough. Needless to say your stuck on his lap for the foreseeable future and Sylus is happy as fuck to have you on his lap.

Sylus could keep you on his lap forever if he could. There will be no need for any other seat in the large house to exist when you’re always put into his lap from the moment you wake, all the way to the moment you fall asleep.

No chair, nor sofa, no anything could compare to sitting on Sylus’s lap unironically he loves the weight you provide when you sit on his lap. It’s comforting and satisfying to him in a plethora of ways that words fail to describe accurately enough for his liking. So it doesn’t matter whether your skinny or not because the same end result is that Sylus will refuse you getting off his lap.

it’s the closest you guys have ever been and he’s high off of feeling your warm and your body on top of his own that he’s engraved the feeling of you sitting in his lap so much that it’s an common occurrence within his dreams to have you on his lap happy, albeit shy, but content.

The lesson to take away from this is that you should be careful what you wish for because you just might end up becoming Sylus’s personal lap warmer, given with how often he pulls you into his lap and keeps you there while he does his work and doesn’t care who’s seeing such a sight. You’re his and his alone and he’s more than proud to show you off, even if your head is buried into his chest to quell your flustered state.

This sweetheart couldn’t deny you even if he tried, your every wish is his command and if you wanted to sit on his lap? Then who was he to deny such a request that came from your mouth so sweetly and polite.

‘As you wish my beloved.’ He’d say as he guides you onto his lap, holding you by the waist respectfully after you’ve adjusted yourself to a more comfortable position.

He likes it when you’re on top- who said that?!

He, like Sylus, finds your weight on his lap comforting and it reassures him that you’re with him and this is not actually a dream he���s made up in his mind and he couldn’t help but smile softly as he keeps you close, even going so far as to rest his head atop of your own as he indulges in this sweet moment between the two of you.

After a hard day at work Zayne would gladly have you sit on his lap, it’s the only thing that could ground him in this moment as he relaxed with you sat upon his lap, probably spending quality time together as you gave him a slow, almost intimate shave. His favourite way to spend time with you to be honest.

He’d hum softly as he felt the need to sleep come easier to him when your atop of his lap, your weight comforting him much like a blanket would, all the while his hands rested against your waist or near the small of your back and tracing patterns and shapes into the skin from your shirt slipping up slightly. It’s heaven to him and he’ll hope you felt the same.

If you ever need to get off his lap, he’ll let you but he’ll internally hate the loss of weight and warmth and will go as far as to wait until you were ready to sit back in his lap again, where he’ll once again keep you close to him and rest his head in the crook of your neck as he indulges in the moment once more.

He’s like a cat in human skin who loves to leech off of your warmth and is very adamant to let you leave his space, but lets you do so because he’s an absolute gentleman.

Anyway Zayne loves having you on his lap, it’s his happy place as he gets to look at you up close and personal that he couldn’t help but press his forehead against your own from time to time, whether that be to admire you or engrave this moment into his head.

But sooner or later you both slowly drift off to sleep on the sofa, cuddled tightly together with little smiles gracing your lips.

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @jdebbiel

Deb JJ Lee is a non-binary Korean artist based in Brooklyn, NY. They have appeared in the New Yorker, New York Times, NPR, Google, Radiolab, and more. Their award-winning graphic memoir, IN LIMBO, about mental illness and difficult relationships with trauma, released in March 2023 from First Second.

Below is our interview with Deb!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

That implies I am over my art block, but I’m still in it! I think about Kiki’s Delivery Service a lot and how she had to stop doing a thing, and that you can’t really force it, and you have to let it come back to you. It’s a pretty humbling moment, realizing there is more to life than just drawing. I’ve been trying to consume other content like reading or watching movies—anything that is not drawing-related—and to trust that it will come back to me. I think not being afraid to do the small pieces before committing to the big pieces is helpful. Because big pieces are what I am known for, I dig myself into a deeper hole, thinking that each piece has to be bigger than the last one. So yeah! Relaxing and doing the small things before overcommitting to a big piece is the best way to go about it for me.

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

I feel like these are all artists that I have second-degree connections with! Jillian Tamaki, Victo Ngai, and Tillie Walden would be my picks!

What are your file name conventions?

…What file name conventions? I mean, I don’t have specific file name conventions, but I actually have a public Google Drive archive! But I usually put “djjl_whatever-the-title-is_final,” and I would always know it’s the final and legit version.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I did an illustration for the whiskey brand Johnnie Walker. It’s so wild because I only had four days to finish it, and it usually takes me a week and a half if I rush. And honestly, it’s probably one of my best pieces from this year, which is funny. It was for the Mid-Autumn festival, so I made it as Korean as possible.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

I only use my iPad to draw everything now, and if I want to pretend that I have a steady workstation, I’ll use my Cintiq. I still am not as comfortable on the Cintiq as I am on Procreate, but it’s still pretty solid and nice. That’s the good part about technology. The bad part about technology is how AI art has been messing things up for me. I’m currently in a lawsuit about AI art as a class rep. Some of my stuff got turned into AI art late last year, so I have to give a deposition at some point. 

What is a convention experience that has stuck with you?

Honestly, they’re all good! I feel like Lightbox Expo has been really nice because it’s truly been a convention for artists. I feel like that’s where most of my audience is, and they’re all around because their purpose is to be better at art. That’s where a lot of original artists do well because they’re getting art they’re inspired by, not so much fanart. I like the Lightbox Expo because it encompasses the pure love of art very well. 

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Use a Y axis, not just your X axis! Take advantage of it! Branding is also something to think about. It is definitely something I’m getting better at. Having an assistant is also very important. I’ve also heard that 8.5x11 to 12x18 inches is usually a good size for prints, but I also provide postcard-sized prints because sometimes people don’t want to commit to a larger size. 

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

You know this is so funny. I’ve been following @alicexz for over a decade on Tumblr and other platforms. I’ve followed her work since high school, and we’ve only recently become peers. I found her, and we met for the first time in real life, and she recognized me. And then I found all my drawings from when I was in my Alice phase, back in high school, and I was like, “Yo, this is when I was trying to be you so badly!” and she was cracking up and was like “Wow, this is so good!” It was such a sweet moment. I wanted to take a picture of her holding my drawing up. It’s really nice because now we’re peers.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Deb! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jdebbiel.

[strawberrynull]

──⯎ ˙⛸ ̟ on thin ice

엔하이픈 | Enhypen | Park Sunghoon

──Pairing: skater!sunghoon x afab skater!reader

──Genre: angst, fluff, smut

──Synopsis: You've been paired with a new skating partner right before competition. The two of you work well on the ice but off ice, all you do is argue. One day, an argument leads to a heartfelt confession... and more...

──Warnings: cursing, fighting, unprotected sex, size kink, soft dom!hoon,

──A/N: erm... so this is my first time writing something spicy so I'm kinda nervous. I hope its not too bad lol. Please lmk if I could improve this kind of writing in any way. My messages are always open

masterlist

You would have never imagined that skating with the infamous Park Sunghoon would have lead you here- waking up in someone else’s apartment, wearing clothes that weren’t yours.

The past month had been busy with skating practice. Your coach stuck you with a new skating partner, making you have to adapt to his unique skating style only a few weeks before competition. 

Your coach had forced the two of you to hang out off ice often to bond since pair skating needed a real connection between partners. Trust. This was the most important value your coach was working on with you two. You needed to be able to trust that he would never hurt you purposefully. That was kind of a difficult thing to entrust on the Park Sunghoon. He was a short tempered person- he was known for losing his cool with his other skating partners. Hence why you were sceptical about skating with him but your coach insisted. She said that you two were a perfect match.

She may have been right though, There was something about the way you and Sunghoon just seemed to click on the ice. Off ice was a different story.You tried your best to get along with him but he was snarky and rude. Now you understood why he didn't get along with past partners.

“You guys get along so well.” Your coach claimed, one day, cupping her face in awe. You turned to her with a look of genuine shock and confusion. She let out a fake sob, wiping away an imaginary tear. “I’m so proud.” She turned toward you, her eyes pure, assuring you that she wasn’t lying. “What’s with the look dear?”

“Ah, I’m just confused. What do you mean? We get along horribly!” You flung your hands up dramatically. Your coach just laughed.

“Oh dear y/n, you may not see it but I do. I’ve been coaching this prick since the beginning.” 

“I’m afraid I still don’t understand.” You said causing your coach to let out a reminiscent sigh.

“You see, y/n,” she motioned for you to come closer, cupping a hand to her mouth. “Sunghoon has never been able to successfully skate with any of his past partners. It frustrated him and he would lash out- calling out every mistake his partner would make and arguing even more off the ice.” You pressed your lips into a small o before your face returned to a confused expression again.

“But…” You started, biting softly at your bottom lip. “We argue a lot off ice too. Aren’t you the least bit worried?”

“Not at all. You two don’t argue nearly as much as the last girl. And he’s so gentle when he does correct you.” As she rambled, you saw Sunghoon approaching from behind her. You tried your best to shoosh her by putting a finger to your lips. “And the way Sunghoon looks at you…” She said longingly, rocking on her heels. You dropped your head in defeat when Sunghoon snapped his neck toward you and your coach. When you looked back up, he was there towering over you with a disappointed look.

“You called?” He asked sarcastically, glaring down at you through his dark bangs.

“We were talking about our partnership.” You deadpanned, crossing your arms. A look of shock washed over Sunghoons face before returning to his usual cold glare. Your coach slinked away, not wanting to be in between yet another fight.

“A-are we ending the partnership?” Sunghoon stuttered, trying to hold back a worried tone.

“I dunno… it’s not completely off the table yet so…” You trailed off, causing Sunghoon to bite his lower lip. 

“So then you’re considering it?” He asked anxiously. He never acted this way normally. It was almost as if he didn’t want you to leave. “But we’ve been doing so well recently!”

“Sunghoon, nothing is set in stone right now-”

“You’ve never had a partner like me though. Coach told me that you, too, have never been able to connect with any of your partners.” This set something off in your brain. Like stepping on a twig, you snapped.

“Why do you always make things about you? Seriously, not everything is about you, Park Sunghoon! Grow the fuck up!” Sunghoon flinched at your sudden yelling. He stared at you in shock. When he didn’t respond, you mumbled, “Maybe breaking off this partnership would be a good idea.” You turned of your heels to leave.

“Wait, no!: He yelled desperately, reaching his hand out but ultimately pulling it back before you could see.

“What do you mean, ‘no’” You hissed, exaggerating every word. Sunghoon tried to speak but his words were caught in his throat. In his desperation he had trapped himself in a corner. “Hurry up and spit it out. Remember, our partnership is on the line and my patience is running out.”

“Fuck, fine. I don’t want to end our partnership.” He admitted, throwing his hands up in defeat. Your face softened as you realized that maybe, just maybe, he actually cared. “We’ve been doing so well on the ice. We can’t give up right before competition.” Your expression quickly hardened again.

“You only care about this stupid competition! You don’t care about me at all!” You shouted, pointing at him.

“No, y/n, listen.” He said sternly. His eyebrows furrowed when you didn’t listen and continued to yell.

“You’re using me so you can make it to the top!” You poked his chest repeatedly as you spat hollow accusations. Sunghoon clenched his fists, trying not to get angered by your meaningless words. “You never gave a shit!”

“That’s not-”

“That’s not what, Sunghoon? Tell me why i shouldn’t end this partnership right now.” You demanded making him gulp. 

“Please, y/n, you’ve been the first partner I’ve ever trusted this much-” He said, becoming vulnerable before being interrupted by you again.

“Trust!? You wanna talk about fucking trust right now!?” You laughed in disbelief. “I can’t even try to trust you when all you do is argue with me!”

“Then let me help you trust me.” Sunghoon proposed seriously. There was no deceit in his tone.

“W-what?” You stuttered with wide eyes.

“Let me prove to you that you can trust me- that I would never do anything to hurt you.” He said with sincerity laced in his words. He stepped forward, taking your hand in his. “I swear I care about you and not just competition so please give me this chance to make everything up to you.”

“How do you plan on doing that? That’s a big promise, Hoon.” You poke your tongue into the side of your cheek trying to  keep your stern expression. The way he held your hand, though- you couldn’t help but give into his now warm gaze.

His heart melted at the nickname you gave him. He stepped closer and tucked a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Take off your skates and meet me in my car in 5. Then you’ll find out.” He gave a caring smile before leaving the building. 

You didn’t hesitate to rip off your skates like they were filled with bugs. You tossed your stuff into your bag before leaving the building too. You stepped outside and looked around for Sunghoons car. Thankfully it was very hard to spot since his was the only car aside from your own.

When you got to his car and hopped into the passenger seat, he turned to smirk at you with his chin resting in his palm. Your breath hitches as he leans closer to you.

"I knew I wouldn't have to wait long." He says, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. "Can I just kiss you already?" You nod furiously making him chuckle before lightly placing his lips over yours. Sunghoons lips were soft and gentle- the complete opposite of what you expected.

He took his sweet time exploring your mouth as if it would be his last time. His hand found it's way to your chin, tilting it up to gain better access to you. Sunghoon hungrily nips at your lips, wanting more. You grab onto his shirt, whining into the kiss. He squeezes your waist and slightly groans at the feeling of vibration on his lips.

Not too long after, you were on your way to his apartment. You were still in the passenger seat of Sunghoons car with his hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles on your soft skin. The moment felt surreal. You had never seen this side of Park Sunghoon. It was like he was a whole different person but honestly, you were liking the change of events.

As soon as you arrived at his apartment, Sunghoons lustful lips met yours again. You were pushed against the wall, one of Sunghoons hands on your waist and the other lost in your silky hair.

You pull away momentarily causing him to lean towards you, attempting to chase your lips. You put a hand on his chin to lightly push him away, giggling at his actions. "Was this really your master plan for trying to get me to believe you?" You chuckle as he sulks, trying to take your hand off his chin.

"It's working thought, is it not?" He smirks, sliding his hand from your waist into your pants and down to your already soaked panties. Your ears redden as you turn your head, avoiding his gaze. "Is that a yes?" He repeats, pressing his index finger against your clothed pussy.

"Fuck- then you better convince me real good." You demand through clenched teeth, snaking both your arms around his neck and pulling his face back down to your own. He hungrily kisses you, leading you blindly to his room where he pushes you to sit on the bed.

You run your hands up and down his torso as he leaves marks all over your neck. He takes off his shirt and begins tugging at the zipper of your tight skating jacket, urging you to do the same. Sunghoon stares down at you with his hands on your waist. You can see the prominent bulge in his pants grow. He can't take his eyes off you.

"You're so beautiful, fuck, princess." He hisses, palming himself through his pants. You reach down, removing his hand and replacing it with your own. A groan escapes his lips. "Your hand feels so much better than mine." He sighs, letting his head drop onto your shoulder. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin.

He mumbles something onto your skin, making you unable to hear him. You take your hand off his pants and push his forehead forcing him to look at you. He groans at the loss of physical touch. Sunghoon doesn't look into your eyes, instead he can only stare at your lips- your faces only centimeters apart.

"What'd you say?" You whisper against his lips.

"I said, I've been waiting for this moment for so long." He smiles softly before landing his lips on yours while his hand finds its way to the waistband of your pants, sliding them down your thighs. You do the same, helping him remove his pants. The pace of his passionate kisses slow down as he feels every inch of your body. His plump lips move in such a way that no longer feels like lust but rather that he's drunk in love.

His breath gets caught in his throat when he feels you tug down his boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock. It's big and has a nice girth to it. The tip is red and swollen, already leaking pre cum. You wrap your slim fingers around him, moving your hand up and down his shaft. He quickly remembers you calling him selfish earlier and grabs your wrist, removing your hand from him. The sudden desire to please you washes over ever part of him. Your panties are pushed to the side as Sunghoons fingers gently caress your folds, collecting your arousal. You hiss at the sudden contact. He then brings his hand to his length, stroking and rubbing your juices onto his cock. This elicits a groan from Hoon- his dick now aching to have more of you.

"Are you- um.. are you ready, princess?" You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to your small figure. He took his bottom lip between his teeth as he pushed his tip against your entrance. A whine escaped your lips. You close your eyes, anticipating the feeling of being stuffed with his cock.

And that's just what he did. He slowly pushed more into you, asking every few seconds if you were doing okay. Giggles filled the room when Sunghoon asked for the nth time.

"Why are you so nervous all of a sudden, Hoonie?" You asked stifling laughs.

"You're just so perfect- I don't want to mess this up." He explained in a low voice, covering his face with one of his shaky hands.

"Look at me," you demand, propping yourself up on your elbows and bringing your lips close to his ear. "I want you to fuck me so hard I won't be able to skate tomorrow." You whisper in a low hushed voice.

Sunghoon groans before pushing the rest of his length into you, almost bottoming out completely- he couldn't help himself. A muffled moan slipped past your slightly parted lips.

"Shit you feel... mmh... s-so good." He says through clenched teeth. "Tell me what you need from me. I want you to trust me, princess." He whispers, leaning down to kiss your neck. Your heart warms hearing his selfless desires; putting your feelings before his own.

"Hoon, please move." You whine grasping at his soft hair and moving your head to the side, giving him full access of your exposed neck.

He groans at the nickname you gave him. He begins pushing in and out of you with slow, sensual trusts. He sighs in satisfaction, dropping his head on your shoulder.

A deep moan erupts from your throat. Your face contorts from the pain and pleasure of being filled with Sunghoons cock. Though, he still handles you delicately, which is too slow and soft for your liking.

You bring your hand to cup his flushed cheek. "I told you to fuck me until I can't walk, not fuck me like I'm made of glass." Your thumb rubs circles on the soft skin of his cheek.

"Are you sure you can handle that?" He asks, not meaning to sound intimidating, though it comes off that way.

You snake your hand from his cheek to the back of his neck and pull his face close to yours. "Don't underestimate me."

Sunghoons eyes widen at your response. Like a switch has been flipped, his hips start moving on their own. One of his large hands grip your waist as his pace quickens. He grunts, clamping his eyes shut. You gasp in surprise by his sudden actions and by instinct you grip his shoulders harshly, digging your nails into his skin. He hisses before crashing his lips onto yours, presumably to muffle his own moans.

You bring one of your hands up to weave your fingers through the boys dark locks. The sounds of muffled moans and skin slapping fill the room making both you and Sunghoon dizzy.

He pulls away as he runs out of breath, gasping for air. His gasps mixed with desperate moans fill your ears. Your cheeks flush at the thought that he was in so much bliss that he was nearly whining from your touch. His brows were scrunched together as his mouth hung slightly open. You never would have expected that a guy as cold as Sunghoon would be this needy in bed.

You groaned out his name as he pressed his hips forward, burying himself deeper inside your cunt, his larger body towering over you.

"Shit- was that good? Did that feel good?" He asked, trying with all his power to keep his head up to look at your beautiful face. You knew he was trying to sound sexy but he sounded more genuinely concerned than anything. It was endearing that he cared so much about how he was making you feel. Looking back, he had always been this way. Always reassuring you when you did difficult stunts on the ice; he would always make sure you were ready before attempting anything too difficult. He was definitely the type of guy you could fall in love with.

"Hoon, feels s'good..." You groan, tugging lightly at his scalp. He gasps at the pain your fingers cause as he's forced to look down at your smaller figure. Though he urges you to continue pulling at his hair, and you do just that, earning more whines from him.

Sunghoon drops his head onto your shoulder, unable to hold it up any longer. His body drapes over your own so your chests are touching. You could feel him shaking above you like his arms were about to give out at any second. You could tell he was getting closer as his moans became higher in pitch with every thrust of his hips.

"Yn-" he calls your name through a choked gasp.

"Yes, Hoonie?" You answer, lifing his chin so he can look you in the eyes. He bit down on his bottom lip. His damp hair was stuck to his forehead, half pushed to the side in a weak attempt to keep it out of his face. His dark eyebrows furrowed together from the pleasurable bliss you made him feel. He looked like he was in heaven.

"I- ah!" He chokes back moans, trying to form a full sentence but clearly failing to do so. You know what he was trying to say though. You could already tell he was close and so were you. "I'm... cumming..." Oh shit. He was closer than you thought. "Oh fuck... oh- fuck!"

Before you could think, he was already spurting ropes of thick cum, painting your insides white. Sunghoon was whining uncontrollably, burying his face in the crook of your neck. In a quick attempt to silence his noises, he decides to bite down on the soft skin of your neck. A loud moan slips past your lips as you feel your own high rip through you. You claw at his back, leaving many scratch marks that you profusely apologized about later.

Sunghoon continued to piston in and out of your warm pussy sloppily until the very end of your climax. Then he collapses next to you, huffing and panting like he had run a marathon. His arms snake around you to hug your small body from the side. He dips his head down to the crook of your neck, panting soft kisses.

"Shit, Hoon," You jolt upright. "I gotta get home and I don't have my car-"

"Just stay the night then." He replies nonchalantly.

"What?"

"Stay." He groans, pulling you back down to lay next to him. After giving it some thought, you nod hesitantly. You lay back down, scooting back into his embrace. "I really do love you, y'know." Hoon's smooth voice rings through your ears.

"Me too." You say without bothering to look at him.

"Are you being serious?" He asks genuinely, sitting up quickly. His eyes were wide with what was perhaps a relieved expression.

You turn around to look him in the eyes, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek before reassuring him. "Yes, Hoon. I love you." You chuckle as he lays back down next to you, leaving many happy kisses all over your pretty face.

In the morning, you woke up in an almost unfamiliar room. Though, it wasn't really unfamiliar after you remembered what had happened the night prior. Now you remembered where you were. That's how you ended up in Park Sunghoons bed.

© strawberrynull, 2024. Do not copy my work. Please DM for permission before translating or reuploading. Thank You

[feeder86]

The 1%

It had been such a thrill, finding that the scouts had picked him; those same experts who had signed up the likes of Harley Hawkinson and Carl Williams. Did they really see the same potential in Nicko as they had done in those superstar football players? It all felt so surreal as he got off the plane to Oklahoma and entered the training facility. 

Nicko knew it wouldn’t be easy to prove himself. He looked around the large sports hall, filled with over one hundred large, athletic college guys, all hoping for the same dream of a professional sports contract: to play the game that they loved and get paid handsomely for it.

“As you all know, the modern game of football is dominated by guys who are more muscular than we have ever seen before,” an older guy explained to them from the staging area during this first welcome meeting. “In the last three years, we have seen the average weight of a professional football player increase by 30lbs. And that number looks set to continue to increase.”

Looking around at the other guys, Nicko couldn’t help but understand why he was saying this. Sure, the guys around him were full of talent. How else would they have got here otherwise? But put them on a field with the professionals out there these days, and they would get trampled down in seconds. They all knew it. None of them had the muscle and the bulk that was needed to survive in a big league game.

“Our training scheme and medical support can give you that last hope of achieving your dreams,” the man on stage went on; selling the scheme which each of them had already signed up for. They all knew this was their only real shot at success. These days, no professional football player got anywhere without the experimental drugs offered in places like this; not that anyone would ever admit it outside of these walls. “So, my advice to you is, train hard and work with us… Now I’m going to hand you over to someone you will all be very familiar with. We’re so proud of him and delighted that he has given up his time to be with us today. Boys, please may I introduce you to… the one and only… Carl Williams!” he beamed, as the large room of excited college athletes roared into life.

An enormous, hulking mass of man began strutting from the door and onto the stage. He lifted his arm up, accepting all the applause and smiling from ear to ear. Every muscle on his body was pumped and full. Even his forearms looked incredibly developed. Nicko could hardly believe his eyes! His biggest celebrity crush, right here in the same room with him! Carl was known for playing rough and dirty on the field and, in Nicko’s wildest fantasies, he was much the same in the bedroom. Not to mention the fact that, in terms of celebrity bulges, Carl was off the charts. Every gay site he visited had picked up on the fact Carl was packing something absolutely enormous between those giant thighs. 

The man didn’t speak to them for long, but soon had everyone up on their feet, chanting his name. He stuck around too, and was there that evening as they sat down to their first meal together.

“They say he has some sort of sixth sense about which guys will go on to do well here,” Nicko’s new friend, Steve, whispered to him; both of them looking with jealousy at the six young guys who had been invited to sit on Carl’s table.

Nicko shook his head sceptically. “Nah, they’re just the loud ones who know how to sell themselves,” he scoffed, having met a couple of them and deciding that they were not the type of guys he would want to hang around with here; so pumped full of arrogance and self-importance. “We’ve just got to train hard, that’s all.”

Steve exhaled and raised his eyebrows. “I wish that was true,” he mumbled. “But we both know the only thing that sets this training academy apart from the rest is the drugs they use. You can train as hard as you like, but if the drugs disagree with you, that’s the end of the line. Career over.”

Nicko rubbed the spot where he’d had his first injection earlier that day; straight into the muscle at the top of his right butt cheek. ‘Please work!’ he thought silently. There was nothing more he wanted in life than to be up on that top table with Carl Williams.

During the first three weeks, some guys started to stand out remarkably well. Shoulders began to widen, whilst larger glutes and thighs made the training sessions more intense and physical than ever before. Nicko could see the changes in his roommate, Steve, each time he came out of the shower: his biceps bulging and his pecs pumped.

As for Nicko, he had seen only minor changes in his muscle mass, and he was yet to make any impression on the trainers. But as certain guys began to bulk faster, hit harder and dominate on the field, it became more and more of a challenge to stand out, or even stay on your feet.

Egos were beginning to run riot at the camp. Those guys who had quickly responded to the treatments began to strut about with more confidence and ownership of the place than any of them had expected. The larger guys hung out with each other more, sitting together at meal times and excluding those they obviously found inferior.

“Don’t worry,” Steve whispered to him as it was obvious that everything was getting to Nicko. “You’ll respond more to the drugs soon. You’ve just got to focus on the training. That’s the important part.”

Nicko nodded, knowing that Steve didn’t believe a word of what he was saying. In two weeks, they were making their first eliminations, and Steve knew he was heading straight home.

During the assessment, Steve very quickly got a sense of how badly it was going. He was weighed, prodded and poked to within an inch of his life; seeing the same grim faces on the medical professionals all around him. In the end, he was simply sent to a small room and told to wait there for someone to come and speak to him. The afternoon training session was to begin in thirty minutes, but no-one was in a rush to ensure he would make it. The reason for that was obvious: he wasn’t coming back. 

It was no shock to Nicko that he was in this position. The last week in particular had been especially hard. He’d been thrown around by the larger guys in training, beginning to understand how the nerds must have felt back in high school. At twenty-one years old, Nicko was in a place that was little better than a kindergarten playground.

Without warning, and making Nicko jump with surprise, the door suddenly opened and an enormous muscular man entered. It took a couple of seconds for Nicko to focus and recognise the person who was now filling the tiny room they were in, but when he did, he shot to his feet and held his arm out, desperate to shake the guy’s hand. “Carl Williams!” he blasted. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Carl looked across at him with a smirk; his eyes travelling up and down Nicko’s body as he reached out his hand for him to shake. “So you’re Nicko, huh?” he asked, as if trying to hold back a laugh.

Nicko nodded, hardly believing that this meeting was even happening. Carl was even more insanely huge and attractive up close like this.

“Sit down, Nicko,” Carl ordered, grabbing a chair himself. “I need to break something to you.”

“I’m being kicked out, aren’t I?” Nicko shot back, not wanting to draw this out and ruin his one-on-one time with his biggest celebrity crush.

“Oh, of course you are,” Carl chuckled, seeming surprised that Nicko had only just figured it out. “But one of the boys told me you had a bit of a crush on me, so I thought I would come in here to soften the blow.”

Carl gazed at Nicko with a sly grin on his face. He knew that he had embarrassed him and he was enjoying the period of time when Nicko was squirming and desperately thinking of how to respond.

“Um, so… how come I’m going home?” he asked, trying to fill the cringing silence.

“Because you’ve not responded to the drugs the same as everyone else,” Carl shot back, looking at him as though he was stupid for not being able to see that for himself. 

“But there are a few guys who aren’t packing on muscle all that fast either,” Nicko protested.

“Oh, you’re right about that,” Carl nodded. “But you’ve not gained any muscle mass at all,” he stated harshly. “In fact, you’re part of the less than 1% who actually lose muscle mass on this treatment.”

“That’s not true,” Nicko protested. “I have gained weight since I’ve been here.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Carl laughed. “You’ve only gained fat since you started.” He pointed at the slight paunch that always popped out whenever Nicko was on a bulking diet. “All the guys can see that. I hear they’ve been giving you a rough time this week? The medical team spotted a nice collection of bruises on your body this morning.”

“Not too bad,” Nicko lied, not wanting to look pathetic in front of his idol.

Carl simply laughed as if he knew differently. “Sure, sure,” he nodded patronisingly. “Those guys are just learning; being on a football team is like being part of a pack of wolves. So when you see a little piggy on the field with you, you’ve got to go for them.”

Nicko’s eyes bulged at Carl’s rudeness. But the professional athlete simply smiled at him, as if daring him to call him out on his comments. Then, when Nicko kept quiet, the big man nodded in approval.

“I like you,” Carl grinned wickedly. “You’ve got the right attitude and you don’t live too far from where I play, do you?” he asked, having clearly studied Nicko’s notes before coming in. “I’d love to grab a few beers with you sometime in the coming months.”

Nicko nodded his head frantically.

“Good,” Carl smiled, reaching his large hand out to stroke Nicko’s thigh. “Play your cards right and I might even let you suck me off,” he teased, before standing and heading straight out of the room.

Despite the daring, unbelievably hot fantasy Carl had dangled in front of Nicko’s nose: home still beckoned. He had lost. The dream of sporting success and insane riches was now over.

With a mediocre college degree, Nicko settled into an equally mediocre office job, close to home so that he could move back in with his parents. He’d suffered from a great sense of failure after the training scheme had gone so badly. No one wanted to be the first one sent home; he hadn’t even had a chance to say even a quick goodbye to his friends. He’d got himself into quite the slump, finding that no matter what he did, he simply couldn’t shake off the little arching paunch he had developed in Oklahoma. In fact, despite all his careful eating and gym work, it actually seemed to be increasing in size more than anything. 

The same could be said for the rest of his body, with Nicko’s underwear pinching uncomfortably as his tight glutes began to pack on some extra, softening mass. Was he really developing love handles at this age, even after all this exercise? It just didn’t seem physically possible. His date, the weekend before, had even called him out on his extra pounds. Perhaps he had even been right to do so; his profile pictures really were a little out of date these days. It meant that when he got the call from someone on Carl Williams’ staff, trying to set up a date for their beers, Nicko went immediately into panic mode. There was nothing in his closet that was suitable for drinks with a football superstar; at least, nothing that fitted!

“Well, well, well…” Carl smirked as Nicko entered the very private VIP room at the back of the noisy, exclusive club in the city. The enormous 335lb football player looked sexier than ever, all dressed up as he was for a night out. “Let me get a look at you,” he demanded, ruthlessly kicking away the table in front of him with his feet and making space for Nicko.

Having travelled for an hour to get here and arguing with the security outside for twenty minutes that he was a guest of Carl’s, Nicko wanted nothing more than to just sit and have a drink. However, when Carl clicked his fingers and pointed again to where he was being summoned, Nicko only did as he was told.

Immediately, Carl reached forwards, slapping one hand on Nicko’s larger butt and the other on the furthest extent that his paunch was now sticking out. He smiled, bouncing both lightly and seeming to appreciate the new width across the middle of Nicko’s body. “Look at you!” he growled with disgust. “You wouldn't last two minutes on the football field now. My boys would rip you to pieces!”

“I’m trying this new diet…” Nicko began explaining, not knowing what else to say.

Carl winced and shook his head impatiently. “Shh! I don’t want to hear about shit like that.” He leaned right back, then tapped his outstretched thigh, silently telling Nicko to sit on it.

Again, Nicko did as he was old, unable to comprehend that he was getting so close to his football idol. He heard Carl growl in appreciation as Nicko’s torso slipped so easily into his reach. Then, without a word, he began unbuttoning Nicko’s shirt from the very top.

“Wait!” Nicko jumped. “Don’t people come in here?”

“Yes,” Carl replied, unperturbed as he reached the fourth button down.

“What if someone comes in and sees me like this?”

“Then they will see…” Carl smiled, finally reaching the end of the buttons and now splaying the shirt material to the sides, “...THIS!”

Nicko tensed as his fleshy torso was revealed to the one person he had been carefully dressing to conceal it from.

“Fuck!” Carl blasted. “Even the tits are coming in!” he laughed loudly, reaching up and bouncing one of Nicko’s nipples.

Nicko got up, feeling embarrassed. He felt Carl’s strong hand clasp the back of his pants and pull him back over his knee so that Nicko actually fell into the space on the couch beside the football superstar. From there, the enormous man seemed to envelope him, his arm over his body and his face so deliciously close.

“Don’t be shy,” Carl whispered teasingly. “This happens to all the boys at the training camp eventually. Well…” he grinned, raising his arm to show off his incredible bicep, “...almost all.”

“Weight gain?” Nicko asked, feeling his stomach rolling over his belt as he sat, half on his back, with the enormous athlete looming over him.

Carl nodded. “A fat belly, jiggly tits, a giant, doughy butt… you know how it goes,” he laughed; his lips devastatingly near. “But the one percent, well, that boy is always very special.”

Niko nodded, remembering Carl referring to the muscle stimulant medication having an opposite outcome for one percent of the people who used it. Which, in Nicko’s group, had been him. “I’m special?” he asked, aroused by all this attention he was getting.

“Very much so,” Carl grinned, rubbing Nicko’s cheek with an outstretched finger. “The one percent packs on fat faster than anyone else. In less than a year, he can go from a chiselled athlete to a full grown superchub!”

“That can’t be true,” Nicko replied. “They’d never allow something like that.”

“And yet…” Carl laughed, grabbing the roll of fat hanging over Nicko’s belt: his point made. “You really have no concept of how much money there is to be made in football, do you? How vital things like this are for the economy? Fatties like you are just… collateral damage… a necessary evil on the way to creating superstars like me.”

“How do I stop this?” Niko asked, watching the athlete getting up and unbuckling his pants.

“Sucking on this should help,” Carl lied, pulling his monstrously large erection out and slapping it into the palm of his hand. It was even bigger than Nicko had ever imagined, gazing at pictures and videos of the guy’s bulge over the years

Overcome with lust, Nicko slipped his mouth over as much of it as he could, just as he was directed. Everything that had happened since entering this room had been like a dream. Whatever weird things were happening in his life right now, here he was, pleasuring a football champion!

“Oh, yeah! That’s good!” Carl moaned. “Yes! Work that tongue, One Percent! Take as much of me in as you can!”

In those moments, Nicko did not care what was happening to him. He was the luckiest guy in the world, feeling ecstatic as he brought the enormous man to a full climax, simply by using his mouth.

Clearly impressed, a sweaty Carl buckled his belt back up and sat himself down again. “Keep that up and you’ll go far with me,” he sighed in appreciation.

As Carl fixed his clothing, Nicko tried to do the same, beginning to refasten his shirt buttons. However, Carl was still having none of it; placing his large hand very decidedly over Nicko’s and saying ‘no’ in a very strict manner; as if training a puppy.

“Have you ever thought about moving to the city?” Carl asked next.

Nicko shook his head. “I couldn’t afford it. Plus, I don’t know anyone here.”

“Good. That means you wouldn’t go wandering,” Carl shot back bluntly. “I can get you somewhere by next weekend. You can live there, and then you’re close by for me to pop in whenever I want. I keep a few guys that way.”

“Why would you do that for me?” Nicko asked, confused by what he felt were a rush of mixed messages.

“At a game, the front row seats are always the best,” Carl simply replied, leaning across once more and flicking the fat roll that fell over Nicko’s belt. “And this is a show I have no intention of missing…”

It was a couple of months later. Nicko stood at the large picture window of his apartment, still unable to comprehend the amazing view he had over the cityscape. Fully furnished and decorated by professional interior designers, Nicko was living a life he could have only ever imagined in his very wildest of dreams. He was even paid a salary each month and had new bank accounts set up entirely by Carl’s people. And all it took was the signing of several non-disclosure agreements from the athlete’s numerous lawyers.

“It’s time to put that pizza down, Fat Boy!” Carl called out, striding in unannounced, as usual.

Nicko chuckled. He hadn’t been eating any pizza, although you would never have guessed that from looking at him. Upon Carl’s insistence, he wore only his underwear around the apartment, catching glimpses of his increasingly lardy reflection in the many, many mirrors that Carl had insisted was part of the interior design.

“Jeez! Look at you!” Carl laughed, undressing himself at the door, as he always did, and watching as his secret project came waddling into view. He pulled his erection out and stipped even his boxers, standing there as the perfect masculine specimen. “Your tits just won’t quit growing, will they?” he laughed. “And look at this fat butt!” he marvelled, dropping Nicko’s underwear and slapping the oversized glutes which had been filling up at a faster rate since Carl had been sending over take-out most nights. Nicko could tell from the way that Carl was handling them, exactly how the big man wanted to fuck him that evening.

The big mirror in the hallway was always Carl’s favourite spot. He could bend Nicko over the sturdy little desk and watch their reflections as he powerfully bombarded his boy’s chubby’s rear with blow after blow.

“You played well last night,” Nicko offered afterwards as a naked Carl lounged on his sofa for a rest afterwards..

“Yeah, yeah,” Carl sighed, rolling his eyes. He had people blowing smoke up his ass all day long. This wasn’t what he kept Nicko for.

“I felt so proud, I decided to finish all those doughnuts you sent me,” he explained, hoping to please his lover.

“Good,” Carl nodded. “It’s about time you stopped resisting the ways I’m trying to help you fatten faster.” He beckoned Nicko closer, just as the chubby boy had hoped. “So, tell me, how did it make you feel, eating all that for me?”

Still fully loaded and, as yet, unsatisfied, Nicko gasped in excitement as he felt Carl’s hand moving onto his thigh, ready to pleasure him if only he said the right things. “It felt incredible,” he replied, exaggerating. “It made me want to eat even more food and please you so much more,” he continued, feeling his erection having a gentle stroke; so subtle and yet so precise.

“Go on,” Carl demanded, not letting Nicko stop. “Tell me more.”

Nicko gasped, always climaxing pathetically quickly whenever Carl was the one touching him. “It made me so excited to get heavier for you…” he offered.

“Oh, no. That’s not the right word now, is it?” Carl sighed with disappointment. “You’re not just getting heavier, are you? Tell me what’s really happening, One Percent.”

Nicko gave another gasp of arousal, his jaw slackening as the pleasure built. “I’m getting fatter for you,” he replied diligently.

“What else?” Carl demanded again, having found a small crack in Nicko’s defences and prizing it open in any way that he could.

“I’m getting lazier. I don’t exercise. And I eat like a pig,” Nicko whispered, just as he had been trained.

“You are a pig,” Carl shot back at him, spiking Nicko’s arousal even more. The shock he felt over the word was now gone, given how many times Carl had whispered it into his ear whenever he came. Now the word had become a key for unlocking Nicko’s arousal. 

Nicko nodded, gazing submissively into the big man’s eyes. His breathing was heavy and his entire body twitched as the orgasm built.

“Piggy, Piggy, Piggy!” Carl sang teasingly, forcing Nicko’s hardess to erupt explosively yet again.

“My goodness! What on earth have you been eating?” asked Nicko’s mother a few weeks later as he called home for a quick visit.

Nicko could feel his face flushing. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, trying to conceal his stout gut that had quickly formed and dominated his torso. It was all his family wanted to talk about, demanding explanations from Nicko about exactly what he was doing to gain so much weight so quickly. Didn’t he have any regard for his health? His appearance? His ability to find someone nice to settle down with? Just what was this city life doing to him? 

“She’s only thinking of you, Son,” Nicko’s dad offered later that afternoon, as the pair retreated into the TV room to watch the football. 

“I know, I know,” Nicko huffed, trying to concentrate on the game to see how Carl was playing. Then he winced as Carl went in for a big tackle, destroying the opposition.

“Ouch!” Nicko’s dad hooted. “He’s a nasty piece of work, that Carl Williams! Look at him getting up like nothing’s happened. That poor guy will be out for weeks after that tackle.”

“So?,” Nicko replied defensively. “It wasn’t an illegal tackle. He’s not broken any rules.”

“No, just another guy’s shoulder by the looks of things. Third one this season by my count.”

They both watched the screen as Carl strutted about on the pitch, waiting for the medical team to finish up so that play could resume. Nicko knew the football player well enough to know when he was trying to suppress a proud smile.

“A man that big has no place on the football field,” Nicko’s dad continued. “Look at him! His arms are bigger than my thighs! The game has gone ridiculous!”

But Nicko definitely was watching, feeling blood pumping into his groin. He rubbed his fat tummy, just as Carl would have, suddenly knowing that he wanted to gorge himself stupid on fast food on the way home.

“I weighed myself this morning,” Nicko explained, lying on his front, naked on the bed after a particularly boisterous session with Carl. “Three hundred and forty one pounds,” he smiled, rolling a little and grabbing a wedge of belly fat.

“You have to start eating more then, won’t you?” Carl replied, unimpressed. “You’re only just a little heavier than me.”

Nicko laughed. Whilst the fact was true, his and Carl’s bodies were complete polar opposites in terms of composition.

“I mean it,” Carl stated seriously. “Three fifty by next weekend. Make it happen.”

“Am I the fattest of the guys you keep?” Nicko asked, knowing how Carl supported lots of secret lovers all over the city.

“Not even close!” Carl laughed.

“Do you think I could be, one day?”

Carl looked at him seriously, studying his face in a way that he did not usually. Then his answer, when it came, was actually a lot more considered than anything else that usually came out his mouth. “Why? Do you want to be?”

The feeling of having Carl’s attention was a drug that Nicko could never wean himself off. “For you,” he smiled, “I’d do anything.”

With Nicko’s new enthusiasm and commitment, he felt himself rising up the ranks in Carl’s mind. The athlete came over a lot more and took a very active interest in ensuring that Nicko continued to grow as he’d promised he would. One such perk was having free seats to any of Carl’s games; often getting himself on camera as he gorged on corn dogs in the stands.  

“Steve?” Nicko asked as he recognised the man standing by the rest rooms after the game. “How’re you doing, buddy? I can’t believe I’m bumping into you!”

The young man Nicko had met and made friends with in the training camp failed to recognise him until Nicko introduced himself once more. His jaw dropped and he spluttered and mumbled his way through the conversation, clearly not quite believing that they had once been roommates a little over one year ago.

“How did the training camp work out for you in the end?” Nicko asked. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to anyone.”

“Yeah, we got used to that,” Steve nodded. “We’d see guys at breakfast and then… gone. Kicked out. I got down to the final thirty or so. But it got so toxic in the end,” he grumbled, reeling off the names of the guys both he and Nicko had despised: the ones who were now making names for themselves in the professional game. “In the end, I was quite happy to leave.”

Nicko looked down to Steve’s body, noticing a stout little stomach under his pumped pecs. 

Steve noticed him looking and he sucked in hids stomach slightly, clearly feeling a little awkward. “I’ve been trying to keep up the training,” he rambled on, clearly used to making excuses for his appearance. “It’s just hard to balance now I’m working full time as well.”

“It’s much easier when you give into it,” Nicko smiled knowingly. 

“Yeah, well…” Steve smiled awkwardly. “I’m not quite ready for that.”

Nicko wondered whether he should tell his old friend that the weight gain wasn’t going to stop; that just like him, Steve was heading on a path to enormous obesity as a result of their time in the training camp. However, he resisted, giving his old friend the goodbye hug he had never been allowed at the camp, and watching the guy’s meaty, round glutes and stubborn love handles as he walked back to his girlfriend who was now out of the restrooms. If only she knew the body her boyfriend would soon inhabit: another victim of his own lust for sporting success.

It was only now that Nicko realised just how involved Carl had been from the beginning, having invested millions in the training camp they had attended, and reaping fifty times as much in return. It was what he loved most in the entire world; never missing a single event day they held, and personally seeing to it that more and more naive college boys were signed up each year.

“You’re such a good pig these days,” Carl grinned, watching Nicko nibbling on the specially made giant doughnuts that fitted perfectly around Carl’s thick erection. “Just seeing you without your clothes on now… you’re so disgustingly obese, and yet… look at you eat!”

Nicko nibbled and licked the remaining bits up quickly and sat up so that Carl could touch and jiggle his enormous body, laughing as the waves of pure fat travelled in such interesting ways through his entire body. 

“How about we get you somewhere nicer to live than this dump?” he asked, scorning as he looked around the plush, luxury apartment. “Somewhere a lot more superchub friendly.”

Nicko nodded, happy to live wherever Carl thought was best. As he had grown, the wage that was deposited into his account each month had been increasing more and more. Carl had always been great at incentives. In a couple more months, he would even be able to buy his own place, should he so wish.

“I’m looking for somewhere very exclusive for my original piggy to live in,” Carl explained, bouncing up and pushing Nicko onto his back on the bed. “I’d like it to be somewhere for you both to live together,” he smiled, picking up another cream filled doughnut and pushing it into Nicko’s submissive mouth.

Chewing quickly and swallowing as much as he could, Nicko nodded with interest. “This is the guy you first went on the training course with? Your fattest boy so far?”

“You wait until you see him!” Carl grinned excitedly. “Mountains and mountains of pure blubber!” he chuckled, stuffing yet another doughnut into Nicko’s mouth and watching as the greedy boy swallowed it down for him “But he’s not always obedient, like you. He still tries to push against my rules on occasion,” he sneered in irritation. “The pig’s almost one hundred pounds heavier than you are,” Carl explained, having never actually given Nicko any insight into the differences between him and the other fatties he kept. “Yet, he still thinks he can defy me at times.”

Nicko looked up at the gorgeous, hulking monster above him. “Don’t worry. I’ll sort him out for you,” he stated with certainty.

Carl threw his head back and laughed. “My disgusting fatty is setting himself a mission, is he?” he mocked. “Well, you do that then, One Percent,” he nodded approvingly. “Turn him into a good piggy, just like you.”

Nicko smiled, delighted to be trusted with such a task. He rolled over, feeling Carl’s large hand smacking an entire palmful of lubricant into his crack. Then he pulled his heavy, fat-filled glutes wide apart to demonstrate that he was ready to be fucked again. Nicko didn’t know exactly when he had stopped caring about anything else in his life; devoting himself entirely to Carl’s wants and needs. He knew that the guy was wicked and manipulative; throwing his money around and flaunting his good looks to get whatever he wanted. He knew as well that the guy could get bored of him and drop him in a flash. But whilst he was here, basking in the limelight, he would enjoy every second of it. 

He would be the very best piggy.  

[fastandcarlos]

My Jacket Now : ̗̀➛ George Russell

A shiver ran down your spine as you looked across at the busy paddock. There were bodies everywhere and yet still you found yourself with a chill attacking you. In amongst the chaos your eyes landed on the tall figure of George, diving through the crowds of people, calling out his name, in order to capture his attention. His smile turned up as he noticed you before him.

“I was beginning to think you’d left to get ready without saying goodbye,” you joked.

You were bouncing on your toes in response to the cool. George quickly noticed, unzipping the fleece that he wore and wrapping it around your frame.

“I think you need this more than I do right now.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you put the fleece on properly. “Is George Russell actually giving up his beloved jacket right now?”

George nudged your side, “I can take it back.”

Your head shook as you felt yourself warm up, stepping forwards and pressing a kiss against his lips as George held your waist. “Thank you,” you whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” George chuckled, giving you a kiss of his own. “You better still be wearing that when I get back at the end of the race.”

Your head nodded at George’s instruction, “it’ll come back in perfect condition, I promise.”

George took a set back, admiring how beautiful you looked wearing a piece of his merch.

“George! Let’s go!”

You offered a smile to George, “go on, I’ll be right here cheering for you.”

“Wish me luck babe.”

“You don’t need luck.”

You took one last look at George before letting him go so he could finish prepping for the race. You stayed back in amongst some of the team, studying them all hard at work.

“Now you look like you’re really one of us,” one of them told you as you passed by.

A chuckle came from you as you looked down at the fleece, if anyone didn’t know better, you really did look like a part of the Mercedes crew now.

You remained where you were for most of the race, watching George anxiously. As ever, the race didn’t come without its moments, your heart being made to work a thousand times harder, flinching and hissing every near miss that George had, holding onto the sleeves of George’s fleece to try and calm yourself down.

The only time you could relax was when George crossed the finish line, cheers coming from around you as he came home in 4th, earning him and the team some huge points, having worked incredibly hard all weekend.

You stood back when George returned to the garage, letting him fist bump his team first. Once he eventually found you, his eyes looked nowhere else, arms open inviting you into his hold so that he could celebrate with you.

A kiss to the top of your head greeted you as George rested his head on top of your own. He was sweaty, and smelt a tad, but you were too proud to let that bother you, wrapping your arms around his thin waist at the same time.

“You were amazing out there, well done love!”

It always felt incredible to hear your compliments, especially after a race. George’s smile turned up knowing that you were proud of him - it was all that he ever needed!

“It’s cold now I’m out of the car, George joked, glancing down as you still wore his fleece. “I could really do with that jacket I left around here earlier.”

You tilted your head back to look up at George, “this is my jacket now, you gave it to me, finders keepers and all that.”

George gasped as you spoke, “I gave it to you!”

“But I look better wearing it, right?”

George went to speak but stopped. You poked your tongue as you realised that you had him stuck, he could never argue with you, especially when secretly he knew that you were right.

“You’re lucky you’re cute otherwise I’d be stealing that jacket right from you,” George smirked, tapping the tip of your nose with his own.

“Admit it, you’re just so in love with me.”

George nodded in agreement, “that I most definitely am sweetheart.”

Your smile turned up as George spoke, tightening your grip around him. “And I’m so embarrassingly in love with you too.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

"What's the matter?" Daryl asked, coming to stand behind you as you stared into the scant closet. His body landed flush against yours and his hands pulled your hips back into him more tightly.

You sighed. "I don't want to go to this stupid event. How is it possible there even are fancy events anymore?" you asked. "It just feels wrong..." You turned in his arms and your hands landed on his sides. He gripped your hips more firmly, more securely. "And you have to work security, so I'm going to be by myself. I'd feel a lot better if you were going to be with me, right next to me."

"Yumiko will be there," Daryl reminded you, trying to sound reassuring.

"Yeah," you said vaguely. "They didn't even give me a choice. I understand why Tomi was hiding his medical degree. Just because I had a stupid, fancy degree in the old world now I'm stuck orbiting around all these assholes..."

Daryl chuckled and you looked up at him and met his blue eyes, which were narrowed slightly in a smile. "S'just one night. It'll be okay. And I'll be close by."

"Yeah," you sighed again. You turned back to the closet. "Help me choose something to wear?"

"Mmm," Daryl hummed. He left his position behind you and stepped forward to the closet. He shoved most of the hangers out of the way, reaching for one specific item of clothing. He held it out to you, clearly proud of his joke, and you smiled. It was his vest, leather arms stitched on for the cooler weather so it was a complete jacket.

You couldn't help laughing at his joke. "Babe... I don't think it's up to the dress code. They said semi-formal."

"Hmm. Alrigh'. Put one of them fancy dresses underneath it," he retorted, still smirking.

You grabbed the hanger from him. "Somehow, I don't think it'll fly... but I tell you what—maybe I can save it for later tonight when it's just the two of us. You know... as a complete outfit." Daryl's eyebrows lifted.

"Ya better not be teasin'," he drawled.

"I would never joke about something like that," you giggled.

Prompt: "Help me choose something to wear?"

[the-californicationist]

he washes your hair

Injured in the line of duty, you can't even manage to wash your own hair. Captain John Price decides to help you out.

MDNI/18+

TW: hurt/comfort, injury

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50663425

The medics did the best they could to patch you up, but the damage was extensive. The terrorist’s pipe bomb had exploded against your back, slamming shrapnel into your arms and shoulders, tearing your flesh and breaking your left collarbone. The doctor had tried to put your arm in a sling, but you couldn’t raise either arm above the midpoint. As you dragged your body back to your quarters, you did your best to get undressed, but you were now stuck, sitting on the floor, crying a bit from the pain and frustration of your injuries. 

There was no one to help you. You were stuck out here with the task force, but Soap and Ghost were still deep in enemy territory on recon. Gaz had gone with Laswell to find the weapons shipment that she’d promised you, and the only one left in the makeshift house-turned-base was Captain Price. 

You told yourself you’d do the same thing for him if the tables were turned, but it didn’t lessen the shame at all. You called his cell, 

“Cap?”

“Sparrow? What’s wrong?”

You never called him like this. Not at this hour. But, knowing you were injured, he picked right up. His voice was full of concern. You could picture his blue eyes shining with his worry. 

“Nothing…” you paused, “Well, I…”

“Gonna die of old age before you tell me, soldier.”

You smiled, biting the bullet,

“Cap, I need your help. I’m stuck in here. Can’t move my arms.”

“On my way,” he hung up. 

You waited, listening for his heavy footsteps. Eventually, you heard him in the hall. He knocked on your door.

“Come in,” you said, turning your eyes to the floor, unable to meet his gaze, full of shame. 

You were sitting there, in nothing but the shirt stuck around your arm and a pair of panties. You’d been successful with the rest of your outfit, proud of yourself for using a coat hanger to take off your bra from the back clip, but now you were trapped, unable to move even a little without being in excruciating pain.

“Poor little bird. Broke your wing, hm?” Price smiled down at you, his tone so different than his usual sarcasm.

“I must look pretty pitiful for you to be so sweet about it,” you rolled your eyes, “Go on, have a laugh. I’m a muppet who trapped herself in her own shirt.”

He didn’t say anything. Price walked over to you carefully, bending down so he could reach you, his hulking body darkening your vision, casting his huge shadow over you, almost protectively. He snaked his hand under the collar of your shirt and guided it up and over your head, careful not to disturb your bandages. 

Shirtless, now, and in just your underwear, you moved to cover your breasts, wincing as you made the attempt, your shoulder angry at the bent angle. 

“It’s alright, birdie. Let’s get you up,” he set your arm back into its neutral position and guided you to your feet. 

“I’m so sorry you had to come,” you whispered, shameful to the point of pain. 

Price guided you to the bathroom, his strength making you feel weightless. You were dizzy from it. His warm body felt like a salve on your wounds. 

He didn’t ask for permission when he stripped off your panties, kneeling to pull them off of your legs, letting you step gingerly out of them, one by one. You steadied yourself on his huge shoulders, the agony too high for you to complain any longer. Your breath caught in your chest when a sharp spike of hot pain shot through your chest. 

“Ah! Christ,” you gritted your teeth. 

Blue eyes looked up at you from below, looking like a man in prayer, looking up for his gods, for a sign. 

“Alright, Spar? Here, sit. Sit down,” he guided you to the side of the shower-tub combo, placing you between the open plexiglass doors. 

“Captain, I…” you tried to make your excuses again. 

“Shh,” he wiped some of your dried blood off of your cheek, and furrowed his brow at you, “No more of that. That’s an order, Corporal.” 

“Yes, sir,” you grimaced, trying to turn on the water. 

“Stop, birdie. Let me help you.” 

You were too tired to fight him. He turned on the water for you, and he started to remove your bandages. Your wounds needed to be cleaned and the bandages replaced. You weren’t sure how the medics expected you to do that by yourself. You thought the captain might be willing to stay, so you tried to be good, tried not to be a burden to him. 

“You know,” he commented as he waited for the water to warm up, reaching for clean towels, “Laswell called. She said you saved those two girls, the ones in the upstairs room.”

There had been a mess of civilians on this last mission, and you had blocked the bomb with your body, trying to shield them from the blast. 

“They made it through?” You wanted to be sure.

He nodded, smiling,

“Sure did, little bird. You did good. Made us proud,” then, he corrected himself, staring at you with fiery intent, “Me. Made me proud.” 

You smiled back, 

“Thanks, Captain.”

“C’mon, let’s get you clean,” he took off his shirt and you gaped in awe. 

His body was huge in the small bathroom, enormous shoulders bulging off of his heavy frame, and his core was thick but the top of his abs were sticking out, suggesting a well-fed but strong man. He was covered in dense hair, laying straight and flat against his skin, unshaven and untrimmed. No one to trim it for, you supposed.

“What are you doing?” You asked, shocked by his undressing.

Price unbuckled his belt, the metal clinking as it dangled, and started to take off his pants, using his toes to pry off his boots from the heel,

“Can’t wash yourself, and I can’t reach you from out here. Gonna jump in and help you,” he paused, looking at you carefully, “That alright, birdie?”

Your nickname was your favorite thing you’d ever gotten from him. When he used it, in his thick accent, it made your heart race. 

You nodded, resigning yourself to be as professional as you could, averting your eyes.

He chuckled, rich and deep,

“Might as well have a butcher’s now, love. Gonna be up close and personal.”

You looked at him then, accepting his challenge. But, as your eyes raked over his nude form, you saw his skin flush pink, a little more self-conscious than he let on. 

“I know, I know. Old dog like me, I’m nothing to look at. I promise, I’ll just wash you and get back out. Sorry about all the…” he made a general motion toward his cock, which was hanging heavy and half-hard at the sight of you, “Can’t help that you’re a pretty bird.” 

“John, you’re plenty to look at,” you grinned, blushing right along with him. 

For once in his life, John Price didn’t have a snappy response. He just checked the water again and helped you stand up, guiding you into the shower and repositioning the head so that it wouldn’t hit you directly. 

You let yourself soak under the stream, eyes closed, hearing him shut the door behind himself. You felt him steady you with a hand on your hip as he used a gentle washcloth to clean blood off of your skin, careful not to touch your wounds. 

“Turn ‘round, love,” his voice was so low, you almost couldn’t hear him. 

You turned toward him, watching him stand before you, breathing heavier, trying his best not to stare at your chest. It was easy at first. As he cleaned your face, his touch soft and platonic, he stole a few glances down. But, as he began to take care of your collarbone and chest, he lost his nerve a bit. At one point, he stopped mid-swipe, trying to clean blood from you and then watching as a long, thin rivulet ran directly over your nipple. 

You smiled, and he saw you, chuckling again.

“Got me. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Captain. Just a natural response.” 

He pulled back his lips from his teeth and ran a wet hand down his face, looking exasperated,

“Do you want…I mean, do you mind if I…” he let out a labored sigh, shaking his head. 

“You can, John. I…” you waited until he could look you in the face again, “I want you to touch me, if you want to.”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, not really to you, “Look, I don’t want you to feel - ”

You leaned forward, a bit unsteady, and kissed the skin on his sternum, feeling the hairs on your lips, his wet skin sticking to you as you pulled away. 

“Little bird,” he was warning you. You could hear it in his tone. 

“Kiss me, John. Please?”

“I can’t. I can’t because I won’t stop. I don’t have an abundance of self-control. Not after a mission. Can’t be trusted.”

“I trust you,” you looked up at him, praying back to him, hoping he wanted you like you had wanted him over these last six months. 

Price leaned down, holding you steady, and kissed you very chastely. You kissed him back, not chastely at all. He moaned, pulling away,

“Don’t, Spar. I can’t…You’re injured.”

“Yeah, injured. Not dead.”

He smirked, unable to keep the grin off his face. His cock was as hard as a stone, and it was long enough to rub against your belly as you stood together in the small space. 

“Let me wash your hair. I’ll think about it, birdie…you little minx,” his last comment was said under his breath, full of hungry desperation. 

He turned you around again, and he reached for the shampoo, pouring out a quarter-sized amount into his calloused palm. Rubbing it together in his hands, he ran it through your scalp, massaging it until it foamed, making sure to take care of the ends. Then, he held you while you stood under the spray, letting the warm water soak your tresses, running the suds down the drain. 

As he prepared to wash your body, Price took a deep breath. He stayed away from your wounds, but as he started to wash your trunk, he hesitated to soap your breasts. 

“John, it’s okay.” 

He smiled at you, 

“Just enjoying you, little bird. Might not get another chance.” 

“I’ll make sure you get plenty of chances.” 

He was on you then, gently caressing your breasts and nipples with the soap, rubbing his body on yours, washing himself as he cleaned you. He ran his hands over your ass cheeks, down your legs, making sure to take care of your whole body as if it was his.

“Alright, all done,�� he sighed, “Let’s get those dressings replaced, and I’ll take you to bed.”

You raised your eyebrows suggestively. He exhaled, smiling down at you in disbelief, his voice deep and ragged,

“Fuckin’ hell, birdie. Keep teasin’ me and I bloody will take you to bed.”

You smiled, laughing with him, enjoying his warmth as you leaned your body against his, letting the soft spray from the shower protect you both, cocooned together, safe and sound.

[axelsagewrites]

I need more Jace x reader modern au

like maybe enemies to lovers or something and he’s cocky, and smuttyyyy

Jace Velaryon*Studying

Pairing: Modern!Jace x afab!reader

Word count: 2483

Warnings: enemies to lovers, bet, cocky jace, make out, fingering, f!recieving oral, praise, teasing, smut 18+

Masterlist here

The door to your dorm slammed behind you as you collapsed in a heap on your bed. Aly and Helena sat on Helena’s bed, snickering at your rant. “He is such an insecure, brain dead, stuck up, trust fund baby with a god complex and I bet his dick isn’t even that big- “

“Remember he is Hel’s nephew,” Aly cut you off.

You groaned as you flung your head even harder against the pillow. “Don’t worry. I know he sucks,” your roommate chuckled, “You’re lucky you only see him during the term. Family gatherings are like a dick measuring competition with all the guys,”

“I can only imagine,” you said, shuddering at the idea of dealing with more Jace, “I just don’t get what his problem is!”

“What did he do this time?”

-

“So, I think for this part of the project- “you said, pointing at the notes you’d laid out as you tried to ignore Jace’s attempts to annoy you.

He was sat, his chin resting on his hand, facing you, staring at you, “So why don’t we hang out?” he asked, brushing the hair out your face.

You huffed, slapping his hand away, “Because you never do any work,” you scoffed.

Jace grinned, sitting back in his chair, “What so all I gotta do is be a nerd like you and I can take you out?”

Work was clearly not going to get done so you dropped your pencil and turned to face him, “One, I’m not a nerd. Two, it’s not nerdy to not wanna flunk out. and three I don’t go on dates with pompous assholes,”

“You just don’t go on dates sweetheart,” Jace revealed in the way your face flushed and your eyes rolled, “Maybe if you did you might loosen up a little,”

“Please, you’re loose enough for the both of us. Now can we please work on this? I’m not having you bring down my average,”

Jace rolled his eyes but finally sat up to work. He actually began to read the notes you had when suddenly he stopped, “Lets make this interesting,” he smirked.

You face palmed at his words, “Let’s not,” you groaned.

“If I get an A on this we go on a date,” Jace said, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees.

“What so I have to do all the work and also suffer?” you huffed, crossing your arms.

Jace rolled his eyes but there was a grin on his face, “Fine. If I get an A on this and the next essay due,”

Your eyes narrowed on him, something not adding up, “Isn’t your average like a C?”

“D actually,” he grinned, leaning back in his chair like it was something to be proud of, “But I can do anything if I put my mind to it,”

“Aw is that what your mommy told you? Yeah, no that’s what the trust funds for,” you mocked but Jace’s gaze was unwavering, “Ugh fine,” you finally agreed, dramatically rolling your eyes for effect, “What do I get when you lose?”

“If I lose,” Jace corrected with a grin, “and if somehow, I do lose then I will do whatever you ask of me. No matter how embarrassing. Scouts honour,” he said, placing his hand to his chest.

You eyed him up, wondering just how good it would be to force him to run through the Greek life street in a frilly pink bikini, “Fine. You’re on,”

-

Heleana and Aly got a kick out of the story and for the rest of the evening you brainstormed embarrassing ideas. However, over the next few days you got a bad feeling. Each time you met with Jace to do the project he actually did the work. One time you walked into the library just to return a book and you saw him sat there studying. There was even a girl trying to flirt with him the whole time sat on the table, but he just ignored her.

“What if he actually wins?” You asked your friends as the three of you walked into the dining hall.

Helana shrugged when she grabbed her tray, “He actually used to be pretty smart. Got mostly As in high school,” You and Aly both stopped in your tracks at this, “What?”

“You didn’t think to tell us this?” you asked, eyes wide but she just shrugged.

Aly however was looking off in the distance, “Is that Jace studying?” she asked, nodding to one of the loudest tables in the room.

Sure, enough he was sat at the end of his frat table that was all a mix of hungover, drunk, or high. All but Jace who sat at the end studying. “I am so fucked,”

-

After handing in your partner project that Friday you did your best to put this whole Jace mess out your mind. That worked great until Wednesday rolled around, and the email blast of results came out.

“Hey study buddy,” Jace said as he flung his arm over your shoulder in the hallway, “You seen this yet?” he asked, shoving the phone in your face.

“Is this your first A or something?” you scoffed.

Jace grinned, his arm staying put on your shoulder as he slipped his phone away, “Nope,” he said, popping the P. “Just excited for our date,” the words made you shudder, or maybe it was the way it seemed everyone was staring, “Do you like Italian food? I know a place- “

“You haven’t won yet you know,” you said, pulling away till you were stood in front of him, arms crossed, “You still need an A in the essay,”

“Pft easy peasey,” Jace scoffed, a smirk returning to his lips as he pushed the hair out your eyes, “Besides, I like a challenge,” he added, his eyes wandering down to your lips, “Start outfit planning sweetheart,” he said as he began to walk away.

“You’re not gonna win!” you called after him despite him already turning his back.

“Not with that attitude doll,”

-

“I never thought id see the day Jace became a nerd,” Heleana mused as you all sat in the dining hall.HA

the essay was due tomorrow and for the past two weeks Jace seemed less like himself. Aka he wasn’t parting every night, “He even skipped the football teams party last night,” Aly, the social butterfly of the three of you said.

“Why did the even have a party? They lost,” you said, rolling your eyes, “I didn’t realise he was gonna take this so seriously,” you muttered.

“Maybe he actually likes you,” Aly teased as her and Hel began making obnoxious kissy noises and love hearts at each other, “Yous would have such cute babies!”

“I hate you both,”

-

The day had come. The marks were out. you got an A and glowing notes from your professor however you also got a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. However, when class rolled around that day there was a new worry. Jace never showed up.

There was no reason for you to be worried. After all he wasn’t your problem. He was probably hungover or skipping to hook up with some girl or out doing something equally stupid. Still, you couldn’t help yourself.

It wasn’t exactly hard to find Jace’s dorm. All you had to do was follow the smell of axe body spray and ask one of his floormates who quickly pointed you in the right direction before wolf whistling. “Assholes,” you muttered under your breath as you knocked on the door and waited.

Jace opened, his eyes widening in shock, but he quickly tried to play it off, “Hey,” he said, leaning his arm against the door in that super obnoxious booktok way that was unreasonably attractive. It didn’t help he was in a half zipped up hoodie with his abs on full display or low hung grey sweatpants, “Cat got your tongue sweetheart?” he teased, smirking when he noticed your eyes had wandered.

“Shut up,” you snapped, rolling your eyes, “You never showed up to class today and I was just wondering you know,” you said, shrugging as you realised how potentially desperate you now looked.

Jace’s arm dropped from the doorway, his hands ending up in his pockets, “Oh yeah. Got a B so you know. Dumb class anyway,” he shrugged, eyes refusing to meet yours.

Your heart sank, “Well it was a really hard one. Apparently, she was really tough this time,”

“What did you get?”

“An A,” you said making Jace roll his eyes, “Only like a low A though. Like barely an A,”

“Cmon, you don’t need to do that,” Jace said, almost sounding annoyed, “You don’t need to dumb yourself down for me. Besides,” he said, leaning in a little with a grin, “Smart chicks are hot,”

You scoffed at that, especially when a smirk cracked his lips, “In your dreams,”

“Every night,” he grinned however it fell away soon after, “So what’s my punishment teacher’s pet? Streak through campus? Run around in a pink mini dress? Sing into a megaphone in the dining hall?”

You weren’t sure why you did. Hell, you didn’t even realise you were doing it. not till you’d grabbed his face and pulled him down for a kiss. Jace was equally shocked at first but soon his arm slipped around your back as he pulled you into the dorm only to shut the door behind you and press you against it, “Not what I’d call a punishment princess,” Jace said, his lips moving to kiss along your jaw, “but I’ll take it,”

“You are so infuriating,” you groaned despite your hand moving to the back of his head, tugging on his soft curls.

His lips smirked against the hollow of your neck, “Yeah but you like it,” he said, hands moving to your waist and creeping under your shirt to test the waters, “Now let me earn my A,” hands moving up to squeeze your tits when you didn’t stop him.

You couldn’t take it anymore as your hands grabbed his jaw again, pulling his lips to yours again, “Someone’s eager,” he murmured as your hands tugged the zip of his hoodie down.

“What? You want me to go home?” you asked between kisses as you pushed the fabric off his shoulders.

Jace’s hands quickly moved to your hips, grabbing them firmly as he began walking backwards to the bed, “You’re not going anywhere princess,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you down to straddle his thigh.

Even through your jeans you could feel his hard on poking your thigh. You moved your hips, grinding down on it and making Jace moan into the kiss as his hands squeezed your ass. You gasped when he flipped you over, you’re back hitting the soft mattress as his fingers toyed with the button of your jeans, “Can I get rid of them?” he asked, his fingers ghosting your waist. All you could do was nod making his chuckle as he pulled them off. “Fuck even better than my dreams,” he teased, kissing your inner thigh as he tossed them away.

“What are you doing?” you asked, pushing yourself up on your elbows to see the smirk on his face.

“Well that depends on sweetheart,” he said, hands softly trailing up your legs to your hips, “You’re in charge. What do you want me to do?” he asked, squeezing your hips.

“I- I’m not sure,” you stuttered.

Jace laughed gently and you wanted to hate the affect it was having on you as your stomach fluttered, “Well I could kiss you,” he said, placing another soft kiss to your thigh, “Then touch you a little,” he ran his fingers over your clothed cunt making you almost whimper, “Then kiss you some more,” he teased, hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin. “Does that sound good princess?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, entranced by his movements.

“Then lay back,” he said, hand gently pushing your waist down as you laid down and tried to control your breathing, “and be a good girl, okay?”

“Okay,” you said, almost a whisper.

Jace hooked his fingers in your panties, pulling them down painfully slow before finally pulling them off and stuffing them in his pocket. You maybe would’ve said something if he hadn’t just put your legs over his shoulders as he placed an open kiss to your clit.

Your hands went to his hair, pulling at the soft curls as he began to gently lick and suck your bundle of nerves. You felt your hips start to move, grinding against his face desperate for more friction. Jace locked his arms around your thighs, locking your hips in place making you whine. You could practically feel him smirking against your cunt.

You almost screamed when you felt his tongue move down, his nose nuzzling your clit as his tongue began to massage new spots making a tight knot quickly develop in your stomach. “Fuck,” you gasped, back arching at the feeling. Jace chuckled against your cunt, a slow rumble vibrating against it making you moan even more.

Your grip in his hair tightened and Jace loosened his grip around one of your thighs. You whined when his lips pulled away. Jace chuckled as he ran a finger up your wet cunt, placing a soft kiss to your inner thigh as he pushed two in, “Such a pretty girl,” he praised, curling his fingers perfectly inside you, “Making such pretty noises,” he added, his lips moving back to wrap around your clit.

This time he let your hips buck, grinding against his face as he lapped up your cunt while his fingers worked at a perfect pace. Your peak was very quickly approaching as he kept up his pace, his tongue unrelenting. The feeling of your legs tightening around his head almost seemed to spur him on as he moaned against your cunt sending you over the edge.

Jace didn’t stop until he felt your legs twitching and heard you gasping for air. He was wearing that stupid cocky smirk as he flopped down onto the bed beside you as you both tried to catch your breath, “Well?” he asked, nuzzling his nose against your neck, his hand finding your hip so he could rub soft circles on it with his thumb, “What grade did I get?”

You chuckled a little bit at that, his cockiness for once not making you want to punch him, “On this test? A plus,”

“Oh, there’s other tests?” he asked, eyebrow raised with that intoxicating smirk, “Guess I’ll need to study for it. maybe you should tutor me,” he said, kissing you more gently than before.

“Maybe I should,” It was safe to say you wouldn’t be walking for a while.

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