#am i really the first artist that pops up

[billiesbabygirleilish]

HEAR ME OUT billie x singer! reader who takes the place of someone like sabrina carpenter olivia rodrigo melanie martinez just anyone with a totally different aesthetic from billie and her reaction or opinion on readers songs and performances and stuff like am i a genius or what 🫡 (if u decide to write it ty babes)

Sweet Sorrow

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Billie stood behind the heavy velvet curtain of the venue, excitement pulsing through her veins. Tonight, she was headlining her own show, but more than that, she was about to share the stage with someone she scarcely knew—someone whose musical world was the complete opposite of hers.

You were a bubblegum pop sensation, bursting onto the scene with your sugary sweet melodies and vibrant aesthetic. Your stage outfits sparkled with sequins and pastel colors, an explosion of sunshine in contrast to Billie’s often moody, understated style. Your latest single, “Sugar Rush,” was a catchy anthem that had taken the charts by storm, and now you were set to perform it as the opening act.

Billie had stumbled upon your music a few weeks prior while scrolling through streaming platforms. At first, she thought it was amusing—your bright, cheerful spirit seemed to defy everything she felt. Gradually, however, she found herself oddly entranced. The infectious energy and playful lyrics made her smile, a rare occurrence for the artist known for her haunting ballads and introspective lyrics.

As she watched the crowd buzz with excitement, she felt a hint of apprehension. She knew her music resonated with feelings of angst and darkness, while yours was all sunshine and sparkles. Would the audience appreciate your performance? Would you keep their attention? 

You bounded onto the stage, a smile stretching across your face as you greeted the crowd. The sound of squeals and cheers drowned out any remaining doubts Billie had; they were here for you, and they loved every second. You launched into your songs with an energy that was almost electric, the colorful lights dancing around you in perfect synchrony with the beats.

Billie found herself captivated. Your voice, bright and clear, floated through the air, and she couldn’t help but admire how you effortlessly engaged with the audience. Your choreography was sharp yet playful, and the way you interacted with the fans—winking and blowing kisses—was something that Billie, with her more introverted persona, couldn’t imagine doing.

As you spun gracefully across the stage, Billie felt her heart thawing just a little. You were unabashedly yourself, radiating confidence and joy, and somewhere deep inside, she envied that freedom. You were unapologetically girly, decked out in frills and glitter, and while it was worlds away from her own style, it felt refreshing.

After you finished your performance, Billie called you offstage, and you bounced over, your cheeks flushed with excitement. “You were amazing!” you gushed, still riding the high of the performance. “Did you see how they reacted to ‘Sugar Rush’? I can hardly believe it!”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised,” Billie replied, her own smile creeping in. “You really know how to work a crowd.”

Your eyes lit up. “Seriously, though! I’ve always admired your music. It’s so deep and emotional. I can’t even begin to imagine how you do it.”

Billie chuckled softly, the compliment warming her heart. “Thanks. I guess I just dive into my feelings, you know?” 

You nodded, your expression earnest. “I feel the same way! Just… in a really different way.” 

“Exactly. You bring joy and fun. That’s an art too, you know?” Billie admitted, glancing down as she considered her words. “It’s just different from what I do.”

In that moment, the two of you realized that while your aesthetics and musical styles diverged widely, there was an unspoken bond between you. Different experiences shaped your creativity, but both of you poured your souls into your music. It was beautiful, in all its contradictions.

As the night carried on and you performed an encore, Billie felt infused with a newfound appreciation for the bubblegum joy you brought to the stage. When it was finally time for her to take the spotlight, she felt invigorated, inspired by the colors and vibrancy of your world.

After the show, Billie caught up with you. “Want to maybe collaborate on something?” she asked, a playful glint in her eyes.

You gasped, bouncing on your heels. “Yes! How about a song that mixes both of our styles? We could do something with dark lyrics and a catchy melody! Like… a sapphic love song!”

Billie laughed, picturing the contrast of your sounds melding together. “I love it. Let’s do this.”

With renewed enthusiasm, the two of you exchanged numbers and vowed to create something remarkable together—two artists intertwined in a beautiful tapestry of sound and style, showing the world that artistry knows no boundaries. And as Billie headed home, she couldn’t help but hum along to the memory of your sugary hooks, knowing she wouldn’t mind that lingering sweetness one bit.

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

hai uorue so cool . oh my god . sorry staring in awe after getting hyperfixated on BTTF again after 7 long years and you’re the first artist I see when I search it up on tumblr . hai !

oh hiii! welcome welcome. you may be here for a while sorry man

here’s a quick doodle i made! just for you

[diathadevil]

Do you ever think about how Fakir, after him and Ahiru finally broke everything that kept the town of Goldkröne in the ghostly hands of its writer, after they finally have some air of peace over the town finally being able to live in its intended early 2000s environment, that Fakir still feels at times like it's not real and that for a while he fears that if he closes his eyes it'll be back in Drosselmeyer's control. Like it just doesn't feel real to him during that first year of calm, until he feels the dull pain on his recovering hand injury and Ahiru who follows him without a pendant anywhere to be found.

He doesn't feel it's real, the calm finality of this town, but he makes sure to feel the scar on his hand. And he makes sure to hold the little duck and realize that she is who she has always been. Him and the town are finally living peacefully.

[lo1k-diamonds]

Sugar Rush Ride 💜

SX Seoul Series | Yoongi's Entry 💜

PAIRING: YoongixReader

SUMMARY: You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party.

WORD COUNT: 12.6k

GENRE: coworkers (mutually) pining to lovers

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: explicit, pwp (porn w/ plot really), drunk fight (but you sober up...sort of), bratty reader, rough but Yoongi is pro at aftercare, fingerfucking, face-fucking, edging, spankings, his hand is on your neck a lot (am I forgetting something?)

(You can also read it on AO3)

A.N. This is based on the song of the same title by TXT 🔥 It was not planned and maybe it has been done before, but it was too good to miss 😁

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

Yoongi parked his car underground in a private parking lot before stepping outside into the night in Itaewon. It was crowded as usual, but he paid no mind to the passersby — he had somewhere to be.

He reached the steps that led into a famous club in the neighborhood and entered below the red lines warming up the humidity into steam: SX.

He was giving away his coat when the music from the backroom hit him, the pop music with the codename temptation resonating in the air, and in his ribcage. He stepped towards it confidently, unbothered by the instant boom of noise that hit him once the door opened and closed again behind him. No, nothing would bother him until he found what he was looking for.

He scanned the room attentively, the darkness crossed punctually and rhythmically by the flashes of lights to the beat of the songs he helped produce himself. All but one song that ended up being the main track, the reason why he had rushed to be at the listening party tonight.

He got to the bar and looked around again; he saw lots of people he knew, the artists included. None had seen him yet, so he took the chance to search even more carefully. And finally, his eyes fell on you. You were listening attentively as you held your hair to the side and someone, a man spoke into your ear above the noise. Then you burst out laughing, shoulders and chest trembling with excitement, and your hand landed on the man’s chest. Not in a smack, not to push him away, just subtly placed there in an intimate gesture, or an invitation thereof.

Yoongi was by your side before he knew it. The man with you looked up with a silent question and you flinched and looked back, eyes instantly widening in surprise.

“Yoongi! You’re back!”

You launched your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug, and he immediately knew you had alcohol in your system. Despite this, he reacted the only way he could be expected to — he wrapped a protective arm around you and looked straight into the eyes of that dude trying his luck.

“Right on time,” you grinned when you stepped back. “Inhyuk, this is Yoongi, the producer I was telling you about.”

The guy bowed and said something polite, but Yoongi wasn’t listening. You had stepped to stand beside the guy and his hand had comfortably set on your waist. For a second, his sole thought was, Since when? But then he cooled down.

“I see. Well, enjoy the party. I’ll see you later,” he told you with his eyes set on yours and you got the message.

But you didn’t want to worry about that right now, so when Inhyuk pulled you by the waist to talk to you a bit closer, you didn’t flinch. You smiled and agreed to have another drink while the crowd around you listened and enjoyed the album you helped produce. You were proud of yourself, it was the fruit of your first year of work with—

The main track started and the crowd cheered as it did every time it played. Your eyes watered as Inhyuk congratulated you and clinked his drink to yours but as you drank, there was heat building inside of you. It was funny to hear the lyrics you wrote being sung back at you and fit perfectly at that moment. But then you chuckled, as your eyes fell on Min Yoongi. Your thoughts would always stop as soon as he was back near you. That would never change.

Yet you looked up and smiled at Inhyuk, giddy with your drink and with excitement. You made a vow when you decided to let this song be performed and sung — it was you putting your feelings into your work to get rid of them. That was the deal.

Inhyuk smiled mischievously at you as if he couldn’t believe, but didn’t disapprove, of the song's lyrics speaking so openly about desire, about opening locked doors into seeing stars and asking for more. And you kept smiling and drinking. Because you made a deal with yourself and maybe tonight was the perfect time to go into a new direction.

The song was only three minutes long, but it drove Yoongi to a corner. He gripped his tonic water and faced the bar while the music kept calling to him, Come here more, let’s play more.

Just like the first time he heard it and was covered in goosebumps, wild thoughts coming to him that he had to quickly water down. He sighed; it didn’t stop him from flying back as soon as possible to talk to you about it. Confront you, more like.

He turned to the side to find you by the bar having shots with that guy, and that was it. The full album had played, you had your moment in the spotlight as you should, the artists were having a blast alongside everyone else, and he had had enough of seeing you so close to some guy.

You were on your fourth tequila shot when you felt an arm extend behind you to reach the bar, and you shivered. Not because it was cold; you were sweating from the drinks and the energy of the crowd. No, it was because you knew who it was, even if the arm didn’t touch you.

“We should go,” his voice was steady near your ear even though your head was spinning a little.

“The night is still young!” Inhyuk said as he grinned and grabbed another shot glass, waiting for you to do the same, but despite your giddiness, you hesitated. 

You looked up to Yoongi and saw his neutral beautiful lines, and you understood what he was doing.

The guy saw he was losing you, so he moved closer to get your attention, “I can take you home.”

He said it with amusement, like a tease, and you grinned. You were taken by the energy between you two; you both knew where that was going. But then a breath being slowly heaved behind you shook your foundations and you looked down. Yoongi was just doing his part of the deal, but suddenly you were fucking pissed. He couldn’t possibly understand that you needed to be with someone, anyone other than him. Desperately, before you’d fucking combust!

But he was your coworker, the genius producer of your label. And despite everything, you didn’t want to burn a bridge. Inhyuk was not that great anyway.

You shrugged almost innocently, “Maybe next time. It was nice meeting you.”

Yoongi pointed so that you’d go ahead to the exit and you did. Yet with every step, something was bubbling up your throat. There was a lump there, blocking you from voicing it while you grabbed your coats, walked the cold night to his car, and got in to be on your way.

The whole ride you argued with yourself that this was for the best. You shouldn’t have sex with someone after so many drinks, that was not how it was supposed to go. But maybe that was what you needed to have the courage to just move on. To want another man as desperately, and not the one driving you home right now. You needed it, you needed to go crazy and do something you wouldn’t normally do. You needed the regret, to stop playing safe, to stop believing your heart knew what was best for you when all it did was set on someone who saw you as nothing but a colleague.

When you arrived, he entered the private parking of your apartment building and parked swiftly. It made your stomach bubble further with anger, he was just so used to taking you home. That was the deal. Well, screw that.

“Thanks, good night.”

You pushed the door open and peeled yourself away, closing it with a bham only to seek support in the car instantly. Your legs were wobbly, the world was spinning and you cursed in irritation. It was fine before, why was it so difficult now?

His door opened and closed, the car beeped as it locked, then his steps echoed to get to you. And everything was like needles prickling your patience. He stood next to you to help you and you didn’t know what you wanted more: to scream at him or to just disappear.

But he placed his hand on your waist firmly, walked you to the lobby and the elevator, and even dialed your code to enter your apartment. It infuriated you — it reminded you of all the times over the last year that he had done his part of the deal. That he had taken you home safe and sound, and still never seen you for anything more while you pined helplessly.

So you tried to reach your living room without his help and stumbled very quickly, yet a firm grip on your arm prevented you from falling face flat. Normally, you would have blushed, thanked him, and let the politeness and decorum dictate your interactions, but not now.

You pulled your arm loose, “I don’t need a chaperone!”

“And I don't need you to fall and break a leg.”

You threw your jacket and purse over your couch finally with a frustrated huff. The world was spinning and annoying you so fucking much. You needed to scream at him once and for all and be done with it, why couldn’t it stand still?

“Why did you interfere?”

“What do you mean?” He was calmly taking his shoes off after hanging his coat by the entrance and his placidness irked you.

“I was having a good time!”

You barely saw the line crossing his face, “He was no good for you.”

“What? Why?!”

“He just wasn’t,” he stated, walking further inside your apartment like he knew it, and he did. He’d normally stay for a chat after bringing you home and made sure you were okay.

“But why?!” You insisted, eyes so wide they looked twice their size, and still the room was shaky. “What was so wrong with him that—”

“He was trying to get you drunk,” he almost scoffed as he reached your kitchen and started looking around for something.

“So?” You tried following him, annoyed that he was not paying attention to you.

He found a cup and right next to it what he was looking for. He took a black coffee capsule and put both things next to your coffee machine. “He just wanted sex.”

He seemed annoyed now as he prepped the coffee and you threw your hands in the air, “I fucking want sex!”

He paused and looked at you, at your wide eyes and red cheeks. And you held your breath, swallowing dryly. Did you just yell that at Min Yoongi? At your genius coproducer?

“You're drunk.”

He pressed the button to draw an espresso from the machine, and you felt like a volcano about to erupt.

“I’m not drunk!!” He didn’t look at you and you gripped your hair with a frustrated scream. “I’m just not only a fucking worker bee, okay?! I have needs, I want things! So what, sex is too much for you to handle or som—”

A look was all it took for you to feel your guts freeze in place. You were so attuned to this fucking man that his slightest hint of disapproval hit you like an icicle. But it wasn’t just that, it was something else. Disappointment?

And you revolted hard against it; he had no right to make you feel this way. “Then what’s the problem?! I can’t want it? Because I’m a woman or something?”

He took the coffee cup and placed it in front of you on the kitchen counter, “Drink it.”

You ignored it, “I didn’t think you were a prude or conservative, but this is me.” You stepped back and fought the traces of the spinning walls vehemently. “I want things. More than just make good music, I’m not just my work.” He was listening, he was looking at you, but all he did was push the cup the slightest in your direction. And you snorted, “Hell, that’s why my music is good. Because I want— I want things.”

You couldn’t look at him, only at his feet. You thought you wanted to scream your frustration at him, but now you realized that was pointless. It wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t into you anyway.

“We’re not talking unless you’re sober.”

You raised your eyes and his coolness hardened you. Right. You’d get a slap on the wrist for getting drunk at the listening party of the album you fucking produced. For wanting to sleep with another producer. For not being professional? Who the fuck knew why. And maybe sober you’d care about losing your dream, but right now you were just fucking done.

“Right, whatever,” you turned to head to your bedroom. “I’ll take a shower, we can talk tomorrow.”

Yoongi saw you walk a bit shakily but firmly toward your bedroom and then he sighed. He considered for a moment to do as you wished and leave, but he didn’t want to leave you alone. Selfishly, he didn’t want to wait for tomorrow. He was restless, he needed to talk to you about it. And to do that, he needed you sober.

He grabbed your coffee cup and knocked on the ajar door with his eyes glued to the floor. He called your name and you scoffed.

“You’re taking our deal too much to the letter,” your voice sounded strained and he closed his free hand into a fist. “You don’t need to worry about—”

He heard noises and he didn’t think twice; he pushed the door open and found you almost fallen to the floor trying to take your dress off. You huffed in annoyance; you should have sat on the bed but then how would the dress pass under—

A firm hand hoisted you up as if you were as light as a feather and you came face to face with him. The man in your dreams, in your mind, making you scream in your bed just at the thought of him. Making you crazy. 

“I’m fine,” you said, looking down. “I can handle myself. You don’t need to bring me home and make sure I don’t—” 

Your voice wavered, what were you— 

Your eyes filled with tears, but maybe that was exactly what needed to happen, “Yeah, let’s stop that. Our deal? Let’s end it. You don’t need to bring me home and watch over me. I know I’m a woman in a men-dominated company, but I’m not a child.”

He sighed and stepped away and your heart cracked, leaving you to hide your face with one hand and try to press your chest with the other. You knew that to move on you had to push him away, but damn did it sting and—

The scent of coffee invaded your nose and you raised your hand from over your eyes. He was holding the coffee cup in front of you.

“Stop for a second and drink it. Then, we’ll talk.”

You looked for the sincerity in his eyes, and of course, you found it. So you took the cup and chugged the espresso as if it had been just another tequila shot. Then you lowered your arm and looked at him, trying to sense if that changed anything. It didn’t really, not for you.

“Did you hear what I said?”

His lips twitched, “I heard you, but you’re not hearing me. Sober, I said.”

You shrugged, “You said drink, I did. So now we talk. No more deal. No more keeping me safe, no more watching over me or bringing me home. I need to— I need to let it all out.”

His lips pursed for a second but then he voiced quietly, “I’m listening.”

“I don’t know what else to say,” you shrugged and almost laughed at yourself. “I told you I want things.”

“You write about what you want.” You hummed. “So what is that main track?”

“What I want.”

You were looking at him, a void in your mind all of a sudden, but he hesitated. You said you wanted sex and the song was about desire. Maybe he was reading it wrong.

“What do you want?”

“It’s not a what.”

“Is it a who?”

Your mouth dried, so you nodded. You were staring right at the object of your desire but he looked confused.

He scratched his head and then tried, “Did you— Did you use those words on purpose?”

“What words?”

“What w—” He seemed bewildered, “My stage name. You used my stage name. Sugar? Was that on purpose?”

For a split second, you were frozen, livid, shocked, and then laughter bubbled out of you, “I thought I had been so clever about it. Saying sugar instead of suga.” He was staring at you and his inexpression only led you to push the air out of your lungs, “I know, you don’t have to say it. You won't touch me, even if pigs fly. I know that.”

“That's not true.”

You tilted your head, then laughed some more, “Yes, it is. You don't even see me as a woman, I'm just another producer.”

“That's also not true.”

“Right,” you chuckled. “Let me give you reasons to walk out that door right now. I not only wanted to sleep with you but wrote a whole main track about wanting you. About being dazed, overwhelmed by desire, wanting just more. Give it a listen. You know I struggle with titles, but the name of the song was the first thing I had.”

You chuckled again and turned around, rubbing your face for a moment. It was out. You didn’t care too much if anyone else knew, and if anyone had thought of it, they had been smart enough to stay quiet. But now he knew, and there was no going back. Sugar rush ride. You laughed again. You stood by that tile.

“I—” His voice sounded unsure for the first time and you turned to face him. “I don’t— Was it just a rush? You felt a rush at the thought of me and wrote that?”

“What difference does it make?”

“It makes a world of a difference,” he insisted, eyes set on you though he hadn’t moved an inch yet. “I still haven’t heard you say what you want now.”

“What I want?” You were incredulous, “Are you even listening? I’ve been saying nothing else! What?” He was unmoving, but for the first time, you could swear you saw his eyes glistening, and you were out of filters. “I want to be with you. I want you to fuck me already.” You shivered, the strength of your own words working against you. “I have since the day we met. I forgot I had an ex and was heartbroken to finger myself to the thought of you so many times I lost count.” He opened his mouth but you didn’t let him speak, “Shut up. I know what you'll say. I’ve wasted a year of my life. We're kind of friends and we work together. I know all that,” you huffed, exhausted. “So just leave.”

You turned to get to your ensuite bathroom and this time succeeded in pulling the dress out of your body, letting it fall to the ground with a rustle. You turned to reach the makeup remover over your counter and almost missed the way he was still standing in your room, looking at you. You blinked as you faced him, and your nipples hardened without your control with the goosebumps navigating your skin. You had nothing on, you rarely did in events like those. You used it to boost your self-esteem and feel sexy, and now you guessed he knew it too.

You removed your makeup relatively quickly and were curious to look back, and he was gone. You looked down with tears pooling in your eyes; but of course. Why did it all just have to come out of your mouth like that? Now he knew your deepest darkest secrets and would never want to work together again in the future. Great.

You stepped into the shower and let the warmth wash away your worries. You were not a child. You had feelings and wants. They were perhaps misplaced, but you didn’t harm anyone. You sighed; still, maybe it was best to look for a new job in the morning.

Once you made peace with that, your mind wandered to greener pastures, to more heavenly thoughts. You reviewed the expression he had as you told him crudely what you wanted, and it was good. Tense. In your wildest fantasies maybe it could be even a little possessive. And the thought of Min Yoongi getting possessive over you turned you on like nothing ever could.

Your hand trailed south along your skin and avoided the water. Your undeniable arousal made you chuckle. You had just told him you touched yourself thinking of him, and there you were again, like clockwork. He never told you not to, he didn’t act disgusted or look at you sideways, so suddenly you felt egged on.

You tilted your ass up and out of the water and spread your folds greedily, closing your eyes to think back to his dark eyes while you were naked in front of him. It was as if he wasn’t thinking, he was just looking. You didn’t see his eyes running up and down your body, but you didn’t have to. No way he would not be curious, even if he had walked out. 

His leaving stung but fuck, was he hot. Now he knew you thought of him and what you did while thinking of him. Your heart stung for a second with the thought that you would lose his friendship, but you got back on track. You were horny and he had created that mess. You tried to kindly tell him to leave so many times, it wasn’t your fault that he lingered until you were spurting the deepest truths and stripping naked to shower. 

And now he knew. He knew you didn't like wearing underwear when you had formal events, how sensitive your nipples were to the cold, and that you had a small blue birthmark at the end of your back. Fuck. He knew you were a dirty little whore fingering yourself to the thought of his cock buried deep—

Two arms wrapped around you and you moaned, too immersed in your fantasy to be startled. You were thinking about his arms around you, his chest strong for your back to take support, hands trailing down your body to explore with long fingers ready to spell your demise so easily—

His fingers were next to yours cupping your sex and you gasped, squirming away only to be pressed against his firm chest.

“No, continue,” his voice was a taunt as his free hand seemed indecisive about where to settle on your body. “You want to touch yourself? Go on.”

You stammered his name but his fingers were quickly learning from yours how to trace your heat, spread your slick, and make you tremble. You were shaking, half embarrassed, half feverish, until his other hand finally settled on groping your breast harshly and you moaned. You moaned with a hiss dragging with how much more you wanted, with your ass bucking into him only to rub more to get a better feeling of his hard cock on your ass. He was clothed, you could feel it, but the thought of him wanting this was driving you up the wall.

He was coming to you while you showered, entering it with clothes on just to reach you, grab you, touch you, and make you moan. There was no hiding it now, no possible misunderstanding. He had fingers rubbing your clit while his other hand squeezed your tit harshly, making your legs weak. Nothing was forcing him to stay, to touch you, to listen to you moan.

You bucked your hips again, you were so close to coming it was unstoppable. Yet a logical thought still tried to push through, “Are you sure about this? We're friends— We work tog—”

If only you weren’t rubbing your ass on his crotch to feel him better, to get tighter, to force his fingers on your clit to chase you.

His reply was a whisper to your ear over your wet hair, “You said what you wanted. You can feel how much I agree.”

Your walls squeezed, you were so ready, “You— You want this?”

His hips pushed into you once and you almost fell apart. “Don’t pretend you can’t feel it. I’m asking myself how you never noticed.”

You gripped his hand over your chest and he released the pressure, instantly making you squirm and whine in a complaint. You pressed his hand and he squeezed again, hearing attentively how your moan pitched wantonly. He hummed near your ear, nuzzling your wet skin with a smile adorning his lips. So that was how you liked it.

“No, I—” Your breath hitched with how he was working you and for the second time you thought you would fall apart, but the intensity reeled back to allow you to think. “Not like this. I noticed you treated me differently but I thought it was because I was the only girl in the studio—”

You staggered with a gasp, your body rushing a cold wave under your skin to contrast with the warm water of the shower, but again the sensation eased as the seconds ticked away. And you knew then that it was him, keeping you on the edge and not letting you fall apart. Him with his smooth fingers and nuzzling behind your ear.

“No, not because of that,” his voice was tense as his lips ghosted over your wet neck. “I was… charmed,” he admitted with a chuckle, and when you bucked your hips, he gripped you closer. “But I thought you saw me as a friend.” The thought alone made his lip pull in annoyance, but the slick covering his fingers at your heat soothed him, “I could have done this so many times if you had just asked.”

He bit down on the tender flesh between your shoulder and neck and you screamed, the sting mixing with your pleasure so viscerally that you could have cum on it alone. Only he sensed it too and moved his hand away, dragging yours along so you couldn’t finish it yourself, and you laughed quietly. He was suckling on your skin with meticulous precision and you could only grin widely, euphoric sparks flying out of control inside your belly.

“You could have said something too,” you sounded like you were whining, but you couldn’t stop yourself. He was now licking where he had just marked you and you were trembling, legs so weak it was embarrassing.

He let go and nuzzled along your neck to your spine in between your wet hair, “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. You either want it or you don’t. I thought you’d say something.”

You chuckled, “I wouldn’t ever. You should have known.”

He hummed and leaned back ever so slightly to look at the curve of your ass pressed against him. Then his hand trailed up, lashed by the shower while gently feeling and pressing your soft skin. He couldn’t believe he almost missed this.

“We have to work on that, then.”

You were still smiling when you let your head fall back to his shoulder, “If you did as I said—”

“I'd be out of here without ever getting to touch you,” his annoyance was clear in his voice, and even in the way his fingers pressed less gently. “Without knowing what’s on your mind. No, you,” he wrapped his arm across your torso to gently reach the base of your neck and you looked up, giving him more space. “You are not in charge here.”

He couldn’t have known the way you were grinning. You just let yourself fall further into his embrace, his hand settling on the base of your neck in a way you found comforting. Then he turned you gently to the side and your back hit the cold wall. A hiss came out of your lips quickly, but you were still smiling. Even as his dark eyes scanned you for your reaction, with one hand keeping you still by the neck. You were waiting with a familiar ease on your features, and he relaxed. That was enough.

Suddenly, your feet parted and you were surprised. He had used his foot to spread your legs and the way his free hand was tracing your wet body like he owned it shortcircuited your brain.

“I want to know what this dirty mind of yours has been keeping from me.”

You could hear a hint of eagerness and it was enough, “I won't tell you.”

“You will.” His tone was so sure, like he held the world at his beckoning, that you trembled. You were sure then he would hold yours, turn it upside down, inside out, and you’d love every second of it. “You will tell me every dream of yours, every fantasy, every little filthy fleeting thought. Then maybe we can do something about it.”

“Maybe?” You were eager, his hand was at your lower stomach but seemingly chose to ignore where you ached most.

“Maybe. If that's something you want.”

“I do, I want everything.”

His eyes jumped to yours; he needed to know if that was a spur-of-the-moment blurted line, or if you meant it. All he found were eager glistening eyes. “Everything?”

“Everything,” you confirmed, eyes staring at him like you were seeing stars.

For a split second, he considered that this could not be what he thought it was. Maybe you were still drunk and just talking big, maybe you had no idea what you were saying. But the way you didn’t waver, even as he considered pulling the plug on everything despite being a millimeter away from snapping and making his thoughts come true did sway him. He brushed your jaw once so tenderly and you leaned into his touch. He’d take it easy while he discovered you, there was no rush.

“Alright,” he voiced and lowered his hand. “Show me first.”

“Show you what?” You were eager but you were starting to shiver.

“What you do when you think of me.”

“Didn’t you just catch me doing it?”

“You’re going to look at me this time.”

“Look?” You tilted your head slightly.

“Eyes on me,” his eyebrows twitched.

“Only my eyes?”

“And your thoughts.”

You grinned and looked away but his instant grip over your chin made you look up.

“You sure you want everything?”

You huffed with a sly smile and let your head fall back to the wall, “I’m sure.” His dark gaze was skeptical and your grin widened, “Oh, I want everything, sugar. Be sure not to hold back.”

He looked down to follow your movements and you almost laughed. Your hand was rubbing your clit so you could control your pleasure while his eyes roamed your body, the doubt lingering on his features. You could laugh again, but you didn’t. The way he doubted you was funny because he had no idea how crazy you were about him, but then it occurred to you that you also didn’t know the first thing about him. Did he like to watch? Would he guide you or leave you adrift? He had edged you three times already, did he notice? Did he do it on purpose to drive you crazy? 

Would he do it again?

Where exactly was his line? He was quiet now, eating you with his eyes and absorbing every little detail, from the way you breathed to your tongue peeking through your lips, to the way you gathered your arousal to coat your clit. You gasped ever so softly and his eyes instantly jumped to your face, and your lips twitched. You had him. How was it that you had the powerful Min Yoongi?

“What is going on in there?”

His voice was soothing and low, soft as a caress, and you smiled. “You.”

“Me how?”

“You told me to think about you,” your fingers hastened and you grinned.

“I told you I want to know your thoughts.”

You hummed with a smile and eyed him from head to toe shamelessly. You knew what he told you, what he wanted, but what about what you wanted?

Your fingers picked up the pace as your eyes gained a sly glim, and you thought he saw it. If he didn’t, he at least heard the wet sounds echoing in the bathroom.

“Do it slowly.”

You obeyed, so painfully slowly that your eyelashes fluttered, but what truly got you was the soothing of his features. He looked endeared, all because you did as he told you. He looked so sweet, so adorable, so loveable. You wanted to squeeze his precious cheeks.

So you reached forward to touch his face, but he slapped your hand away harshly, “No.” You bit your lip not to smile but his eyes were just hardening. “I’m still waiting.”

“For?”

You couldn’t help your grin as you squirmed ever so slightly against the wall. His precious dark eyes were so focused on you.

“Me how?”

But he wasn’t paying attention. “You right now.”

It didn’t surprise you that he didn’t become impatient, “Just me standing here?”

Your fingers were ever so quicker, “Stiff as a stick trying to control something that isn’t yours yet.”

His eyes glimmed and your tongue peeked out again to hide your laugh. It was fun seeing him being careful, but when would he actually touch you?

“Didn’t I say slower?”

You instantly did, and the recoil of the feeling had you fluttering your eyes closed.

“Eyes on me,” he sounded angrier now, closer too.

You did open your eyes but pursed your lips; there was still half an arm's distance between you. If he wouldn’t get the hint, then you’d have to do it yourself.

“Strip,” you asked, swallowing dryly.

He scoffed and instantly looked down, “I said slow.”

“If you want it slow, do it yourself.”

It happened so fast you couldn’t process it. Like a rubberband snapping, his hand darted to your neck pulling and pushing hard enough that your head banged the wall but not harshly enough that it hurt you. It did daze you for a second, but your lips just formed a grin until you laughed. 

Two could play that game, apparently, and he looked so fucking hot when he was mad. You loved that his hand stayed put like a necklace, a reminder that he wasn’t touching your heat, but he owned it. Along with your thoughts and your pleasure, he owned you. And that would have been enough to snap you, but what about him?

So you closed your eyes again, blatantly going against what he wanted, and were not surprised when his free hand darted to pinch your hardened nipple. You moaned instantly, facing him with the same challenge, meeting dark eyes that seemed to have given up on making you talk, but not on making you do as you were told.

So every time you blinked, he pinched you. Your nipples, your sides, your ass, earning moans every time, but nothing more, until he snapped again. He jumped on you and you just made your neck more available for him to latch on and bite. Your moan instantly pitched, and it finally seemed worth it. He was squeezing your tits and biting you while you played yourself to his presence, and he finally was involved in it too.

“Don’t come.”

The joke was that you wanted to do as he said, but you couldn’t anymore. Your moans were higher now, just like your daze, and in a second—

He yanked your hand away, “That’s enough.”

“Why? Didn’t you want to see what happens when I think of you?”

Your voice was light but your chest heaving gave your state away, and the more he kissed and bit down your neck, the worse it became. You needed him, needed more than just his thoughts or presence. You gripped his shoulders to bring him closer, you needed—

A whimper pushed out of you as you hid in his neck, but he didn’t stop. You were sure that had to be at least three fingers just pushing into you roughly with no preparation other than your repeated edging. No preparation came, whatsoever, because as soon as they were in, he started pumping his fingers in and out of you at a vicious speed. 

You instantly lost your grip on reality, though not on his shoulders, as even the air seemed to still inside your lungs. The sultry sounds echoing around you didn’t just come from his digits beckoning you closer insanely fast, but also from your whimpers. Because there was a fire burning you from the inside out with every moan as he bit and licked closer to your ear. As your nails sank through his shirt to reach his skin, your legs trembled, and the wall behind you became scorching hot while he pressed you to it.

From deep within your frenzy you couldn’t hear his growl near your ear, or feel the way his drool dripped down your neck or his fingers dag at your skin. He could hear you, pitchy moans quickly becoming an addictive sound, yet this time it was different. Your cunt was squeezing around him like a vice, and the harder it made for him to finger fuck you, the more he wanted to.

“Don’t come,” he grunted right under your ear, but you couldn’t register. You just moaned even more desperately, gripping him to you so hard he thought he’d melt. “You’ll cum when I tell you to.”

He was trying to hold on to something when he pulled away to look at you, but he could see you weren’t listening. You were flushed and panting hastily, avid with your nerves on fire. You could only see him and you had been waiting too long.

“Please,” you sounded a second away from breaking into tears and he admired you for it at that moment. You were so strong for him. And so pliable.

So he kissed your cheek gently and said your name once, taking pleasure from rolling it over his tongue. “Go on, cum.”

And it was all you needed to snap, tears coming to your eyes as your hips convulsed and searched for friction. You didn’t think you needed it because your walls were tensing, and again and again while desperate cries fell from your lips. His fingers calmed down inside you, his breath the same temperature as your blazing cheeks, and you thought a sweet blanket of lethargy would cover you soon.

Only he never stopped fucking you with his fingers, and so you whimpered and tried to push him away weakly.

“Don’t come down,” he murmured to your cheek. “Stay, don’t let it go.” 

Your nails sank on his shoulder blades again as you squinted your eyes shut. Tears roamed your eyes as you tried breathing and pushing through your sensitivity. You could handle your clit being sensitive, but inside you, that was a whole different story. You felt like you had been pounded to perfection, only to be further kneaded into sensations you had never felt before.

You looked at him, eyes droopy with whines coming out of your mouth. Why weren’t you surprised?

“Give me another one,” he asked gently, but you didn’t answer. 

How could you, he twisted his hand to reach into you deeper and your whole core burned. He was relighting a fire you thought had been extinguished, only to leave you breathless, dripping slick down his hand as you moaned between gritted teeth. 

So beautiful, so tense. He wanted to release you. 

“Look at me,” he asked softly, and you did. His eyes gave you a tenderness that made your heart convulse. How could he act sweetly like that, as if half of his hand wasn’t pounding your g-spot to bits? “You’re so good. Doing so well, giving me everything I want.” Your only reply was your moans, but you were listening. “I need you to focus for me.” He leaned to whisper in your ear, “Focus on the tension. You’re so tight around my fingers. Relax, don’t fight it. That’s it, move with me,” his voice was sweeter, and you softened. It was as if he was in it with you. As if he could feel it too. As if he was fucking you and not just sticking his fingers inside you. “You feel so good,” his whisper felt like the highest form of praise, and your moan pitched, melting alongside your nerves. He was so happy at the sound as he traced his lips down your cheek to whisper to the corner of your mouth, “Come with me.”

You moved with him once, twice, seeing in his eyes how much he was seeing and feeling you before looking at his lips, so close. He brushed yours ever so slightly in the hint of a kiss, moving with you as if you were jumping on his cock and not on his digits, and it was what pushed you. You pulled him closer and he let his mouth fall to yours, and your orgasm instantly started, forcing you to swerve so you could moan and breathe as you disintegrated. 

He let you feel your ecstasy to the fullest, biting his lip and feeding off of your release as if it were oxygen. Your trembling lips, your nails that marked his shoulders, your throbbing walls squeezing and gripping around him in sweet delight. All of you like a charming melody, sweet and utopic. Your moans were music until the very last, and by then, he had to taste it.

His free hand cupped your cheek and coaxed you into a sloppy kiss that you instantly reacted to. You were still not there, though, too dazed from the high to realize it fully; until you did. And you gasped. Yoongi’s tongue was licking at your bottom lip gently as if you were a delicacy that needed to be tasted slowly, and you couldn’t believe it.

You parted your lips to let him in and he pressed you even closer, enclosing you in such a euphoric moment you thought you’d pop like a firework. Like a cocoon filled with dazed butterflies with nowhere to go. He was kissing you and your wildest dreams seemed to have just come true. Tears were still hanging onto your waterline, and when he pressed your lips to move away and breathe, you were scared that it had all been a dream.

“So good, you’re so good.”

His voice was calm and tender, and it gave you the courage to open your eyes. He was so close with his eyes roaming your features swiftly, taking in the smallest detail as if he was finally free to. Then he smiled at your wonder, and you were convinced it was a dream.

That notion didn’t dissipate as he reached to the side to grab a towel and dry you with gentleness, enveloping you in the fluffy material as if it were a cloud. You sniffled, drained from the energy that you had just burned away and woozy from his sweet pats as he tried to dry the excess water out of your long hair.

Not even when he took your hand and pulled you back into your bedroom did the haze recede. Instead, you saw him pull the duvet open for you to get in the bed and you lost the towel and got in without a thought. Once you settled in, you did have your first thought: where was he going?

But he was back soon, and you knew in the back of your mind that he was just making the place tidy: getting the coffee cup from the floor to put it on the table, stopping the shower, and shutting the lights. Then he grabbed your towel from the floor and dried his own hair with hastened movements before throwing it aside. His eyes fell on you and your own picked up on the wet spots on his clothes. He was probably cold too.

“Come here,” you voiced hoarsely, staying in a ball to conserve the heat. He instantly stepped to you, but you pouted, “Clothes off first.”

He blinked and looked down, but then smirked and did as you asked. Of course, he couldn’t make your bed humid and uncomfortable with his clothes. Your eyes were on him, unable to separate from the soft unblemished skin revealing itself more and more. His muscles moved as he bent down, wide shoulders and soft biceps trying to hide the strength he had. But you just observed quietly, tucked in the duvet. You could still feel his fingers inside and all around you, pressing and owning you easily. But you could keep a secret, his power and strength were only for you to know.

He lowered his pants and boxers and your eyes glued to him like a magnet. He was hard and pretty, with protruding veins on a thick length that had your imagination doing cartwheels.

Your thoughts were interrupted quickly when he opened the duvet to get beside you and you shivered. You opened your arms and legs to welcome him, and in your haze, you suddenly thought that it all felt so domestic.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it away to tell you he wanted to lie behind you and you agreed instantaneously. His arms wrapped around you just as fast as you rubbed your ass to his crotch, and he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your head.

“You must be tired.”

“No,” your voice was a low whimper as his warmth relaxed your nerve ends.

“No?” He sounded amused and soft and you had to admit that his chest was the fluffiest pillow.

“No…”

You didn't want to, but you were slowly dozing off. Slowly, and a bit more with every soothing breath you took together.

You shook and forced your eyes open, “I don't want to fall asleep.”

“Why?”

Your heart beamed and your lips curved; he was still holding you with his mouth to your head.

“Because… it will end,” you admitted, falling deeper into his touch as he nuzzled your hair. Suddenly you realized his boner was half gone. “You didn't come, I haven't touched you yet. I don't want to miss the opportunity.”

“We have tomorrow.”

“You might change your mind.”

“So can you.”

“I won't,” you insisted with a hint of annoyance as you twisted to look back at him.

“I won't either,” he promised calmly, glistening eyes set on you.

Your eyes were closing, the comfort and lethargy were pulling you away. Still, you focused on his lips, “Kiss me.”

He met your lips with no hesitation and you let that sweet touch soothe you. When he pulled away and kissed your nose, you slipped asleep.

When you woke up in the morning, two things made you alert: your soreness and the lack of space. You groaned with the sweet throb between your legs but frowned because something was over you. Turning back, the most precious image graced your vision and made stars twinkle in your eyes.

Min Yoongi was sleeping as quietly as a mouse with an arm around your shoulders as if to keep you tucked in. You brushed his hair aside and his nose twitched, making you instantly melt. Why did he look so sweet asleep? How could he be such a beast as a musician, a genius producer, and a darling in private?

You kept brushing his hair soothingly, thinking that intimately he was not a darling. No, not cute, not sweet. If that throb between your legs meant something, it was that Yoongi was the kind that owned. He owned his music, his process, the studio room, and you, for all you cared. Your finger trailed his cheek as you recalled your words the night before. He said he wanted you, the same as you, and he said he wouldn't change his mind, but what if he did? What if you lost your opportunity the night before?

Maybe you were still half asleep; otherwise, the fact that you were both in bed naked would have meant something. As it stood, you were anxious about what reality could bring. So when he opened his eyes and saw you, your instinct was to kiss him.

You brushed his lips gently but surely, giving him more than enough time and place to push you away if he wanted to. So when he didn't, you became bolder. Your tongue teased the seam of his lips and your hand roamed his chest, and as you got lost, you became vulnerable. 

He waited as long as he could. He let you kiss him, let you press, let you push him a bit back into the pillow, let you cup his jaw, but you never moved away. Never stopped, and never changed your mind. You did say you wanted everything, and he thought he had given you enough time to take it back.

So he grabbed your hair and rolled over you to get on top, pushing his tongue past your lips without asking. And you moaned, instantly weak to him taking something that in all that concerned you belonged to him anyway.

You thought that meant a green light to explore him just as he was doing, passing his hand down your side to your waist, but no. You palmed the expanse of his chest and he interrupted his mission simply to grab your wrists and pull them down. He pressed them once to the mattress, then released one to pass his slender fingers between your breasts and you took the opportunity again. Your hand sneakily went under the sheets to scratch his hip up to his ass, feeling how firm he was over you, yet he caught you before you could squeeze him.

“Stay still.”

He could have been saying good morning, yet you puffed, “Let me.”

“No.”

“But I want to,” you pouted and he nibbled down your neck.

“Too bad.”

You wanted to be good to him; you liked him touching you and his hard cock ever so close to your core did make you hazy with want. But as he kissed and licked and palmed and pressed you from head to toe, you grew impatient. Incredibly so when he turned you belly down to do the same down the length of your spine as if he had all the time in the world. Even more when he raised your ass and spread your legs, nibbling at your ass cheeks and squeezing them roughly. Aggravatingly so when he noticed your wetness dripping down your inner thigh and made it his pastime to try to reach it with his tongue.

“Yoongiiiiii,” you whined at the end of your patience, waves of goosebumps driving you insane as he spread your asscheeks more to reach your wet inner thighs.

“Hmm,” he was having way too much fun.

“Let me touch you too.”

And ruin the fun? “No.”

You whined again, “But I've waited.”

“Not enough.”

“Why not?” You were sulking despite your spasms around nothing. He could feel them without directly touching you, and it drove him to bite and kiss harder. You squirmed at his lack of reply, “How long more?”

“Until I say so.”

You shook your ass half in annoyance half in desperation, “I've waited enough. At least fuck me.”

“No.”

It was as though he was shooing a fly.

“Come on,” you dragged. “Get to the good part.” He snorted but didn't move. “Fuck me, come on.”

“No.”

“But you'll feel so good.”

He sighed with your taste on his tongue, “I know.”

“So do it.”

“Hmmmm.”

You thought there would be progress as he touched your core ever so lightly. But you waited and waited for what felt like an eternity. And although the tip of his fingers explored every nook and cranny slowly and gently, even the embarrassing ones, you were still not closer to what you wanted.

And so you snapped, “I asked you to fuck me.” He hummed, but your tone was assertive, “I won't shut up until you do.”

He changed absolutely nothing, wet fingers dragging to your nipples lightly.  And so you insisted.

“I'm waiting. How long will you keep me waiting? Should I do it myself?”

Your hand moved and he put it in place instantly.

“I can show you how it's done,” your tone became mocking. “In case you’re lost.” His teeth brushed the back of your thigh and you smirked, “If you never used your cock before—”

A slap to your asscheek echoed and you grinned. It was firm, a warning, but what could you do? You always liked to talk big in bed, and you couldn’t miss the opportunity to rile him up.

“Nothing to be ashamed of— If you don't know where to go or what to do— Should I take over?”

Every slap felt like a win and that last one wasn't any different. He gave more of him when he did it, and you felt it in the sting, the touch, the attention. When he grabbed your asscheeks and squeezed until you cried out, you thought that he might be holding back.

“You talk too much,” he said quietly.

“And you fuck too little.”

He pushed you harshly to fall with your belly up and grabbed your head firmly in place, using his body over you to fully press you down the mattress.

“I like to fuck people who indulge me.”

“Liar.” It escaped your lips before you could think. You were too horny to think, but then you laughed, “Fucking liar. You're rock hard, you want to fuck me so bad is not even funny.”

“Your point?”

“You like it,” you whispered, raising your head to reach his lips, which he didn't let happen. You looked into his eyes, “You like what I'm saying. You adore every spank and every little reason I give you to do it.”

His expression didn't change except for the laughter in his eyes, “Can you blame me?”

“Fuck no.”

“Is it a problem?” He seemed cautious. 

“Yoongi,” you sighed. “I said everything.”

His lips finally showed a smile as he got on his forearms to look at you with new eyes.

“But Yoongi,” you called with a pout. “I did wait long enough.”

He grinned widely, so endearingly you wanted to kiss his entire adorable face. So loveable you wanted to drive him crazy.

“You'll wait as long as I tell you to.”

He seemed happy now as he leaned to kiss and play with your chest, pink tongue messing with your perky nipples to the point you squirmed. And it felt good, so good your legs were restless under him, opening but struggling to get him to align. He tortured your nipples, suckling and biting only to smile at your fussiness. You could only take so much.

You squealed, “If you don’t put your cock in me soon I’ll fucking scream.”

“Scream?” He was amused, barely separating his mouth from your breast.

But you sucked in a breath and screamed at the top of your lungs. Only for a second though; his hand covered your mouth and forced you to look at him.

“Shut it.”

He raised his hand carefully with your eyes locked, and all you did was roll your hips to get his cock near your dripping core. You thought he had learned something, so when he moved too but against you, keeping what you wanted purposefully at bay, you decided that holding back was not getting you anywhere.

You threw your head back and screamed again, and when his hand darted to muffle it, you bit it.

You took another breath, but before you could scream his hand wrapped around your neck firmly. You looked into his eyes as lightheadedness relaxed your neck and shoulders. He was so careful, but you were at such ease.

“Are you going to be quiet?”

His fingers were perfect around your throat, “I want to cream your cock so bad.”

Your voice was a wanton whine as your glistening eyes focused on him. You couldn't describe how much you were melting, how much he relaxed you only to tense you up the next second if he so chose to. How much that drove you to want him like crazy.

“Is that a dirty thought?” You nodded once, pleading with your eyes. He nuzzled your nose sweetly, “Not yet.”

“Then I won't be quiet.”

Your voice was gentle like a breeze but carried consequence, and when he nuzzled you further, you knew everything went both ways. He knew it too, and he wasn't stopping you.

You tentatively tried a scream and his hand wrapped firmer, observing you with sparkles in his eyes.

You huffed, cheeks becoming hot, “Why won’t you just do what I want?”

“Why won’t you quiet down?”

“And do your job for you?” 

You could see the smile in his eyes — he knew you were embarrassed. He was just seeing how far you’d go in your brattiness, but you were so horny you were lost. 

“All I’m asking for is your cock, don’t you have one?” He raised an eyebrow at your taunt; you could both feel his hard shaft pressed to your thigh. “So why don’t you shut me up? Do you need me to tell you how to use your dick?”

“Just because you’re needy and desperate, it doesn’t mean you should get what you want.”

The burn traveled to your chest; he was scolding you and it was like you’d been shaken. Of course, he’d answer you and deal with your attitude. You never thought he’d be the type to let it fly but to actually have him doing it was burning you from the inside out.

“But what I want is you,” you sighed, batting your eyelashes flagrantly. “Let me get on my knees, I’ll do whatever you like.”

He took only a second, “No, I like where you are.” You grinned in absolute joy; you also loved being under him with his hand around your neck. You felt taken care of and grounded, even as your mind became chaotic in the hazyness. “And there goes another dirty thought, hm?”

You bit your lip, “In my fantasies you always give it to me so right.”

“This isn’t a fantasy anymore.”

You grinned, “No, thank fuck. You look so much better pissed off in real life.”

He raised an eyebrow, “You want to piss me off?”

You almost laughed, “I want you to fuck me.”

“I never said I wouldn't,” he adjusted his hips but purposefully made it impossible for you to have him, and you squinted. He was smiling, “I just told you to wait.”

“And I told you I’d scream.”

You were snappy and he grinned, “Can’t we be civilized about this?”

His lips ghosted you and your chest burned again, “Nothing civilized about the way I want you to fuck me senseless.”

Your voice was wanton, bordering a moan as your hips rolled just to feel the tease of his cock near your core, and he kissed down your chin, “So you’ll scream?”

“Like hell.”

“No changing your mind?”

“Fuck no. Stop stalling,” you whined, moving your spread legs in the hopes of catching him, but he only chuckled.

“Go on, then.”

He got off you and you huffed in annoyance and screamed. It was short and you opened your eyes to see him just observing you with amusement. Why was it so funny to him when you were getting upset?

So you took a deep breath and screamed again and this time your lips pulled in a smile because what the heck were you doing?

“That’s it?”

His taunt had you take a deep breath and scream again, only to fall short. You covered your eyes and stifled a laugh. It reminded you of how you screamed on roller coasters.

“You must not have enough reasons to scream yet.”

You bit your lip, imagining the reasons you could have, the ways he could make you scream. The bed dipped next to you but you stayed in your reverie. In it, Yoongi touched you. He slapped your cunt with his cock and promised to use you. He grabbed you by the neck while he pounded into you so hard you saw stars.

You huffed in impatience, neediness making you bold; you were about to sit up and do something when you stopped. He was throwing his leg over you and his cock was so close your eyes nearly crossed. He grabbed your head in place, but you were staring, fixed, jaw falling open and lax instantly. You could pretend you wanted to scream more but you were just salivating, so when he aimed his cock at you, you just met him halfway.

His taste hit your buds quickly and moved to reach your throat, and you lost it. Your eyes rolled as you closed them, the salty traces leaving you dizzy, and the way he pushed himself down your throat made you squirm in waves of pleasure. It felt hot and intense and wild as he did it again and again, each time getting a better sense of how much you could take. You barely cared about breathing; he was finally using your mouth, fucking you, showing you how much he wanted you without holding back, and with each push, he made you feel better than the last. Elated, special — he was groaning and getting riled up down your throat because you made him feel that good.

Suddenly, he pulled back and you followed him as long as you could before he grabbed your arms and raised them above your head to stop you. He had heard you choke so he was probably worried, but you only sighed in impatience.

“So greedy,” he taunted, pressing your wrists down firmly. But he had a glint in his eyes — he was paying attention to you. Not worried, just caring.

“Aren’t you learning?” You said as you tried not to melt, but it was too late. He chuckled and his smile made you happy. “Keep going,” you asked softly, despite the tears running down to your hairline. “Please.”

He brushed his thumbs on your wrists for a second with his eyes set on you. You were such a handful and he couldn’t love it any better. Asking for him like that secretly drove him crazy, and made him want to give you everything you could ever wish for, no matter what. So when you leaned back and opened your mouth, it was his pleasure to stuff it with his dick. He grabbed your wrists more firmly and supported his weight on them to help him lean forward and give you the fucking you craved.

Time and time again he snapped his hips to get his cock down your throat, and it was challenging. His muscles were burning, but so were his lower stomach and balls as he tried not to come. You moaned and choked and bounced as he fucked your head into the mattress, and yet you were totally relaxed. Your arms and hands were still, calm as you got used and loved it. And he loved it too, but for your first time together and after skipping it the night before, he thought this time he wanted more.

He pulled away from you and it took you a second, but you instantly sulked. He settled between your legs as you cleaned the drool, “So I’m not going to swallow the sugar rush?”

He chuckled, “No, not this time.” You pursed your lips and were about to whine about him stopping so soon when he asked, “Do you have a condom?”

Your eyes widened and you instantly scrammed to conjure up one. Shit, shit shit, you thought as you turned your room upside down, then your toiletries, then your bathroom. Why the fuck didn’t you have one? Well, sure, you knew why, but you were so angry now. You could not miss this opportunity!

You turned to your kitchen, desperate at that point until you gasped. You searched for your first aid box and dug until you finally found a lost wrapper. You waved it victoriously as you strode back to your room and to bed, and Yoongi was there to receive you with a look you couldn’t identify. He grabbed your arm and threw you on the bed before pinning you down from between your legs and kissing you till you lost your breath.

If he wanted to fuck you before, now he wanted to screw you so hard you’d only ever remember his cock. To think you said you wanted to be with him the whole last year, and that you hadn’t been with anyone else because of it made him wild. Why had you both played it so safe? He had been to your apartment so many times, set you to sleep on that very same bed, and yet never once did he get the inkling that you wanted him. Not as he wanted you. But just now, you were dripping with how much you wanted him, squirming, begging for him to fuck you, and trying to rile him up so he would. You jolted at his fingers in your folds, rubbing your chest to his for any hint of a touch, moaning when he pulled your head back by your hair. You wanted him bad and he was going to give it to you.

He pulled away from you and you almost screamed in frustration, but seeing him putting the condom on cooled you just enough to stay quiet. Your hands even stayed above your head voluntarily as you waited patiently, thinking he wouldn’t waste that condom, he’d surely fuck you finally.

You moaned suddenly and looked down, confused for a second, but you weren’t dreaming. He was grabbing his cock and slapping your cunt with it right over your clit. You squirmed with need, but he kept doing it harder and harder, wet sounds echoing with your excitement.

“Fuck, I just knew it,” you mumbled, clenching around nothing right before his eyes.

“Knew what?”

“That you’d do that,” you moaned, hands tightly gripping each other so you would stay put.

He hummed as he did it quicker, seeing your slick connect to his cock, “That so? What else do you think I’ll do?”

You were burning all the way to your shoulders, trying to move with him so that his cock could give you friction, and he didn’t stop you. So you answered through gritted teeth, “Stick it in, get deep, fucking use me until I’m stuffed with your cum.”

Your voice disappeared with the lack of breath; he was dragging his cock over your clit now and it was the sweetest reward. 

“Filthy thoughts you’re having, hmm?” You were lost in your motion, rolling your hips to earn that friction so you gasped when he pushed his cock inside you, loving the burn as your core split to accommodate his girth. “Read my fucking mind.”

You screamed when he bottomed out, biting your lip with the way he was forcing himself inside you. Then you opened your eyes to see him and instantly clenched around him, and he smirked. 

“Been thinking about fucking me, huh?” You could barely hold a thought, but the opportunity to tease him was too sweet.

“It has crossed my mind,” he said and snapped his hips, and you didn’t know whether to gasp or moan. He’d hit you deep and hard, you knew he would, and it made you even tighter. His nails dag at your hips, “So many times.” He was starting slow but deep and you could do nothing but moan. “How you would moan, what you would want, how you would give in and let me take you,” every wish was pointed by a deep thrust. “Now look at you.” You looked down: your tits were bouncing with every hit, gushing sounds echoed along with your moans from how wet your heat was, and the sight of his thick cock pushing between your slit to enter you was the cherry on top. It was the can of cream about to blow you full, and you wanted to get filled. “Almost cuming even though I’ve barely started.”

“Cause you feel so good,” you breathed in a moan.

He leaned to grope your taunting tits, “You told me to use you.”

“Fuck, please.”

He gritted his teeth and adjusted you better so he could pick up the pace. And what a vicious pace it was, fast and steady, leaving you so hazed and lost, that you had no words. He slapped your tits around and you clenched, tears roaming your eyes with how good and sweet it was. It didn’t hurt, every touch sparkled pleasure in your veins, and the sight of him hitting and scratching, his squeezes on every bit of you only made you even more sensitive. More elated and euphoric, so much so you were mumbling more with every moan involuntarily. He was slapping and roughly marking your chest as you asked, and suddenly you threw your head back and looked at him.

“Harder,” you asked out of breath, and he slapped your tit so hard you screamed before moaning deeply. “Just not my face.”

You thought to tell him from within a glimpse of logic, and he nodded and took note of your limit. Instead, he leaned forward and groped both boobs again and you squirmed desperately.

“Squeeze,” you breathed, your moan pitching. He did, but it wasn’t enough, “Please!”

He did, a bit harder with every thrust into your messy cunt. It was maybe selfish, but he wanted to see how you unraveled. How you wanted those strong sensations, how you craved something more intense each time and with every bit of strength, you transformed it into a beautiful pleasure that had you bursting.

He saw you coming again, writhing around thoughtlessly with the intensity of your pleasure, so hard he didn’t have to look down to see you throbbing around his cock. He still did though, mesmerized by it, only to chuckle. You had left a ring of white around the base of his cock; you just had to have your way in the end.

He leaned in to kiss you through your haze, slowly sensing with his lips the condition you were in. At first, your reaction was delayed, the brush of your lips falling behind as you recovered. But then you reacted and pushed back against his tongue, and he knew you were good.

He pulled back and turned you around, and you helped and got on all fours instantly. He didn’t wait, he aimed his cock at you and entered your velvety embrace as soon as he could. You arched your back for him and pressed back into him a couple of times to feel him deeper, and he grinned.

“Finally. So obedient,” he taunted, squeezing your ass cheeks to spread for him.

“You’re finally fucking me senseless.”

Your voice was a whisper, and he smirked. You asked him to use you, and he was doing a good job at it. But now he wanted to make you scream, to mark you so hard you’d never be anything but his. He couldn’t help it; now that his cock was shoved deep inside you, he didn’t want anything else. Now that he knew what you tasted like, what you sounded like, and how filthy your mind and mouth could be, he wanted nothing else. He saw you trying to get him deeper, huffing and puffing as you swayed with him, and his chest tightened. The possessiveness you were inspiring in him was raw and dangerous, but he didn’t want to fight it.

So he gave you both what you wanted: he smacked your ass as he pounded into you, seeing the way it bounced in either direction until he couldn’t focus anymore. Until he was desperate to own you, to hear you scream, to know you’d beg for him forever. It wasn’t enough; no matter how hard you screamed, he wanted more and he wanted it to last. 

Grabbing your hair to pull it into showing the beautiful curve of your neck was a mistake, though. Suddenly he saw how beautiful you were, vulnerable and immersed in every sensation he gave you. He wanted you to be his, and suddenly it hit him that you already were. And you loved it.

And it snapped his senses, overthrowing his strong grip on his pleasure as if he had never had any. He became sloppy but still held on to your hips to sink and cum as deeply inside you as he possibly could. He groaned with every peak, jerking to milk the sensation between your tight walls as best as he could until he stilled. Fuck, how the hell did you do that to him?

He noticed then you were trembling and his priorities immediately surfaced, “Are you okay?”

You hummed, but he wasn’t having it. He pulled out despite your whine and helped you to softly lay on your side. Then he hopped off the bed, dealt with the condom, and searched around for water and a snack.

You were still stunned, out from the intensity of the emotions that had tensed and relaxed your body simultaneously. Your soul didn’t know how to handle what just happened, and the only thing that occurred to you before he came back was that you had totally surrendered. You didn’t force yourself to be tame and quiet, or said and did what the other person wanted so you wouldn’t ruin it for them. You were yourself, through and through, and Yoongi fucking ate you up like dessert.

The bed dipped behind you and you turned to him, sighing happily when he pulled you in to snuggle.

“Here — water and chocolate.”

You glanced at the bottle and bar and smiled widely. Your heart was right all along, and although you knew it was definitely too soon, there were special words at the tip of your tongue trying to get out.

Instead, you let him insist and sit you up to take a sip of water and a bite before letting you fall back into his arms in a sweaty embrace that you wanted with all your heart.

He was kissing your head and tracing your arm quietly when you decided to tell him, “Next time cover me with cum.”

He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you, and you pouted.

“Just… You wanted to know what I think about.”

“You think about that?”

“Sometimes.”

He smirked and squeezed you inside his arms, “What else have you been hiding from me?”

“You have no idea,” you laughed.

You were melting and relaxing into his touch as he pecked your head when he whispered, “Are we bad?”

Your heart hurt for a second, what? But then you realized what he was saying: your song. When you wrote a conversation you once imagined you both could have had:

You're bad, you liar. 

It's me who's bad, I know this bad desire, sugar.

So you chuckled and sang along to the melody, “What did you do to me, sugar?”

[hcsiqs]

TALK TOO MUCH— paige bueckers x famous!reader

༊*·˚ summary: while doing the wired autocomplete interview, you reveal your celebrity crush to be the famous athlete, Paige Bueckers

༊*·˚ warnings: use of y/n, reader is close friends with renee rapp

༊*·˚ author's note: and after months away...here i am so it might be a little rusty my bad yall

You sat down in the chair that was placed perfectly in back center of the all-white room you had just arrived in a few moments prior. Your makeup artist and hair stylist both came up and made some quick fixes before giving a nod to the crew behind the camera that you were ready.

You sat in the chair with your arms resting against the arms of the chairs as the director gave you the cue to start, "Hi guys! It's Y/N Y/L/N, and this is the Wired Autocomplete Interview" you beamed at the camera doing a small wave. You were then handed a card that was made to look like a Google search bar with questions, with certain parts being blocked out by a white piece of paper.

The first board was questions mostly about where you grew up and how you got your start in music, some even asking about your hometown friends. Two boards later you were handed one that had most questions starting with "who".

You held up the board to the camera as you pealed the first question up, "Who is Y/N Y/L/N's inspiration?" you read out loud before tapping your finger against your lips. "I don't know exactly. I feel like I get inspiration for my music from a lot of different artists, but also from the place I grew up and the people I grew up with" you told the camera truthfully, "But, I have really been loving Renee Rapp right now" you smiled, giving your closest friend a small shoutout.

You continued answering a few more questions before peeling the last one off, reading it as you went, "Who is Y/N Y/L/N's celebrity crush?" you read out before slapping your hand to your face and shaking your head no. "Oh Gosh," you laughed softly as your face warmed, the crew behind the camera laughing with you.

"Wow you guys really wanna know my dark secrets" you smiled as you tossed the board off to the side. You bit down on your bottom lip, as you tilted your head side to side, debating if you should tell the entire internet you your celebrity crush was.

Ultimately, you decided that since you were an artist and she was an athlete there was no way your fans crossed between you two, and there was absolutely no way she knew who you were and would see this interview.

"Ugh, okay, okay, I'll tell y'all," you said, covering your face with your hands for a second to calm yourself before letting a small smile fall on your lips as you remove your hands from your face. "Paige Bueckers," you smiled, tilting your head slightly, "And do not tell her! Or I'll like die," you laughed, pointing your finger at the camera.

You finished out the next few boards, cracking jokes, or sometimes leaving answers your fans would have to dissect to figure out your true answer, but soon enough the interview finished and you thanked the crew and said your goodbyes before heading home.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Several weeks passed and you had completely forgotten about your little mention of the star athlete in the video until you were scrolling on TikTok. An edit of the blonde popped up, but much to your shock the intro was a clip of you from the WIRED video talking about the girl before it cut to several velocity-style clips of her, with one of your songs playing in the background. Your eyes then wandered down to the caption which read, "y/n is so real for that" followed by several hashtags.

You then let your curiosity get the best of you as you opened the comments to see what people were saying, some nice and some not so much.

BRO NOT MY FAVS COLLIDING

paige has got to see this

Yall we just lost Paige to whoever this is

not her shooting her shot...and its def not gonna go in

need them together actually

PLEASE never media train her

You couldn't help but scroll in the comments for what seemed like forever before the notification fell from the top of your screen as your phone vibrated lightly. It read with Renee's name at the top with the small phone symbol beside it, you clicked the small answer button and answered the phone, the sound of the girl on the other side dying laughing cutting through.

"Bitch there is no fucking way!" Renee cackled, and you could hear her hitting the couch between each of her words. "Oh My God, I love you so much baby, but exposing yourself like that is crazy work," she spoke into the phone, her laughter dying down.

You groaned, mentally smacking yourself, "I don't even know why I said it! Shit, what if she sees it and thinks I'm some fucking weirdo..." you rambled, before the girl on the other side of the line cut you off.

"Chill. She's not gonna think you're a weirdo," she said, attempting to calm your nerves. "She has like thousands of random ass people talking about her all the time, you're fine."

"Why did no one shut me up," you said, pacing around your living room before feeling your phone buzz with the name paigebueckers appearing in the notification. "She just dmed me," your mouth dropped open as you told your best friend as she encouraged you to open it.

paigebueckers Soooo someone told me about your crush. But like don't die though

You opened up the message and started typing out your apology as quickly as you could.

ynyln omg im so sorry!! i literally didn't think you'd see it and completely forgot i said it after i finished the thing

paigebueckers You're good 🤣

paigebueckers I’ll always take a compliment from a pretty girl

And with that message, you practically launched your face into one of the pillows on the couch as you felt the blood rush to your cheeks and your body went warm.

ynyln oh godddd stopppp😭😭

[misctf]

i don't get it, why are the jocks nice to me? No one else notices me, the socially outcasted and alone BC I don't fit in anywhere , I'm. Not smart, athletic or real hot, all I do I quietly draw

But the jocks, along with the cheerleaders come up to me and chat, they seem like really good ppl, a lot of the times they all show up in their football kits and cheer uniforms,

Idk how I got into this situation, how am I ? The so not special guy, hanging out with the most popular ppl in the school.

There all so hot, athletic and nice to me, if only I could play football to any extent, so I could play with them 😅

“Dude, sick drawings. You an artist or somethin’?”

When Chet approached you in your college’s library, you were initially surprised. As someone not used to the attention, you were taken aback by the muscular hunk in front of you. His tank-top showing off his impressive arms. The shit-eating smirk plastered on his handsome face, conveying his confidence. You blush and meekly replied that you liked to draw. His dumb chuckle fills the room.

“Fuck bro, you’re talented.”

That was a few days ago. And ever since then, you couldn’t help but notice all the attention you were getting. A few of the other jocks on the football team approached you, all clamoring about your artwork. Even a few of the cheerleaders came up to you, gushing over your art and how cute you were. It didn’t make much sense to you, but you weren’t complaining. If anything, it made you want to get closer to them. Besides, it felt nice. And for the first time in a while, you felt special.

When Chet sent you a text asking if you wanted to hang out, you felt nervous. Even if they were nice to you, the idea of hanging out seemed like a huge next step. You initially declined, but he practically begged you to come by. Although somewhat anxious, you agreed. And before you knew it, you were standing outside his dorm room. When he opened the door, you were initially taken aback by the musky smell. And it became all too obvious that he hadn’t showered, or done laundry in weeks. But you were a bit more focused on his exposed torso. His meaty pecs and abs on full display. The outline of his cock shamelessly displayed in his grey sweatpants. That same smirk plastered on his face.

“Fuck yeah dude! So glad you could make it.”

You look around his relatively empty room. Besides the beer cans, dirty clothing, and gaming set-up, it was pretty plain. There were a few Chemistry textbooks messily scattered on his desk. Odd, you think, he didn’t really seem the type. But also on his desk were a few drawings. Or at least attempts. They weren’t nearly as good as yours, but it looked like he was trying.

“Yeah man, you inspired me.” He chuckles, “But I ain’t no artist.”

That much was evident. You reassure him that practice makes perfect and laugh awkwardly, but he just stares at you. His eyes glisten with a hint of mischief. And before you know it, he crushes his lips to yours. Your eyes widen as he passionately kisses you, and you can taste the beer and protein shakes on his breath. He breaks the kiss and smiles.

“Come on, let’s see what you’re packin’.” He says, helping you remove your shirt.

His hands roam your body. Compared to him, you lack muscle. And years of avoiding the gym and eating whatever you want has certainly given you some pudge. But he doesn’t seem to mind. He continues to feel your body, and you moan at his sensual touch. So caught up in the moment, you fail to realize the impact his touch is having on your unimpressive body. How your fat begins to dissolve away, leaving you thin and lean. But not for too long. You grunt as your muscles come alive. Contracting and relaxing rapidly. Building on themselves. You wince as your biceps pop into glorious existence. Your triceps follow quickly and you lean into him as he caresses your new arms.

“What’s happening...”

“Don’t worry.” He reassures.

He kisses you again, and this time you feel a heaviness in your chest. Your pecs expand rapidly, forming two bouncy muscle tits. He squeezes your hardened nipples, sending a wave of pleasure through your growing form, and you nearly pass out as he gives your pecs a firm squeeze. Abs pop into existence soon after. And you groan as your already hard cock expands further, adding at least an additional 5 inches.

“Almost there.” He continues.

And this time, when his lips collide with your new cock-suckers, you feel something is wrong. It’s as if he’s sucking something out of you. Draining you. But as your mind continues to dim, you don’t really seem to care. You lean into his kiss willingly. And when you do, your eyes glaze over and become half-lidded. Any intelligence you may have had is gone. But it’s so much more than that. Your skills as an artist are quickly stolen from you. Any potential you had, stolen by the handsome jock in front of you. And when he finally breaks the kiss, he can’t help but grin at the dumb, vacant look in your eyes.

“Fuck bro, that was great.” He says, wiping some drool from your lip, “Thanks for that. Who needs art lessons when you can just take it, right bro?”

You nod and chuckle, more drool falling from the side of your mouth. You look down and bounce your pecs, totally enamored by your hulking body.

“Huh, usually we’d let ya join the team.” Chet says. He snaps his fingers in front of you, without getting any reaction, “But, I doubt you have the brains to follow even the most basic instructions.” He smirks, “But I’m sure I can find another way for you to play.” He slaps your muscular ass, “What do ya say, waterboy?”

So maybe you don’t get to play football with the team how you wanted. But the team certainly enjoys playing with you. After every game, they’d find you in the locker room with your ass up. Ready to help them wind down after a tough game. Rest assured, they certainly still think you’re special. And they still give you plenty of attention. So have fun, bro.

[f1cflcfic]

The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) Part II

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy".

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons.

genre: social media au, angst, exes to lovers, happy ending

part i

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

September, 2026

[Excerpt from Kelly Clarkson interview with Y/N]

“We’re so excited to have y/n l/n with us today, I can’t get your latest song out of my head. It’s really such a great revival of the sultry pop ballads,” Kelly says joyously, and y/n can’t help but smile.

“Thank you! That means a lot coming from you – I grew up watching you on American Idol, I can’t believe I’m even sitting across from you now.”

“Oh my god, stop! You’re gonna make me feel real old. Congratulations again on your Grammy for your sophomore album, All I Ever Needed. How did it feel going into your new project with that in the back of your mind?”

Y/N shuffles uncomfortably on the couch. “Hmm thank you. I – well, it was really different. The songs I wrote on there were coming from this feeling of bliss which was fading fast by the time the Grammy’s rolled around. I had to figure out what kind of artist I am if I’m not in love, or writing about happiness. It felt embarrassing. I don’t like being vulnerable, but I love sharing love. So it was hard for me, not gonna lie. But I’m happy that we got there in the end.”

“Wow, well I was able to listen to a few other songs on this record. I gotta say, I think it’s by far your best record yet. And did you write on all of the songs this time around again?”

Y/N nods her head, a small smile creeping back up on her face. “Yeah, I did. It turns out that writing about sad things can be really cathartic. But I really want people to know that it doesn’t mean this isn’t an album about love. At the end of the day, each of these songs are love letters to every single moment or person that made me feel something – for better or worse.”

early October, 2026

[Transcription of Capital FM segment with Y/N]

“We’ve got Y/N L/N with us here on Capital FM, and we’re about to play a quick round of Never Have I Ever! Are you ready?”

Y/N smiles, holding a paddle with “I Have” and “I Have Never”. “Sure, as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Great! Now first one: Never have I ever… regifted a gift someone bought me.”

“Ooooh, not a gift someone bought me. But things I have been sent or given in goodie bags I’ve definitely regifted,” Y/N says, and raises the “I Have Never” paddle.  

“That’s alright! I think that’s not too bad. In fact, I’d volunteer to get something regifted from you,” the host laughs. “I usually donate it, but next time I’ll keep you in mind!”

“Perfect. Next one: Never have I ever slid into someone’s DMs”

Y/N rolls her eyes and raises the “I Have” paddle. “Who hasn’t? If people say they haven’t, they’re just lying to you.”

“Who’s the most famous person who’s ever been in your DMs?” The host asks, and Y/N laughs. “Hmm Taylor Swift, maybe?”

“You’re good friends, aren’t you?” Y/N nods. “Yeah, I actually wrote ‘how did it end?’ during a studio session with her.”

“Hmm that brings me to the next question – never have I ever written a song about an ex.”

Again, Y/N raises the “I Have” paddle, but then twists it so it’s halfway. “I think sometimes, no scratch that, I think almost always songs work way better when they’re open for interpretation. Isn’t it nice how everyone can take something else from it, that way?”

“Have you ever gotten back together with an ex?” The host asks, and Y/N makes a ‘tsk’ noise. “Never! First rule in the book, or so my friends tell me all the time.”

"Even when the heart wants what it wants?"

"Even then."

mid October, 2026

[Excerpt from Call Her Daddy episode with Y/N]

“I think in many ways this album is the most naked I’ve ever felt in my emotions. But maybe that’s actually a good thing,” Y/N grins.

“They do say that sex sells,” Alex (Cooper) responds, and Y/N chuckles. “You’ll find hardly any of that on this album.”

“That’s not entirely true, there’s a song on there with some explicit lyrics,” she adds.

“Undrunk? Funnily enough, that one was probably one of the easier ones to write because it actually felt the furthest removed from myself? It’s inspired by, but not based on my own experiences. I’d say it’s my unlived life,” Y/N tries to explain.

“Talk to me about that. People are always quite eager to pinpoint all experiences of a celebrity. They know who you’ve dated, look for clues and dissect every lyric. How do you decide what to share and what not to share?”

“I think it’s sort of why I wanted to share ‘how did it end?’. Even the title track is me addressing the fact that everyone feels entitled to determine my love story. Including me, I think everyone tries to engineer or hack happiness at one point in their life. But it doesn’t work like that. And at the same time, it’s important for me to try and have some semblance of control over my own narrative, my feelings, my sense of self. And that also goes for the people whose presence in my life inspired me to write these songs. For better or worse, I’m grateful for it.”

Alex smirks. “Look, we can’t avoid the topic here. We all know that one of those people is Formula One driver Lando Norris. He’s also got a lot of very dedicated fans, who’ve been clamoring under every post of yours to leave him alone ever since you started dating. How did, and do you deal with that? It would have been easy to erase him from your social media, once the relationship ended, but you chose not to do that. Was that a conscious decision on your end, or something you ever discussed?”

Y/N takes a sip of water, and purses her lips. “I kinda feel like it’s just not really my place to expand on that – it’s between Lando and his fans. Like, it actually has nothing to do with me, I feel. If people are surprised I didn’t delete like three photos, it’s just because I like them – it’s not that deep. I can still cherish good moments, even when they’re in the past. I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of the fact that my ex was part of my life. But it’s not for me to comment on it beyond that. He’s well within his rights to want to delete them, and he doesn’t need to explain to anyone – not to me, not to his fans, anyone why he did it.”

“But it’s more than that. It does seem to imply he doesn’t like the association. And yet you referenced him in the video for “Jaded”. It’s caused some controversy,” she prods a little more.

Y/N snorts. “I was just paying homage to my co-writer, and her iconic 7 Things video. But it’s also partly me taking that ownership. A video is one of the few spaces where you can set the scene. If I wanted to expand on it, I’d have done it through art. People will be mad either way, and the props don’t add anything you can’t already infer from the lyrics.”

“Has he listened to it?”

“Have you?” Y/N counters. Alex smiles, then moves on.

end of October, 2026

[The Independent excerpt]

Y/N L/N reveals tracklist to her third album as anticipation grows!

An obvious contender for the BRITs, is what the first reviews are saying about L/N's latest record “Jaded”. The LP will arrive in just two weeks, but up until today we did not know the exact runtime of the highly anticipated album. After posting to her Instagram, Y/N L/N revealed that the regular version of The Prophecy will count 12 tracks, with the deluxe edition raising that to a comfortable 16. Fans will surely be delighted to know that they can purchase various versions, all contributing to what is looking to be a very easy chart victory.

Talking to Jimmy Fallon earlier this week, L/N stated that she hopes her fans will listen to the album in its running order. “I know it’s really tempting to skip straight to your favourite, but I spent ages ruminating over how to tell my story in the best way – so I hope that translates.”

So far, all official singles of “The Prophecy” have charted both in the Official Top 20 as well as the Billboard Top 40, with The Heart Want What It Wants peaking on top, and Jaded just outside the top 10 at #11.

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥ I was soooooo happily surprised by the response to the previous part that I hurried up to post this :) Any comments, likes, reblogs, asks are super appreciated. ♥ Part III is now available here, it'll be four six parts in total. for those interested, official tracklist songs

how did it end? - Taylor Swift / The Heart Wants What It Wants - Selena Gomez / Jaded - Miley Cyrus / Lie to Girls - Sabrina Carpenter / Breakeven - The Script / The Prophecy - Taylor Swift / Stay - Gracie Abrams / Science + Faith - The Script / Moral of the Story ft. Niall Horan - Ashe / Undrunk - Fletcher / Vertigo - Griff / No More Sad Songs - Little Mix / Paper Hearts - Tori Kelly / Into You - Julia Michaels / Supercut - Lorde / Genesis - Dua Lipa Link to a playlist here

[wombywoo]

Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

[wordsmeetwbb]

Not Just Friends

Word count: 1.8k

Content: fluff

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: I needed a break from writing smut so here's a little something about Paige and Azzi figuring out they're gay! Obviously we don't know how this happened (if it happened, but let's be honest. they play women's basketball. the odds are high.), but this is just my take on how I think those realizations would have gone. Enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think!

________

Paige was 16 when she realized that what she felt for Azzi was more than just friendship. It was August, just over a year after they had met during USA basketball. They had settled into a routine over the summer. Although they were separated by half the country, they were closer than ever.

Every evening around eight o’clock, Paige Facetimed Azzi. More often than not, Azzi picked up on the first ring and they stayed on the call until one of them (Azzi) fell asleep. Paige missed Azzi with every fiber of her being, but she knew she was lucky to talk to Azzi as much as she did. She felt lucky that Azzi wanted to talk to her as much as she did.

On one of those Facetime calls, late into the night, Paige was yapping to Azzi while the brunette struggled to keep her eyes open. Really, it wasn’t Azzi’s fault. It was nearly two in the morning and Paige hadn’t stopped talking since midnight. She had tried to annoy Azzi into staying awake for a while, but then she felt bad and let the tired girl drift off, content to provide background noise with the endless amount of stories she wanted to tell Azzi.

“And then she like, she just fuckin’ chopped it! All of it! Like a foot of hair, Az. And I was like, ‘That’s crazy,’ and she was like ‘Not all of us have emotional attachments to our hair, Paige,’ but that’s not fair. I’m not emotionally attached, I’m just picky about my gameday hair, y’know?” Paige rambled to a mostly unconscious Azzi.

“Mhm,” Azzi mumbled. Through the screen, Paige could see the way the younger girl was nestled into the pile of blankets on her bed, clutching a unicorn stuffed animal. She smiled softly.

“Anyway, she tried to tell me I should cut my hair. And obviously, I said no, because how am I gonna do gameday braids with a fucking pixie cut, right? But she just wouldn’t let up so-” Paige cut herself off when she saw Azzi’s face relax. If she really thought about it, the reason she talked so much on these calls was because she knew Azzi fell asleep easier with background noise. And if she was extra motivated by the way the younger girl looked so peaceful in her sleep, well, that was her business and no one else’s.

Paige’s eyes traced every curve, line, and crease of Azzi’s face. Her skin glowed even in the dim room, the color darker than usual from the time she’d spent in the summer sun. Paige was confident that if she had any artistic ability whatsoever she’d be able to draw Azzi perfectly from memory. The way her eyelashes rested on her cheeks with her eyes closed, the light pink tint to her nose from a little too much time outside, the curve of her plump lips- Paige had it all memorized.

Paige hated ruining these soft moments where she just got to look at Azzi without the younger girl complaining about it, but as her eyes wandered around her face a thought popped into her head.

I’ve never looked at a guy like this. Paige paused, gaze stuck on Azzi’s perfectly curved eyebrows. What an odd thing to notice. A second thought. Paige wasn’t used to thinking during these Facetimes. She didn’t think she liked it, but the ideas seemed to have opened some kind of floodgates. More observations came pouring into her subconscious.

Her lips look so soft. I wonder what they feel like. Her eyes are such a pretty shade of brown, I wish I could see them right now. I’ve never felt like this about a friend.

Paige took a deep breath, startled by her train of thought. None of the thoughts surprised her. That was the whole problem. Azzi’s eyes were pretty, and her lips did look soft, and Paige did wonder what they felt like. She just hadn’t realized she thought any of those things.

Paige thought back to a few weeks ago when one of the girls on her team had been talking about her crush on some guy in the grade above them. The things her teammate had said about that guy had sounded a lot like everything Paige was thinking about Azzi.

Oh, Paige thought. I like Azzi.

It wasn’t anything revolutionary. Paige was pretty sure she had always liked Azzi. She just hadn’t known it. It wasn’t until nearly a year later when she and Azzi finally confessed their feelings to each other that Paige thought about what liking Azzi meant for herself.

“You never came out to me!” Azzi had exclaimed. Paige had frozen, staring at Azzi and really, truly not understanding.

“Come out to you?” she repeated. Azzi nodded, eyebrows drawing together.

“Yeah, like, are you bi? Lesbian? I came out to you months ago and I’ve been thinking you’re straight since we met, P,” she explained, looking at Paige like this was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh,” Paige said dumbly. Azzi just stared at her. “Uh, I guess I didn’t really think about it. Like, the whole not being straight thing. I just know I like you,” Paige shrugged. Azzi had blushed, the color intoxicating on her skin.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, pushing Paige’s shoulder gently. Paige just grinned.

“As long as I can be your idiot.”

________

Azzi learned she was gay at three in the morning on a Thursday when she was 16. It had, in a very cliche fashion, been a dream that sparked the realization.

She had woken up, breathing hard, the blankets feeling far too hot, with memories of soft lips on hers taking up far too much space in her mind. She threw the blankets off, sitting straight up in bed, and had a full-blown gay panic.

The longer she sat there, the more pieces of the dream came back to her. At first, it was just gentle lips on her own, and then soft blonde hair running through her fingers, and then it progressed to memories of warm pale skin under her hands. Azzi squeezed her eyes shut.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” she demanded to her brain. The clock was creeping closer to four in the morning, she had to be up for school in two hours, and she was being terrorized by completely non-platonic thoughts of her best friend. Azzi flopped face-down onto her bed and let out a scream into her pillow, realizing too late that the rest of her household was still sleeping and might have heard it.

Feeling frustratingly awake and completely insane, Azzi grabbed her phone off her nightstand and navigated into a new Google tab. “What does a dream about kissing someone mean?” she searched first. The results were straightforward, bluntly informing Azzi that dreams of kissing someone usually meant that you had romantic feelings for that person. That brought up new questions.

“How to know if I like girls?” was her next search. It was a ridiculous idea to Azzi. She had had crushes on boys before. Hell, she’d dated a boy in middle school, and as much as that wasn’t a real relationship, it definitely proved that she liked guys. So why the hell was she having a dream about kissing her best friend who was a girl? It didn’t make any sense.

“Why do I want to kiss a girl if I like guys?” Azzi tried, hoping that somebody on Reddit had the same problem as she did. Shockingly, there was a result. That’s how Azzi Fudd learned about bisexuality, and suddenly things made a lot more sense.

She tried to bring it up to Paige on their nightly Facetime that day, but Paige was being frustratingly dense.

“Hey, Paige? Have you ever thought about, like, dating somebody?” Azzi started. Paige startled, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“Uh, yeah. But not like, for real. Don’t really wanna date people because like, ew, right? Anyway, I was thinking that next year-” Azzi, feeling disproportionately upset, ended the call. Mere seconds later, her phone was ringing with another Facetime from Paige. She let it ring for a while, wanting Paige to know that she hung up on purpose. Finally, she clicked to accept the call.

“What the hell, Az? I was telling you a story,” Paige complained. Azzi glared at her.

“And I was trying to tell you something, too.” Paige looked confused.

“But you asked me a question.”

“Yeah. Have you ever heard of a leading question, dumbass? I was using it as an intro to something,” Azzi grumbled. Paige had the decency to look at least a little bit sorry.

“That’s my bad, Az. It was just kind of a weird topic. Sorry, you can tell me whatever you were going to. I won’t even interrupt this time,” Paige apologized. Azzi swallowed, losing her nerve now that the moment had been drawn out so much.

“I just… uh. I wanted to tell you that I learned about something,” she said, mouth unbearably dry. Paige nodded, prompting her to go on. “You know that people can like guys and girls?” Azzi blurted out. Paige’s eyebrows shot up, surprise coloring her face, but she nodded slowly. Azzi could feel her hands shaking. She knew Paige was religious, but she was suddenly considering that this could end negatively. She didn’t give herself time to consider that outcome.

“I’m bisexual,” Azzi said quickly. She felt like her heart might beat right out of her chest. Paige looked at her for a moment, studying her through the phone. Azzi shifted uncomfortably. “Can you say something?” She asked, tone unsure. Paige cleared her throat, expression softening. Azzi felt her body relax immediately, just from noticing the change in Paige’s body language.

“You know I’m proud of you for telling me, right?” Paige asked. Azzi blinked. That was not the response she was expecting.

“You’re… proud of me?” she repeated. Paige nodded, the movement jerky through the screen. A smile spread across Azzi’s face.

“Thanks, Paige.” Paige just nodded again, a small smile on her face now.

So, from the time Azzi had the dream of kissing Paige (the first of many) to the time she came out to the blonde, her gay crisis lasted about 16 hours. When she thought about it later, years down the road, she thought it made complete sense. Azzi overthought every single thing in her life except Paige. Realizing she was bisexual was easy because it was Paige. The girl who talked her ear off on calls every night, who sent her iMessage games at ungodly hours, who always knew how to comfort her. Just Paige. Liking Paige made perfect sense.

[drchucktingle]

Hello Dr Tingle! I wanted to ask you about that re: your post about how all your books are serious literature (hell yeah Love is real). How do you personally deal with the whole traditional publishing institution? It attracts a whole different level of coverage and it seems that they're very quick to try and box you and like turn you into a brand. Is it stiffling? Is it freeing? Does the attention help more people understand your trot? I don't know I've never been published but since you have experience in both traditional and self publishing I'm interested in knowing how that's feeling for you

well this is a pretty complex question with lots of different trots but i will try my best to answer. lets start with WHO I AM as buckaroo name of chuck

what i create has a very strong voice and my way is pretty recognizable. while buckaroos do not know what most authors look like, i REALLY stand out in a dang crowd with a big pink bag on my head. if you see 50 random author photos and mine is mixed in and then you ask 'which photo do you remember the most?' it is probably gonna be chuck. i also have a VERY UNIQUE STORY with what i create and my artistic sensibilities, not a lot of buds are out there making trans mothman erotica along with their big five traditional publishing bestsellers (SIDENOTE preorder BURY YOUR GAYS)

now if you were going to take 'CHUCK TINGLE' to a marketing department they would FALL OVER BACKWARDS IN THEIR DANG CHAIR with excitement. it is hard to think of an author with a stronger BRAND than i already have in the sense of 'instantly recognizable trot and specific unique style'. even in answering this you can tell that i dont even TALK like other dang authors.

what i am getting at is this: i am VERY VERY LUCKY because my existence just so happens to equate to what a company would see as GOOD BRANDING. it is not intentional on my part, it is just the hand of fate i guess. im out here expressing myself in a FULL ON WAY that is PRETTY DANG STRANGE TO SOME and it just so happens to work as mainstream branding too

on paper you might think 'what the heck no way chuck tingle will fly as a mainstream trot' but honestly the main thread of this timeline can be surprising sometimes. ive been saying the key ingredient for years and i will say it again: LOVE AND SINCERITY RESONATE. when you make art with this fuel, the timeline will feel it. when you stand up tall and shout with your whole chest THIS IS MY WAY AND I LOVE MYSELF. I AM THE WORLDS GREATEST AUTHOR TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT, the timeline will listen

so all that said, i do not mind the idea of myself as 'brand' because i am not CHANGING myself to create this effect. what some might see as 'brand' i just see as another part of my art. i have always believed that art is THE WHOLE EXPERIENCE not just the painting but what is outside of the frame. WHO I AM is just as important as the books i write, and interacting with my way is a whole MULTIMEDIA experience that INCLUDES YOU TOO. it is the feeling when your friend shows you your first tingler cover, or the feeling when you realize that i am not playing a character. this is ALL a part of the tingleverse and it is all a part of my honest raw expression as a queer and neurodivergent buckaroo.

YOU ARE PART OF THIS ART TOO

it is my nature of have a PUNK ROCK trot. always has been. but to me that does not mean just angrily going against everything for the sake of going against everything. for me, this punk rock trot means fighting to EXPRESS MYSELF IN THE MOST HONEST AND PURE FORM POSSIBLE and to create the art that i want to make without any boundaries

somehow i have threaded the needle in this really interesting once-in-a-dang-lifetime kind of way. my pure punk rock self as an OUTERSIDER ARTIST just so happens to resonate with this larger system of brand and traditional publishing and popular culture. i COULD reject this, but rejecting it would be LESS HONEST.

this is just who i am. i LIKE pop culture. i LIKE joy. i LIKE dressing in all pink and wearing my custom suits. I LIKE PROVING LOVE IS REAL WHAT THE HECK ELSE EVEN IS THERE? i love being a queer outsider artist and using my small voice to shout at the big bad devils and i like that every time i shout a few more of you buckaroos join the chorus and together we are just getting louder and louder and louder and WHO KNOWS what comes next for us all trotting together.

when i post something like 'WHAT A GREAT DAY TO PROVE LOVE' it is not me sitting here in a bad mood thinkin 'well i gotta make todays post to keep up with my brand'. i am ACTUALLY FEELING THAT FEELING and i actually believe it with every fiber of my being. honestly, half the time i post about the beauty of this timeline i am probably over here literally crying tears of joy (chuck is an emotional bud i get riled over the joy of existence A LOT)

and heres the best part of this trot: because i really have this punk rock way it makes me very powerful. others can pretend not to care about success and brand and all that but I REALLY DO NO CARE. i would write tinglers whether buds were reading them or not, this is just my natural state, and that makes me incredibly strong. if some big corporation says 'YOU MUST DO THIS' and i dont want to do it i just say 'no thanks'. it is not some big debate about my career or anything like that because I REALLY DO NOT CARE IN THE SLIGHTEST. i care about the art

because of this, my relationship with my GIANT TRADITIONAL PUBLISHING MACHINE is great. we trot like equals and we get along really well. i tell them exactly what i want to do and they let me do it. i really do not have to answer to anyone and they deserve a huge amount of credit for respecting me in this way.

and heres the thing, THEY ALSO HAVE SOME GREAT IDEAS

SPECIFICALLY my imprint of NIGHTFIRE is very dang cool. yes, they are the head of a giant hydra of a BIG FIVE PUBLISHER, but nightfire is SO DANG ART-FOCUSED

there is no right or wrong way to be an artist, and my path is not the only one, but i can tell you what WORKS FOR ME. this is the advice i would give myself, and buckaroos can take it or leave it

here it is: never beg the big book publisher, or record label, or movie studio to pay attention to you

do not let it become a lotto ticket in your brain. do not think that you are some weak little creature and maybe if you trot just right they will scoop you up and take care of you. do not go to their door begging to be let in

LET THEM COME TO YOUR DOOR

create something so incredible and beautiful and honest and powerful and unique and important that they would be foolish to miss out. create a community or a system or a timeline or a world of imagination that thrives on its own and THEY SHOULD BE SO LUCKY TO BE A PART OF IT

then when you sit down at that board meeting it is not 'please brand me, ill do whatever you want'. instead, it is 'lets make a deal and see how much love we can prove together.'

now lets trot buckaroos

[81folklore]

dress - VETTEL - part 2

pairings: sebastian vettel x famous!reader (fc: taylor swift)

summary: its known that seb has been married for a few years now despite the public never seeing is wife, its also known that yn is in a committed relationship and has been since she disappeared from public eye. maybe they are more connected than people realise

authors note: part two because i didnt realise how long it had gotten but im allergic to actually writing.. also i apologize for the first part literally just being build-up.. i honestly didnt know about the 30 pic limit so...

authors note 2: i used google translate for the german so i hope its correct, also i dont know if petnames like darling or sunshine are used in germany but i had to use them

authors note 3: i actually hate how this turned out :/ but it was very hard to actually get my thoughts onto the page so this will do! this is part 2 so go read part 1 first!!

part 1 part 3 masterlist

ynupdates

liked by user5, user77, olliebearman and 45,920 others

YN IN THE F1 PADDOCK TODAY, I REPEAT YN IN THE PADDOCK

view comments

user77: sorry i dont follow f1, i thought the races were on sundays?

user5: dont be sorry! today is qualifying and tomorrow is the race!

user5: SHES THERE I CANT STAY CALM

user91: does anyone know who she was with in those photos of her by the track?

user5: sebastian vettel and mick schumacher!

user6: SHE WAS WATCHING QUALIFYING WITH SEB AND MICK?? SEB VETTEL?? AND MICK SCHUMACHER?? OH LORDDD

user12: i thought i would survive.. i lied

ynupdates

liked by user5, user20, user99 and 101,782 others

seems like yn is with redbull at todays race looking as gorgous as ever!

view comments

user5: OH OH OH OH

user5: SHE IS STUNING HOLY

user20: her style recently has been AMAZING

user68: out of every team i think redbull would have been one of my last guesses

user6: THE WAY SHE IS WITH REDBULL AND SPENT QUALIFYING WITH REDBULLS GOLDEN BOY OH I FEEL SICK

user99: i love her so much

user42: at least her team will win

user591: IS SHE WEARING A WEDDING RING??

user618: i think so?? honestly i wouldnt be surprised shes very private and has been with her partner for almost 8 years so no wonder he popped the question

user90: i need her to be at every gp

ynupdates

liked by charles_leclerc, user55, user81 and 234,891 others

yn on stage performing dress during the post-race concert at suzuka! as far as we know it was a complete surprise, she came on to sing dress then left. this is her second time performing it to a live audience!

view comments

user81: WHEN IS IT MY TURN TO HEAR DRESS LIVE

user5: charles and seb were both spotted watching her from the side of the stage!

user81: charles taking seb to see his favorite artist..what if i cried

user55: i cant believe i lost dress twice without even knowing i could lose it😭

user8: i hope she had so much fun, ive missed her doing stuff like this :’)

user12: apparently she was laughing and looking off stage at someone throughout, possibly her partner?

user1: SHE AWLAYS LOOKS SO GOOD

user13: so much content this weekend..im going to have major withdrawls

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, mickschumacher and 13,712,847 others

four years ago i was given the pleasure of marrying my best friend

i am unable to really put into words how much meeting you and getting to spend the rest of my life with you has changed my life seb, but i tell you i love you enough daily that i hope you understand

when we first met i had no idea how much you would impact me and the way i think, but you have helped me become the woman i am today and i am forever grateful for that

i often feel unworthy of the life you have given me, the life we have together. i wonder how i got to be the one you love and cherish and i know how lucky i am to be the one you spend your life with

you gave me your heart and i promise to look after it for as long as im here, i promise to keep it safe and i know you will look after mine

danke, dass du mich liebst, danke, dass du dich um mich kümmerst. (thank you for loving me, thank you for taking care of me) Ich verspreche, dich bis zu meinem letzten Atemzug zu lieben. (I promise to love you until my last breath) Ich werde nie aufhören, dich zu lieben, Mein Sonnenschein. (I will never stop loving you, my sunshine)

tagged: sebastianvettel

comments on this post have been limited

sebastianvettel: Danke, dass du dein Herz geöffnet hast und mich dich lieben lässt, mein Schatz (Thank you for opening your heart and letting me love you, my darling)

sebastianvettel

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 8,728,712 others

I won the most important race. It was the race into the heart of the love of my life, yn. I love you.

view comments

yourusername: 🩵🩵🩵

user5: I CANT DO THIS STOP

user12: hes so sweet :(

user18: ive known about them for a total of 2 minutes but i love them already🫡

user6: dress was written about him…

user71: i feel ill wehn will i get posted like this

sebastianvettel

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, landonorris and 10,120,859 others

the sunshine of my life

view comments

yourusername: i love you so much

lewishamilton: very happy for you mate!

user13: THEY LOVE EACHOTHER SO MUCH OH MY GOD😭😭

landonorris: 🥹🥹

user82: DRESS WAS WRITTEN BY HER FOR HIM AND HE WAS PROUD OF IT OH LORD

user5: literally my favorite people in the entire universe🫶

user19: still in shock that theyve been married for four years

[alcrego]

Your art has been popping up on my feed for ages, and I haven't really interacted with it, but it keeps appearing. At first I kinda thought you were a bot, but upon closer inspection, you are very much a person. So I have a couple things to say.

One, your art is impressive. The fact that you can make a static image with visibly moving particles- wow. Two, very politely, WHAT. You feel like a cryptid. In a nice way. You're kinda just there, persistently. I don't really know what I'm asking for an explanation on, but at this point, might as well put thought to post while it's relevant.

I am befuddled, but keep up the good work 😅😊

Thanks a lot for such kind words about my work, and in someway is a compliment to be confused as a 'bot' (I guess because I post a lot of works) but I must say that despite I do all by hand, my work is handmade (I use mouse and keyboard with my hands), and I post all by myself, I don't use bots or automatic tools...😅🙏

I love "cryptid" things, but not as a way to hide anything, but as a way of trying to make people 'decode' what I'm trying to convey, in the same way that I love 'decoding' things in other artists to unveil what's behind it.

When the solution is given, we learn nothing. I think that when we understand things by ourselves (as a book, music, a film) is when we can feel elevated and the 'horizons' of our comprehension get wider.

Thanks a lot for these words... 🙏😌

[sanguineterrain]

I think I saw you're on s1 of criminal minds soooo baby sweetheart Spencer 🥰 (u are in for a ride with his plotlines!) If ur writing requests maybe reader and Spencer going on a date? And maybe they're both kinda shy 🤭

short one! hope u like 🩷 gn!reader. first date w/ spencer. he's so baby sweetheart 💕

****

"Was this a bad choice?" Spencer whispers in your ear, barely audible.

You turn away from a Pissarro, eyebrows lifting in surprise. "The painting?"

"No, uh—" Spencer casts a sidelong glance at the painting. "I don't think I'd have the authority to criticize even if I did mean the painting. Besides, Pissarro's work is beautiful."

You're beautiful, you want to say.

Somehow, you're still nervous around Spencer. Maybe it's normal considering this is your first date. You'd hoped to have gotten over it by now.

He's just so... unreal.

"I think if anyone had the authority, it'd be you. French artists must've popped up at some point during your research."

"More than you'd expect, actually. We had a case a while back where the killer used blood and turpentine to—" Spencer stops, shakes his head. "No. Sorry. That's not appropriate date talk."

You laugh. "I don't mind, Spencer. I know you work for the FBI. It's interesting to hear you talk."

He frowns, that adorable crease in the middle of his forehead resurfacing. You want to kiss it.

"No, I meant coming here," he says. "Was it a mistake? I did some research before I asked you out, and they said that it's important to get to know the person on the first date by talking. But we haven't been talking. But then I know you enjoy museums. And you like silence sometimes because being outside can be overwhelming. So that's why I chose here. Not because I don't want to talk to you. I do, I just—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," you say. "But that's probably the most considerate decision anyone's ever made for me."

"Oh." Spencer tilts his head. "I mean, I don't know how else to go about it."

You know. That's why you like him so much. That's why you're so nervous.

"Do you want to talk?" you ask. "We can go to the cafe and talk."

Spencer sighs. "I don't know. There's a lot of rules to dating, according to the Internet. And Morgan."

"I like looking at paintings with you, even if we don't talk. I'd like doing pretty much anything with you, Spencer."

He ducks his head, scratches his neck. "Really?"

His shyness makes you shy. You bite the inside of your cheek. "Uh-huh."

"I'm overthinking this, aren't I? Hotch tells me that I think myself out of a good thing."

You shrug. "Well, you won't here. I overthink stuff too. It's okay."

Spencer nods and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. "So you're enjoying this?"

"Yeah. Are you?"

"I am."

And then, jerky and a little awkward, Spencer takes your hand. You hang there for a moment, fingers just barely linked. Then you adjust your grip so you're properly holding hands.

"If my hand gets sweaty, you can let go. I don't mind," Spencer says.

"My hands get sweaty too. I don't care."

He squeezes your hand. "Okay."

You return to the Pissarro. You'd may as well be looking at concrete, though. The only view you'd spend hours on is Spencer Reid.

[itsmeyaspider]

Visual Love~

Yandere Baki Hanma x reader x Yandere Ohma Tokita

Triggers: yandere behavior, stalking, doxing

>>Art is not mine!! All credits go to the artist!<<

Finally! After a long time of waiting, your two favorite martial arts anime are getting their own videogame, it feels almost like Christmas! Once you'd seen the movie Baki Hanma vs Kengan Ashura, you couldn't wait anymore to play the game to the movie.

You were so pleased that you took the day off to play the game. Some people would call you crazy for making such a fuss over a mobile game, but you couldn't help it. You're just to happy that your favorite characters were represented in other media than only in manga or anime!

You stare at your phone when it's finally 9:00 am, with a huge smile on your face you go to the play store as you see the game, you immediately download it. Your excitement grows bigger and bigger as you decide to go to the kitchen to grab your favorite drink, to cross the long wait.

After a few minutes the game is downloaded, you press the app button as you get greeted with a red glowing screen. A huge white front appears with the 'Baki Hanma vs Kengan Ashura the mobile game'. A few seconds later your two favorite characters, Baki and Ohma also appear on the screen. You could feel how your heart starts to beat faster, as your excitement also grew. You finally press start and immediately the screen is filled with a battle arena. It was a good decision to stay at home today!

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A few hours go by as you can't stop playing this game! It has similarities to Mortal Kombat or Street Fighter, and each of the individual characters has their own signature move with their own special attacks. Well, since you only play as Ohma or Baki, you couldn't really tell what the other special attacks are like, but you honestly didn't care that much about it. You have to much fun winning online fights with those two, that you simply forgot the other ones.

Time flies by as you only now realize how hungry you are. It is already afternoon and because of the game you had forgotten to eat something. With a small sigh you are about to close the app as you notice something strange. A small window pops up.

Don't go....

Weird you think as you brush it off, maybe it is a bug which still needs to be fixed. You finally close the app as you leave your phone on the couch and head towards the kitchen to cook yourself something to eat.

After dinner you decide to take it easy, so you grab your phone as you head to your way to comfortable bed. You slowly start to lay down as you swipe through your contacts. Only now do you realize that the messages from your best friend's chat haven't shown to you. God this phone would kill you one day. You try to open the chat but before you could read it something weird again happened.

(B/f): Heyoooo! :3What's up?! Do you want to face-?¿?¿?¿

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error

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error

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What the fuck?? You roll with your (e/c) eyes in annoyance as the entire app freezes and crashes down. Surely that has to be a bad joke right?! Why does your phone hate you so much? You're trying to calm yourself down as suddenly another message pops up. At first you couldn't believe what you read there...was this even possible?! It takes you a short while to realize that this isn't a weird thought you had, infact this is real. A message from the BvK game pops up, something you didn't thought was ever possible, but maybe the creator added something like that to create more variety...

C'mon let's play! Don't leave us hanging here....

A cold shiver runs down your spine as you suddenly have an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Did someone manage to hack into your damn phone and try to scare you?! Or is your phone so old that it just starts to collapse. You clearly didn't know the answer right now. "Maybe I'm just to paranoid... I guess I need to calm down a bit." You tell yourself as you shrugg the weird feeling off, opening the app again. You spend the rest of the evening paying the game, you didn't have much else to do anyway. But you can't shake the strange feeling of that you're being watched.

-------

A few days passed and everything became a little more normal again. Maybe it was paranoia after all...You went to your job, did finish the work for today and then went home. You usually eat some food and then continue to play BvK. There is something about the game, what made you addicted. You just couldn't stop playing it. The strange thing is that whenever you wanted to try out other characters that wasn't Baki or Ohma, the whole game would freeze and a huge black screen would appear. Maybe another bug who didn't get fixed yet?

With a small sigh you start to bite your underlip as you stare at the character selection, of course Ohma and Baki will always have special places in your heart, you loved them both but you wanted to try out other characters too! Especially when (b/f) tells you how cool Kaolan or Jack is to play! It can't be that the game keeps crashing when you want to play someone else. Maybe this god damned bug is finally gone...

Your (e/c) eyes glide over the character selection as you take a few minutes to decide. "Then...hmm..I will take you Pickle!" You say to yourself as you sincerely hope that the game has finally been fixed. You click on the 'Fight' button, but before the loading screen could even show up the game starts to freeze and everything goes black. "Not again...oh come one..."

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Why are you doing this?!

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Are we not enough?!

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Don't you see it, we are meant to be together!

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This isn't funny (Y/n)...

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error

error

error

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You will be ours....

What the hell?!! Out of sheer reflex, you throw your phone against the wall as you watch in bewildered, how it hits the ground. What the fuck...? Did someone really try to talk to you? Where does this game know your god damn name?! The shock runs deep as you decide not to touch the phone anymore, there's clearly a virus on it because otherwise you can't explain it logical.

You try your best to calm yourself down, taking a few breaths in and out, but even that doesn't help much. You would love to call (b/f) right now and tell him everything about it, but you don't want to touch this cursed phone anymore. Besides, would (b/f) really believe you? After all, you have no proof about it and in the end (b/f) would think that you're just setting him up again.

With a small sigh, you go into your living room as you sit down on the couch. A new phone would probably be the only best solution, at least you hoped. Even if you didn't have a lot of money to buy such an expensive thing, you got no other choice. Maybe (b/f) could borrow you some money. Slowly you lie down on the couch as you notice how your eyelids get heavier and heavier, you let out a big yawn as you fall asleep.

----

The next few days went smoothly, thanks to the help of (b/f) who saved your ass with his money, you were able to buy a new phone. Everything went back to normal, your life got boring again but at least your phone didn't try to blackmail you. Just as you were about to take a shower, a message from (b/f) pops up, with a huge smile on your face you reach for your phone and swipe to the message.

(B/f): "Did you see the new Patch? Ahh they added the death row convicts and fucking Muteba!! (Y/n) you need to play it, I swear it makes so much fun."

You look hesitantly at the message, a cold shiver runs down your spine. Normally, you would have loved to try out the new characters, but something deep inside you tells you not to.

(Y/n): I don't know...what if the virus comes back and destroys also my new phone. :( I'm broke rn I can't effort another phone...

It took no less than a few seconds for another message to pop up.

(B/f): Oh c'mon it won't happen again. Maybe you were a little bit to careless and went to strange sites~😉

You roll your eyes in annoyance as you read the teasing message, another sigh leaves your mouth as you head to the all to familiar play store and download the game again. Maybe (b/f) is right, you were a little bit careless. Besides, what are the chances thar something like this happens twice? The fact that other characters were finally added too made you so happy that you immediately go into your shower. You want to play the games again and this time without any weird coincidences.

Minutes pass and you find yourself on your couch where you start the game again. Just as you are greeted with the all known home screen, you have the feeling that you are being watched again. But this time it's worse that the last times... it's more intense and you almost feel like a small trapped animal that has been cornered by predators. You start to bite on your underlip as you shake off the unpleasant feeling as much as you can, you head straight to the battle arena where you find all the characters, even the new ones.

A small smile graces your lips as your eyes pass slowly through every character. Of course the option to play Baki or Ohma again would be there, but this time you want to play someone else. You know them both very well, their attacks and special moves, anything from it and so it's only logical to try someone new. Your eyes continue to wander around, as they suddenly stop. For a moment you rethink everything about who to really choose, but in the end you decide to play Doyle.

Exitment runs through your body, when the familiar loading screen appears in front of you, it only takes a few seconds as Hector stands in the fighting arena. Oh my god! A rush of relief runs through as you can finally enjoy this game. You play a few rounds with Hector, losing most of the time. Maybe you're not as good as you thought, just as Hector does his final pose, the screen goes black.

Two all too familiar faces walk towards you as they suddenly stop in the middle of your phone screen. Both fighter turn at the same time around, their almost dead eyes looking into yours, it feels like they are in the same room as you. What the hell?! This shit is fucking creepy... immediately you try to close the app, you keep pressing the cross but nothing happens. The eyes of the two fighters continue to penetrate you and it seems like as if they were very angry.

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Suddenly, a message appears above Ohma's head.

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You are really a brat, you know that?! Always trying to fight against us, as if we are some monsters...

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Another message pops up but this time above Baki's head.

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We have tried it in a good way but you didn't care at all...

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A huge message pops up above both their heads, as a small wicked smile spread their lips.

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Good for you that we found a way to break out of this game. You won't escape us any longer.

That is clearly been enough for you, your heart starts beating faster and faster and you couldn't trust your eyes what you actually read. What the fuck is this about?! This is crazy....You grab the phone as you throw it against the wall, you'd rather not have a phone anymore than play this fucking psycho game ever again!

Your thoughts are filled with the messages of the two characters, what do they mean when they wrote they've found a way to break out?! It doesn't make any sense at all!!! Baki and Ohma doesn't even exist... You are so distracted by your own thoughts that you only now notice a strange blue glow from your cell phone. Just as you're about to take a closer look, you suddenly see a fucking hand popping out.

What the fuck?!

This is clearly way to weird, what the hell is this?! Your thoughts are going crazy, your instinct is screaming at you to run! Run as fast as you can, and so you do. You run to your door as you only want to leave this damned apartment as quickly as possible. Your legs carry you and you immediately rush out of the floor towards the street. You don't know where you should run but it doesn't matter right now, the main thing is to get put of this place. You keep running and running, your (h/c) hair makes it impossible to see anything, the wind is to strong. But you need to run, you need to...

You want to cross the road, as you suddenly feel a very strong hand grab you, and pull you towards it. You feel yourself almost falling, but before you can feel the impact of the ground, you are grabbed again in a strong embrace. You slowly open your (e/c) eyes as you stare directly in another pair of brown eyes. The man before you has hazelnut brown, fluffy hair and a birthmark on his lips. You also couldn't ignore the muscles that adorn his body, even though he's wearing a T-shirt, he couldn't hide them. You body begins to tremble as you slowly realize who is standing in front of you. This can't be real...this isn't possible!!

A dark, raspy voice awakes you from your thoughts as another muscular, yet taller man appears behind Baki. This one has black, wavy hair and black eyes. "You don't really make it easy, do you?" Ohmas gaze rests on you like that of a beast. You try to free yourself from the much to strong grip, something what you never believed to be possible, but it was useless. The Hanma seems to he very amused by the sight. "Don't try it (Y/n). You know you have no chance."

Of course you know that you didn't have the slightest chance against even one if this two monsters, Ohma and Baki are superior to you in every way. But your pride can't let that happen! Surely your 14 year old fanfiction fan would have died that these two are standing infront of you, but this isn't a stupid fanfictiin. This is the cruel reality and the reality is that you get captured by two fictional characters just like that. "Let me go!" You stutter out, doing you best to sound as strong as possible.

Ohma tilts his head to the side with a big, almost sadistic smile on bis face. "And what if not? Will you try to fight us then?" You can't miss the mocking tone, but something inside you knows that he is right. You can't fight them... Suddenly you notice how one of Bakis hand grabs your chin, forces you to look at him. "You're ours now, don't try to make us ever angry again. You know what will happen if you do." Full of fear, you nod to his kind yet threatening words as your last hope is slowly fading away. Maybe you should have listened to your instinct...

[tainbocuailnge]

I think there is a difference between the comic as a sequence of images with text and the comic as a comic. it's a subtle difference that an untrained eye might not see but the more one as artist draws comics the clearer this difference becomes, because one who first aspires to draw comics will soon find they are merely drawing sequences of images with text.

when people say an artist is clearly inspired by anime they often use "anime" to refer to japanese pop culture in general, but if you look more closely you can often tell it really is specifically anime rather than manga that inspired them, because the paneling and camera angles in their comics will read like a series of anime screenshots rather than a manga page. similarly, when I was a teenager really popular manga that had anime adaptions would sometimes get "animanga" reprints where they replaced the panels with the equivalent anime screenshots of the scene, and they often looked like dogshit because the very premise showed blatant disregard for why the original comic worked in the first place. these two examples are both about anime because i am a weeb but it applies outside that context too. a cartoon storyboard can be read as if it were a comic, but what it really is is a sequence of images with text that has yet to be refined into its actual intended format.

there are many artists who only employ the medium of comic because what they actually want to draw is a video, or a video game cutscene, but the only tool actually at their disposal is the ability to draw a series of images and add text to them so that is what they use. there is no shame or mistake in doing this, you have to make your art with the tools that you have available, and if the sequence of images with text is enough to convey the idea then it was the right tool for the job. but these are different mediums with different visual languages, languages which have a lot of overlap and can occasionally be used in each other's stead to achieve similar results (especially when drawing a fanart comic of a video game for example), but which are still ultimately different. the comic and the video and the cutscene are all different forms that a sequence of images with text can take but they are far from completely interchangeable.

there is a key difference in approach to the comic as a series of images roughly interchangeable with other forms of series of images like the video and the cutscene, and the comic as specifically the comic. this difference in approach is not always necessary to achieve results, an artist who wants to convey a scenario they came up with needs only the sequence of images with text to achieve this. but the difference between a comic with good writing and art, and a comic that is a good comic, is in whether it was treated as a comic rather than a sequence of images with text. I say this as an artist whose nearly every comic has been simply a sequence of images, because I just don't have the patience to refine it into a comic when I merely want to convey my idea rather than draw a comic. it takes a particular skill and insight that have to be developed and practised separately from the ability to draw well and the ability to write well in order to become good at making "the comic" as synthesis of the two.

it's hard to specifically point out the essence of this difference between the sequence of images and the comic because it's kind of a vibes thing honestly, and it depends on where and how the comic was meant to be published too. comics meant to have paper print editions have different constraints and requirements and frameworks to work with than webtoons meant to be read on slim mobile screens in a continuous scrolling format. a good traditional comic will consider not just how each individual panel looks but also the way each page as a whole looks, and how the pages look next to each other in a spread, and how it feels to turn the page towards the next spread. a good webtoon will consider the movement of scrolling down and how this affects the transition from one moment to another in its composition. time is time in videos and cutscenes but space is time in comics, and the space your have available determines how you can divide time across it. when you make a webcomic on your own website you have no constraints but the ones you set for yourself, and sometimes this leads to things like homestuck, which would not work in any other format than the one it created for itself.

the best comics are good because they tell their story and present their images specifically in the form of a comic, in a way that would not be possible if it were not specifically a comic. I think this is true for basically every medium, I'm just thinking about comics specifically lately, because even though I don't really consider myself a comic artist - because I usually draw sequences of images rather than comics - the thing my clients want to pay for is often still "a comic", and they don't know or care to tell the difference. it's a difference that, as established, is often fairly moot anyway, because as long as it successfully conveys your idea it's good enough. but it's precisely because the sequence of images is often good enough that the specific skill of the comic artist is often overlooked.

[malevoreenthusiast]

Parasocial Predator

Hey all! Had this idea earlier and quickly wrote this out. The celebrity I used is Alec Benjamin (a pop artist you should definitely check out), but they’re really interchangeable with any other celebrity. As always, send any requests you may have and let me know how I can improve! Enjoy.

The first thing I need to get out of the way is that in no way is this a parasocial relationship. Alec knows who I am: he’s liked my comments on his posts, I met him at a meet and greet once, and he’s seen me drive through his neighborhood a couple of times when I make sure he stays safe. One time, Alec even responded to one of my comments on Instagram with, “I love you, thanks for the support!” which validates that, in fact, this is a very real relationship that Alec and I have forged over the past several years. He knows who I am—his number one fan—and I know he loves me. Unfortunately, as a celebrity, he can’t show that, so that brings us to today. My plan, which will go off without a hitch, is to meet Alec in his tour bus in order to charm him and finally get together with him.

I’ve followed him on tour, eventually picking out his tour buses on the road and the one in which he stayed after several weeks. It was early afternoon, and he was supposed to perform tonight at a sold out show. He was such a rockstar. That’ll be the second thing I do: congratulate him for being so great. First though, I wanted to ask which of his songs I’ve inspired because I can think of at least ten. He really is such a charmer. A huge portion of the fanbase doesn’t deserve to listen to him and how great he is, which is really unfortunate because Alec is too nice to tell them otherwise. Still, I’ve got a plan to sweep him off his feet and have us be together forever.

I waited quietly in the back of the bus. Alec and his team had stopped at a rest stop somewhere off a highway to go to the bathroom and get snacks and stretch their legs before finishing the journey. This absence from the bus meant that I could easily sneak on when nobody was looking. Honestly, I think Alec knew I would be coming because he left his sweatshirt for me on the seat of the bus. I put it on and took a deep whiff, smelling him so purely that I sighed in deep, deep pleasure. I got lost in his scent so much that I didn’t even notice Alec get back on the bus before anyone else.

“Who are you?” he asked, uncertainty in his voice. I knew he was cheeky, but playing this hard to get so early? Come on, sweetie, you can do better than that!

“Alec!” I bellowed and raced towards him in a hug. “It’s good to see you, gosh, you look so much better in person up-close,” I brushed his hair back and held him close to me. He gave me a wide-eyed look, probably in shock because he didn’t expect to meet me so soon. I get it, though, and I wasn’t going to hold it against him. I would be at a loss for words too if I had suddenly met the love of my life on the tour bus.

I positioned myself at the entrance to the bus so nobody could get in and come between us. Alec’s eyes shifted out the curtained windows, most likely making sure that nobody would see us in this illicit relationship. All of Alec’s trashy fans would probably get too jealous, so it only makes sense that he would make sure that no one else was around who could witness this. The next thing he did was somewhat confusing, but he brought out his phone and dialed a number. I could see he was shaking a little, and my fierce protectiveness for Alec kicked in. I strode up quickly to my beloved and snatched the phone out of his hand. He was calling his security (probably to make sure no one attacked us while we were in here), and he was scared as a lamb! 

“Oh, Alec,” I hugged him tight, smelling him more closely now, “it’s okay, let me take care of you. Here, I have just the thing.”

Now, before I tell you what I was about to do, let me explain myself. Alec is an amazing singer/songwriter, and the world doesn’t appreciate him as well as I do. Alec is also on the smaller side, so many dangerous things could hurt him and impact his ability to do what he most loves after me: music. To this end, I thought: “what better way to protect my love than keep him close to me at all times?” So, on that thought, I kissed him softly on the mouth and stretched my jaw over and around his head. He instantly started wildly thrashing, probably because my baby was excited to be in my stomach. I gulped heavily, bunching his shoulders up and sending them down my gullet. I could feel him yell with what I assumed was pleasure and excitement at being in his new boyfriend’s belly. My saliva soaked through his clothes, as admittedly, I had been wanting to do this for several years now, ever since I first saw him in concert. Now that my dreams had come true and he wanted to be in a relationship with me, I could finally do this! I swallowed again, sending Alec’s small torso down into my mouth. He really wasn’t that big (which is why he needed someone larger than him—me—to protect him), but he fit perfectly in my gut. I could already feel his head and shoulders spill into my stomach chamber, which felt really nice. Alec was wriggling already from the inside of my gut, unable to keep his excitement in, most likely. I choked down more of him quickly, as the position he was in was probably making some blood rush towards his head, and I was not going to facilitate any misfortune upon my sweet angel of a boyfriend. Slurping up his legs like noodles, I took off Alec’s shoes and gulped the rest of the singer into my stomach. It ballooned out heavily, but my six pack was something I was more than okay with parting with if it meant I got to be next to Alec at all times of the day. Alec’s sweatshirt clung on to my chest, but my belly was now far too big to be contained by the piece of clothing. Still, I wore it happily, knowing it was a gift from Alec.

“What are you doing?” Alec shouted from inside. “Let me go! Please!” 

I rubbed my belly and wore a pained expression. My sweet angel didn’t realize that this was for the best for him right now. Even though Alec was squirming around, making the heft of my gut sway and wobble slightly, I couldn’t help but notice how wonderfully he looked attached to my middle. Though, all of his movements were kicking up a lot of gas.

BBBUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPP “---Sweetheart, please,” I chided. “Calm down in there. Let’s get you back home, okay?”

Some of you may believe that moving in together this soon is a little crazy, and to that I’d simply tell you that you don’t understand the bond Alec and I share. We’re (quite literally) inseparable. I got back into my car that I used to follow him on the road, and, somewhat uncomfortably, I maneuvered around my seat until my belly wasn't pressing up against the steering wheel. This would probably have to be how I drove from now on, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Love is full of sacrifices, you know. I spoke to Alec softly on the way home, asking him about his life so far, childhood memories, and all of the mundane, beautiful things about living. He seemed reluctant to answer, but I chalked that up to him being tired from a long day. Now that he was in my warm, comforting belly though, he would be able to rest peacefully and sleep as much as he wanted. 

Along the drive home, I bought some McDonalds, which wasn’t the healthiest for my baby, but on the road, you make do. I swallowed a few of the burgers whole, wrapper and all so Alec could have some dinner in his own tummy while I had mine already in there. Thinking about it now, it would be a little uncomfortable for Alec to be with me while I digested my other food (that’s what happened with my old roommate. He didn’t want Alec living with us, so he had to go), but again, love requires sacrifices. My belly was really noisy with the sounds of gurgling and churning, but I knew Alec wouldn’t digest. Still, that didn’t mean my belly didn’t want to assimilate him into my body. He was simply too important to digest, though. An idle hand rubbed my boyfriend-filled belly for the rest of the night-ride home with pure love and affection.

Getting back to my apartment, I undressed and flopped onto bed with Alec. The movement jostled my stomach heavily, waking him back up. I think he was having a bad dream about being captive and kidnapped, which frightened me tremendously, but that is precisely why Alec is safer in my stomach than the real world. People are crazy out there, and it could’ve easily happened to Alec. I rubbed my belly soothingly and told him time and time again that this was where he belonged, that I would treat him right, and no harm would come to him. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep, kissing my own belly and looking forward to Alec and I’s new life together.