#follow me on twitter for more bullshit

[jaysbaefie]

bullshit | sjy

synopsis: in which months of mocking jake online comes back to bite you, and he makes sure you regret every single word—on your knees.

genre: idol au

pairing: idol!jake x blogger!reader

warnings: dubcon? bratty!reader, petty!jake, mean!jake, big dick!jake, kidnapping (sort of kind of??), oral (m.rec), cum swallowing, reader grinds down on jake’s shoe, mention of daddy kink (but it’s not used), forced submission, manhandling, titty sucking, marking, begging, degrading. self degradation, rough and unprotected p in v, orgasm denial, overstimulation, light spanking slapping and chocking, creampie, spitting, recording for blackmail purposes. i think that’s it….

wc: 15.1k

a/n: this took a lot more time that i initially thought it would … but it’s here now! this draft has been sitting in my archives for years like literal years. back when i used to write on wattpad for bts i had this plot written for tae but scrapped it because i lacked creativity to make it happen. but here we r ! also side note this is not edited to the best of its abilities so if u c a mistake… im sorry :D hope you enjoy, notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy :)

✎﹏﹏

the dorm door slammed open, the sound of sneakers dragging across the floor echoing behind it. the 7 exhausted boys spilled into the living room, all drained and sweaty from the insane dance practice that had run two hours longer than scheduled. jake collapsed face-first onto the couch, groaning into a throw pillow as he stretches his limbs before he feels a cramp in his leg.

"i think my spine is permanently bent," he mumbled, not moving an inch.

sunghoon flopped onto the floor, using his hoodie as a pillow. "i think i disassociated during 'bite me.'"

"you always disassociate during 'bite me,'" heeseung shot back, tossing a towel at him making sunghoon scowl.

jay, meanwhile, had his phone out, thumb lazily scrolling through twitter as he half-listened to the chaos around him. he was about to put his phone down when a thread caught his eye.

"kpop idols who probably have the smallest dick (a very unserious thread)"

"...oh?" jay blinked, intrigued for all the wrong reasons. a grin formed on his lips as he clicked, the list started off wild.

1. jaehyun nct - idc what y'all say. he screams below average. 2. jeno nct - this is a hater post. cry about it. 3. jake from enhypen - golden retriever energy but gives micro vibes. sorry not sorry.

jay let out a loud, sudden laugh at the description given for jake—catching everyone's attention.

"yo, jake," he wheezed, turning the screen toward him. "look what someone said about you."

jake rolled over lazily, half hazy, "what?"

jay shoved the phone in front of his face. jake read the tweet once, then again. then a third time. his brows furrowed deeper with each pass, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was reading.

"...are you serious right now?"

he sat up, yanking the phone from jay's hand to read it himself. his eyes scanned the username, the post and then the likes. 10k likes for a bullshit post, jake scoffed in disbelief. he scrolled down to read the replies which were full of people either agreeing or arguing like their lives depended on it.

"no because she's right and she should say it louder" one of the comments read, jake furrowed his eyebrows before scowling.

"i love him but... yeah."

"nah he gives big dick energy actually"

"this is so mean LMFAOOO"

jake's mouth opened in shock. "why am i even on this list? what did i do to deserve this? how does someone look at me and go, 'yeah, micro dick.' what the hell?"

jay couldn't stop laughing. "it's so random, too. like. where did they get the data? did they run a poll?"

"this isn't funny!" jake snapped, slapping jay's shoulder with the back of his hand. "i'm being slandered in front of thousands of people. tens of thousands!"

sunoo peeked over jay's shoulder. "ooh. and someone made a follow-up post. wait—found their tumblr. they said he looks like he apologizes after missionary.'" sunoo cackles, "i can totally see that."

jake nearly choked on air, "what?!"

he snatched sunoo's phone this time, heart pounding as he scrolls violently across your twitter page. he followed the breadcrumb trail from twitter to a tumblr blog: @s0ftbrat666.

the header was a blurry photo of a cunty hello kitty, and the bio just said: "unserious about everything but dick size."

"who the hell is this? why do they hate me so bad?"

niki, who had been quietly sipping water from the kitchen, muttered, "maybe they're a fan of yours. like, weirdly obsessed. reverse psychology or something."

"no. this is personal. this feels targeted," jake muttered, already downloading and opening the tumblr app on his phone. "i'm not letting this slide."

he made a new account. he picked the most ironic, absurd username he could think of: @goldenjake420.

because that screams, 'i'm the real jake sim!!'

he messaged you immediately, his hands shaking in rage as he smashes his fingers into the screen.

@goldenjake420: hey just saw your post about me having a micro dick on twitter. not sure why you said that but i can assure you that it's not true kinda rude ngl maybe take it down?

"this is so stupid," he muttered, tossing his phone beside him.

jay raised a brow. "you really just dm'd a twitter troll on tumblr?"

"yes. because the truth matters, jay. i do not have a micro dick!" he exclaims, clearly frustrated from his group mates lack of empathy. he looks around the room in hopes of his members reassurance, only to receive looks of disturbance.

"cmon guys, you know i don't have a micro dick.." he trails off when he sees sunoo grimace at his words.

heeseung smirked from the other side of the couch suddenly sitting up right, ignoring his aching body. "you should send a pic to prove it."

jay cackles before agreeing, "yeah, downwards angles always make that shit look like a tower."

"SHUT UP!" jake shouted, face red in a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

the room erupted in laughter as jake sat there fuming, arms crossed, waiting for a response. he had no idea the person he messaged was already rolling their eyes and preparing to block him.

and this was only the beginning.

you were no stranger to the occasional deranged and delusional fan losing their mind over a post. it was social media, not a diplomatic summit. if you said someone's fave had bad fashion sense or gave off weak dick energy, it was bound to stir drama—but you thrived in it.

what you didn't expect, though, was to get a dm from an account called @goldenjake420 claiming to be jake himself. not just a fan defending him. not someone crying in your inbox about how you were "too mean."

no. this person had committed to the bit.

@goldenjake420: hey just saw your post about me having a micro dick on twitter. not sure why you said that but i can assure you that it's not true kinda rude ngl maybe take it down?

you blinked at the message, snorted, and sat back in your chair.

"okay..." you muttered under your breath. "we've reached new levels of delusion."

you clicked the profile. no posts. followed no one. default layout. pfp of a blurry golden retriever. and the username?

goldenjake420.

"oh my god," you wheezed. this was peak fandom brainrot.

you stared at the message for a minute, thumbs hovering over your keyboard before you decided, you know what? fine. you wanna play jake sim? let's play.

you typed:

@s0ftbrat666: omg jake??? THE jake sim??? i am so sorry... i didn't know you had a tumblr account i feel so bad now omg i'll take it down right away thank you for being so mature and respectful about it... ugh i feel terrible lol

you hit send. then burst out laughing, eyes watering as you cackle alone in your room.

and five minutes later, you posted a new post on your blog.

—— post by @s0ftbrat666

just got a dm from someone PRETENDING to be jake sim because they were mad i said he has a micro dick LMAOOO. like babes be serious... jake sim is not on tumblr dot com messaging me with a blurry pic of a golden retriever and the username @/goldenjake420. but since he's here reading my posts, hey jake! if u're mad now wait til u see what i post next

anyway updated my list: "kpop idols who give off submissive missionary micro dick energy: extended version" jake is now first on the list. i've added footnotes and gifs as evidence. enjoy :] ——

you tagged it: #jake sim #enhypen #pls don't take this seriously #except jake if ur reading this then yeah take it seriously

you sat back and refreshed the notes every few seconds. it was already blowing up. likes, reblogs, someone screaming in the tags: "NOT THE FOOTNOTES."

you were thriving, satisfaction filling you as the comments seemed to hype you up.

unbeknownst to you, somewhere in a dorm across the city, jake was screaming into a pillow.

jake was laying on his stomach, face shoved into a couch cushion, aggressively refreshing your tumblr page like a man on a mission. the first message he sent you hadn't gone exactly how he expected. he thought maybe—maybe—you'd feel a little guilty, take the post down, maybe even apologize. instead, he was met with:

"omg jake??? THE jake sim??? i am so sorry..."

at first, he blinked. then smiled. you were going to apologize and take it down..great!

okay, he thought, that was easier than expected.

but then he saw the post you had published just a few minute later.

—— "kpop idols who give off submissive missionary micro dick energy: extended version." jake is now first on the list. i've added footnotes. and gifs. enjoy :] ——

"NO I AM NOT," he yelled into the pillow, voice muffled but full of sheer disbelief.

he rolled over and shot upright, shoving his phone in jay's face. "do you SEE this? i was already called micro dick jake, but now i'm a submissive pillow princess? where is she even getting this from?"

jay looked over the post with a calm expression and said, "well... you did say 'ngl' in a tumblr dm. that's kinda submissive."

"jay."

"i'm just saying."

jake's blood pressure was actively rising. he was pacing the living room now, phone clenched in his fist. "this isn't a joke anymore. she's making footnotes. gifs, bro. there's like a whole academic paper on my dick energy. and worst of all, PEOPLE ARE AGREEING."

sunoo peeked around the corner. "maybe just let it go? like... it's tumblr. no one's gonna remember next week."

"it's twitter too! no. no, she wanted to make it personal. it's personal now."

he went back to tumblr, typing furiously in your dm's.

@goldenjake420: okay first of all?? i was acc being really nice u said some really rude stuff and i still tried to talk to u calmly but now ur doubling down with footnotes?? idk y ur so convinced i'm a submissive pillow princess but ur wrong like so wrong scientifically inaccurate levels of wrong

he hit send. then stared at the screen.

nothing. no response. refresh. refresh.

"error: message could not be delivered."

"...what?" jake frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he desperately tried sending his messages again.

he clicked your profile.

"you've been blocked by this user."

the silence that followed was deafening.

"she blocked me," he whispered, staring at his phone like it had personally betrayed him. "she actually blocked me."

jay cackled from across the room. "maybe now you'll stop fighting the tumblr girl who thinks you're a bottom."

"i'm not a bottom!" jake snapped, defensive. "and i'm definitely not a pillow princess!"

jay peers over jake's shoulder, his face pulls into a grimace as he reads jake's messages. "maybe it's a good thing that those didn't deliver... you're proving her point." jake rolls his eyes in response, not wanting to deal with his friend.

he opened twitter, then paused. was he really about to tweet about this?

he closed the app.

instead, he opened his notes app and started typing:

"debunking tumblr slander: why i, jake sim, am not submissive nor do i have a micro dick."

this wasn't over.

if he had to write a dissertation, he would. he was reclaiming his name. one footnote at a time.

you were in bed, face smushed into your pillow, scrolling aimlessly when the tag notification came in. you were about to ignore it—probably another reblog of your cursed "submissive missionary micro dick energy" thread—but the caption caught your eye:

@s0ftbrat666 you need to see this LMAOOO he made a THREAD. a whole thread.

confused but curious, you tapped the post.

and there it was.

a full thread. by a tumblr user named @truthaboutjake, which already gave deranged energy, but it got better.

"debunking tumblr slander: why i, jake sim, am not submissive nor do i have a micro dick (a thread)."

you nearly dropped your phone, a giggle leaving you as you excitedly click on the thread.

the first slide was formatted like a presentation. bolded title, bullet points, and an unnecessary amount of spacing like someone had spent way too long formatting it.

—— slide 1: addressing the accusations • the tumblr user @s0ftbrat666 has made multiple posts claiming i am submissive • she has also accused me of having a micro dick • both of these are false, offensive, and based on no real evidence ——

no real evidence, he said. like you were in court.

"what in the deranged.." you muttered to yourself, re-reading the text a second time to make sure you were hallucinating.

you snorted, swiping to the next.

—— slide 2: rebuttal • i've been told i give off dominant energy • no one who owns a denim jacket collection that big can be submissive • as for the size... let's just say i've never received complaints ——

you had to pause there, hand over your mouth, wheezing. "denim jackets radiate peg me," you cackle to yourself.

this wasn't a thread written by a deranged fan. no, this was someone personally offended on a soul level. and the way it was written? the tone? the wording?

it was giving him. it was jake.

no one else would be this pressed.

you laughed so hard you had to sit up.

this man had been so insulted by your dumb, unserious thirst post that he created a whole alternate account, wrote a google-doc-tier thread, and was now trying to clear his name in the notes app format. you were obsessed.

you hit reblog.

—— @s0ftbrat666: i have never in my life witnessed a man fight for his dom rights this hard the denim jacket argument almost had me convinced ngl

jake sim if this is actually you: 1. calm down 2. you're literally proving my point 3. post the evidence since you're so confident ——

the comments came flooding in:

"NOT HIM MAKING A PRESENTATION" "'never received complaints' is CRAZY" "he could've just logged off but now he's in too deep" "@truthaboutjake is shaking"

you weren't done though. oh no.

you clicked the original post again and dm'd @truthaboutjake directly.

@s0ftbrat666: wow a thread? you really sat down and made a powerpoint about your dick this is the best thing that's happened to me all week but you still haven't proven anything so until i see hard (and i mean HARD) evidence you're staying in your submissive micro dick era i'll wait <33

you hit send with a shit-eating grin.

this was your roman empire now. you were going to be thinking about this thread forever.

jake stared at your message like it physically slapped him.

"so until i see hard (and i mean HARD) evidence you're staying in your submissive micro dick era"

his jaw dropped.

"e-evidence?!" he sputtered aloud, standing up in the middle of the dorm living room like he'd just been accused of murder.

jay, sitting across the room with earbuds in, pulled one out and glanced up. "what now?"

"she wants evidence."

jay blinked. "like...?"

jake gestured wildly at his phone. "like evidence evidence!"

jay raised both brows before grinning "...so what i said about the downward angle, i'm telling you jake that shit makes it look h—"

"NO!" jake practically yelled. "i'm not sending a picture of my dick to some random troll on tumblr!"

he fumed. typed. deleted. typed again. then, finally, sent:

@truthaboutjake: okay. listen. i'm not sending you a dick pic. i don't care how much you want "evidence" that's weird. this whole thing is weird. i'm literally just trying to correct a false narrative about myself

you saw the message and immediately rolled your eyes so hard you almost saw your brain. you were curled up on your couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, typing with vicious speed.

@s0ftbrat666: omg. are you serious right now?? NO ONE asked for actual dick pics. what the hell is wrong with you. you're literally so deep in this delusion you really think you're jake sim like?? be serious for once you are a grown man on tumblr dot com pretending to be an idol and defending your imaginary dick size this is next level behavior. you need to touch grass and maybe talk to a therapist jake sim would never you are EMBARRASSING yourself rn.

you hit send and sighed, rubbing your temples. it was funny at first but the more you interacted with this person the more brain cells you lost, it shocked you that people would go to such lengths to defend their favs.

this was beyond fandom drama now. this was a case study. and the worst part? you were kind of impressed with how committed he was to the bit. concerned of course, but impressed too.

like... he was spiraling. but passionately.

still. you weren't going to let up. because whoever this man was, he needed to be humbled.

you opened a new post draft and typed:

—— @s0ftbrat666: update: he dm'd me again and accused me of demanding dick pics because i said "evidence"

i rest my case. this is not jake sim. this is some 32-year-old man who unironically uses reddit and thinks being called "submissive" is a slur

log off, drink some water, and go outside before you get a nosebleed from rage

#jake sim #not the real one obviously #this is tumblr not onlyfans relax ——

✎﹏﹏

jake tried to move on.

he really did.

after the dick thread. after being labeled a submissive missionary pillow princess. after the fake fan accusations and being accused of roleplaying as himself—he made the conscious choice to stop checking your blog. he muted your username. closed tumblr for a solid 24 hours. he even turned off his notifs.

he was healing. growing. rebuilding his sanity.

until a member sent him a screenshot.

it was sunghoon.

of course it was sunghoon.

sunghoon: yo y tf she got sm time on her hands icl tho she funny asf

attached was a photo of your newest tumblr post.

jake opened it, eyes squinting. then he saw it.

—— @s0ftbrat666: watched enhypen's most recent stage and i just wanna know WHO chose those pants for jake like bffr. i can see his entire situation

the dick print? front and center. and it's not giving what he thinks it's giving

it's giving: he begged the stylist to let him wear those pants so he could prove me wrong and i'm here to tell you... babe... don't ever do that again.

i'm LAUGHING.

#enhypen #jake sim #pls don't wear tight pants if ur not ready for the scrutiny king #it's not looking good ——

jake froze.

his phone was literally vibrating with how hard he was gripping it.

"she's watching performances now?" he whispered to himself, horrified.

jay looked up from across the room, warily. "...oh god. again?"

"she's analyzing my crotch, jay. she made a post about my dick print."

jay blinked. "that's... new."

"and she said it's 'not giving'!" jake practically screamed, spinning his phone around to show him. "not giving what?! not giving big dick energy?!?!"

jay read it silently, lips twitching. "...it does kind of sound like she thinks you're trying to prove her wrong. which, to be fair, you kinda are." he pauses for a second, "but i thought she deemed you as a deranged fan, does she think that you're actually texting her?"

jake shrugs, "who knows what she's thinking, clearly way to much of this is the shit she posts. also i wasn't even thinking about her when i wore those pants!"

"you literally made a thread defending your dick size last week."

"NOT THE POINT."

jake felt like he was going to combust. it was like every time he clawed his way back to peace, you dropped another post from hell and dragged him back into the pit.

and this time?

this time you targeted his outfit. his styling choices. his crotch visibility. he couldn't even enjoy the stage anymore without wondering if you were out there in a hoodie, behind a screen, zooming in on freeze frames of his pants.

"this is psychological warfare," jake muttered.

sunghoon looked up from his phone, his face annoyed. he was tired of hearing about this, "just block her again."

jake clenched his jaw. "she'll post about it. she'll brag."

he scrolled back up, reading the caption again. and again. his fingers hovered over your username.

he didn't message you. not this time.

instead, he posted on his burner account:

—— @truthaboutjake: some people spend their lives spreading negativity online because they have nothing else going for them. if you spend your free time zooming in on people's bodies just to make fun of them, seek help.

also, the pants looked fire. ——

he hit post. and then, two minutes later he opened the group chat.

jayke: whoever styled me last week. never again. we're going back to loose pants. i'm not doing this with tumblr anymore

✎﹏﹏

jake tried to stay composed. he tried.

but every time he opened tumblr, there you were—lurking in his psyche like a demon with wi-fi.

at first it had been a few jabs, sprinkled here and there between your usual posts about other idols. someone's hair, another's dance move, one guy you kept thirsting over for his "evil smirk" and "long fingers." whatever. jake didn't care.

until suddenly—your entire blog became about him.

not in a cute, stan-like way.

no.

it was relentless.

"jake sim update: still looks like a man who apologizes during sex."

"new era, same micro dick energy."

"his pants looked like they were holding in a lie."

"i know he fumbles the aux every time. just look at him."

your followers ate it up. reblog after reblog. tags like "#he's just so bashable" and "#jake sim slander is self-care" filled the notes.

there were polls. there were graphics.

you made a tier list of idols based on who looked like they cried after sex, and jake was placed right at the top with the caption: "he looks like he'd say 'was that okay?' while tucking his soft dick back in his briefs."

jake was spiraling.

the worst part? you didn't even seem like a hater. you didn't hate him.

you just... targeted him like it was your job. your content was crafted with care. effort. borderline affection.

jay leaned over one afternoon while jake doomscrolled through another one of your polls—this one titled "which idol do you think would last the shortest in bed (no offense)", where jake was winning by 68%.

"you know," jay mused, "i think she actually likes you."

jake looked up, eyes wide with horror as he looks at jay disgusted. "what?"

jay shrugged. "she's obsessed. it's giving weirdly specific attention. enemies-to-lovers coded."

"jay. she made a gifset of my crotch."

"exactly."

jake nearly threw his phone across the room.

it wasn't just slander anymore—it was becoming personal. and the most infuriating part?

you were so sure. so smugly sure.

every post was laced with casual cruelty and the sharp confidence of someone who truly believed they knew him. his vibes. his music taste. his dick size. like you'd studied him and filed a damn report.

and the urge to prove you wrong? it was eating at him.

he'd see one of your posts and get this itch. this slow, simmering burn in his gut. like he had something to prove now. like he wanted to walk up to you and say—

"say that shit again. to my face."

he'd fantasized about it more than once.

cornering you at a fansign, maybe. or catching you backstage if he ever figured out who you were. you with that smug little expression, your arms crossed like you knew everything. and him, leaning in, low and sharp, and making damn sure you knew you were wrong about everything—especially that.

he wasn't even mad anymore. not just mad. he was determined.

this wasn't just tumblr slander. this was a challenge.

and jake sim? he didn't lose.

✎﹏﹏

jake laid in bed, phone hovering above his face, lit only by the blue glow of tumblr's godforsaken app. it was well past 2 a.m., and he'd already scrolled through your entire blog—again.

he told himself it was just to see if you'd posted anything new. which, of course, you had,

but really, he was spiraling.

another post. this one read:

—— @softbrat666: something about jake sim just screams whines when it doesn't slide in all the way like he'd pause mid-thrust to ask if you're okay because he came too fast

he'd definitely say 'but you just feel so good...' as an excuse ——

and the worst part?

jake read every single reply. studied them, even. like they held some kind of twisted insight into how you saw him. how you imagined him. you were building this whole persona of him in your mind and then broadcasting it to thousands of followers like it was gospel. and the most messed up part?

you had just enough accuracy to make it sting.

and yet—you remained anonymous.

faceless. untouchable.

he'd tried to find out who you were. he dug through old posts, clicked your tags, searched your url on twitter and insta.

all he found was:     •    you lived in seoul     •    you were 21     •    you drank too much iced americano     •    and you had audacity in excess

that was it. no selfies. no personal posts. no full name. you were just a sassy username and a collection of jake sim hate posts.

meanwhile, he was a public figure with his whole government face on blast while you dragged him through the mud constantly.

he hated how much he thought about what you looked like.

were you soft and bratty, like your tone suggested? did you smirk when you wrote those captions? were you the type to twirl your hair and say, "what? it's not that deep," while ruining a man's reputation?

he imagined you walking around seoul, laughing with your friends, ordering overpriced coffee with that smug, evil-little-gremlin energy.

he imagined running into you.

he'd play it cool at first—polite, casual, maybe even a little flirty.

watch you ramble. watch you squirm. and when he caught you slipping—maybe when you made some offhand comment about k-pop or tumblr—he'd hit you with it:

"so how's that blog going? still think i'm a submissive pillow princess with a micro dick?"

he rolled onto his side, fuming into his pillow. you lived in his head rent-free and you didn't even know what he looked like at night when he was losing sleep over your bullshit posts.

it was unfair.

you got to stay invisible while he was out here analyzing his own stage outfits to figure out what clip you were gonna slander next.

he scrolled back to that gif set you made of his recent performance. paused on the close-up. the zoom-in.

the goddamn caption: "not jake sim trying to start a dickprint redemption arc. spoiler: it's not working."

his eye twitched.

"this girl is the devil," he muttered.

and yet... he couldn't stop checking. he needed to know what you'd say next.

✎﹏﹏

you wake up to absolute chaos.

your phone is buzzing. not one or two notifications—hundreds. group chats. twitter and tumblr dms. unknown numbers. missed calls. it's like your phone caught fire overnight.

you blink against the morning light, groggy and confused, heart picking up speed. something's wrong. you can feel it. you squint at the screen, drag down your notifications, and the first notification you see makes your stomach drop.

"girl you're trending rn... what did you DO???"

then another.

"is that actually your name???"

your pulse is pounding before you even open twitter. your fingers shake as you type your own @ into the search bar, and the second you hit enter, your breath catches.

it's you.

your name. your photo. your phone number. everything.

someone—no, a group of people—had clearly gone full fbi. they'd taken all your casual, dumb little posts over the years and pieced them together like a fucked-up puzzle.

and now your full name was in a viral thread titled: "this the girl behind the jake sim micro dick blog?"

with a photo of you at a party two months ago, smile beaming.

people were quote-tweeting it with comments like: "she built like someone who'd have beef with jake sim for no reason." "oh she definitely owns a stan twitter burner too." "her blog is my roman empire i need her in therapy immediately."

your blood turned to ice. you were exposed.

fully.

not just as a shitposter but as the jake sim hater. your inbox was flooded—death threats, confessions, apologies, people asking if it was really you. tumblr dms screaming:

"TAKE THE POSTS DOWN BEFORE HE SEES THEM."

too late.

you scrambled to log into tumblr. your hands fumbled across the keys. it took three tries to get your password right.

the second you were in, you did the only thing you could do.

you hit deactivate.

the blog was gone. years of posts. thousands of notes. all of your followers, your drafts, your hate-poll templates.

deleted.

and then the panic really set in.

your hands were trembling. your ears were ringing. and all you could think about was @truthaboutjake, your mind racing. it was him, you realized that it was him.

"he knows. jake sim fucking knows who i am."

and the worst part?

you had no idea what he'd do with it.

✎﹏﹏

jake found out the same way everyone else did—waking up to a string of texts from jay and sunghoon absolutely losing their shit.

jay: bro. check twitter. sunghoon: she got exposed. jay: HER NAME IS OUT LMAOOO jay: bet she's sweating rn sunghoon: she's kinda cute tho

he blinked hard, still groggy, and tapped open the thread that seemed to be trending.

your face stared back at him.

his heart flipped.

you looked... nothing like what he expected. he'd imagined someone smug. cold. maybe with villain bangs and a cigarette habit.

but no—there you were, face flushed in a group photo, laughing mid-sip of iced americano. you looked normal. it almost hurt to admit, but you were pretty.

you looked real.

and now, you were reachable.

he did what anyone would do: searched your name on instagram. he found your linked facebook.

scrolled. scrolled.

paused.

you had your workplace tagged in an old comment.

"juniper bean café - seoul branch."

he stared at it for a long moment. then, very calmly, he stood up, threw on a hoodie, cap, and mask, and left the dorm.

✎﹏﹏

the café was a little tucked away spot with plants hanging from the ceiling and a chalkboard sign outside that said "kiss me, i'm caffeinated."

jake walked in, glancing around. he spotted you immediately, behind the counter, head down as you punched in an order.

he could tell that you had a rough morning, good. your posture was tense. your hair was pulled back messily. your voice was strained. you looked tired, your eyes that seemed so full of life in your leaked photos had disappeared.

he stepped up to the counter. waited. his eyes trailed down your figure, your frame was draped with a loose fitted sweater and some baggy light wash jeans. you wore a black apron, cinching at your waist—allowing his hungry eyes to capture your curves.

you were trying to look invisible. trying not to stand out. but to him—you were glowing with guilt.

he watched you fumble with a stack of napkins, pretending you didn't feel his eyes burning into you. finally you cleared your throat, still not looking up.

"hi, what can i get you?"

he smiled behind his mask, slow and wicked. he pulled it down just enough to speak—voice dripping low, sharp with mocking sweetness.

"you gonna spit in my drink too?" he asked. "or just keep running your mouth somewhere i can't see?"

you froze.

head snapping up. eyes locking with his. and there it was—that flash of horror, recognition, disbelief. it was him.

you had to admit, he was just as if not more handsome in person. your mouth dried up when you watched his lips curl into a smirk and his eye twitch.

your mouth opened. closed. no sound.

"hi," he said, almost sweetly. "miss me?"

you fumbled a reply—something, anything—but he leaned in, resting his elbows on the counter like he had all the time in the world.

"you disappeared fast. what happened? got leaked and lost all your guts or did you burn through all your micro dick material?"

your coworker looked between you both, utterly confused and in awe that jake was standing in front her. you took a breath. straightened your spine. tried to salvage your dignity.

"this is harassment," you muttered.

"this is karma," jake shot back, his smile dark. he twitched in anger, how dare you call this harassment—what about what you had been doing for the last couple of weeks? "i wanted a latte, by the way. no sugar. unless you're finally ready to be sweet to me."

you nearly dropped the milk jug.

he didn't care. he was so amused. you were the girl who wrote entire essays dragging his dickprint and his imagined bedroom habits? you, flushed and stammering behind a café register?

he wanted to laugh. he wanted to lean in closer. he wanted to ruin you back.

and this? this was just the beginning.

your hands were shaking. milk frother sputtering. heart pounding in your chest like it wanted to escape. and he—jake fucking sim—just stood there.

smiling.

smug.

head tilted slightly like he was thrilled by your discomfort. "you gonna make that latte, or you gonna keep fumbling around and glaring at me?" he drawled, voice low and casual.

you gritted your teeth, turned back to the machine, and fumbled through the motions of making the drink. you could feel his eyes on you the entire time—watching, drinking you in like you were the fucking joke.

you finally slid the drink across the counter, trying not to slam it.

"here. now leave."

he didn't move. just sipped slowly, then licked a bit of foam from his lip like it was the most dramatic thing anyone had ever done in a coffee shop.

and then—he leaned forward. elbow on the counter. voice quiet, words slow and deliberate:

"what time do you get off?"

you blinked, "excuse me?"

"your shift. when does it end?"

"why the fuck would i tell you that?"

his smile widened, all teeth now, sharp and smug. "because there's going to be a black car waiting for you outside." he continues, "when you clock out, you're going to get in. and then you're going to follow instructions."

you stared at him, genuinely floored. "are you insane? what the hell are you talking about?"

he tilted his head, mockingly sympathetic. "i get it. you're scared. probably embarrassed." he grins, "but see, that's the thing about defamation—once it's public, i can take legal action. and you've been very public."

your stomach dropped, "you're bluffing."

he shrugged. "wanna bet your savings account on that?"

you opened your mouth. closed it again. because—fuck. he wasn't bluffing. he didn't have to. you'd posted too much. said too much. and now he had your face, your name, your location.

"you can't just—kidnap me," you said, weaker than intended.

he laughed.

"it's not kidnapping if you get in willingly, sweetheart."

then he slid the latte off the counter, turned, and started to walk toward the door. before he left, he glanced back, over his shoulder.

"9 p.m., right?" he called out. "don't be late. i hate being stood up." he grinned, fuck him.

the bell jingled as he left. the door shut behind him.

and you stood there, in your apron and sneakers and sweaty palms, absolutely rattled. what the fuck did you just get yourself into?

✎﹏﹏

9:03 p.m.

you were pacing behind the café. your shift ended three minutes ago, but you hadn't stepped outside yet. you couldn't. your feet felt like bricks. your stomach twisted with anxiety, hands clenched in the pockets of your jeans.

what the fuck am i doing?

you shouldn't go. you know you shouldn't go. this was literally stranger danger 101, except instead of a stranger it was a kpop idol whose dick size you flamed online for weeks.

your brain was screaming at you. your nerves were a warzone. your inner monologue sounded like one long anxiety spiral:

"you're insane." "this is how people get murdered." "he's rich. he could make you disappear and blame it on anxiety meds." "but also... maybe he just wants to talk?" "or maybe he's gonna sue you in person with his scary legal team and laugh while you cry." "or—worse—what if he takes a picture with you and posts it with some shady ass caption like 'finally found her :)' and now you're really cooked?"

your fists clenched tighter.

this was your own fault. you were the one who made that blog. you were the one who said he looked like a pillow princess. you were the one who photoshopped a pacifier into that one fansite photo and captioned it "baby boy can't handle coochie."

and now?

now he knew your name. your face. your shift schedule.

and there it was, waiting on the curb like a horror movie prop—a sleek black car, windows tinted, headlights glowing like eyes.

you stared at it.

and then, finally, took a deep breath and walked towards it.

the back door opened before you could even touch it. you slid inside, hesitating, clutching your bag to your chest like a shield. you looked around the dimly lit interior. leather seats. no jake.

just a stone-faced driver in a black cap.

"um," you said cautiously. "where are we going?"

no response.

you leaned forward slightly. "hello? i just—can you at least tell me if jake is—"

silence.

he kept driving.

great.

you sat back, heart still racing. the lights of the city blurred past the windows. you couldn't even track the direction—you were too jittery to focus. every turn felt like it took you farther from safety.

and god, the silence was suffocating.

you hated it. you hated him.

jake sim and his smug face and his legal threats and the fact that this whole thing was so humiliating.

how the hell did he turn it around on you? curse those people who leaked you.

you were supposed to have the power. the upper hand. you were the one who had thousands of people laughing at his expense. you were the one whose posts got quoted like bible verses on stan twitter.

and now?

now you were alone, in his car, being driven to god knows where because he told you to.

you should've never fucking posted about his dick. you should've stayed anonymous. kept your mouth shut. deleted the pacifier post when it hit 10k notes.

the car slowed. you peeked out the window. it wasn't some mansion, like you feared. wasn't a dungeon either—at least you think so.

it was a private-looking building—modern, sleek, tucked down a quiet alley with a gated entrance. definitely expensive. definitely secluded.

you were dropped off at the curb. the driver didn't say anything—just nodded toward the front door.

you stepped out slowly, phone gripped tight in your hand, ready to fake an emergency call or scream if necessary.

a man, different from the driver, opened the front door. another silent guy in all black gestured for you to follow.

you hesitated, then followed him down a short hallway, up a narrow flight of stairs, until you reached a door with a single number carved into it: 17.

he knocked once, then opened it.

you stepped in—and stopped.

jake was inside.

he was leaning casually against a wall, dressed in all black—hoodie, chain, jeans, hair tousled, like he hadn't even tried and still looked like a good.

he was scrolling on his phone when you entered, then looked up.

and grinned, "hey." he stops, letting his gaze travel down your trembling form, "glad you could make it, hate blogger."

you wanted to punch him. you wanted to turn around and leave. but most of all—you wanted to know what the hell came next.

and by the look on his face?

he was very ready to show you.

room 17 is quiet. too quiet.

you stand near the door, gripping the strap of your bag like it's your last line of defense. jake hasn't moved from his place against the wall, but his eyes haven't left you for a second. he looks too calm. like this is just some casual meetup and not the most batshit confrontation of your entire life.

"you still haven't told me why i'm here," you say finally, voice tight, trying to sound unbothered even though your throat is dry.

he doesn't answer right away. he just studies you, eyes flicking from your clenched fists to your shifting posture to the tiny, almost-invisible tremble in your knees.

then he lets out a soft little chuckle, the kind that feels mean. smug and quiet and condescending.

"you really don't know?" he asks, stepping away from the wall at last. his strides are slow, deliberate, like he knows you won't run—but that you should.

you take a step back automatically, bumping into the door behind you.

"if this is about suing me," you mutter, chin lifting defensively, "you could've just emailed your legal team. this whole drama king act—" "i'm not suing you." he cuts you off, voice calm but sharp. he walks past you and locks the door with a soft click. your stomach flips.

"then what the hell is this?" he turns back to you, expression unreadable, "this is about correction."

you blink, "what?"

"you posted things that were... inaccurate." he steps closer. you press yourself further into the door. "about me. my body. my performance. my preferences." another step. you swear you stop breathing, "so now i'm giving you a chance to see the truth."

you stare up at him, wide-eyed, "you're joking."

"does it look like i'm joking?" he murmurs.

you're momentarily speechless. your brain is whirring, trying to process what's happening. jake sim—international idol, global heartthrob, the man you've memed within an inch of his digital life—has dragged you to a private room to debunk his dick size?

you should laugh, but you can't.

because he's standing too close. because he's looking at you like prey. because his voice is dipped in amusement but his eyes are furious.

"you're out of your mind," you whisper, eyes wide and your jaw slacked.

he shrugs, "maybe."

his hand lifts, knuckles brushing your chin—just enough to make your breath catch.

"but you made this personal. you dragged it out. you turned it into a running gag." he leans down slightly, until your noses are nearly brushing. "and now you're gonna watch what happens when you say shit you can't back up."

your throat works around a swallow. your persona starts to crack.

still—you can't not be a brat.

"so what, you're gonna just pull your dick out like some frat boy in a scandal?" you snort. "you're so mad over a joke, you're—"

"baby," his voice cuts you off again, soft but dangerous.

"a joke is calling me clingy or annoying. a joke is editing me into a pink onesie." he steps even closer, "but accusing me of being a submissive pillow princess with a dick that couldn't break a hymen?" he tilts his head, mocking, "that's slander."

you flush. deeply, "you saw that post?"

"i've seen every post," he says coolly. "and the reblogs. and the tags. and the memes."

you suddenly feel so small. not because he's taller—though he is—but because you'd spent months building this image of jake sim as a joke. a punchline. a target.

and now he's right here. and he's pissed.

"you're really that bothered?" you ask, but your voice is quieter now, unsure. "bothered?" he repeats, almost scoffing. "sweetheart, i was obsessed." his hand lifts again, brushes your hair away from your face, fingers dragging a little too slow behind your ear.

"you don't understand what it's like to be degraded by someone who's too cowardly to even show their face." he pauses, his eyes dropping to your lips, "but i'll show you."

you swallow hard. "so what?" you ask, trying not to waver. "you want me to apologize? to... take it all back? post a formal retraction about your dick?"

he grins. slow and sharp, "nah."

"i want you to see it," he pauses, lets the words sink in. "and then i want to see the look on your face when you realize you were dead fucking wrong."

your mouth opens. no sound comes out. your heart is pounding so fast you think you might throw up. because there's teasing and there's joking and there's flirting with danger—but this? this is crossing the line, and you don't know if you want him to stop.

you laugh, it comes out breathy and nervous and completely unconvincing. "okay," you say, holding your hands up a little, trying to cut the tension with sarcasm, "haha, very funny. you got me. you've officially scared the shit out of me, and if that was your goal, congratulations."

jake just stands there. watching you. expression unreadable, unreadable and dark. you shift on your feet, trying to find a way out of this, trying to reclaim some sense of control.

"look," you continue, "i'll take everything down, okay? every post. every meme. every stupid out-of-pocket caption." you swallow. "i'll issue an apology. hell, i'll write a thread. a whole google doc. whatever you want."

you inch away from the door, toward the side of the room, trying to put some space between you.

"i crossed a line. i get that now." you laugh again, weaker this time. "like—clearly."

jake still doesn't speak, he starts walking.

slow. silent. like a cat with its prey cornered.

your back hits the wall.

"i'll stop posting about you," you rush out, your heart beating frantically when you feel jake's breath fan against your cheek. "seriously. no more degrading content. no more jokes. you win, okay?" his palm hits the wall beside your head with a sharp thud.

you freeze.

he leans in.

"i don't want a fucking apology," he murmurs, voice thick and low, the sound of it making your legs weaken. you try to hold his gaze, but it's hard when he's this close. when you can smell his cologne—clean and warm, like cedar and skin. when you can see the heat in his eyes, the tension in his jaw.

"i want you to look at me," he says, "and admit you were wrong."

"i just did—" "no." his other hand comes up, fingers ghosting your chin, tilting it up. "not because you're scared. not because you think i'm gonna sue your ass. i want you to say it because you know."

you suck in a breath as his fingers graze your throat. not squeezing. not threatening. but claiming, staking a presence.

"you think i'm some submissive little pushover," he whispers, "who just lays there and takes it. soft. boring. harmless."

your heart pounds in your chest so loud you swear it echoes. "you think you own the narrative. that you get to decide who i am, what i'm like in bed, how big my fucking dick is."

you flinch at the way he says it, so vulgar and harsh it shoots straight to your core.

"but the second i show up—" his thumb brushes your bottom lip. "you're quiet. nervous. twitchy. like you already know you were talking out of your ass."

you suck in a shaky breath and try to bite back the heat that's crawling up your neck. "you're insane," you whisper, but there's no bite behind it.

his body is so close now, you can feel the heat radiating off him. he hasn't even touched you properly and you already feel like your knees are going to give.

"what do you want from me?" you ask, voice barely holding together. he leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"i want to fuck the lies out of your mouth." his voice is so low, it vibrates down your spine. "i want you to choke on everything you said about me and realize i was never the one being dominated."

you let out a small, shaky sound—and that's when he finally kisses you.

not soft.

not slow.

possessive. like he's claiming what he's owed.

like he's trying to shove every insult back down your throat, one filthy kiss at a time.

your mind blanks the second his mouth claims yours. his tongue pushes past your lips without hesitation, his hand gripping your jaw to keep you right where he wants you, and you feel it deep—too deep. like he's trying to crawl inside your ribcage and brand himself there.

his kiss isn't gentle. it's punishment. all teeth and tongue, your back shoved harder into the wall as he presses against you. his body completely, deliberately dominating yours.

"still think i'm soft?" he growls against your lips when he pulls back, breath ragged, thumb digging into the underside of your chin to keep you looking at him.

you don't answer. you can't.

your mouth is open, panting, lips wet and swollen from how violently he just kissed you. your knees barely hold.

his gaze drops to your mouth. then lower, and lower.

he smirks.

"you look scared," he says, tilting his head slightly. "thought you liked writing filthy shit about me. what happened to all that confidence?"

you swallow hard, still in absolute disbelief, "you're—you're actually insane."

"and you're actually still turned on." his hand drops to your hip, gripping hard, pulling you flush against him—and fuck. he's hard. painfully hard. pressing right against your lower stomach. and he knows you feel it.

your eyes widen. you try to squirm away but there's nowhere to go, your back hits the wall again and his thigh wedges between your legs.

"not so micro now, is it?" he breathes against your neck. you let out a broken sound—half gasp, half groan—and that's when jake loses it.

he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, other hand sliding beneath your shirt, grazing skin and pulling a shocked noise out of you. he doesn't give you room to breathe.

"say it," he growls. "say you were wrong."

you shake your head. still stubborn. still you.

"no?" he scoffs. "fine." his thigh presses harder between your legs, rocking up once. your clit throbbed pathetically at the feeling, it was just enough friction to make your eyes roll back. you try to keep your composure, but he watches your face change—watches your pride falter.

"don't lie to me, baby." his voice drops lower—hungrier. "you're dripping. over the same guy you dragged for months."

you gasp, trying to turn your face away from him, but he leans in again, his nose brushing your cheek.

"you gonna blog about this too?" he whispers. "tell your little followers how jake sim manhandled you and made you eat your words with his cock halfway down your throat?"

you whimper and it disgusts you how fast your body betrays you. how wet you already are. how much you want him to ruin you just to prove you were wrong.

and he can tell.

he sees the shift in your expression. how your resistance is slowly, deliciously, falling apart.

your wrists are still pinned, your breathing uneven, chest rising and falling fast as jake leans in like he owns the air around you.

"i'm done hearing you talk," he mutters, dragging his mouth along your jaw. "i think it's time you showed me just how sorry you really are."

he releases your hands and steps back. you don't move. your legs are trembling, your pride hanging on by a thread.

"on your knees," he says simply.

you scoff, arms folding defensively across your chest, "you can't be serious—"

he tilts his head, "i'm not asking again."

there's no loud threat. no yelling. just the terrifying calm of someone who already knows he's won. you hold your ground—barely. but something about the way he looks down at you, already palming the bulge in his jeans, makes your body respond before your mind does.

you sink, slowly. knees hitting the floor like it's a confession. he watches you with quiet satisfaction, like he's waited for this exact moment.

he had been dreaming about the moment he would get you to himself, on your knees—right where he wanted you.

"look at me," he says, and you do—eyes meeting his as he unzips, the sound ridiculously loud in the silence.

he's already thick in his hand when he pulls it out, and your mouth goes dry. you don't want to admit it, but fuck. it's big. way bigger than you ever gave him credit for. your throat tightens at the sheer weight of it, thick and flushed and veined.

his smirk deepens when he sees the way your eyes drop.

"what was that again?" he mocks, giving himself a slow stroke. "micro?"

you glare up at him, heat crawling up your neck. "i was clearly misinformed."

"say it properly."

you hesitate, his free hand tangles in your hair—firm, but not painful. just enough to tilt your face up toward him.

"say. it."

you grit your teeth, "i was wrong."

"about what?"

you groan. "about your dick. okay? you don't have a micro dick."

he raises an eyebrow, "that all?"

"it's big," you mutter, cheeks burning. "you made your point." he laughs—low and satisfied—and guides your face closer, "not yet."

you gasp when you feel his tip touch your cheek, he grins at your expression—feeling satisfied with your shock. he does a few experimental taps, dragging his length over your lips. you hold in a whine when he smears his pre cum over your bottom lip, almost as if he was applying lipgloss on you.

and then he pushes in.

there's no easing into it—he gives you the thick weight of his cock all at once, making you choke. your hands scrambling to grip his thighs as he holds you there, watching with dark, satisfied eyes.

"look at that," he murmurs. "mouth so full of me you can't even talk shit now." you gag again, but his grip stays steady, fingers flexing against the back of your head as he rocks his hips in slow, controlled thrusts. just enough to make you feel how deep he is and prove how wrong you were.

he could feel how warm your mouth was around him, basking in the feeling of not only pleasure but the satisfaction of shutting you up.

"this what you wanted?" he groans. "to see what i've been hiding in those pants you loved to degrade?"

you can't respond. not when he's using your mouth like a cock sleeve, fucking every insult out of you with a punishing rhythm. spit drips from out of your mouth and onto your chin. tears prick at your eyes and yet—somewhere deep in your gut—you like it.

jake's grip on your hair gets stronger, the pain causing your jaw to slack as you continue to take his brutal pace. you could feel the head of his cock  rub against the back of your throat, the force not strong enough to make you gag but enough to cause a stream of tears to run down your face.

your nose touched his pelvis with every thrust, indicating how deep he was going. "fuck. look at you, __. who knew cock being in your mouth is the only way to shut you up."

you whine at his words, looking up at him with pleading eyes—yet you didn't know what exacting you were begging for. you rub your thighs together in hopes for some temporary relief, the scene so lewd that you could feel yourself gush in your panties—holding in the urge to let your hands wander down to touch yourself.

jake looked down at you with hungry eyes, his lip twitching as his grip in your hair grew tighter with each thrust. he let low moans slip from his mouth every time his dick grazed the back of your throat.

"aren't you a dirty little whore.." jake drawls out, his chest heaving with pleasure when he notices how tightly you have your thighs clenched. "getting all worked up for someone you've publicly shat on for having the least sex appeal."

you moaned around him when suddenly he pushed your thighs apart with his foot, wedging his sneaker between your legs—giving you something to ease up the tension in your core.

you mewl when he pushed against your clit, almost urging you to grind down against him while he used your mouth to his hearts content. slowly, but surely—you allowed yourself to ground yourself against him. it sickened you how desperate you had become in just a span of a few minutes.

jake almost cums when he sees you move your hips, desperate for any kind of friction to relieve you from your throbbing clit.

the familiar feeling in his stomach begins to tighten, his grip on you becoming unforgiving as he loses self control and allows himself to push himself into your mouth as much as he could. his tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly now, a mixture of his cum and your spit dribbling out of your mouth.

"f-fuck," he groans. "m'gonna cum.. you're gonna take it? yeah? take it in that bratty mouth, hm?" jake murmurs to what seems himself just before he combusts in your mouth. you swallowed a chocked moan when you feel his warm cum coat your mouth, gagging around him as he twitches.

jake felt as if he was on cloud 9, his head lulling to the side as he keeps your head planted where it is—ensuring that you swallow what he gave you fully.

when he finally pulls back, cock glistening with your spit and his cum, your jaw aches as you swallow the salty yet sweet taste of his release.  your chest heaving like you've just survived something.

"mouth open and tongue out," he demands. you hesitantly open your mouth, your tongue out as you show him that you swallowed everything.

you whine out desperately when he slides his foot away, leaving you aching again. jake tsk's, "desperate slut."

he crouches down to your level, thumb wiping the corner of your mouth.

"still think i'm a pillow princess?" his voice is a little breathless now. dark and smug. "or you finally ready to admit you don't know shit about me?"

your throat still burns. your lips are swollen, coated in spit and shame, and jake's leaning over you like he's just getting started.

"on your feet."

you hesitate, still panting, still dazed from the way he fucked your mouth like it was owed to him. but something in his voice—firm, expectant—makes you move. your knees tremble as you rise.

jake doesn't give you time to adjust. the second you're upright, he steps in close, hands on your waist, guiding you backward until your thighs hit the edge of the bed.

you're pressed back against the mattress, thighs parted under his hands, still catching your breath from how rough he'd just been with your mouth. but instead of backing down, you do what you do best—deflect.

"look—how about this," you say, voice shaking but holding onto some scrap of cocky defiance. "i'll just say the blog was satire. irony. you know, performance art or something. no one has to know i meant any of it."

jake's expression doesn't change.

"or better yet—i'll make a new post trashing someone else. redirect the attention. easy." you flash a grin that's all teeth. "maybe i'll even throw in a little praise for you. balance it out."

he just blinks at you. slowly.

"you think you're negotiating right now?" his voice is calm, but the grip on your thighs tightens.

you blink. "i mean, i'm trying to be reasonable—"

"reasonable?" he laughs, but there's no humor in it. "you publicly dragged me for weeks. humiliated me. and now that you're caught, you want to rewrite the narrative?"

"i'm offering solutions—" "you're offering bullshit," he snaps, and in a second he's climbing over you, his body slotting between your legs like it was made to be there. "and you think you still have leverage? cute."

your breath hitches. your hands push at his chest, but he grabs your wrists and pins them down again, harder this time—your body arching into him involuntarily.

"here's what's really gonna happen," he says, leaning in, nose brushing yours. "you're gonna try to flip this. act like you're still in control. try to turn the tables on me."

your throat tightens.

"but you won't. because the second you try, i'll remind you who made you beg. who had you gagging on the dick you said didn't exist." his voice drops lower, dangerous. "and then i'll ruin you all over again."

you glare up at him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and defiance."you know what? fine." your voice is sharp, shaky. "you wanna play games? i'll play. let's see how fast you fold when i turn this around."

he raises an eyebrow. "is that right?" you reach down between your bodies—slow, deliberate—wrapping your hand around him. he's still hard. unfairly so. hot and heavy in your palm.

"maybe i was wrong about the size," you murmur, stroking him slow, his breath hitching. "but maybe you really are just a pillow princess. maybe you like being praised more than you like fucking."

his jaw ticks.

you press a kiss to his neck, voice a taunt against his skin. "what happens if i ride you instead? if i make you cum all over yourself."

he freezes.

"what if i write about that next?" you sit up dragging your tongue along the edge of his jaw. "'jake sim—big dick, zero stamina.' think the internet'll love that?"

you think you've got him.

until suddenly—he flips you.

you yelp, back hitting the mattress again as he rips your hand away from his cock and shoves your thighs up around his waist. the shift is fast, dominant, practiced.

"you really thought that'd work?" he's laughing now—mean, breathless, hungry. "thought you'd rile me up and get the upper hand? you forget who tracked you down and got you here in this room." his voice is pure venom now, thick with want. "who had you gagging and drooling on your knees while you fucked yourself on my shoes not even 5 minutes ago?"

his hands expertly yank off your jeans, his thumb hooked around the waistband of your baby pink cotton panties—teasing you. you writhe beneath him, but he doesn't budge—he presses into you, cock sliding between your clothed folds just to tease, just to show you what you don't get to control.

"you wanna test stamina?" he growls. "i'll fuck you 'til that smug little attitude disappears. 'til you're begging me to stop. 'til you're crying and calling me daddy."

you gasp—rage, arousal, panic blending in your gut—but you can't deny the throb between your legs. the way your body betrays your pride.

he feels it too.

his free hand runs up your sweater, your breath shaking as you feel him run his fingers up your stomach and make themselves comfortable on your tits. letting your hands go momentarily, he's yanking your sweater off and throwing it across the room.

"didn't know bratty girls like you wore baby pink. ruffles, lace trim—bows?" he grins, his hands playing with the frills of your bra as you twitch beneath him.

"fuck you," you spat out, voice coming out weaker than you wanted it to. jake only smirks, his hand reaching up to pull the straps of your bra down—letting your tits fall out. "oh i will," and with that he's taking one of your nipples hostage in his mouth. his grip on your wrists stays planted, not allowing you to move or struggle against him when he nips at the sensitive skin of your breasts.

he switches from left to right for a few minutes, basking in your whimpers and mewls before he kisses down your stomach. pulling away he's back to being face to face with you, a smug look on his face before he plants a kiss to your jaw. the kiss turns into bites, nipping at your neck and chest as he leaves behind purple splotches.

"maybe you can post the marks i left and then bash me," jake grins against your skin. you roll your eyes in response only for jake to shoot you a look that says: behave.

he moves your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt to his hungry eyes. he runs his thumb through your slit, gathering your slick.

"so wet," he mutters, dragging the head of his cock against your slit. "guess your body knows who's in charge, even if your mouth doesn't." he slams into you—deep, all at once—and you scream.

no teasing now. no easing in. no prepping.

just punishment. just proof. just him, ruining you from the inside out like it's the only way to shut you up.

"gonna make you forget every insult," he grits, hips snapping into yours over and over. "gonna fuck the hate right outta you."

he could feel your velvet walls convulse, sucking him in like a vacuum as he thrusts into you. you cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders, back arching, mind blurring. you hate how good it feels. how right.

"gonna ruin you," he whispers, lips at your neck. "and you're gonna thank me for it." his mouth traveling down to your tit to engulf one of your nipples once again.

your body jolts with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping and moans filling the room as you struggle to adjust to his girth.

you're still trembling when jake lifts your chin. his touch is deceptively gentle, but there's nothing soft in his expression. smug. commanding. dangerously patient.

"you still think you were right?" he asks lowly, voice scraping down your spine like velvet over steel. you blink up at him, lips parted, but your throat is dry. no sass now. not with the way your body's still recovering, knees weak, throat raw from every choked sound he pulled from you.

when you don't respond jake stops his movement, his hips go still as he simply stares down at you with a dark look in his eyes.

you were falling apart.

his cock was deep inside you, filling you so completely you couldn't even think straight— but jake wasn't moving. he just held you there, pinned beneath him, wrists trapped against the mattress, his hips grinding slow and mean against yours.

you whimpered, hips twitching up against him helplessly, desperate for more. he smirked down at you, cruel and smug, loving the way your body shook, the way your face twisted in frustration.

"what's wrong?" he murmured mockingly, leaning in so close his lips brushed your ear. "thought you'd be tougher than this."

you rationed with yourself for a moment, were you really going to beg? yes.

you tried to twist your wrists free but his grip only tightened. "please," you gasped out, tears welling in your eyes from how badly you needed to cum. "please, jake, i need it—"

he laughed, low and sharp, and snapped his hips forward once—deep and brutal—making you cry out. but then he stilled again, ignoring your desperate whines.

"you need it?" he repeated, pretending to think. "need my cock? need me to make you cum like the stupid little whore you are?"

your cheeks burned, shame rolling through you, but you nodded frantically.

"say it," he ordered, voice dropping, rough. you squeezed your eyes shut, humiliated, but the words still poured out.

"i need your cock," you sobbed. "please jake, please—i'll do anything, i'll be good, just let me cum—"

he laughed again, so fucking satisfied with himself.

"should've thought about being good before you started running your mouth online," he muttered, dragging his cock slow and deep inside you, making you arch and cry out.

you were shaking now—your whole body burning, every nerve stretched tight and ready to snap.

"you want it that bad?" he asked casually, grinding his hips just enough to make you sob.

"yes," you choked out. "please, jake—please, i need to cum, i can't—"

he grinned wickedly and finally, finally started fucking into you hard—deep, punishing thrusts that made you see stars. your walls clung onto how dick like a suction in attempt to milk him dry.

your moans spilled out loud and wrecked, your whole body bowing off the bed.

"good girl," he murmured darkly, "you're gonna cum when i say. not a second before." you nodded frantically, not trusting yourself to speak without crying. and when he finally, finally leaned down and growled, "cum for me, slut,"

you shattered.

you came so hard you were sobbing, spasming around him, your body giving out completely under his.

jake fucked you through it, laughing under his breath, dragging every last bit of pleasure and humiliation out of you until you were left shaking and gasping for air.

and even then, he wasn't done with you yet. he hadn't cum yet, and at the end of the day that's what you were here for—to be his little cum slut.  you barely had time to breathe—your body still spasming from the orgasm he tore out of you before jake grabbed your hips and pulled you back down onto him, grinding even deeper.

you yelped, broken noises spilling out of your mouth, trying to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

"no," he snapped, voice sharp and final, one hand locking tight around your waist to keep you from moving. "you don't get to run."

your head lolled back, tears slipping down your cheeks, your body a twitching mess.

"too much," you sobbed, trembling violently.

he laughed—laughed—at your misery.

"too bad," he muttered against your ear. "you're not done." he set a brutal rhythm, fucking into you hard, fast, merciless. your thighs shook, your nails dug into the sheets, your mouth fell open in helpless, gasping cries. you could feel yourself spiraling again—pain and pleasure tangled together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

"you think you're in control?" he grunted, slamming into you harder, making you scream. "you think you can say whatever you want about me and not pay for it?"

your whole body jolted with every thrust, the humiliation making your head spin.

"say it," he growled. "say you were wrong."

you whimpered, stubborn even now, biting down hard on your lip. he slowed down, grinding his cock against your sensitive walls in deep, deliberate circles that made you keen helplessly.

"say it," he repeated, cruel and low, "or i'll edge you until you're fucking crying."

your pride crumbled fast.

"i was wrong," you gasped out, voice cracking. he smirked, hips snapping forward again. "about what?"

you squeezed your eyes shut, shame flooding you. "about—about your dick," you choked out. "i lied, you're big—you're fucking huge—"

he chuckled darkly, like he already knew. "good girl," he breathed, voice dripping with mockery. "what else?"

you shook your head frantically, body jerking with overstimulation. he pulled almost all the way out—your cunt squeezing around nothing— before slamming back in so brutally you cried out.

"what else?" he hissed against your throat.

"i—i'm just a stupid bitch who doesn't know what she's talking about," you sobbed, face burning hot.

he laughed again, so fucking satisfied, so cruel.

"that's right," he murmured. "a stupid little whore who can't stop begging for the cock she said was too small."

you whimpered, broken, humiliated beyond repair. and still—your body clung to him, desperate for more. you realized with a sick twist in your gut that you would do anything—say anything—just to have him fuck you harder.

and jake knew it too.

he leaned down close, mouth brushing yours cruelly.

"beg," he whispered. "beg me to ruin you."

you could barely think. your body was burning, trembling, stretched tight around him— your mind a broken mess of shame and need. and still jake kept fucking you deep, rough, relentless.

his hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, your throat, your jaw—manhandling you like you were nothing more than a toy for him to use.

you whimpered when he grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him.

"beg," he ordered again, voice dark, breathless with lust. "beg me to ruin you, slut."

you shook your head at first, a broken little sob tearing from your throat. he growled low, slammed into you even harder—your back arching, a scream ripping from your lips.

"you don't get to say no," he hissed. "you wanted this." tears streamed down your cheeks, your body trembling violently.

"please," you gasped out, the word slipping before you could even think. "please jake..ruin me, use me. fuck me however you want—"

he laughed, so fucking smug, dragging his cock out slow just to make you whine. "good fucking girl," he murmured. "finally learning your place."

you babbled desperate nonsense, sobbing into the sheets, your pride shattered into dust.and jake fucked you through it all—using you like a fleshlight, pounding into you until your legs gave out, until your voice was wrecked and broken.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he sneered, slapping your ass hard enough to leave a sting. "to get fucked dumb? to get put in your place like the stupid little whore you are?"

you nodded frantically, gasping, sobbing, brain completely mush. "can't even speak anymore," he muttered, mocking. "just a cockdrunk mess." your nails clawed helplessly at the sheets, your cunt squeezing him so tight he groaned.

you felt another orgasm building—sharp, unbearable—but you were too gone to even ask permission. you just sobbed and gasped and let him take everything from you.

"yeah, that's right," he growled, voice thick with pleasure. "cum all over my cock, slut. make a fucking mess."

you shattered, your whole body convulsing around him, screaming his name like a prayer, a curse, a broken confession. and jake fucked you through it, dragging every last bit of your pride and resistance out of you, until there was nothing left but a crying, ruined mess on his cock.

you were shaking. your body was limp, wrecked, trembling under the weight of everything he made you feel.

and jake still wasn't satisfied.

he kept moving, grinding his cock deep inside your overstimulated cunt—mocking every broken sob that fell from your lips.

"what's wrong?" he said, voice dripping with fake sweetness. "too much?"

you could only whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. he grabbed your face again, rough, forcing your glassy eyes to meet his.

"you wanted to run your mouth so bad," he sneered. "now you can fucking thank me." your brain barely processed the words, too fogged with shame and pleasure. he slapped your cheek lightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to snap your attention back.

"say it," he barked. "say thank you."

you whimpered, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"th-thank you," you stammered, voice barely a whisper.

he smirked, cruel and satisfied.

"louder," he ordered, snapping his hips forward viciously, making you cry out. "thank you!" you sobbed, your voice hoarse and broken.

he chuckled darkly, his hand sliding down your throat, pressing lightly just enough to make your head spin.

"thank me for ruining you," he muttered, rolling his hips slow and deep, dragging another helpless moan from your lips.

your pride was turned into ash, your mind gone.

"thank you for ruining me," you gasped out, shaking uncontrollably, completely destroyed. he groaned, clearly getting off on how ruined you were—your body slack, twitching, drooling, your cunt spasming weakly around him.

"pathetic," he muttered against your ear. "look at you." you could feel how wet and messy everything was—your thighs sticky, the sheets underneath you soaked.

and still—still—he wasn't finished.

"gonna fill you up," he rasped, voice rough with the effort of holding back. "gonna fuck you so full you'll be leaking for days."

you sobbed, the humiliation sinking deeper into your bones.

"please," you whispered, because you didn't know what else to say anymore. he grunted low in his chest, thrusting faster, chasing his release. he could feel that familiar tinge in his stomach, he was close.

"such a good little cumdump," he growled. "just a hole for me to use." you broke again, another weak orgasm rolling through your abused body.

and jake finally spilled inside you—deep, hot, filling you up exactly like he promised.

he didn't pull out immediately. he stayed pressed deep, making sure you felt every drop. when he finally did pull out, you collapsed completely, a ruined, twitching, crying mess.

and jake just chuckled, so fucking smug. running his fingers down your slit before plugging your fluttering hole, making sure that his cum stays in you for as long as it could.

"maybe next time you'll think twice before running your mouth about me," he said, releasing your wrists before he gets off the bed. he left you there, spread open, dripping, humiliated beyond repair.

and you realized with a sick twist of your gut— you liked it.

you fucking loved every humiliating second of it.

✎﹏﹏

your body aches.

not in the romantic, soft-lit, post-orgasm kind of way.

no. it's raw. it's degrading. it's embarrassing.

your legs are trembling so badly you have to lean on the sink just to stay upright. your thighs sticky, sore. your throat dry and stretched thin from the pathetic, wrecked sounds he pulled out of you.

you yank your clothes back on as fast as your shaking hands allow, muttering curses under your breath. you can't even look at yourself in the mirror. because you know what you'll see: the ruined, wrecked version of yourself jake created.

and you hate him.

you hate how smug he looks when you finally stumble back into the room—hair mussed, shirt untucked, standing like he didn't just break you open with nothing but his cock and his fucking mouth. you hate how he leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a look that says he's already won.

you hate that he was right.

and you really, really hate that you liked it.

you roll your shoulders back, force yourself to stand straight even if your body is begging you to drop.

"that what you wanted?" you rasp out, voice wrecked and scratchy. "you win. congrats. want a trophy or something?"

jake doesn't say a word. he just watches. calm. amused. smug.

and it pisses you off. burns you alive from the inside.

"you got what you wanted. you ruined my pride," you snarl, stepping closer even though your knees are ready to give. "so what now? supposed to kneel and thank you? beg you to keep ruining me?"

he cocks his head slightly, lips twitching.

you hate how unbothered he looks. you hate it so much it makes you reckless.

"you don't actually believe i meant all that, right?" you spit. "you really think i meant it when i said you're big? when i cried about how good you fucked me?"

you scoff, shaking your head with a cold, sharp laugh.

"you're pathetic. you got played because i moaned a little."

and that's when everything shifts.

because jake steps forward—smooth, controlled—grabbing your jaw so hard you gasp, slamming your back against the wall without even looking like he's trying. his face is inches from yours, breath warm, eyes dark and furious.

"still lying?" he murmurs.

your heart pounds wildly. you try to twist away but his grip on your jaw tightens, bruising.

"you begged for my cock," he hisses, thumb dragging across your trembling bottom lip. "you fucking cried for it. and you're gonna stand there and lie to my face?"

you choke on your words, humiliation pouring down your spine in cold waves.

he laughs bitterly, the sound vibrating low in his chest. "guess you really are as dumb as you look."

you flinch.

and jake leans in closer, voice dropping lower, meaner. "you wanna pretend you're still in control?" he taunts, dragging his fingers down your throat slow, almost tender. "you wanna act like you didn't cum so fucking hard you couldn't even say my name?"

you tremble.

but you don't back down—not yet. pride and fear tangled up, keeping you frozen.

he chuckles darkly.

"fine," he says, voice a low threat. "i'll remind you."

his hand snakes between your thighs, shoving your jeans down again, your underwear dragging with it, baring you completely in seconds. you gasp, struggling—but he's too strong, too fast. he grabs you by the hips, throws you onto the bed like you're weightless.

and then he's on you.

he presses your wrists to the mattress with one hand again, his weight pinning you down, his other hand roughly forcing your legs apart.

you barely have time to gasp before he's inside you again—deep, brutal, fucking the defiance out of you one savage thrust at a time.

you cry out, throat raw. he fucks you like he's furious, every slam of his hips meant to punish. "not so fucking smug now, huh?" he pants against your ear.

you whimper, broken sounds spilling out without permission.

"what happened to all that fake confidence, princess?" he mocks, rolling his hips harder, forcing your body to take every inch. "thought you said you could handle it."

you sob, writhing under him, but he doesn't let up. he leans down, dragging his teeth across your jaw, making you shudder helplessly.

"gonna make you beg again," he growls. "gonna make you say it like you fucking mean it."

you try to shake your head—but you're drowning. he's everywhere. he's everything. and no matter how much you try to cling to your pride, it crumbles between your shaking hands.

you're crying now—humiliated tears streaking down your flushed face—as he pounds into you mercilessly.

"please," you choke out, voice cracking.

he chuckles, cruel and satisfied.

"please what, baby?" he taunts, slowing his thrusts to a deep, punishing grind that makes your whole body twitch and seize.

"please," you sob again, shame burning you alive. "please let me cum."

he leans back slightly to look at you—hair a mess, eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

"you don't deserve to cum," he says, voice mocking. "whores who lie don't get rewards."

you whimper, hips stuttering against his, desperate, broken.

"but," he adds slowly, almost lazily, "if you beg real nice... maybe i'll consider it."

you sob harder, pride shattered into dust. and then—you beg.

you beg like a good little whore.

"please, jake," you cry, voice wrecked and hoarse. "i need it—i need to cum—please, please—"

he grins, dark and cruel, and finally—finally—lets you fall apart again, your body convulsing, cunt clenching around him helplessly as he fucks you through the brutal, soul-crushing orgasm. and you barely have a second to breathe before he's moving again—pulling out, grabbing your face in both hands, forcing your mouth open.

"open wide," he orders.

you're so wrecked you don't even think to disobey. you just open—lips trembling, eyes wide and glassy.

and jake leans over—spits straight into your mouth, thick and wet and humiliating.

you gag slightly, tears burning your eyes.

"swallow," he commands sharply.

you do.

you obey without even thinking.

and he smirks—grabbing his phone, flipping open the recording he just made of your pathetic begging, letting you hear it on loop while you lie there ruined, body trembling, throat raw.

he tucks his phone into his pocket, grabs your chin again, forcing you to look up at him. "remember this next time you wanna talk shit," he says, voice low and smug.

he kisses you—mocking and possessive—and leaves you there: used, wrecked, humiliated, and so thoroughly owned that you can't even pretend anymore.

jake sim ruined you and there's no taking it back.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[katiascraft]

lando x famous actress!reader pleaseeee

so here it is! I thought it was a cute idea to do it around the oscars so I hope you like it and enjoy it! Thanks for your request anon <3

﹙LN4﹚ ── ❝ and the oscar goes to... ❞

summary: you’re a star rising in the Hollywood scene. Tonight you could be making history. The youngest actress in history to be nominated for best actress in a leading role. And of course, your boyfriend (of 5 years now) had to be there.

warnings: just use your imagination along the ride! smau + written story. It’s a made up movie (I just imagined it). The premiation is also made up (I didn’t follow any real life event at the last oscars). and just pure fluff to be honest <3

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ㅤ¡ tap to continue reading ू♡ ࿔ ۪

f1gossipgirl made a post

f1gossipgirl: BREAKING ‼️ formula one driver Lando Norris has just arrived to the #Oscars red carpet! He is supporting his long time girlfriend y/n who is nominated for best actress in a leading role and the movie she stars in is nominated for best picture of the year. It’s a huge event for y/n because she is the youngest actress to be nominated ever and if she wins she will be the first in history to win an oscar as such a young age! Stay tuned because we will keep you updated #OscarsWithF1GossipGirl. Lando will not take pictures with y/n or walk the carpet together source informed.

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user965: OH MY GOD LOOK AT THAT MAN

user755: god he is hot

user9174: the haters hate y/n bc they can’t have HIM and she can FIGHT ME

⤷ user1: she’s lucky indeed

user185: I find it so perfect he doesn’t want to be on the spotlight. It’s his girlfriend’s day. He is so respectful!

user1854: I need to see y/n I hope she wins she was phenomenal in that movie

user9916: who cares!?

user1854: this account should only update about only f1 sport related stuff

⤷ user175: it is an update account and it’s called “gossip girl” go away

user22: oh to be y/n and have him alone in a hotel room

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f1gossipgirl made a post

f1gossipgirl: OSCARS UPDATE ‼️ apparently afew of the gird are assisting to the #Oscars tonight in support of actrees y/n! ex formula one driver Daniel Ricciardo has just arrived to the red carpet.source informed he will not walk the carpet for pictures, he will be in through the back door as lando did. it's y/n night! but we're sauspicious on why daniel has a little box in his hands... ??? #OscarsWithF1GossipGirl

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user22: WHAT ??? IS??? GOING?? ON????

user123: Dani is such a good friend I miss him in f1 😭

user965: HE IS PROPOSING TO Y/n!?!? LANDO IS GOING TO PROPOSE?!?!?

user1865: I think that box’s for lando….

user99: I love Danny so much how supportive he is of his friends

user1288: it would have been insane but amazing if y/n would have walked the carpet alone Dani and lan ICONIC

⤷ user1964: that’s bullshit. It’s her day, her movie, her nomination. I see it perfect they didn’t walk the carpet with her plus we all know lando hates that type of exposition and I see it fair y/n respects it

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f1gossipgirl made a post

f1gossipgirl: OSCARS UPDATE ‼️ y/n has arrived to the #Oscars! she was accompanied with her mom and little sister! along her bodyguards and some crew. lando (her boyfriend) and daniel (her bestfriend) are inside the building already. source informed both are waiting seated in the same table the cast of "ashes on the skin" will be seated. rumors say that a few other drivers are in attendence in the general area of the event.

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user944: omg we will see them live!!! I’m so excited

user23: I would have never thought to see them both at the oscars!!!

user233: would love to know who else is there tbh

user199: on Twitter there’s pictures of oscar and lily and also Charles and Alex, Pierre and kika

⤷ user2299: omg the whole crew is there! So nice they support their friend

user1: so excited for tonight! I hope high hope she will win

user288: she looks gorgeous omg

user975: red hair is her color she looks stunning!

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f1gossipgirl made a post

f1gossipgirl: OSCARS UPDATE ‼️ finally, actrees y/n has arrived to the red carpet! what do we think about the role? for anyone who doesn't know she is nominated for her role in the movie "ashes on the skin". we leave you the sipnosis down here if you wanna watch it! do you think she's gonna win?

Between the 1920s and 1950s, mental health was a taboo subject. Depression, anxiety, and eating disorders were not understood, nor were they met with compassion. Instead, those who did not fit into societal norms were labeled as insane, locked away in psychiatric asylums, and subjected to cruel treatments disguised as medical care. Electroshock therapy, forced feeding, and isolation were not means of healing—they were punishments for those who suffered in silence.

In this oppressive reality, Elena Moreau, a 25-year-old woman, is institutionalized for feeling too much in a world that demands silence. But inside the asylum, she does not find care—only horror. The treatments meant to “cure” her shatter her instead, stripping away every piece of the woman she once was. She is no longer a patient—she is a prisoner. A shadow of herself.

With every night spent in isolation, with every torment endured, her sanity begins to crumble. Until one day, when nothing remains of the girl who entered, Elena makes a choice. If the world insists on turning her into a monster, she will become one. Fire becomes her voice. Destruction, her final act of defiance. As the asylum burns, so does the life she once knew.

But can one truly escape the ashes when they have already been burned into the skin?

“Ashes on the Skin” is a harrowing and poignant tale of silenced suffering, the brutality of early psychiatric treatments, and one woman’s desperate fight for freedom in a world that fears what it cannot understand.

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user99: CAN LANDO FIGHT

user875: the fact she chose that dress representing the era her movie is in speaks volumes of how committed she is for the project she looks beautiful

⤷ user1855: she is very caring of every work she does

user02: best dressed of the night is miss y/n Norris fight me

user971: I watched the movie a few days ago. What she does is phenomenal. I cried through the whole movie. It’s so raw and she made her job to make you feel all the pain she is through. Excellent performance she is top level no doubts hope she wins

user344: can’t wait to hear her speech im sure she will win what she did jaques the rest of the nominees

user7155: couldn’t finish the movie. It was too much for me. But that speaks for itself of how good the movie is. As cruel and unbearable as our reality is.

user8: her dress it’s a work of art itself. So pretty.

user4: Lando’s a very lucky man

user55: I don’t like her but I can’t say she can’t act. She is really good.

user882: heard they can also win picture of the year

user34: please don’t make this night about lando or Daniel or any driver in attendance. This is the oscars. And it’s y/n’s night for her amazing and phenomenal work. be respectful please.

user99312: y/n’s such a gorgeous girl I wish man

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Flashes. Pose. smile. Wave. fast heart beat. Repeat. 

You were never a fan of big crowds or events full of people. But this was different.this was an opportunity to convince yourself that you have what it takes. What it takes to be good enough as a professional in this field. 

You have always been your worst enemy. Confidence was certainly not your best friend or best virtue. But this project changed your life. Elena, the character you played, became a part of you as if she was your actual friend in real life… but she only lived in your head and your heart. It was the hardest challenge of your life becoming her. And it was a character that touched that sensitive part of your soul. Your grandmother has suffered from mental health her whole life, and seeing her deteriorating each day that passed by was the hardest part. Back in the day, mental health wasn't a thing and depression took advantage of it. She was diagnosed when she was almost 60 years old and up to that point, there wasn’t anything much to do rather than medication. Your grandmother was convinced therapy was “for the crazy and the crazy only”. It hurts you a lot. And Elena was essentially that. It was your grandmother, trapped in her pain in a world that didn’t understand her. And that made her not understand herself either. 

Going through the pain Elena must have been was a bit traumatic. It was hard not to be in her shoes even out of filming. And that made it hard to go and support Lando at his races. You needed a therapist to try and stay sane in a way. But Lando was so supportive, so gentle with you and so understanding. That made you realize that he was it. He was the love of your life. The way you both manage to make it work even if you didn't see each other for like 2 months straight. 

You still couldn’t believe you were there that night. That you were recognized for your work. It felt surreal while you were entering the building so beautifully decorated and organised. On the far, you saw your boyfriend and best friend chatting and laughing along with the director of your movie and the executive producer. Your smile couldn’t even get bigger. You were so proud of yourself. Every sacrifice you did to get here was worth it. You knew deep down that this was just for the show and didn’t show your real value as professional but it was like a compliment. A real big compliment. A very healing and important one. You came full circle tonight. You were here, the event you used to watch in your mother’s lap and dreamed of receiving a statue. Give a beautiful speech and cry of emotion. It was happening. And having all of your people with you just made your heart explode. 

You walked along your mom holding hands to the table. Both Lando and Daniel stood up so they could give you a hug. First to do so was lando. He was grinning. The biggest smile you have ever seen on his face that even his nose was crunching. You left out a little and nervous laugh.

“Hi baby” you said sweetly. 

“Oh my lord, babe, you look magical,”Lando said a bit out of breath. He only saw you putting on makeup earlier in the evening.. He didn't expect you looking this beautiful. Gold was your color. If you two were in a cartoon movie, he would have hearts for eyes for sure. He held you close and tight into his body kissing your shoulder sweetly. He was as nervous as you were and maybe even more. He knew you had it. He dreamed of you winning. You deserved it. 

What you did in that movie was phenomenal. He was in genuine shock at the premier. Of course, you converted yourself into another person but it was so raw and rough and insane. He knew you gave it your all. He saw you struggling. He saw you in character in the behind the scenes when he could be there to support you and take care of your son, a sausage dog you both adopted three years ago. His name was Rocket (you were a crazy fan of guardians of the galaxy by marvel). He couldn’t be prouder of you. Such a young woman yet your performance to him was one of the most experienced actors on the field. We could say adrien brody level. but maybe he was exaggerating. But one thing he was sure of, is that you were amazing with or without an Oscar in your living room. However, he truly believed you would win it. You had to. 

He let you go of his arms after kissing your cheek gently so he wouldn’t mess your makeup. Seeing your smile so big and excited filled his heart fully. He watched you in the arms of Daniel who was already making jokes and making you laugh. So he hugged your mom who was already tearing a bit. She was a really sensitive being, very emotional and sweet. And your mom loved Lando as if he was her son too. She thanked him for the hug. She was really grateful that her daughter had him next to her (even though she didn't like the fact Lando practiced a dangerous sport and that he could die any weekend. She chose to trust him he will not leave her daughter broken and a widow). He kissed your mom’s head. 

“She will win,” he assured her in a whisper. Your mom looked at him with a little smile. 

“I hope so, she deserves it so much” she said on the brink of crying again and Lando let out a little laugh because he found it so cute. He hugged her again to comfort her. He felt where he belonged. This was his forever family, he just knew it. And he was so happy. And so in love with you.

 ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Two hours have passed by. You have watched plenty of your idols on stage. This was like a dream. And you felt dreammy for sure, you didn't want to wake up. You cried when your new friend and co-protagonist won best actress in a supporting role. She cried too. You hugged her as if you wouldn’t see her anymore. You were so proud of her, she was so young as well. You both gave everything in that movie. And it meant the world to both of you. And living this was the best thing that could ever happen to you. There were already two Oscars on the table for your movie, best direction and best supporting role. 

And then, it was your turn. It was the moment you were waiting for the whole night. Maryl Streep, the woman who made you fall in love with acting, your role model, stood there in the middle of the stage ready to say which ones were the nominees for best actress in a leading role. You felt your heart would stop any moment. One hand was on both lando hands, cupping yours, both sweaty because of the anxiety of the moment. The other hand is your mother’s. You were already on the brink of crying. This meant everything to you. The fact that mary was there to say your name was already everything you ever dreamed of. 

Maryl started saying a few words to every actress nominated.

“And we have y/n. The youngest actress ever nominated in this category who did an excellent job in ashes of the skin. The bravery in making such a vulnerable, raw and real character. How the pain could be felt from the screen. So brilliant and also so important. Thank you for elena, y/n, i think we all needed to live through her to know how important mental health is for everyone and how gentle we need to be so we could create a better world” 

When meryl stopped talking you couldn't smile brighter. Everyone applauded you so loud. You applauded her, for her kind words. You mouthed her so many thank yous, your hand on your heart. This was precious, even if you didn't win, this was it. This was the most amazing gift to you. Lando was already tearing, his anxiety and excitement on the roof. He was so proud of you. He knew how much this meant to you. He grabbed your face and gave you a kiss. The camera of the transmission captured it (and of course, it went viral of how cute that gesture was). 

Maryl continued to say a few more words to the rest of the nominees. Your grip on Lando's hand got tighter. Daniel was hugging your mother. 

“And the nominees for best actress in a leading role are…” maryl said and a fragment of every actress in each movie nominated started to appear on the screens. You got so nervous when you saw herself. Everything was a bit dizzy because of how nervous you were.you didn’t realize that people were applauding and cheering. When the images stopped, Maryl smiled and spoke again. 

“And the oscar goes to…” the suspenseful silence she did almost left you deaf. Your heart was on your throat. “y/n” she said grinning, proudly. Everybody stood up. This was it. You made history.

The camera was on your really shocked face. You were shaking. Lando made you stand up and kissed you in tears. 

“Omg” that was the only thing you could say. And grinning. But you could process what you were living. You hugged your mom who was already sobbing and Daniel gave you your phone where you had already prepared something to say because now, it was impossible for you to think straight. 

You grabbed your dress and started walking up to the stage. Everyone was applauding you and you were already tearing up. Ariana grande, also nominated, met you before the stage and gave you a hug. It was so sweet of her, you thanked her and  finally got up on the stage. Ýou only focused on maryl.

“Congratulations, sweetheart. Your the promise of this industry” she said when you hugged her and then she gave you the fucking statue. Holy lord it was heavy and so shiny. 

“Oh my god, thank you so much. This is a dream” you said to her who found it so cute. You grabbed your oscar. You saw everyone at your table crying and with their phones up on you. You were shaking but you tried to collect yourself. 

“Wow… I can't believe this to be honest um… I'll try not to cry.” you started saying looking at the statue in your hands “mom i made it!” you continued excited and made the crowd laugh. “This is such an honour to be here in front of all these amazing professionals that raised me. I can’t believe I'm here to be honest, all the nominees deserved this award. This is for you because you were role models for me and i wouldn’t be here if there hadn't been amazon women like all of you on my tv scream when i was a child. Maryl i love you i love you i love you. Thank you to the academy, to my parents for taking me to every single casting there was even if it was on the other side of the world, thank you to my boyfriend, lando, i love you with my whole heart i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your support and gentle love. You are the greatest driver there is and I made a promise to you that if I won an Oscar I would say yes to marriage… So I'll be waiting for the ring!” you said nervously trying to eat your tears. Lando went deep red and laughed so dreamily. “And thank you to my friends and ….” You thank a few of the ones who gave you the opportunity to be in the movie. “And I just really hope, and I really wish, that you, little girl, sat in the living room of your home watching me right now, that you can be whoever you want to be. And I hope to meet you soon here on stage. Dreams do really come true, I'm proof of it. Don’t skip acting class, go to that casting. I promise, it will happen. And I can't wait to see you around! Thank you” you finished your speech as fast as you could and maryl grabbed you to congratulate you once more. And of course, once down the stage you let your sobs take place. But they were happy tears. Proud tears. It is your little self so happy to be alive. 

Your table couldnt stop applauding and cheering you. Your mom was a lake of tears but Lando wasn't that far behind. They hugged each other. This was insane but so precious. You did it. You really did it. You won. You are amazing. When you said that in front of the world about the ring he almost passed away. He couldn’t be more in love with you and there's a reason why Daniel brought the little box. This was it. It was the end game. It was him and you until death do you apart.

You were the love of his life. 

And he couldn’t be happier and prouder of you.

 ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

lando made a post

lando: she did it. she is world champion! 😭🥳❤️‍🩹

view more comments

yourusername: thank you my love for your endless support. I couldn’t have done it without you. I love you forever! Now let’s focus on the championship you have ahead I will go to every race this year ❤️‍🩹🥳 my future champion

⤷ lando: why are you so perfect? I love you my love. You deserve all the love the world can give you ❤️‍🩹

user77: I want what they have 😭😭😭

user975: he took his camara so he can capture every moment of his girl’s night so sweet

user11: lando the man you are

user44: no one will ever make me hate you lando sweet boy

charlesleclerc: I win for the books!! Congrats y/n!!!

alexandrasaintmleux: so proud of you amazing girl

kikacgomes: im still crying for the speech 😭

⤷ pierregasly: you can be whatever you want baby

⤷ kikacgomes: stop 😭😭😭

user723: she looks so happy on the second photo it’s so cute

oscarpiastri: thank you for the invitation guys. What a lovely night. So proud of you y/n!! Let’s celebrate f1 style!!

⤷ georgerussell: hope your night sucks for not inviting me

⤷ lando: limited seats available bro

⤷ georgerussell: go fuck yourself

⤷ alexalbon: i'm with George

⤷ yourusername: guys I’m sorry we will celebrate back in monaco I promise!!!

⤷ yukitsunoda: need to see that award on your living room!!

pierregasly: congrats y/n!! Let’s karaoke the night away!!

⤷ yourusername: I’ll start!!

⤷ lando: please don’t. Im fed up with mamma mia songs.

⤷ yourusername: boring

 ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

yourusername made a post

yourusername: the best day of my entire existence. thank you <3

view more comments

yourbff: you did it y/n!! You showed the world who you are!! The most amazing person: personally and professionally.

yourmom: so proud!! 🩷

user1987: SO DID HE PROPOSED!!?!?!

maxverstappen: so happy for you

danielricciardo: 👀💍

⤷ user0911: TELL US YOU KNOW THINGS

⤷ user77: HE KNOWS

lando: you did it baby you’re amazing

user815: like can someone say something about the engagement????

⤷ yourusername: he didn’t propose.

⤷ danielricciardo: DISAPPOINTED AND OFFENDED

⤷ lando: I WILL

⤷ maxverstappen: Now no one believes you loser

 ₊˚⊹ ᰔ THE END

don’t forget to like, comment, reblog if you enjoy it! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together)

[daincrediblegg]

no you know what I'm going to scream about the stuff I talked about in the tags of this post publicly

I'm tired of the well-meaning "don't feel bad if your work only gets 20 notes your genius is what counts and do it for you!" bullshit. I've had a good handful of friends who have straight up DEACTIVATED in recent months because their work was not getting reblogged AT ALL. No, it wasn't from lack of not being well-liked, no it wasn't from lack of trying to make sure it was getting out there to the people they knew would engage with it. It was because no matter how much they were praised privately for their work, when push came to shove, absolutely NOBODY reblogged it and gave it the audience that it was due, and I'm tired of people shoving the "unsung genius" narrative as an excuse for it. Nothing excuses that. And the boop event really proved that.

because I know given the opportunity, indiscriminately pressing a button (sometimes 10 thousand times, as I did) is not beyond this website's capability. y'all loved doing that. and look at what it wrought. nothing but love and affection and happiness. just from a couple of quick clicks of a little paw button. sure. nobody knew who you booped but the other person (which is how likes used to work on this website, btw). there was an element of anonymity to it. but that is kind of the core of this website that no other social media platform still has: the ability to be anonymous. and hyper-curating a blog on here like you might on twitter or instagram to project an image is simply not viable. and hey. you wanna know a secret: literally nobody cares what you post or whether it goes with the "theme" of your blog or not. yeah. I know. CRAZY concept in this day and age. but literally. I myself have reblogged things that have had nothing to do with whatever I am currently fixated by and you know what happened to my follower count? not a damn thing. in fact, I actively try to reblog things specifically BECAUSE it's my friends who made them (even though I'm not always good at KEEPING UP WITH HOW MUCH THEY POST @prismatica-the-strange will NEVER GO UNRECOGNIZED by me).

And you know what fucking sucks? I have to deal with this too. surprise right? you ever wonder why I reblog fics or art I post like 20 times the day that I post them? do you ever wonder why I ask about tag lists and beg for asks all the time? IT'S BECAUSE EVEN I GET LIKE. 5 LIKES ON THE THINGS I POST. AND THE REST OF THE REBLOGS ARE MINE SO I CAN MAKE SURE THAT PEOPLE WHO WANT TO SEE WHAT I MAKE GET TO SEE IT. and I say that knowing that I'm certainly not an unpopular blog, or an unpopular writer. I know that people love the stories that I create. Hell, half of the people that I've talked to about lady terror have told me that they consider her to be canon (AND EVEN SOME!! THOUGHT SHE WAS!!! WITHOUT EVEN HAVING WATCHED THE SHOW! WHICH IS STILL SO SO WILD TO ME!!!) But especially in the last 4 years (which really dates this phenomenon), my posts, no matter how well received they've been amongst people I've talked to about them directly, I still go into the notes and at least half (often more than half) are MY reblogs to make sure people saw what I posted. and it happens every single time, and I can't tell you how much it crushes me considering that it used to be that I would be able to post it only once, and people would reblog it sometimes even HUNDREDS of times.

It's not about popularity. it never has been. it's not about anxiety. or shifting website cultures. even if you lurk, the simple fact is, that if you want people to keep making what you love. you have to reblog. your theme won't suffer because you reblogged a fanfiction that you really admire. your posting won't be ruined because you reblogged some fanart from someone in a different fandom. really. I promise. and if people do unfollow you for that? who needs em. followers come and go but you should NEVER have to cater to them. on this website it has ALWAYS been the other way around. lean into it. make it yours. put stuff you ACTUALLY WANT to be seen and that you love and appreciate on your blog. no matter how old it is, how new it is, no matter how niche or off-theme it is.

so please. if you really want to show your appreciation for someone's work? you reblog. it's really as easy as that. check the tags. add some when you reblog if you like. but please for the love of god reblog. it's as easy as booping and even more rewarding for the people who you reblog from. if you want to let someone know that their work is genius and appreciate it? show it. reblog. then DM them if you're too nervous to say what you want to say but not in a public forum. but for christ's sake. REBLOG.

[iamquiantrelle]

XOXO YOUR FAVE WAG • iamquaintrelle

# summary: kylian's gf has everyone in a tizzy...some call her spoiled rotten or a brat, but she loves kyky down and she'll always be your fave wag. # pairings: kylian mbappe x black spoiled gf (fc: 6kenza) # wc: 3.6k # tags: @kmlottin @masn-mount @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @szariahwroteit @muglermami @goodgyalgonebadd # author’s note: got a scenario for your fave wag? - send them here // one shot series masterlist

PART I: NEW BEGINNINGS

Madrid sunlight was loud and obnoxious.

That was her first thought as she scrolled through her phone, lying alone in their massive bed, sheets still warm from where Ky had been. From down the hall in the kitchen, she could hear him talking baby-talk to Milo and Gatsby—the Jack Russell going crazy as usual while the gentle giant Golden just woofed along.

"Wesh, vous avez faim? Qui veut manger? You guys, huh?"

She smiled despite the comments flooding her latest IG post. She'd just shared a simple pic of herself and the Madrid skyline with the caption "new beginnings ✨" and the haters were already out in full force:

@mbappestan4ever: can this girl post ANYTHING without making it about herself? your man just made the biggest move in football and you're what... taking selfies?

@madridista190: we don't want her drama in our club. leave that shit in paris

@footballwives_tea: sources say the other Madrid WAGs aren't impressed with Mbappé's girlfriend showing up to training "dressed like she's going to a nightclub" on day one

That last one made her laugh out loud. She'd worn jeans and a white button-down to yesterday's session. Literally the most basic outfit possible. But that's how it always went—wear something cute, get called attention-seeking; dress down, get called sloppy. The "football wife expert" accounts just made shit up for clicks.

Three years into this life, and she still wasn't used to being a character in someone else's story. She'd been just another girl from Bondy with big dreams when she met Kylian. Back then, he was that promising Monaco kid everyone was talking about, and she was a fashion student with 500 Instagram followers and a part-time modeling gig that barely paid her metro fare. Now? Twenty million followers, brand deals worth more than her parents' apartment, and a comments section full of people who thought they knew her whole life story.

She switched to Twitter, wincing as she spotted her name trending again. The hot takes were even worse:

"Mbappé's WAG already causing drama in Madrid. Source says she refused to sit with other players' wives at training."

Which was a complete lie. She'd literally asked if she could join them, and they'd practically formed a wall with their Birkins. Except Camila, bless her.

"Crazy how Mbappé went from dating that sweet hometown girl to this attention-seeking influencer. Fame changes people."

That one actually made her snort. She WAS the "sweet hometown girl." These people just couldn't fathom that the same person could post thirst traps AND be a loyal partner.

"Bébé? T'es réveillée?" Ky appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but training shorts and that goofy grin she fell for years ago. Milo darted past him and leaped onto the bed while Gatsby lumbered behind, tail wagging.

"Malheureusement," she groaned, putting her phone down. "Your son decided my face needed cleaning at—" she checked the time, "—eight in the fucking morning."

"Milo, mon gars, on avait parlé de ça," Ky said, not even trying to sound serious. "Let the princess sleep."

"Call me princess again and you're sleeping on the couch."

"In our house at 15 million? Go ahead," he laughed, flopping down beside her, instantly reaching for her phone. "Qu'est-ce que tu regardes? The comments again?"

She tried to snatch it back but he held it out of reach, his footballer reflexes too quick. His smile faded as he scrolled.

"Why are you reading this bullshit?" he asked softly.

"Know thy enemy," she shrugged. "Plus some of them are actually funny. Did you know I'm apparently sleeping with three of your teammates simultaneously? I’m really busy."

He didn't laugh. "I hate how they talk about you."

"Yeah well, comes with the territory," she said with mock cheerfulness. "You signed for Madrid, I signed for that."

"It wasn’t like that in Paris."

"It was exactly like that in Paris, bébé. You just didn't notice because you were busy being the golden boy." She sat up, kissing his cheek. "Ça va. J'ai l'habitude."

And she was. Three years of being Kylian Mbappé's girlfriend had prepared her for the constant scrutiny, the accusations, the bullshit. Model? Gold-digger. Influencer? Attention whore. Stay home? Lazy trophy girlfriend. Work? Distraction to his career. There was literally no winning.

That first year had been the hardest. She remembered the night she'd broken down crying after reading an article speculating that she was only dating Kylian for his money. The article had dug up photos of her family's apartment block in Bondy, posted her high school grades, and even found an old tweet where she'd joked about being broke as a student. "From the projects to the palace," the headline had read, as if she'd executed some elaborate scheme instead of just falling in love.

Kylian had been furious, wanting to sue the publication, but she'd talked him down. "It'll just make it worse," she'd said. "They'll say I'm controlling you next."

And she'd been right. The next week, another outlet claimed she was "the puppet master behind Mbappé's career moves."

"Anyway," she added, shaking off the memories, "yesterday was... interesting."

"The training? You met the others?" He perked up, always so eager for her to feel included in his world.

"Yeah... they were..." She searched for a diplomatic word.

"Horrible? Cold? Crazy girls?" he supplied helpfully.

"I was gonna say 'reserved' but sure, let's go with relou." She laughed. "Camila was nice though."

"Rodrygo's wife? Yeah, she's cool."

"The rest just kinda... stared. Like I had 'PSG TRASH' stamped on my forehead." She mimicked their judgmental looks, making Ky snort. "One of them actually asked if my handbag was real or if I 'got it from the markets in Bondy.'"

Kylian's jaw tightened. "Who said that?"

"Doesn't matter. Point is, I'm the outsider. The girlfriend who isn't a wife. The influencer who isn't from a football family. La meuf de Bondy." She absently petted Gatsby's head. "Same shit, different club."

She didn't mention how one of the WAGs had whispered "Casse-toi" when she'd tried to sit down, or how another had loudly asked if "PSG girls" always wore "so much makeup to training." She'd worn mascara and tinted lip balm. That was it.

"You are worth ten of any of them," Ky said fiercely. "And if they don't see that—"

"Then they don't matter," she finished for him. "Je sais. It’s okay. I'm not here for them anyway." She stretched and yawned. "I'm here for your fine ass and these ridiculously expensive marble countertops."

That got him laughing again, the tension broken. "Glad to know where I stand in the hierarchy. Below the countertops but above the dogs?"

"Milo and Gatsby’s actually tied with the countertops. Sorry."

He checked his watch and groaned. "I have to go. Ancelotti wants us early today." He stood, then hesitated. "Ça va aller? You could call your sister?"

"I'm good. Gonna unpack the rest of the bedroom stuff. Maybe do a haul video since the brands sent all that Madrid-themed shit."

"Post a thirst trap," he suggested with a wink. "Really give those football wives something to talk about."

"You just want the comments to be 'Damn Mbappé is a lucky man' instead of 'Why is she such a bitch?'"

"Guilty," he admitted, leaning down to kiss her. "Also, wear that red thing tonight."

"We going somewhere?"

"Dinner with Barcola. He's in town with Dembélé, wanted to check on us. You know, PSG guys, we support each other."

Her mood instantly lifted. Bradley and Ousmane. People who actually knew her, not just as Mbappé's girl but as herself. People from home.

"I can’t wait," she said, genuinely excited now.

"I know," he said, seeing right through her sudden enthusiasm. He kissed her again, deeper this time. "Je t'aime, Squirtle."

The ridiculous nickname made her laugh every time. "I told you to stop calling me that in public!"

"We are not in public," he pointed out. "And you love it."

"I love YOU. The nickname is questionable."

"You weren't questioning it last night when you were—"

"OKAY time for you to go to work," she interrupted, pushing him toward the door while he cackled. "Go run around with your little ball. Make some goals or whatever."

"That’s literally my job description, yeah."

At the door, he turned serious again. "Hey. For real though. T'es bien ici? I know it's a lot of change all at once."

For a moment, she let the brave face slip. "Paris, I miss it sometimes. But you're my home too, so..." She shrugged, trying to play it casual even as her eyes got a little misty. "I’m fine wherever you are, Ky. Even in enemy territory."

His smile was soft, private—the one the cameras never caught, the one just for her. "That’s my girl."

After he left, she flopped back on the bed, dogs curling around her. The house felt too quiet, too new, too strange. In Paris, their place had overlooked a busy street. There had been constant noise—cars honking, people chatting, the little café across the street playing music. Here, in their gated Madrid mansion, the silence was almost oppressive.

She missed silly things: her favorite bakery, the grumpy florist who secretly gave her extra flowers, the familiar rhythm of her days. Hell, she even missed the Parisian traffic. But more than anything, she missed the anonymity they'd somehow managed to carve out in Paris. After three years, the local paparazzi had developed a weird respect for them. Here, she couldn't even walk the dogs without being ambushed.

The other day, she'd gone to get coffee and ended up being followed by three photographers screaming questions in Spanish. "Are you worried about the Madrid women?" "Will you be in the stadium for every match?" "Are the wedding rumors true?"

She'd panicked, ducking into a store only to realize it was a bridal shop, which immediately set off a new wave of engagement speculation online.

Her phone pinged with a notification. She hesitated before checking, bracing for more hateful comments, but it was actually a text from Alexia, Barcola's girlfriend.

Heyyyy bitch! Can't wait to see you tonight. I miss your face. Bradley says Ky's already gone full Madrid diva. True???

She smiled, feeling slightly better.

Not yet but we've only been here a week. Give him time.

Ousmane wants to know if Ky's seen the new place they reserved for him at Bernabeu? Apparently it's like a whole ass throne room.

Haven't heard but wouldn't put it past them. How are you? Still coming to visit us next month?

OBVS. Already booked flights. Hey, don't look at Twitter today ok? Some BS going around about you snubbing the WAGs.

Too late, she thought. But she appreciated the warning.

Nothing new. How's your new collection going?

Alexia had a sustainable fashion line that was actually incredible. Unlike most footballer WAGs who claimed to be "designers" but just slapped their names on fast fashion, Alexia had actual talent.

Nearly killed me but the lookbook shoot is next week. You'll model for me when it launches right? Need my girl!

Always ❤️

Setting her phone down, she felt a little more grounded. At least some things hadn't changed. She and Alexia had clicked the first time they met, both hustling to build their own careers while dating rising stars. They'd shared war stories about toxic fan encounters and media hit pieces over wine nights that never made it to social media.

Stretching, she decided to finally tackle unpacking. They'd been living out of suitcases for a week, with only the essentials unpacked. She padded over to the stack of boxes labeled "Bedroom" and started sorting through them.

In the third box, wrapped in tissue paper, she found the framed photo that had always sat on her nightstand in Paris. It was from their first vacation together, before the world knew they were dating. They'd snuck away to Corsica, staying at a tiny hotel where nobody recognized them. In the picture, they were laughing, caught mid-splash in crystal blue water, looking impossibly young and carefree.

No designer clothes, no styled hair, no carefully curated image. Just two kids from Bondy who couldn't believe their luck.

She placed it on her nightstand, the familiar image making the strange room feel a little more like home.

Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Kylian, sending a selfie from the training ground. He was grinning in his new white kit, thumbs up, looking as excited as the day he'd signed for Monaco all those years ago. The message read:

First official training pic! Coach says I'm already the best player in Madrid history. Obviously.

She laughed, typing back: Your ego barely fits in the frame. But you look hot in white. Not gonna lie.

You'll look hotter in that red dress tonight. Just saying.

You're obsessed with me.

Factually accurate statement.

Smiling, she set the phone down and continued unpacking, feeling lighter than she had all week.

Three hours later, most of the bedroom was organized. She'd set up her vanity area, arranged Kylian's ridiculous collection of sneakers (the man had more shoes than any woman she knew), and managed to find homes for most of their clothes.

Gatsby and Milo had "helped" by napping on every surface she'd tried to organize, but she didn't mind. Their familiar presence was comforting in the new space.

She decided to take a quick shower and then maybe film that unboxing video for her channel. She had a pile of PR packages that brands had sent to welcome her to Madrid—everything from local skincare lines to Spanish fashion labels hoping for a mention.

As she stepped into the bathroom, her phone pinged with an Instagram notification. Thinking it might be Kylian again, she checked it.

Instead, it was a DM from a fan account:

I know everyone's being horrible to you right now, but just wanted to say I've followed you since before you met Kylian and you've always been real. Don't let these Madrid bitches get you down. Some of us know the truth. ❤️

She smiled, genuinely touched. For every troll, there were still people like this. She typed back a quick thank you, adding the fan to her "respond always" list—a small group of followers she made sure to engage with no matter how busy she got.

After her shower, wrapped in a fluffy towel, she picked up her phone again, bypassing the hate comments to find the post Kylian had tagged her in earlier. It was from his account—a carousel of images: him in the new Real Madrid kit, a selfie with her in their new kitchen, Milo and Gatsby playing in the backyard, and finally, a throwback of them in Paris, back when he was just a promising kid and she was just a girl with a dream.

The caption read: New chapter, same story. Mi familia siempre conmigo. #HalaMadrid #blessed

Under it, the top comment with over 50,000 likes:

@o.dembele7: wesh frérot prends soin de toi à Madrid, on vous attend à Bondy pour les vacances 😂👊🏽 vous me manquez les gars

And below it:

@bradley_dls: La meuf la plus real de tout Madrid est arrivée, faites gaffe 🔥 à ce soir!

And just like that, Madrid felt a little more like home.

She smiled, typing a comment of her own: Prêt pour cette nouvelle aventure avec vous. Toujours votre fan n°1. ❤️

Then, just for fun, she added a second comment: PS : Apportez du lait à la maison, nous sommes sortis. Et Milo a mangé tes baskets préférées. Désolé, pas désolé. 😘

Let the WAGs and the haters chew on that bit of normal domesticity. She was settling in just fine.

She was not settling in "just fine".

Her Instagram post had painted the picture perfectly: happy couple, beautiful Madrid home, fresh start. #blessed

Reality was messier.

"Milo! Putain, c’est pas possible!" She groaned, discovering yet another designer shoe partially destroyed. The Jack Russell terrier trotted away without remorse, tail high like a victory flag.

She tossed the mangled loafer into the growing pile of casualties. Two weeks in Madrid, and Milo had already claimed four shoes, three throw pillows, and one very expensive Hermès scarf. The dog was clearly not adjusting well to the move.

That made two of them.

She flopped onto the couch, scrolling mindlessly through her phone. 9:38 PM and still no message from Kylian. He'd left for "quick drinks" with Cama and Aurel five hours ago. Third time this week. While she genuinely liked both men and was grateful Kylian had French teammates to bond with—God knows she'd kill for some familiar faces right now—but the constant absence was starting to sting.

Especially since living together—properly together, not the half-time arrangement they'd had in Paris—was proving more complicated than expected. In Paris, she'd had her own apartment to retreat to when needed. Here, they were on top of each other in a mansion that somehow felt both too big and too small.

Her phone rang. Not Kylian, but her mother.

"Hey, Maman," she answered, already bracing herself.

"Two weeks and now you answer?" Her mother's voice crackled through the speaker. "I had to learn from your cousin's Instagram that you're playing house with a footballer in Spain."

She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "We're not 'playing house,' Maman. We're living together. Like adults do."

"Tu joues à la femme mariée sans la bague," her mother said bluntly. "You play wife without the ring."

"It's 2024, not 1985."

"The year doesn't matter. What matters is respect. If he respects you, he puts a ring on your finger before you uproot your whole life."

The conversation circled the same drain it always did. Her mother's traditional values versus her modern relationship. Her independence versus her choices. By the time they hung up, her mood had sunk even lower.

Was her mother right? Was she giving up too much for too little commitment? Her modeling contracts in Paris had been steady. Here, she was starting from scratch with only a handful of tentative Spanish connections. And for what? To wake up to wet towels on the floor and a boyfriend who was out with his boys more nights than not?

The front door opened, and Kylian's voice echoed through the marble foyer. "Bébé? T'es où?"

"Living room," she called back, quickly composing her face.

He appeared in the doorway, cheeks flushed with probably a few glasses of wine. His hoodie was unzipped over a simple white tee—he looked relaxed in a way she hadn't seen since Paris.

"Hey you," he said, dropping onto the couch beside her and pulling her into a hug. "Missed you tonight."

"Did you though?" she teased, unable to resist. "Seemed like you were having plenty of fun without me."

"Aurél made this crazy cocktail thing with some Spanish liqueur. Knocked me on my ass." He laughed, then caught her expression. "Shoulda called though. My bad."

"It's fine." She shrugged, not wanting to start a fight. "How are the boys?"

"Good. Cama's girlfriend might be coming back from Paris next week. We could do dinner maybe?"

"Sure." She nodded, genuinely liking Camavinga's girlfriend from the few times they'd met in Paris. "That'd be nice actually."

Kylian studied her face. "You okay? You seem... off."

"Just tired. And Milo ate another shoe."

"That dog's got expensive taste." He pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. "Anything else?"

She hesitated, then decided to be honest. "Mom called. Same lecture about how I need a ring before living with you."

"Ah." Kylian's expression shifted slightly. "The 'playing house' talk."

"Yep. Episode forty-seven in the ongoing saga."

He was quiet for a moment, just holding her. Then, "Would it make things easier? With your mom, I mean. If we were engaged?"

The question caught her off guard. "Are you proposing right now? Because if so, this is the least romantic proposal in history."

He laughed, relaxing. "Non, not proposing. Just... thinking about stuff."

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed with an email:

RE: Zara Campaign – Meeting Confirmed

A small victory, but she'd take it. Her agent had been working overtime to establish connections with Spanish brands.

"Good news?" Kylian asked, noting her expression.

"Zara wants to meet. Potential fall campaign."

"See? Madrid's warming up to you already," he said, genuinely happy for her. "You going to training tomorrow? Give the WAGs another shot?"

"Yeah, I think so." She nodded. "Gotta keep trying, right?"

Something flickered across his face. "Cool. Morning session?"

"That's the plan. Why?"

"No reason." He shrugged too casually. "Just... noticed Bellingham kept looking at you last time."

She snorted. "Are you serious right now?"

"What? I'm just saying."

"Jude Bellingham is not into me, Ky."

"I've got eyes, bébé. Dude practically trips over himself when you're around."

She laughed, genuinely amused. "Even if he did—which he doesn't—who cares? I'm with you, dummy."

"I know that," he said, looking slightly embarrassed now. "I'm just saying."

"You're cute when you're jealous." She poked his side. "The big Kylian Mbappé, worried about some English boy."

"I'm not jealous," he insisted, but he was smiling now. "And he's not 'some English boy,' he's actually really good. Don't tell him I said that."

"Your secret's safe with me." She kissed him quickly. "Now come to bed. It's late and I'm tired of being alone in this big-ass house all night."

As she drifted off to sleep later, Kylian's arm wrapped around her waist, she thought about her mother's words. Maybe they were "playing house." Maybe she did deserve a ring after following him to Madrid. But lying here with him, even with all the adjustments and challenges, she couldn't bring herself to regret the move.

********************************************

The Madrid training facility was already bustling when she pulled into the parking lot the next morning. She'd opted for simple jeans and a nice shirt—casual but put-together, understated but expensive. The WAGs here seemed to have a dress code all their own, and she was still figuring it out.

She wasn't a complete outsider this time. The security guard recognized her, offering a friendly "Buenos días" as she passed. Small victory.

The family section was already populated with WAGs and children. She scanned the area, looking for a friendly face, and spotted Camila chatting with a couple of women she vaguely recognized from the team dinner.

"Hey!" Camila waved her over. "You came back! I wasn't sure if you would after last time."

"Glutton for punishment, I guess," she replied, settling into the empty seat beside Camila. "How's it going?"

"Same old. Oh, have you met Eva and Sofia?" Camila gestured to the other women. "Eva's with Miguel, Sofia's married to Diego."

The women offered polite smiles and hellos—warmer than the ice queen treatment of her first visit, but still reserved.

"We were just talking about that new restaurant on Calle Jorge Juan," Camila continued. "Apparently the chef's ex-wife is dating one of the Barcelona players now, so there's drama."

"Football world is small," Sofia added, her English heavily accented but clear.

"Microscopic," she agreed, relaxing slightly as the women included her in their gossip.

On the pitch, the players had emerged for training. Her eyes immediately found Kylian, already laughing with Camavinga and Tchouaméni as they jogged laps. The French trio had quickly become inseparable—Aurél and Cama taking Kylian under their wing from day one.

"The French connection," Camila commented, following her gaze. "Those three are thick as thieves."

"I've noticed." She smiled, genuinely happy to see Kylian finding his place. "Ky needs that, you know? The connection to home."

"And what about you?" Eva asked unexpectedly. "Finding your Madrid connections?"

The question caught her off guard with its sincerity. "Getting there," she admitted. "Slowly."

"It takes time," Sofia nodded sympathetically. "When I first came, I cried every day for a month. Madrid can be... cold to outsiders."

"That's putting it mildly," Camila laughed. "Remember how they treated me at my first training? No one spoke to me for three hours."

"Wait, really?" She couldn't hide her surprise. "I thought it was just me."

The women exchanged knowing looks. "It's like a test," Eva explained. "They want to see if you're serious or just passing through. Many girlfriends don't last, you know? The wives protect themselves."

This perspective shifted something in her understanding. The coldness hadn't been personal—it was some weird WAG initiation ritual.

Their conversation was interrupted as the team broke for water. Several players jogged toward the family section. She watched as Kylian spotted her, surprise and pleasure crossing his face. He said something to Camavinga and Tchouaméni, and the three of them headed her way.

She stood as they approached, greeting Cama first with the traditional French double-cheek kiss. "Salut, Eduardo. Ça va?"

"Pas mal, pas mal," he grinned, returning the greeting. "Madrid te plaît?"

"De plus en plus," she replied, turning to Tchouaméni. "Aurel! Comment ça va, mon grand?"

"Tout va bien, la belle," he answered, bending slightly for his kisses—he towered over her petite frame. "Kyky parle de toi tout le temps. C'est fatiguant."

"He better talk about me," she laughed, finally turning to Kylian. "Salut, toi."

Instead of the cheek kisses, she gave him a proper kiss on the lips—quick but definitive. Kylian's arm slid around her waist automatically.

"Didn't know you were really coming today," he said, pleasantly surprised.

"Thought I'd give it another shot." She shrugged. "The WAGs seem less scary this time."

"They're warming up to you," Cama confirmed with a grin. "Hard not to."

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Jude Bellingham glancing their way while chatting with another player. When he caught her looking, he gave a friendly wave, which she returned casually.

"You know Bellingham?" Aurél asked, following the exchange.

"Met at the team dinner," she explained. "Seems nice."

Kylian's arm tightened almost imperceptibly around her waist. "Yeah, real nice," he muttered.

Camavinga caught the tone and smirked. "Ohh, c'est comme ça? Kyky jaloux?"

"Ta gueule," Kylian replied without heat. "I'm not jealous."

"You kinda are," she teased, poking his side. "It's cute."

"I'm not—" he began, then caught himself as he noticed the amused looks from his teammates. "Whatever. Break's almost over anyway."

"Poor Bellingham," Tchouaméni laughed. "Just looking and already in trouble."

"He looks a lot," Kylian pointed out.

"Can you blame him?" Camavinga gestured at her. "Your girl's fine."

"Exactly," she agreed with a laugh. "I'm a petit baddie, what do you expect?"

Kylian rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a proud grin. "Alright, alright. We gotta get back." He kissed her quickly. "Dinner tonight? Just us?"

"Sounds perfect."

As the players jogged back to the pitch, Camila raised an eyebrow. "So... Bellingham?"

"It's nothing," she shrugged, settling back into her seat. "Ky's being weird about it."

"Jude's sweet," Eva commented. "But he gets tongue-tied around pretty girls. It's kind of adorable."

"Last Christmas party, he knocked over an entire tray of champagne trying to talk to that model from the club calendar," Sofia added with a laugh.

"See? Harmless," she said, relieved they weren't making it into drama. "Guys look. It happens."

"Especially at you," Camila noted. "You should've seen the team dinner. Half the guys couldn't keep their eyes straight."

"Hazard of dating a footballer, I guess," she replied easily. "Pretty boys with wandering eyes."

"And what about your boy?" Sofia asked, curiosity evident. "His eyes wander too?"

"Kylian?" She shook her head confidently. "Never. That's one thing I never worry about."

The conversation shifted to other topics—the best schools for footballer kids, the most discreet shopping areas, the restaurants where paparazzi never bothered them. Slowly, she found herself being included in the WAG wisdom, little bits of Madrid insider knowledge passed her way.

During the next water break, she caught Bellingham glancing her way again. This time when he waved, she noticed how he fumbled his water bottle slightly. The WAGs were right—his crush was pretty harmless, almost endearing in its awkwardness. It was hard to reconcile with his confident presence on the pitch.

Kylian, across the field, clocked the exchange and frowned. She fought back a smile at his obvious displeasure.

"Your man's watching," Camila whispered, amused. "He really doesn't like Jude looking at you."

"I know. It's ridiculous." She laughed softly. "But kind of hot, not gonna lie."

"Men," Sofia sighed dramatically. "They're all cavemen deep down."

When training ended, she waited in the reception area for Kylian. Bellingham passed by, offering a friendly "See you around" that came out slightly rushed and awkward. Behind him, she caught Camavinga making exaggerated kissing faces, clearly teasing the Englishman.

Boys. Sometimes they never grew up.

Kylian emerged from the locker room, freshly showered and changed. His eyes immediately sought her out, a smile spreading across his face when he spotted her.

"Ready to go?" he asked, taking her hand.

"Mmm-hmm. Good training?"

"Yeah, coach says I'm settling in well." His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. "You looked cozy with the WAGs today."

"Getting there," she agreed. "They're not as scary when you get to know them."

"Told you," he said as they walked to the parking lot. "Give it time."

"Speaking of time," she ventured, "Camila mentioned a WAG lunch tomorrow. I thought I might go."

"Yeah?" His expression brightened. "That's great, bébé. See? Madrid's not so bad."

"It's getting better," she admitted. "Slowly."

In the car, Kylian was quiet for a moment before asking, "You're not bothered by Bellingham, right? The way he looks at you?"

She laughed, genuinely amused. "Ky, guys look. It happens. Especially when you're dating Kylian freakin' Mbappé—they want to see what all the fuss is about."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What's the verdict? What's so special about Mbappé's girl?" There was a teasing note in his voice, but also genuine curiosity.

She pretended to consider the question. "Well, I'm hot, obviously."

"Obviously," he agreed with a grin.

"And funny. And smart." She counted off on her fingers. "Plus I can cook, which your fancy footballer friends probably never experienced with their trophy wives."

"So just the total package then?"

"Pretty much." She shrugged dramatically. "Plus I put up with your wet towels on the bed and your weird obsession with gaming until 3AM."

"True love right there," he laughed.

As they pulled into their driveway, she felt a small wave of contentment. Maybe they weren't fully settled yet. Maybe there were adjustments to make—to living together, to new careers, to Spanish life. Maybe her mother's disapproval still stung, and maybe the WAG world was still intimidating.

But they were figuring it out, one day at a time.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Camila:

Lunch tomorrow at 1? The WAGs want to formally initiate you into the Madrid secrets 👀

She smiled, typing back:

I'll be there. Should I be scared?

Terrified. But in a good way. Welcome to Madrid, chérie!

She was slowly finding her footing in the Real Madrid world—jealous boyfriend, harmless admirers, nosy WAGs, disapproving mother and all.

[ms-demeanor]

making my own post because nobody needs my bullshit on their post:

OP:

Reblog 1:

Reblog 2:

My response:

The IRA blogs were here and they were active and they were quite popular; their posting patterns did not match normal tumblr users (i was followed by lagonegirl and followed back only to be put off by the account reblogging the same five or ten posts every hour for a day before selecting another five or ten posts to reblog hourly the next day - it was clear engagement bait).

Tumblr has never been as transparent about these accounts as both Twitter and Facebook were, but several of the accounts had shared names across platforms and you can find a significant amount of data that was released by both facebook (ex: ads purchased by the IRA accounts) and twitter (over three million tweets from IRA accounts). Academic researchers have published papers on the data released from facebook and twitter. Several papers. So many papers. Soooooo many papers. We have a LOT of direct evidence that you can explore for yourself that there were hundreds (possibly thousands) of IRA accounts that were created on Facebook and Twitter. Of those accounts, some shared usernames across platforms, and of those accounts, a few had tumblr accounts that posted the same content on twitter and tumblr.

To quote a buzzfeed news article from the time:

The Russian-run Tumblr accounts used the same, or very similar, usernames as the account names contained on a list of confirmed IRA accounts Twitter submitted to congressional investigators. In some cases, the Tumblr and Twitter account has the same profile image or linked to each other in their bios. Some IRA Tumblrs and Twitter accounts also cross-promoted content between platforms, further linking them together.

Current tumblr user @ alwaysbewoke (who I don't want to tag because I'm sure he's got better things to do) is interviewed in that article and talks about following one of the blogs identified by tumblr as an IRA blog that had a matching account on twitter identified as an IRA account but unfollowing when the left-leaning blog supposedly run by a black creator started rooting for trump in the election.

Dr. Jonathan Albright is heavily quoted in the article; the data review he collaborated on is one of the only reviews of this subject that includes data from Tumblr and Reddit.

One of the claims that I've seen is that tumblr just deleted funny black people, but these were blogs with thousands of followers on tumblr who never recreated, never popped up on another social media site, never started a reddit account after getting banned; nobody ever showed up saying "hey this is 4mysquad, I got banned on tumblr and twitter, follow me to pillowfort". These very popular blogs got deleted and, as far as I know, nobody ever popped up claiming to be a person who was deleted - and it's not like tumblr users haven't figured out how to evade bans.

What you are doing when you make posts saying that the IRA accounts on tumblr never existed is *absolving tumblr of guilt for their utter lack of transparency.*

Tumblr is not the only tech company that has tried to fly under the radar as its larger counterparts face regular scrutiny in Congress and in the press. Earlier this month, Reddit revealed it too had deleted hundreds of accounts with ties to the Internet Research Agency. A WIRED investigation found more than a thousand links to Russian propaganda websites are still live on Reddit, and unearthed two suspicious accounts that Reddit immediately shut down.

So should you believe what Tumblr says? No, because Tumblr has been functionally fucking silent on this issue and the information about this subject aside from the list of blogs has come from the hard work of data scientists, journalists, and researchers.

(For the record; some of those bot accounts that were recorded by Dr. Albright also had Google+ accounts in 2017 - there is every possibility that they had myspace accounts).

Now, the reason that I'm popping onto this post as an annoyed anarchist is that I was tracking a similar group of blogs for a while and was discussing them and I stopped precisely because of the galaxy-brained liberals who are now trying to dunk on communists for criticizing electoralism. One of the people who was following my project was one of the ones who started calling out the "joe biden kills dogs" posts as disinfo and I realized they were using some of the guidelines I'd written up to "identify" misinformation and that is very a rock fucking stupid approach to what was clearly a leftist making jokes and was horrified and realized there was no way that I could continue documenting what I was documenting without someone attempting to call actual leftists russian bots.

I've seen the post that OP is referencing [it's one where someone makes a very obvious joke about the democrat presidential ticket and people jump on to call them a bot and then someone tries to do the "AI tell me a story" thing and OP is just like "I don't want to :(", proving that they are in fact a person and not an AI] and have deeply enjoyed the humor of watching liberals a) not understand a very, VERY obvious joke and b) become the unwitting butt of a joke they were trying to make, but also I am so exhausted by watching normie dems call leftists AI bots after years of watching normie dems call real live actual leftists who hold actual political views that real people actually have, like prison abolition, russian bots.

But I am also so fucking tired of left conspiracism and how stupid it sounds when leftists dismiss a preponderance of evidence that is easily accessible and publicly available for analysis as "lol so you just trust everything tumblr tells you?"

No, dipshit, learn to click a fucking link or twelve.

[leebrontide]

My autistic peeps, I have one bit of advice for you.

Be extremely selective about who you accept social rule feedback from.

Most autistic folks I know tie themselves up in knots, trying to figure out this social rule book that everybody else seems to have gotten, that they didn't get. In fact a lot of the "rigidity" that I see other therapists complaining about can be put down to the natural effects of people trying really hard to find one goddamn rule that will stay put.

The thing is- most people walk around as if they have the one universal, unassailable, common-sense rule book for social interaction.

And they are utterly full of shit.

In the US in particular there is incredibly low consensus about how people should behave. Just go post on twitter about whether it is or is not rude to wear your shoes in someone's house, or as a 70 year old and a 20 year old about phone etiquette. That's before we get into other demographic differences. Don't even get me started on "professionalism".

Neurotypical people get that feedback to, but are, on average, way more able to flag it as either 1) a rule for working with that person/similar people 2) bullshit. NOT as a universal rule they should have already known, that they should feel bad about not already knowing.

The number of things that people actually universally agree on is really low.

So when people give you feedback that the social rule they expect you to follow is obvious, they are often being a total dick.

Ask questions, look for patterns in specific settings, and make sure you've worked on your values enough to have a reasonable ecosystem of guiding principles.

But remember that nobody has that rule book.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

hii oh my god I can't get ur chubby reader x naoya fic out of my head,,,, pls could you make more headcanons for like anything they do omfggg 😭 😭 😭 incel naoya that turns into a complete freak for a chubby reader is SUCH A GOOD idea like I genuinely can't get enough for it. it's so 🤤 🤤 THANK YOU

imagine he stumbled on a camgirl reader tho...

Oh my GOD

CW: chubby fem reader x Naoya Zenin, camgirl au, Naoya is a podcaster/streamer, Naoya is an ASSHOLE but what else is new?, misogyny, smut, paid sexual content, masturbation

You got me thinkin with this one sksksk

Okok so this is how i imagine it

You're a fairly popular camgirl, you have several thousand followers on twitter and about a thousand on onlyfans. You get some decent money but not enough that you could make it your full time job, yk? So you do onlyfans on the side of whatever job you're doing

You do a wide variety of content, but your most popular content is where you're just a sweet innocent chubby girl who is being corrupted by the viewer—THAT gets you big bucks

You also do personalized content for extra money where viewers request certain content and you provide as long as they pay

It's a pretty good gig! And you get to cum so that's all that matters sksksk

Naoya is a podcaster and streamer and he's GROSS 🤢🤮

He's one of those misogynistic streamers who criticizes women for everything and has "tRaDiTiOnAl VaLuEs" or whatever bullshit excuse he makes for being an asshole

And one segment he has on his show is rating onlyfans content

He rates content that his fans send in and he usually degrades the women for being slutty or whatever 🙄😒😮‍💨

"These girls have no respect for themselves. They're only good for a little bit of fun but then you should find a good traditional woman to marry."

He does his usual spiel with the content he's sent, but then during one stream, one of his viewers shares your content

They leak one of your videos where you're on your knees sucking a dildo and staring into the camera, wearing a white babydoll and little bunny ears

Naoya gets quiet when your video plays, making small comments here and there about how your technique isn't that bad and the eye contact is good

He gives you the highest rating he's ever given on his channel! Your content is sweet and innocent and since you don't collab with anyone then you're not that much of a slut

He secretly saves your username and continues with his stream

You wake up the next day to an influx of new followers and subscribers, wondering where all these new people came from

You also get some more paid requests for content, a lot of it misogynistic in nature

You deny a lot of the content, having too much respect for yourself, but you notice one request that stands out

thestrongest#1: i want a video where you fuck yourself with your biggest dildo and praise me for how awesome i am

What baloney 🙄😮‍💨

But money is money and he's offering a pretty large amount for this video, so you accept

The video is pretty standard: you prep yourself off camera so you're wet and ready to go when the camera starts

You praise him, like he asks, telling him how cool he is, how handsome and strong, how you wish he was fucking you instead of your toy

You say his name when you cum and blow a kiss to the camera before ending the video

You think nothing of it and go about your life

But then another request comes in. And another. And another until you have a mountain of requests all from the same guy

He's willing to pay a pretty penny for your content, so you always accept his requests and make bank

thestrongest#1: i want you to deepthroat a dildo while touching yourself and looking at the camera

thestrongest#1: i want you to wear a cute dress with no underwear and bend over for the camera and there's a butt plug in your ass

thestrongest#1: i want you to bake cookies in nothing but an apron

You keep doing the requests bc he pays good and the requests aren't too far fetched or weird

You get a lot of money from this user, so you decide to have a little fun

You go on a shopping spree, buying a couple of cute outfits with accessories, and you decide to do something nice so you make a personalized video for free where you show thestrongest#1 all the stuff you got bc of him

You send him the video and go about your day

Later that night you get another request from him

thestrongest#1: i want to do a video call where we masturbate together

You're a little taken aback. You've never done a video call before, although others have asked for it. But he's been so good to you so far, giving you so much money for your videos, so you accept

You set up for your video call, doing your usual prep before he ends up calling you at the arranged time

You answer the phone to see a muscular body and a big, hard cock, but his face is out of view

"Hey baby," his voice is pretty hot, "you all ready for me?"

"Of course," you coo. "I've been thinking about this all day."

"You have?" he asks, sounding excited

"Yeah," you spread your legs, holding open your pussy lips, "see how wet I am?"

"Holy shit," he mutters, scooting his chair closer to his computer. "Fuck, you look so good. Start touching yourself for me."

So you do. You start with your fingers, rubbing your wet clit in circles and moaning his name. He grabs his cock and starts playing with it, pumping it slow and languid

"Fuck yourself with your fingers, princess. I wanna see you stretch yourself out for me."

You lean forward, moving your fingers to your entrance and pushing two inside

You finger yourself while stimulating your clit, moaning

"Does it feel good, baby?"

"Yeah... but it's not enough. I want more."

"You want a nice fat cock inside you, don't you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Fuck, get your dildo baby. And your vibrator. Wanna watch you fuck yourself."

You grab your supplies beside you and start fucking yourself with the dildo, pressing the vibrator to your clit

You continue dirty talking and moaning with each other, making yourself cum a couple times before he starts getting close

"Fuck, I wanna cum in you. Wanna fill you up and get you pregnant. You want that, baby? Want me to make you a mommy?"

Ew, no, you're a stranger

But you're getting paid so 😮‍💨

"Yes!" you moan. "Please, cum in me! I want it so bad!"

He groans, moving his hand faster before he finally cums all over his abs, moaning your name.

You both calm down, you relaxing on your bed and him sliding down his chair, unintentionally revealing his face

He's handsome 😳

And he knows it too 🙄

"You like what you see?" he asks, smirking at you.

"Yeah, you're pretty hot."

"Hottest one there is, baby. Bet I look a hell of a lot better than the betas who you do this with."

"Actually, you're the first guy I've ever done this with."

"Shit, really?!" he asks, sitting up in his chair, shocked. "You haven't done this with anyone else?"

"Nope, just you."

He smirks. "Damn, I'm really special then. I'll pay you extra if you promise not to do this with anyone else."

"Well, you are my best paying customer."

"Hell yeah I am. Nobody's better than me, baby."

Oh my god, he's insufferable

"Well, I gotta go. Gotta get some sleep for work tomorrow."

"This isn't your full time job?"

"No, this is just a side gig."

"Damn, we'll have to fix that."

You don't know what he means, but you say your goodbyes and end the call

You're exhausted from having to work so much, but you're finally done and you take a shower to relax.

You start getting more donations after that, more frequent and larger amounts

You also start getting gifts in your P.O. box, pretty dresses and lingerie and sex toys

YOU EVEN GET A SEX MACHINE WTF

You know who's sending all of this bc he always makes it known to you 🙄

He's so smug about it too

Think of me when you use this

He's a pain lol

But you appreciate the gifts and make him more videos as thanks

You also do more requested video calls with him, wearing the clothes and using the toys he got you

He makes you praise him most of the time, telling him how handsome and muscular he is, how his cock is so big, all that junk

You eventually find his main account on twitter and realize what a misogynistic piece of shit he is

He hasn't changed since he met you, always criticizing women and what they do, telling others how to be alpha men, stupid bullshit

But behind the scenes he's just a simp for you, giving you a big part of his paycheck every month

You still keep your job but pretend that onlyfans is now your fulltime job, just to get him off your back

He gets so smug thinking that he's supporting your entire lifestyle 😒

And then one day you get another request, this one being the highest amount he's offered you so far

thestrongest#1: i want to collab irl

So... what do you do?

[all444glo]

𝙋𝙊𝙄𝙎𝙊𝙉

“Girl you do damage to me”

📷:You’re a former athlete turned rising sports journalist, and you met Anthony Edwards while covering the 2024–25 season. By Christmas, you were inseparable. But even love couldn’t protect you from the kind of betrayal that follows men with too many cameras and too much access.

⚠️ ||makeup sex, unprotected sex, light choking, hair pulling, possessive dialogue, breeding kink, stomach pressure, praise and degradation, mentions of cheating (past), toxic relationship dynamics, strong language blah blah blah

The bass of the after-party pulsed through my chest, but my body wasn’t moving. I sat at the bar in a ed hardy crop top and cheetah print skirt that clung to my thighs, sipping something pink and sweet, smiling politely when anyone came up to speak. My camera crew had already dipped. My manager texted me three times to “network,” but I’d stopped trying to force a good time two hours ago.

I should’ve been happy. This was the biggest moment of my career so far—an invite to cover the Western Conference Finals, interviews with players, press passes, private dinners, free fits, the whole dream package. I had footage to edit, a podcast to record, brand deals to lock in… but my head was stuck on him.

Anthony Edwards had played his ass off. Forty-two points in Game 5. As usual he pissed everybody off, but played so well you couldn’t tell him shit. Carried the Wolves, and then went straight-faced into the press conference like it was just another Tuesday. I watched him answer every question with that cocky smile and pretend like nothing phased him. Not even me, seated front row, scribbling notes like him and I didn’t have a devastating breakup weeks ago.

I'd ignored the blogs. The Twitter whispers. The random girl tagging herself at his crib with a caption that said “he love it here” Everyone warned me. “All athletes are the same .” “You know he’s a whore.”

But I didn’t care about any of that.

That was the problem. I looked past the chain and the smirk and the shit-talking and saw Anthony, the one who rubbed my feet while I edited videos on deadline and kissed my shoulder before he left for road trips. I thought he was different because he said he liked me for my brain before my ass. Stupid.

“Y/N.”

My eyes snapped up, of course he was here.

He had on a black tee, low gold chain, and sweatpants that screamed “I just threw this on.” Although He did look good—too good. Too tall. Too smug.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” he said, sliding next to me at the bar.

“I didn’t come for you,” I replied instantly.

He smirked. “Didn’t say you did.”

I sipped my drink and didn’t look at him.

“You could at least say congrats.”

“Congrats,” I muttered sarcastically, glancing at his lips, then away. “You played great. Amazing, actually. MVP-worthy.”

He leaned on his elbows, his voice low. “That pride shit is gon be the death of you, but let me not talk to you crazy. I know how you get.”

I turned to him. “You still mad I said you weren’t media trained on my podcast?”

He laughed. “You still mad I said being an influencer ain’t a real job?”

I tilted my head. “It’s funny. I actually work for a living. You just bounce a ball and cheat.”

That made his jaw tick.

“You still believe that bullshit?”

“She posted you in her bed, Anthony.”

He scoffed. “After you ghosted me for a week and went to that Spotify summit with your lil media friends.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault you couldn’t keep your dick to yourself?”

He leaned in closer, breath warm against my cheek. “You act like you ain’t miss it.”

I scrunched my nose up at him, looking him up and down. His self prostitution always disgusted me. Anthony probably thought his dick had more value than his actual ability to play basketball. I put a few bills on the counter and walked out, needing to get away from the tension in the club.

Outside the club, the cool air hit me like a slap. I was already calling my Uber when he followed me out.

“I’m not letting this be the last time we talk,” he said.

I didn’t even turn around. “You already did that when you let someone else fuck you.”

He sighed. “I know I messed up, you keep punishing me instead of moving forward”

“I’m moving forward, by moving on Anthony“

He stepped in front of me. “Y/N—”

“What?”

“I miss you. And I ain’t gon’ lie like I don’t still think about you every damn day.”

“You think I give a fuck about you missing me?”

“I’m saying I want to fix this.”

I laughed. “With your dick? With your money? With your petty insults? With what Ant?”

I felt my eyes get heavy. I was tearing up outside of one of the biggest events in my career field, how embarrassing? “You could’ve just left me alone, I really don’t understand—”

He ran a hand over his face. “I ain’t come here to fight.”

“I don’t care what you came here to do, I don’t want you here in general”

That one hit.

He went quiet for a moment, staring at me like I’d slipped through his fingers.

“I ain’t never love nobody like I loved you,” he finally said.

I blinked back the sting in my eyes. “And I ain’t never hate nobody like I hate you.”

My Uber pulled up, and I turned to leave.

“Y/N,” he called after me.

I paused. Only a little.

“Let me come up. Just to talk.”

I exhaled, throat tight. “You get five minutes.”

I unlocked the door to my room and tossed my stuff to the side. I didn’t even take off my shoes before I turned around.

“You cheated. I trusted you.”

He stepped forward. “You ain’t never really trusted me.”

“You made me feel like I could have! You made me feel safe—then you let the internet treat me like a clown.”

“I defended you—”

“Where? In private? Quietly? While you let people say I was just some IG bitch who got lucky?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “I was tryna protect you.”

“Don’t flip it,” I snapped. “You let the media drag my name, let people call me a clout chaser while you were out here smiling in post-game interviews.”

He crossed his arms. “Y/N Please. Let’s not act like Ian make yo name jump. You were just doing youtube relationship recaps showing all 32 until we—”

“Wow.” My chest hollowed. “That’s sick.”

He shrugged. “Tell me I’m lying.”

“I have a whole master’s degree, Anthony. A real one. Not honorary. Not gifted. I did the work—publications, bylines, panel talks—before you ever followed me. Don’t ever try me like I’m some groupie bitch you elevated.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Say it again,” I challenged. “Say you made me. I dare you.”

He stepped closer, jaw tight. “I ain’t mean it like that.”

“No—you did. And you know what? That’s what hurts the most. Not the cheating, not the girls in your phone. It’s that deep down, you really believe I need you to be something.”

He didn’t say anything. His breathing was heavy. So was mine.

“You really think after all this I don’t care?”

“I think you care about yourself, and you wanna keep me around—“

“I still read every damn article you publish. I know when you’re faking a smile on camera. I saw that whole Pour Minds interview—you looked sad as hell even while smiling with your favorite people.”

I looked up at him, stunned, silent.

“You think you slick, Y/N? I love you—even when you try so hard to make the fucking media think I don’t .”

My chest heaved. “I hate you.”

He leaned down, his lips a breath from mine. “Then why are you still letting me stand here?”

I kissed him first.

Harsh. Angrily. Like I hated his guts but couldn’t keep my hands off of him.

He caught my face in his hands and kissed me back like he missed the taste of my mouth. Like he'd been starving. His hands roamed my waist, my thighs, gripping and releasing like he didn’t know where to hold on.

He spun me around, pressing me against the door, tongue licking into my mouth like he needed to silence everything we hadn’t said.

“You look so fucking good,” he whispered, teeth grazing my neck. “You wylin for what, knowing damn well you coming home .”

“You’re still not forgiven,” I breathed.

“I know.” His hands slid under my skirt, gripping my ass fingers grazing the growing wetness in my underwear. “But that pussy forgave me”

I moaned as he lifted me, carrying me to the bed, laying me down like I was still a doll he was scared to break. He stripped me slow, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered, whispering variations of , “You still mine” “I Love you.” “You so pretty”

“Open ,” he demanded. I hesitated just to spite him, but he didn’t flinch. “Don’t make me ask again.”

I giggled lightly and spread my legs.

The first lick was soft. Gentle. A tease.

But by the third? He was eating me like he’d gone starving since the last time. Hands gripping my thighs, tongue deep and sloppy and deliberate. What Anthony lacked in overall decorum, he made up for in the bedroom.

“Mmmm,” I gasped.

“You still don’t want me?,” he said, rising to kiss me, my taste lingering on his lips. “You still hate me?”

I nodded furiously, only to be grabbed by Anthony suddenly. He had that same smirk on his face, such a prideful man. He loved when he had a point to prove.

He flipped me over, ass up, face down, the way he knew made me melt and rage at the same time.

“You mad, huh?” he muttered as he slid in, slow and thick, my breath hitching with every inch. “Mad as fuck I still feel this good.”

“Ooo you get on my nerves.” I teased

“And you love it.” His hand gripped my throat from behind, bending my back toward him like a bow. “This pussy made for me. She don’t want nobody else.”

He pushed deep and stayed there, grinding into me slow. “Tell me it’s not mine.”

I couldn’t—I wouldn’t

“Go ahead tell me Y/N.”

“You ain’t shit,” I whispered.

“But It’s mine, ain’t it?” he whispered back, voice raw.

His hand slid down my stomach, pressing firm. “You feel that?” he muttered. “That’s me. Deep in this shit. Where I belong.”

He leaned down to my ear, breath warm.

“Finna get sixty acres with you. Our own land. Compound. Goats and shit. You barefoot in our garden pregnant with my fifth.”

“Stop! I told you bout that shit!—,” I hissed, knowing his intentions.

“Hush.” His fingers forcing their way into my mouth, I sucked them on instinct.

Lord we knew each other so well.

He started snapping his hips harder, meaner, but still with that sick, rhythmic control. Every thrust a punctuation mark. I met him just as hard, matching it out of spite, out of need, out of a love i’d never say out loud.

He came in me with a growl, chest pressed to my back, still whispering filth and fantasies.

Afterward, he collapsed beside me, both of us catching our breath, the room silent except for the faint hum of the city.

I turned my back to him. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

He pulled me close anyway, hand sliding up my thigh. “Yeah, yeah you still ain’t told me to leave.”

“Shut up.”

“Still mad?”

“I will always be mad.”

He kissed the side of my neck. “And I’mma always love you.”

I didn’t answer. But I didn’t move either.

I knew Anthony loved me, he always showed it but I knew I couldn’t trust him. But lord knows I could try.

I reached back, grabbed his hand, and pressed it to my belly.

“Sixty acres?”

“Minimum,” he whispered.

[sumbarbietingz]

My bodyguard (+18)

Pic credit: Cinnabus on Twitter and inspiration for the story

• One shot smut, bodyguard!tojixblack!fem character, brat taming, age diff, foreplay, hair pulling, choking, degradation and praise, rough sex, squirting, creampie •

• Words count: 4,7k •

(The nword is said sometimes, I’m black yall no worries😭)

By the way, this is my first fanfic in years and my first smut ever so be kind😭 sorry for the potential grammatical errors too! And I just got off my period I'm horny as a bitch so eh you already know

Mazikeen or Maze Washington is a spoiled brat from a rich family. Her father Sean Washington is a rich and famous businessman who’s a ruthless man at work, but somehow, unable to handle his 21 yo daughter. For her safety, she has to go outside the house with a bodyguard at any time, but Maze always manages to make the man quit his job, that’s how unbearable she is. That poor Sean can’t even count how many bodyguards Maze had. And he knows she’s doing it on purpose because she absolutely hates having someone following her 24/7, he understands how annoying it must be but no matter how many times he tries to reason with her, she just doesn’t give a flying fuck. One day his associate talks about this very effective bodyguard that would be perfect for Maze and won’t put up with her bullshit. Despite being kind of doubtful he still takes the shot and contacts him, at this point, he ain’t got nothing to lose. A few days later after an interview and everything that comes with it, Toji becomes Maze’s new bodyguard, and Sean deeply hopes that he will be able to handle her. After making him sign his contract, he texts her to come downstairs and meet her new bodyguard. After something like 10 minutes, she still takes her sweet ass time to walk down the steps. As she goes down, she notices the man next to her father. And Jesus Christ, he’s probably the most handsome man she has ever seen. He’s so huge and muscular, he got on a tight ass black shirt that molds his huge pecs and his 6 pack abs perfectly. His arms would probably crush a watermelon too. She turns her attention back to her father before she gets too flustered.

Maze: "Who’s that?"

Sean: "Toji Fushiguro, your new bodyguard"

Maze dramatically groans. When is it gonna end?!

Maze: "Ugh! Dad really?"

Sean: sighs "Yes young lady. And trust me this one is very different from the others."

She rolls her eyes. She won’t argue cause deep down she knows it’s gonna end up the same way. She shrugs

Maze: "Okay whatever"

Sean turns to Toji

Sean: "I’m counting on you Toji. Take care of her and don’t be intimidated by her bratty behavior"

Toji nods

Toji: "No worries sir Washington, it won’t be an issue"

Sean nods and leaves them to go back to his office. Toji has been looking at Maze the whole time. Her outfit leaves not much to the imagination. It’s a tight and short jumpsuit that has a deep cleavage on it. She’s an absolute bombshell. Her brown skin is so clear and looks smooth, her facial features are beautiful, her curly hair is in a high ponytail, and her curves? Her boobs would probably still be too big for his huge hands, she got these childbearing hips… and the fact that she’s a bratty little bitch will make everything more fun. Maze notices how he looks at her and raises an eyebrow

Maze: "The fuck you’re looking at nigga?"

Toji chuckles. Ohhh this is gonna be fun

Toji: "I can’t look at you when you got an outfit that shows your tits almost completely? I might be your bg, but I’m still a man and I got eyes."

Maze huffs. He got some audacity

Maze: "Well you should stop. It’s weird as fuck."

Toji: "Look who’s talking. I saw you checking me out when you were walking down the stairs. I know you like what you see"

She rolls her eyes. Ugh was it that obvious? She shrugs it off

Maze: "tsk. Whatever. I wanna go shopping"

She starts walking towards the door of the mansion and Toji follows behind her. As he finally gets to see her from the back, his suspicions are confirmed. By seeing her hips he figured that she had a fat ass too and boy she had one. Every step she makes makes her shit bounce and recoil. It looks so… fuckable… he licks his lips thinking about what kind of fun they could have but his main priority is still to protect her.

After a while, they’re at the mall, and she obviously attracts all the attention. From her skimpy outfit revealing her luscious body, to her Hermes purse, her ridiculously big and shiny Rolex with red rubies on the bezel, the last iPhone she keeps her eyes on… everything screams that she’s a walking bank account. She already went to at least 5 boutiques, from regular stores to buy skimpy outfits to designer ones to get new shoes or bags. Toji had to deal with her bratty behavior the entire time, but he still does his job and scans his surroundings for potential threats, but it’s becoming hard to do so when two gigantic cheeks are hitting each other and basically begging him to grab and smack them, it’s like her ass got a mind on its own. He takes a deep breath and tries to not think about clapping her ass chee-

Maze: "Hey you." She turns around and stops walking

Toji slightly shakes his head getting out of his naughty thoughts

Toji: "What’s up?"

She hands him her bags

Maze: "Take ‘em"

He raises an eyebrow

Toji: "I’m your bodyguard, not your butler princess"

"Princess". God why does she loves that pet name and the way it rolls off his tongue so effortlessly?

Maze: "Okay but take it. You’re still my employee"

He crosses his arms

Toji: "I’m your father's employee, not yours. You won’t boss me around like you did with your previous weaklings and the people around you."

Maze: "Listen up Tijo."

Toji rolls his eyes again

Toji: "It’s Toji."

Maze: "Tai chi or whatever. Your broke ass got a job because of me, so be thankful that you’ll get to pay your bills this month and grab my goddamn bags."

Toji is starting to lose patience. He doesn’t respond, cause if he does, he’ll probably say something that will get him fired on his first day. So he simply stares at Maze and she stares back, for at least a good minute. Eventually, she huffs and grabs her phone from her purse.

Toji: "What are you doing?"

Maze keeps her attention to her phone

Maze: "Getting an Uber. I’m going to my friend’s house. I’m out of here."

Toji huffs

Toji: "Are you throwing a tantrum over the fact that I won’t take your bags?"

Maze: "Shut up old man. I wanted to do that anyway."

Toji rolls his eyes

Toji: "Why are you taking an Uber? I can get you there"

Maze: "Because I don’t want you to come with me OBVIOUSLY" She shakes her head in disbelief as if it was absolutely obvious that she doesn’t want him to come with her

Toji: "Yeah. It’s not gonna happen princess. I’m your bodyguard and your father said-"

She cuts him off

"I don’t care what my dad says. I don’t your creepy old ass up my ass 24/7. Nigga go take care of your kids and wife instead, you old bitch."

Toji stays silent. This bratty attitude was fun for a moment but now she’s really starting to push his buttons. He didn’t want to do this now but it’s time for the spoiled little princess to learn her lesson. He grabs her wrist and drags her outside the mall towards the nearest hotel he can find despite her resistance and protests.

Maze: "What the hell?! Let go of me you-"

Toji cuts her off

Toji: "Could you shut the fuck up for once in your goddamn life?"

Maze grunts and tries to get off his grip but goddamnit he’s so strong, and resisting just makes her wrist hurt more so she gives up and lets him drag her wherever he wants to go. They arrive at a quite luxurious hotel and the receptionist makes a confused face when he sees them. Toji asks for a room and of course, tells Maze to pay for it. Once it’s done he drags her again towards the room in question. He opens the door and pushes her inside as he closes the door behind them. She stumbles and drops her bags and purse on the floor. She barely has time to react when Toji comes behind her, grabs her by her throat and at the base of her ponytail, and approaches her ear.

Toji: "Listen. Your dad pays me an insane amount of money to make sure his stupid spoiled bitch daughter doesn’t end up dead. You’re not gonna fuck up my bag. If that means fucking your brains out until you behave, then this is what I’m gonna do"

She gasps when she feels his hands on her and she can feel her pussy getting wetter from hearing him. She loves how he manhandles her. The smell of his cologne fills her nose, his warm breath sends a shiver down her spine… she bites her lip in anticipation. Toji notices that and chuckles

Toji: "You like this don’t you? Being tamed by a strong man like me who knows how to handle little bitches like you mmh?"

She nods, she always had a degradation and praise kink and hearing him right now was pure bliss to her. He whispers in her ear

Toji: "Say it"

She feels weak, she licks her upper lip as she responds, her voice a bit shaky

Maze: "I love when real men like you handle bitches like me…"

God she could feel herself getting wetter by saying that. Toji hums in satisfaction, his excitement growing in his pants and against her ass. He lets go of her hair and neck and pushes her cleavage down, revealing her big breasts. He growls as he starts playing with them

Maze moans softly, her titties have always been a sensitive part of her body and she loves when they get attention. She can feel Toji’s big hands massaging her boobs and it just feels so good. Then he starts playing with her nipples and she can’t help but moan a little louder

Toji can feel himself getting harder as he listens to her, her moans sound like harmony as he plays with these sensitive little nipples. They’re so small, it’s cute to him. Then he lifts her tit towards her mouth

Toji: "Lick."

She automatically listens to him, lowers her head, and starts licking her nipple, her tongue swirling on it. Toji groans at the scene before him and joins her. His tongue finding the sensitive skin along with Maze’s tongue. They keep touching each other and she feels like she’s going to explode. The sensation of his tongue against hers as they both dance on her nipple is driving her crazy and she can feel her panties getting drenched. Then he grabs her boob in his mouth and tugs at it before releasing it with a pop. He turns Maze around and sees her half lidded eyes. He can tell how badly she wants him.

Toji: "On your knees." He orders

She nods and does what he tells her to do. He looks down at her, looking at this needy expression on her face, she looks so fucking hot, looking like that on her knees. He doesn’t even need to tell her what to do that she’s already undressing him. Mmm, what a cock hungry slut.

She pulls his grey sweatpants and boxers down and she almost yells when she sees it. Her jaw drops to the floor. She can’t believe this size exists in real life. It’s not only long, but it’s also thick as hell and the veins are pulsing, it’s the kind of dick that will stretch you out. She looks down and sees that his balls are twice the size of ping-pong balls. Oh, Christ can she really handle all that?

Toji notices her reaction and chuckles. It’s the same thing every time a woman sees him for the first time. He knows she’s probably asking herself how she’s gonna fit everything in

Toji: "Are you planning to suck my dick or you’re gonna stay with your mouth agape the whole day?"

She shakes her head and braces herself. She starts giving kisses along the length, the head, the frenulum, taking her time. Toji sighs softly, loving how she’s not directly sucking it and going crazy on him yet. After a while she’s licking his head and frenulum, sucking his cock, struggling to go all the way in so she uses her hands to stroke the part she can’t reach, and sucks the other half, saliva already dripping from her mouth

Toji groans, his hand reaching the base of her ponytail again

Toji: "Pretty sure you can do better than that princess. Show me how these dick sucking lips and that long tongue of yours can do"

All this dirty talk turns her on so badly, but he’s right. She has enough experience to know that she can do better than that but good luck going all the way down with that monster dick. She braces herself again and forces herself to take him deeper, the tip of his cock already triggering her sensitive gag reflex. All it takes is two back and forth and her tears are already leaving her eyes, ruining her makeup. She gags but keeps going, the saliva drenching his dick and her cheeks. She looks at him with half lidded eyes, a runny nose, and makeup ruined by tears.

Toji growls with pleasure and seeing her in that state is not only hot as fuck, but also hella satisfying. Seeing that bratty bitch in such a submissive state fills him with joy.

Toji: "Look at you. Do you still think you can boss me around? Mmm… we might do this more often. Seems like this mouth ain’t only good for talking shit but also for giving good blowjobs uh princess?"

If she wasn’t using her hands to support herself she would’ve already started rubbing her aching clit. Now she decides to go all the way. She goes back and forth faster, twisting her head while doing so, gaging again and again as she groans and makes aggressive, almost animalistic slurping and sucking sounds to the point it sounds like she’s speaking in tongues, making his dick dripping with saliva. With her hand, she cups and plays with his massive balls already slick with spit.

Toji pants from the sensations and the sounds, this is the best neck he had in a while and all these slurping, sucking, and groaning sounds are gonna make him cum too quickly.

Toji: panting "Alright stop princess, get in the bed and undress."

She takes his dick out of her mouth, strings of saliva linking his dick to her lips. She’s panting a bit, her already plump lips swollen, the bottom red… she looks an absolute mess. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and stands up, her legs feeling a bit weak from being on her knees. She walks towards the bed and takes her shoes off, and once she’s sitting she takes off her jumpsuit. Not only she didn’t have a bra (which is understandable with that outfit) but she also had no panties on. Toji observes her body, it looks even better naked. It takes everything in him to not just fuck her right there and then, but for some reason he wants her to enjoy it too even though she doesn’t deserve it after being such a bitch to him all day. He takes off his clothes too and Maze feels like a dog in heat when she sees him fully naked. He looks like a fucking Greek god. Everything about him is perfect. His face, his body, his XXL monster dick… she can feel her pussy throbbing in anticipation. Toji comes to the bed on top of her, his huge body caging her much smaller one. His hand starts caressing her waist, the touch making her shiver. Before she can say anything his lips finally find hers, and she moans once she gets to know what he tastes like. Toji kisses her slowly and sensually as he tastes the both of them. His tongue quickly finds hers again as they dance together, a slow dance quickly turning into a battle for dominance. Maze grips his broad shoulders, fuck she wants more of him, she needs so much more… she feels him tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth, which makes her aching for his touch even more. And suddenly she feels his hand leaving her waist to caress his way to her dripping wet core. She shivers in excitement then lets out a gasp that’s followed by a moan once his fingers start rubbing her clit in slow, circular motions.

Maze: "Mmmh…. fuck… Toji…."

Toji: "So now you know my name uh?"

Maze can’t respond, she suddenly feels embarrassed for pretending to not know when now she’s moaning the very name she was disrespecting. All she can do is moan.

Toji kisses and licks her neck as he keeps playing with her little pussy.

Toji: "You want more?"

Maze simply nods, and then he suddenly stops to grab her hips and flips her on her stomach, causing her to gasp in surprise. The first thing he does is finally grab this fat ass of hers. This is exactly how he imagined. It’s like squeezing two giant marshmallows. Her ass is so soft and he feels like he can play with that shit for hours. He grabs it, smacks it, and makes it recoil… fuck it feels like Jell-O in his hands. Maze on the other hand moans from the attention he’s giving to her.

Toji: "Get on your hands and knees."

She happily does as he says and arches her back. The way that drives her hookups insane. Toji curses under his breath and admires the work of art in front of him. Asses tends to look bigger in backshots but now? Her shit just straight up looks like two planets. And the way she arches her back? He’s wondering how is it even possible. He runs his hand on her ass and her back, enjoying the smoothness of her skin. In those moments he’s always glad to have a big dick because there are no issues of slipping out when dealing with a big butt. He grabs his dick and starts grinding it between her cheeks, his other hand resting on her hip.

Maze: "Please put it in me…" She begs, her voice almost a whisper as she looks over her shoulder, she’s so horny right now she might cry if she doesn’t get dicked down in the next few seconds. Toji chuckles and slides his dick on her pussy lips, the tip of his cock making out with her slick folds. Maze can’t take all of this teasing anymore. She needs him BADLY. She lets out a soft whimper

Maze: "God please Toji… I need you right now…"

Toji: "Seems like you know how to ask for something uh? Beg for me princess and I’ll give you what you need."

She takes a deep breath, she’s never felt so submissive in her life, and she sure liked that. She looks into his eyes, they’re pleading

Maze: "Please Toji, please… I’m begging you… please fuck me… I need you inside me so badly…"

Toji hums in satisfaction

Toji: "Good girl."

Finally, he starts sliding himself inside of her, and she’s so wet that it comes in easily. ‘Fuck she’s so tight’ is what he’s thinking as he dives deeper and deeper inside of her. Maze gasps in pleasure as she feels herself getting penetrated. ‘God he’s so big’ is what she’s thinking as she grips the sheets to steady herself.

Toji starts rocking his hips slowly against hers, feeling the way her tight vagina swallows him. He grunts as he hears her beautiful moans filling the room. Shortly after his pace increases, causing her to moan louder. And mind you, he’s not even fully inside her. Maze feels so good right now she can’t think about anything else but Toji giving her pleasure.

Toji: "You know I’m not all the way in right?"

And when he says that her eyes widen in shock. What do you mean he’s not fully inside her when she feels already so full?! She thought that she might have heard him wrong but no she heard that correctly. She looks over her shoulder, a face of confusion and pleasure greeting him

Toji: "You heard me. Why do you think this ass of yours is not making any noise yet?"

Damn she knew that something was kinda off. He’s really not joking. Toji has that smug look on his face

Toji: "Think you can handle it and take it like a good girl princess?"

Maze hesitates. He’s only halfway there and she already feels full as hell. But she’s not a punk. She can take it. So she nods and Toji smirks. He smacks her ass and then pushes inside, making him groan deeply and Maze almost cries out in pain and pleasure. She can’t even think about saying something that he starts going faster and harder

Toji: "That’s it. Take that fucking dick."

Maze moans louder than before as she feels Toji kissing her cervix, her moans are a mix of pain and pleasure as she feels him violating her insides. Nobody ever reached that spot and now she feels like her brain is melting. All she can do is moan and repeat the same words like a mantra ‘Oh yes, fuck, Toji, oh my god, it feels so good’ Toji looks at the way her ass bounces and makes waves from the contact of his hips, the view along with the sensation of being balls deep inside her and her loud moans make his cock twitch. He grabs and smacks her ass, his pace doesn’t decrease a bit

Toji: "You thought you could boss me around? You thought you could treat me like shit?"

Maze can’t help but moan in response, she’s unable to talk, and the pleasure overtakes her mind and body. Toji grabs her ponytail and pulls her head down. She cries out when she feels her hair being pulled, she loves that shit.

Toji: "Answer me bitch."

When he calls her a bitch, she can feel herself tightening around him. She’s barely able to form a proper sentence as she replies to him, almost mumbling

Maze: "N-no… I’m sorry Toji…" once it’s finally out she keeps moaning in pleasure, she doesn’t remember the last time a man has ever made her feel that good. Toji starts going harder, the tip of his dick slamming her cervix in violent thrusts. Maze can’t help but moan louder and louder, her already ruined makeup from the blowjob getting even more messier as tears start rolling down her face. Toji grunts as he feels how tighter she’s getting from his talk and his thrusts. She makes him feel so fucking good

Toji: "You’re still gonna act like a bratty little bitch towards me Mazikeen?" He says as he keeps giving her these punishing and powerful thrusts

She can feel herself getting tighter again as he calls her by her full name. She feels like her soul has left her body from the amount of raw pleasure Toji is giving her

Maze: "I won’t be… i promise" she mumbles out

Toji: "From now on you’re gonna stop being a pain in the ass, you’re gonna let me do my fucking job and respect me got it?" His voice is deeper than usual, the pleasure and physical effort can be heard.

All she can do is agree with him. She doesn’t have the strength to be defiant anymore with the way he fucks her so good. Toji chuckles and holds her ponytail tighter

Toji: "Look at you unable to fucking talk. Thought you could take it princess?" He taunts. All she can do is moan.

Toji: "See how it feels like to get fucked by an ‘old man’? You see the difference between me and the losers you be having?" He says his hips still slamming against her ass

Maze can only nod as she looks at the ceiling. She had good sex before but like he said, he’d fuck her brains out and this is exactly what he’s doing. She has a dumb look on her face as she takes every inch of his dick in her dripping cunt.

Toji: "You’ve never had anyone fuck you dumb like this uh? But you let that the same bodyguard you called 'creepy old and broke’ give you the best fuck of your life uh?"

God if he doesn’t shut up… all of his dirty talk is gonna make her cum very soon if he doesn’t shut the fuck up. Toji can feel himself getting close as well so he lets go of her hair to grab her ass tighter as he keeps pounding the fuck out of Maze.

Toji: "Im gonna cum princess. And just so you know, I’m not planning to pull out"

Maze feels her heart beating faster. She’s not on birth control and the idea of Toji cuming in her is terrifying but also very exciting.

Maze: "I-I’m not on bc…" she moans out

Toji: "Then pray you won’t get knocked up by your bodyguard" he replies as he keeps fucking her. He can feel her getting tighter again, the idea of him spilling his cum in her is probably very appealing to her. She wants it as much as he wants it.

Toji: "That would be too bad if you got knocked up by your bodyguard right princess? What would your father think uh" Maze bites her lip, why is he talking about that when she’s a few thrusts away from cuming?

Maze: "Don’t talk about him now…" she moans out, feeling closer and closer to the edge. Toji chuckles

Toji: "Once I cum in you, you’re mine got it? Only I get to fuck you, you heard me?"

Maze can only agree. She nods frantically as she grips the sheets so tightly she might rip them off. Toji smacks her ass hard

Toji: "Such a good little slut. Now cum for me princess. Cum on your cock"

Once she hears that it’s over. Her hand reaches her clit and all it takes is a few fast circles for her to come apart. She cries out his name loudly and she squirts all over the bedsheet, her cyprine forming a small puddle between her knees and dripping on her thighs. She sees white while she keeps panting from the intensity of the intercourse. He can’t see from his position but once she screams his name, hears something dripping on the bedsheet and feels her pussy pulsating, all it takes is a few more thrusts and he groans loudly, feeling himself spilling his cum deeply inside her, painting her cunt white. She feels the warm substance in her and she moans at the sensation, goddamn this is the hottest thing a man has ever done to her. He pulls out and they both collapse on the bed, heavily breathing from the intensity of their sex. Maze shakes a bit, feeling the cum dripping out of her. Toji lays next to her, seeing that she’s so exhausted that she apparently doesn’t mind laying on her puddle of love juice. He looks at her trembling frame, her ruined makeup and cheeks wet in tears. He smiles to himself. She’s gonna behave from now on. After a while she finally talks, her voice a bit shaky and low.

Maze: "Could you… get me a Plan B please?"

Toji smirks. She asked politely. He fucked the attitude out of her, which is gonna make his job as her bodyguard much more easier. They’re gonna have so much fun together. And he’ll probably get a promotion for finally taming his boss’ bratty daughter. That was one hell of a good first day.

Toji: "Of course princess. I’ll get you one right away"

[lilyarchived]

behind closed doors [simon "ghost" riley]

a/n: URGH this idea literally came from a silly twitter picture, PLEASE SEND ASKS YOU CAN SEE HOW DESPERATE I AM FOR IDEAS!! Also thank you for the love on my first post, you guys are awesome!

warnings: gn! reader, reader has a breakdown, jealousy, cursing, angst (to fluff), 0.7k words.

summary: you overheard a conversation that included you, and it wasn't a positive talk.

"Ghost, please. leave me alone." you whimper as you walk away from your lieutenant just following behind you. “Not until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.” he replies in that same old gruff voice since the day you met. 

You were wandering through the base, having done all the tasks Price had assigned ya. Hearing a familiar deep voice in one of the rooms, you were about to enter but a flash of hesitation hit you once you heard your name. “[mumbled] and what [scrambled] about [scrambled] [Y/N]?” muttered soap, his voice an unserious tone. You gulp, wondering if the context was negative or positive. “What about them?” your heart drops, did he really think nothing of you? Of course not, you were overthinking, you assure yourself this was just ghost being ghost. “I don’t mean to pry ya, lad. Don’t you and [mumbled] have something going on?” your smile reappears after soap’s suspicion. You were about to burst in, smiling, before hearing ghost’s voice once more. “What? No. There was never ‘anything’ between us.”

 Oh. Tears blur your vision before hearing soap say “Ah. So you’re pretty serious about this one you’ve been talking to, huh?” You run away before your heart shatters even more.

“Don’t bullshit me Simon. I heard you in there with Johnny.” You finally turn around once you’re out in the training field, only this time it was empty. You’ve never seen it this empty. What a strange sight. You bring your hands up to your head, fuzzying your hair as you scoff and fold your arms, waiting for ghost to respond. He just looks at you with those same deadpanned eyes, only this time it was laced with a confused look. “What?” he voices in a hushed manner.

 You could only fall to the rough ground as you broke down in an out-of-breath manner. Hearing Simon's footstep’s rummage through and leveling with you to hold you in his arms, his grasp tight as he hushes your cries.

“[Y/N], did you get those files i asked yo-” he barely got to finish his sentence before you dropped them at his hands and began to make your way out. “Gotta go, I'll see you later, Kyle.” you utter, quickly shutting the door behind you. “What’s up with them?” Simon asked Kyle, eyes wide with how the normally-clingy [Y/N] was now being avoidant. “You cannot be that fucking stupid, LT.” Kyle remarked. “What?” ghost asked, voice slightly raised now. Gaz scoffs, “You shit talked them to Soap, you think they wouldn’t find out?” he added. “I never said anythi- fuck. I wasn’t-” Kyle just raised an eyebrow, letting his lieutenant explain himself. “I was telling Johnny how much i like them.” Kyle drops his pen whilst smirking, clearly intrigued now. “Go after them, idiot!” he yells, as Simon bolts outside, in search of you.

And now here you were, in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. ‘How pathetic.’ you think. “Do I mean nothing to you? All those nights, those- stupid breaks I spent with you, getting to know you, nothing?” Simon’s heart aches as he hears your broken voice, feeling immense guilt creep up. “[Y/N], I was telling Johnny how I wanted to be with you.” your sobs quiet down, trying to process what he just said. “There’s no one else?” you whisper, silent cries slipping.

“Really? And what about that gyal you were talking to, Sarah? still want [Y/N]?” – “I don’t mean to pry ya, lad. Don’t you and Sarah have something going on?”

He was denying ever having ‘something’ with a different girl. It all seems foolishly funny now. You laugh through your tear stained cheeks as you punch Ghost on the chest playfully. "i hate you." your voice softer than before, if that were even possible. “It’s you, it’s always been you.” he explained, in that same old gruff voice since the day you met. Only this time, it held more emotion than ever.

[watermelonlicker]

the thing is…. like yeah i feel bad that reddit person doxxed the observer but also like… it wasn’t “harmless” fun? if you started out with the acknowledgment that it’s just a game for larries you wouldn’t have gotten the 6k followers you got. like that’s decent clout you received and it only would’ve gotten bigger had they not fucked up with that canyon post and been exposed so soon. think about that for a second…. they would’ve kept this going for a LONG time building even more followers and that’s what doesn’t sit right with me and their excuse. what exactly was your intention? like you had no intention you’re just a FAN you know nothing.

and it is absolutely bullshit that it was just “harmless fun” bcos you went on your larrie twitter to fool other larries into thinking it could be associated with louis by being the main person to point out certain things to get them to believe it therefore planting the orchestrator into someone’s mind that it was louis AND also harry and creating an aura that it was rbb & sbb 2.0.

THAT is literally manipulation and it’s not ok? and now good lord you have antis and solos all over this shit laughing at us once again and justifying themselves for bullying us further. my inbox is a mess right now and i don’t have the energy to answer any of it like yeah i had fun with the account and created some half-baked theories while i was stoned and it’s not that serious to me but not every larrie may feel the same way??

some of our softer tinier sweeter larries might’ve generally believed in it and now this “harmless fun” will make them not want to trust one of their own and make it a fandom space that’s less safe. THAT for sure is not the kind of fandom i wanted to return to and i will definitely be taking a break from being on here for a bit bcos quite frankly im almost 25 with a full time job and partner and i want to engage in a fandom that has full transparency not whatever tf this deceitful shit was.

i hope the people who did this are proud of themselves but also you better fucking check yourself before victimizing yourself bcos what you did was very rude and the repercussions of this will not be “harmless fun”

[wolfertinger999]

I want to know what is wrong with the people following and defending Salem and Wis without even attempting to ask questions or challenge their claims. Instead, falling for obvious lies and not even attempting to get stories from the actual affected parties.

Why are you listening to Wis, who wasn't even involved in the situation, but posts about it on the daily publicly to shit talk an intersex latino person that she personally dislikes and already has a bias towards? Calling them a dog, calling them a groomer when dating a 19 year old Salem as a 22 year old, yet she isn't a groomer for dating 20 year old Salem at 23? Calling them white for some reason, as if that's a negative (Sawyer is not white, they are latino), yet gets mad when you call her a "cracker". She's ACTIVELY DEFENDING A RAPIST AS OF TODAY, EVEN AFTER ADMITTING SHE WAS IN THE WRONG. Even though the rapist Mari/MeggieBun admitted she raped Sawyer. And the rapist THAT WIS DEFENDS calling Wis "ugly", a "gooner", and that she "should kill herself". She will use ANY terms or lies to downplay Sawyer. Using TME as if that fucking matters in a situation like this.

Salem says nothing at all now, because he knows if he gets involved, his audience will keep digging. He's a part of it, whether or not he speaks up. Just as he didn't want to speak up about his shared groomer ex with Sawyer, Torin. He allows his girlfriend to speak lies on his exes name because he dislikes them. He is AWARE this is happening, and will not interact with Wis' posts about Sawyer. No intervention is still bad. Centrist bullshit. He's also interacting with a 16 year old minor a few days after the wolfertinger account pointed it out, when this happened in the past already. He ONLY responds to art criticisms or "hate", nothing else. That's the only way to prove he sees this account. He responds to almost every art criticism posted here, almost out of pettiness, through a vague post or a new drawing. Notice how his art almost always mirrors posts here, a day or a few after it's posted? It's fucking embarrassing. His pettiness runs deeper, trying his hardest to piss Sawyer off by making ripoffs of an oc he gifted them in 2022, Pepper.

They both claim to despise "pedojacketing", but will happily do it to Sawyer constantly, just to get away with it constantly because their fans blindly support them.

You have all of the evidence hand-fed to you, and you choose to side with terrible people because you cannot FATHOM losing access to mid furry porn. Use your resources. You literally don't need to use KiwiFarms for this. These accounts are full of evidence if you need them. PLEASE fucking try. Many screenshots are submitted and taken by me, or very rarely, from Twitter accounts I've nabbed them from who have been around for past issues, such as the Kungfurevvv/Kung Fu Revvy anti Asian racism situation, which only one person ever got a screenshot of.

Type keywords. It's so easy. I am begging. I will type some for you.

"racist" "racism" "nazi" "groomer" "grooming" "rape" "rapist" "lying" "liar" "admitted"

There are more. Think of some, and type it in. You can also view the archive if you'd like an overall view.

Use these blogs. If you don't trust screenshots, I don't know what you want me to say? You can talk to Wis or Salem directly and try to get a story from them if you'd like. Screenshots, a solid timeline, something. I doubt they'll have anything for you but a wall of text, snarky replies, or getting upset at you because you don't trust them. You will get blocked, though. You will also get blocked if you interact with this post, so be careful. You will also be on their radar forever.

I also never condone harassment, death threats, or anything of the sort. Be civil, be normal. Be upset, because these people are lying to you and many sit there and allow it to happen.

Evidence blogs:

@wolfertinger

@bunnyhazedayz

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: february 2025

I can't believe that with all the bullshit nonsense of this year I've managed to read ten book a month for two months in a row. it's not on purpose but it's crazy that it's happened twice!

what have I been reading?

The Art of Frugal Hedonism: A Guide to Spending Less While Enjoying Everything More (Annie Raser-Rowland w/ Adam Grubb, 2017; audiobook read by Alice Ansara, 2024) - this was my first audiobook, and it was a doozy. the short version is that this book sucked and made me so, so mad. I really hoped to have my scathing haterade-fueled review up on patreon by now so that I could link it, but that hasn't panned out because I just have too much to say about these out of touch cunts offering the world's least qualified financial advice. "just take a leisurely twelve hour hike to a train station instead of going on vacation" kill yourself!!!

The Age of Magical Overthinking: Notes on Modern Irrationality (Amanda Montell, 2024) - I quite liked Montell's previous book, Cultish, but unfortunately I fear Magical Overthinking was a bit of a flop for me. I can't help but feel that the ideal target demographic is extremely anxious women in their teens and early 20s who need a compassionate explanation of why they should spend less time on Twitter and TikTok, and I'm afraid that shrimply isn't me.

The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World (Robin Wall Kimmerer, 2024; audiobook read by the author) - this was, unintentionally, a lovely little counterpoint to Frugal Hedonism. where Raser-Rowland and Grubb focus deeply on individual consumption habits and have a bad penchant of commodifying human interaction, Potawatomi botanist Kimmerer emphasizes the need for structural environmental change that can come by embracing Indigenous models of viewing the earth and its resources as members of crucial members of the family deserving of respect. a thoughtful and lovely balm to the bullshit!

My Year of Rest and Relaxation (Ottessa Moshfegh, 2018) - a book about the original queen of giving us nothing, as our protagonist goes to increasingly drastic lengths to spend as much time as possible asleep and disengaged from anything more complicated than acquiring more prescription pills. what can I say? I love books about miserable rich white women rotting in their own self-absorption.

Don't Want You Like a Best Friend (Emma R. Alban, 2024) - this was my patreonites' pick for my romance novel of the month, and I'll admit I went in nervous - historical romance novels are often not my thing, and the Taylor Swift lyric for the title was a red flag. but you know what? this was a romp. I was entertained. dare I say I was even charmed. sure, it falls into the common historical queer romance pitfall of emphasizing the vague threat of period-typical homophobia while assuring us that every important character just so happens to be startlingly cool with homosexuality, but whatever - I didn't come here to see these girls get hatecrimed by their own parents, alright? I wasn't planning to read the sequel, but it turns out it's a VERY direct follow up where the girls from this book hatch an INSANE plan to (SPOILER ALERT) get their male cousins to fall in gay love so that they can lavender marry each other's cousins and live happily ever after. INSANE! I love it here.

Dawn (Octavia E. Butler, 1987) - on the one hand, I'm a little heartbroken. this marks the beginning of the last of Butler's series that I haven't read; after Adulthood Rites and Imago, I'll have read everything she published in her too-short life, with no new works to look forward to ever again. but on the other hand: MAN, am I glad I saved this one for last. this book has it all: humanity's near-extinction. aliens. psychic tentacle threesomes. maybe the biggest L that any of Butler's heroines ever took. it's wild out here! cannot wait to see where we're going with this.

Iron Widow (Xiran Jay Zhao, 2021) - this was a reread to prep for the sequel, Heavenly Tyrant, which came out in December, and MAN am I glad I decided to check back in with the first book. I really thought I remembered the broad strokes of the plot well enough, but I really did not remember just how blood-spittingly bugfuck viscous Zetian and her two boyfriends are. of the three people in this throuple, the nicest one is the guy who murdered his brothers and dad in cold blood. and I think that's awesome! cannot wait to see what these absolute freaks are up to now, and my hold cannot come into the library quickly enough.

Pardon My Frenchie (Farrah Rochon, 2024) - okay. listen. on paper I shouldn't like this book. the male love interest is boring at best and a full-blown shithead at worst. the biggest driver of the plot is the love interests' dogs going crazy levels of viral. the sex is minimal and nothing to write home about. and yet. AND YET. our female lead, Ashanti, is simply so charming and earnest and plucky that I adored her immediately. girl lost both her parents on the same day, had to drop out of veterinary school to raise her twin younger sisters, and is struggling to run the world's most plush doggy day care AND run a successful side business selling homemade dog biscuits. truly I just want anything to go right for her, ever. she's never even been eaten out prior to this book, and that makes me so, SO sad for her. I may not like her boyfriend, but at least he'll get her off, and that counts for something. overall, it's Ashanti's storyline about learning how to prioritize what's important to her and let some obligations go instead of clinging madly to everything that really got me through and won me over. plus, this book bypassed by usual kneejerk dislike of obnoxiously cutesy plot device pets in romance novels by making the dogs actually completely integral to the story and the characters - Ashanti is hugely defined by her adoration of every dog she meets - in a way that I really enjoy. will I read the upcoming sequel, Pugs and Kisses? fuck it. maybe.

White Feminism: From the Suffragettes to Influencers and Who They Leave Behind (Koa Beck, 2019) - Beck's book falls in a really sweet spot of building very well on a lot of feminism 101 to actually meaningfully discuss new concepts without being redundant. okay, yes, you've heard "white feminism" is bad, but do you know why? Beck has some of the most well laid-out explanations I've ever encountered, thoroughly detailing the ways in which white feminism reject collectivist anti-capitalist action in favor of individual advancement within the status quo. plus there is, as promised, a great historical throughline, contrasting the actions of historical middle and upper class white feminists against those of actions largely headed up by women who are Black, brown, Jewish, and/or immigrants who served entire communities. the takedown of "lean in" office girlboss culture is particularly killer.

Acts of Service (Lillian Fishman, 2022) - a short novel, ideal for reading in a couple hours if you love mess and happen to be trapped in various airports and flights with not much else to do! I was expecting another entry in the obnoxiously disaffected young woman genre and was pleasantly surprised by how curious and engaged our protagonist, Eve, actually is! much like Edie of Luster, I think she's gonna be alright once this deranged throuple situation blows over. ultimately I don't know if the conclusion of the novel hit for me as well as Luster did, and when I got to the end of the book I did kind of find myself going damn... and what was the point of all that? I have no idea, but it was well-crafted and I'm glad that I didn't read this like six months ago because it probably would have killed me with toxic horny poisoning at that point in my life. I'm normal now.

[todayisdeadinside]

I DMed Gina (Twopoppies)

As most of you know by now, I vehemently hate Gina. She defended her child groomer friend tvshows-addict back in 2017, that event was brought to my attention a few weeks ago, and I spoke about it on my blog. Most of her friends blocked me at that point, and the only reason Gina hadn't is because I blocked her first. But the fact that she defended a child groomer and aided in silencing the victim isn't actually the focus of this post at all.

The focus of this post is the fact that Gina has recently began pushing the morally, medically, scientifically false narrative that being a fan of Louis is the same as being in an abusive relationship dynamic. I have sources to prove her wrong, but common sense also does the trick for those of us who aren't preoccupied with sucking her dick.

Here is her post, the one that prompted my dm, and the one that's been prompting the Gina-related anons I've been recieving lately:

Let's break it down, shall we? Firstly, here is the tweet everyone is losing their goddamn minds over:

Fact: He refers to twitter as a "weird place." He says twitter feels "extra toxic these days."

Fact: Neither of those statements are directed at any particular twitter user, fandom, side of the fandom, or person in general. They are directed at an app on the whole.

Twitter is toxic. It's literally owned by a nazi. Louis is not saying anything that is untrue. In fact, he's putting it very mildly. And I could argue about why I personally don't believe he wrote that tweet, but let's just assume for the sake of discussion that he did. It's not a violent tweet, it isn't calling for violence, it's not derogatory towards any of his fans, and it reads as an offhand observation of how twitter tends to feel more than anything.

If anyone else on the planet earth had made that tweet, even one of the other boys, this overreaction would not be happening.

Now, into Gina's post.

Her anon starts off by stating that twitter is a toxic cesspool, a statement that completely agrees with what Louis' tweet said. So they're in agreement, right? There shouldn't be an issue? Oh, but with Louis haters, there's always an issue.

The anon goes on to say that they believe Louis was tweeting about some sect of his fans because of his instagram post. The instagram post being referenced is his Costa Rica studio pics, the ones captioned "Pura Vida." Nothing to do with twitter, or fans, or toxicity. Just an LT3 update.

"For a while now, his MO seems to be punches followed quickly by soothing pats." Since when? Evidence? Louis has done nothing recently but appear in fan selfies in Costa Rica, tweet hints about his upcoming album, and do whatever contractually obligated stunt bullshit he has to do with Zara. Maybe the anon is an idiot, and is referring to the stunt? That would make sense considering Gina has been pushing the false narrative that Louis is stunting for shits and giggles. If you want my deep dive thoughts on that, check my Mcdumblinson tag, or maybe my Louis Closet tag. Stunting and closeting is not a choice.

"A tongue-lashing on twitter followed by a photo dump." The 'tongue-lashing' being... him saying twitter feels weird lately and more toxic than usual. If that's a 'tongue-lashing' to you, then you've lived a VERY happy life. Hell, even if the anon is referring to some other time when Louis followed a tweet spree with insta photos, in what world is that abusive? Even if the tweets were less-than-positive. The plot has been severely lost.

"or a night out at the bar snapping photos with fans coming on the heels of a fan blocking spree." Louis is allowed to block whoever he wants to on social media, for any reason. You have no idea why he may block someone, even someone who is a fan of his. There are plenty of assholes in this fandom who I have blocked, is that abuse too? Again, these examples the anon is giving to define why they're saying Louis is behaving abusively are factually not abusive. Blocking someone on social media is not abuse, it's a self-curation method that quite literally every single person and every single celebrity on the planet who has a social will utilize at some point.

"It's not dissimilar to the patterns of behavior abusers engage in." Wanna try that one again? Because you are factually incorrect. You are wrong. That is not my opinion, that is a fact. Louis is not your personal friend or relative, he is not personally attacking you in any way. Tweeting about how twitter sucks? Everyone agrees with that, even the anon agrees with that, so why and HOW would that be abusive behavior? Posting studio pics? He's a musician, what are you expecting? Blocking people? Literally a form of self-care and only POTENTIALLY considered emotional abuse if you are someone's personal friend or partner and they are using blocking and unblocking as a guilt tripping technique. Louis blocking random people who he doesn't want to interact with is not that potential case, by any stretch. Familiarize yourself with the false equivalence fallacy, perhaps?

And now onto Gina's response to the anon. Firstly, she agrees with them. Secondly;

"That pattern of behavior goes back to the 1D days, actually. We were always braced for the backlash every time we got something good." This, my friends, is intentionally vague. You know WHY fans in the 1D days were always braced for backlash when something good happened? Because management was even worse than it is now for Harry and Louis, and anytime they tried to be truthful with us or show their love, MANAGEMENT was who dished out backlash to try and discourage and dismantle the Larrie fandom. It wasn't Louis engaging in some intentional cycle- it was Louis and Harry trying to be themselves, and management punishing them AND us alike for it. Do not misattribute the actions of a scummy company to Louis just because it serves your anti-Louis narrative, Gina.

"And you're spot on with it being abusive. And triggering." Nope, you are flat-out wrong. Again, not my opinion, this is a fact. Louis' posts on social media have never violated TOS or incited violence against another person. He is not abusing you, a fan, by saying he feels like twitter is toxic lately. He is not abusing you, a fan, by blocking accounts he dislikes. He is not abusing you. You are not anywhere near close enough to him personally to BE abused by him. The anon's argument relies on the false attribution of irrelevant facts.

As for triggering- if Louis triggers you by simply existing online and saying something negative about a social media app, that is a you problem. Triggers are YOUR responsibility to identify and accommodate yourself for. You cannot expect Louis to change how he tweets because it personally upsets you. He doesn't know you, dude. You don't know him. Gina, you are 57 years old, you are plenty old enough to understand this concept and yet you are intentionally obtuse about it to serve your narrative.

Now that I'm done with Gina's post, let's get into our dms. I've had Gina blocked since around the time I was notified of the defending a child groomer shit, but I unblocked her because my anons had tipped me off about the disgusting things she was saying about Louis being "abusive."

I didn't beat around the bush. I made it clear that, while I don't like her regardless and she knows that, I found this important enough to make reaching out privately worth it. Initially, I didn't intend to share our dms. But after her reply, I really don't fucking care. Let's get into that reply, shall we?

To start, I'm briefly going to address what she said about the grooming mess. This has been talked about ad nauseum at this point, and it's not the focus of this post, so I'll keep it brief.

"You couldn’t be bothered to do a little detective work to verify whether a horrific accusation was true or false" I did, actually. I read the old posts. I dug up the old posts on YOUR blog, Gina. From the horse's mouth. The fact you are trying to paint me as not having done my due diligence is manipulative from the jump, and we aren't even at the part where you called Louis abusive.

The fact she's even bringing this up when I made it clear that my dm wasn't about that situation is a tactic to distract me- and whoever I show these dms to- from the POINT of this interaction. She's throwing confetti 5 feet to the left in hopes we'll all look over there instead of at the issue at hand. This is the red herring fallacy.

Then her ramble about the victim supposedly lying (evidence?) is a clear example of attempting to poison the well. If she can start off making me sound less credible by bringing up an entirely separate debate and say some nonsense about the victim in that case lying, she can make her actual rebuttal to the "Louis is abusive" debate sound more credible by default.

"You just decided to believe it and to build up a federal case against someone who’s literally done nothing to you, nor to anyone else" This part just pisses me off. Federal case? Who do you think I am, the god damn FBI? I called you out on tumblr, grow up and take accountability maybe instead of acting like I sent a SWAT team to your blog. Anyway, moving on.

"Now, you come here and tell me that you and your “close friends and mutuals” know what abuse is and because you don’t agree with my take, I am therefore doing something hurtful" So right off the bat she's putting my 'close friends and mutuals' in quotation marks to make it sound like mine and the people I know's experiences of abuse are less valid. She's also initializing me a great deal based on age- I'm 19, she's 57. Not a single genuine argument from her to be seen yet.

But the fact is, I do know what abuse is. I've not only experienced abuse, I've studied it. For years. And Louis tweeting and posting to instagram like a normal guy who makes music? Not abuse. Abuse, believe it or not, has a DEFINITION. What is and is not abuse can have some subjectivity to it, but in broad terms it does have to meet certain markers to be considered abuse at all. In this case, the only abuse that could even hypothetically be commited is psychological (commonly known as emotional) abuse, so here's the actual defintion:

A celebrity tweeting something you don't like, and then promoting his music? Not abuse.

A parent telling their child that they're worthless and then giving them a hug? Absolutely abuse.

What Louis has posted online cannot possibly be stretched to fit the definition of abuse. Flat out. That is not how this works. He tweeted about twitter feeling toxic and then promoted his music. That's not abuse. That's him being some guy on the internet and posting pretty normal things. I posted TODAY about twitter being a horrible website and then continued business as usual, akin to how Louis did. Is that abuse? Was I abusing all of you by saying I dislike a social media app, and then DARING to post something positive afterwards on my sideblog?

"I’d like to remind you that you don’t know me. You don’t know my story. You don’t know what I’ve been through." Appeal to emotion, nobody cares about your story. Louis is a public figure, not your close personal friend who hurt you. Everyone can see his tweets and insta posts, everyone hears what he says publicly, and none of it constitutes abuse. Not towards you, and frankly not towards anyone. Your personal history is irrelevant, it's another attempt to distract from the point while also appealing to my empathy.

And before anyone says it- yes, I also brought up my abuse history. In an entirely differnet context. The purpose for me bringing up that I have been abused was to explain why I'm personally upset with Gina's misportrayal of what abuse is. Gina's purpose of bringing up her potential abuse history was to validate her calling Louis abusive for publicly verifiable, factually non-abusive behaviors. Different contexts, different purposes behind a similar talking point.

"I am a lot older than you are, and I have had more than my fair share of experiences. Please don’t come into my DMs and tell me that your interpretation of abuse is the only valid one." You are older, but that does not mean you are smarter, nor does it mean you are correct by default. Your age is irrelevant and you only bring it up to sound like an authority over me, which you are not.

It's not "my interpretation of abuse." It's a fact that Louis is not abusing you, you fucking unlit candle. Abuse has a medical and factual definition, and Louis' tweet and fucking instagram post do not fit that definition. Asserting that the definition of what is and is not abuse if simply 'my interpretation' is a VERY intentional attempt to discredit my words, as well as treating me like I'm stupid.

"I am entitled to feel how I feel. If you don’t like my takes, no one is forcing you to come to my blog and see what I’m saying." Feel however you want, it's still factually not true to assert that Louis is being abusive towards you or fans at large. The matter I dmed you about is not one of feelings or opinions, it is one of facts. You are treating it like a matter of feelings and opinions because that serves you, it makes it easier to discredit and disregard what I am saying without you needing to craft and ACTUAL rebuttal.

"I’m sorry you don’t like me. I can’t do anything about that. But assuming everything you read online to be truth is dangerous." I never asked you to change whether or not I like you. I dmed you because you are asserting a provable lie and it's disgusting. I read YOUR post. Posted today. But again, she's trying to tie it back into the grooming debacle and her narrative on that, which is again distracting from the main point and a lazy attempt at discrediting me with irrelevant arguments.

Gina is a highly manipulative person and she's had a long time to perfect her skills. She, unfortunately for her, falls victim to her ego though. She assumed that I would be easy to manipulate, distract, appeal to my pity, because I'm only 19. Because she's older and has been in the fandom longer. Well, unfortunately for her, I spent the first 18 years of my life learning how to identify manipulation on the fly from my own mother. I clocked her tactics immediately. I cited my sources. I hope she shuts the fuck up about Louis, since she clearly doesn't fucking like him, and all she's doing is actively encouraging the fandom to treat him worse with her bullshit "he's abusing us!" narrative.

Fuck you, mediocre regards,

Micah.

[bunybunn]

Okay enough time passed for me to try to put it all my thoughts about the Dream situation in one place at least until the Shut up i'm talking (patreon only 7$!!!) episode comes out.

First of all let's not forget that all of this started because Dream got involved in Twitter beef that had nothing to do with him. Sure xQc mentioned Dream's name but it was in reference to Tommy "dickriding" Dream when he was starting making content. It was dig at Tommy that didn't needed Dream's response in the slightest however the green guy didn't care and posted meme using r-word. Which obviously gain shit ton of backlash from every normal enough person because that is a slur. This also means that a lot of people reacted and talked about it including Tubbo.

The fact that this followed with 3 hours stream where Dream specifically reacted to Tubbo is ridiculous by itself. All he had to do is apologise and take responsibility for using a slur but instead Dream felt the need to pull out old controversy and pull more content creators into it. Additionally despite himself claiming that you should not cut things out of context he was skipping parts of Tubbo's stream and did not watched in in full. Also it's important to mention that the "apology" he did said in the said stream was especially "I saw people on Internet calling me that and I thought that means I can use it as a slur as well" which is an insane take that also sounded like something little kid would use as ane excuse.

Next important stop is Tommy's response. It was basically just Tommy telling Dream that he doesn't want to associate with him anymore. It's worth pointing out Tom's video was done in one take style, the was no big editing but rather just Tommy shearing his opinion and his feelings. Because of that we got few hyperboles like Dream "harassing" Tommy's mom and him being described as a movie villain-like.

Then you have the Dreams response to Tommy that was definitely not done with good intentions. Unlike Tom's one Dream's video was edited, he added music, pictures that were not proofs but were there to invoked specific emotions and also a short in Minecraft scene when he referenced his dream smp character. In my opinion that video was perfect example of how to manipulate audiences with content. He ensured that Tom's arguments seemed ridiculous, usually by taking it out of context like he did with the sexism part as well as with Tommy saying he was behind dream smp success, or pulled heavier accusations that make Tommy looked bad. Keep in mind how insane it actually was to after Dream had his content and merch be called lazy going straight to using case of scummy company that produced Tommy's merch at some point and has legal case against it that Dream had no deeper knowledge about and using rumors that Tommy is/was mistreating his editors using screanshots that were cropped and taken without consent of people in those. All of it while Dream was trying to act like he is still the good guy who so respects everyone and just wants everyone to get along.

The thing is Tubbo's discussion with Dream proved that was absolute bullshit. During the conversation it was clear genuinely expected it to go as he usually described private calls aka after he gets to explain himself the other person will see it his way. Unfortunately for him he heavily underestimated Tubbo, who did phenomenal job try to point out Dream missteps and make good arguments. Still Dream's behaviour was very much manipulative during it. I think the moment that shows it the most was the part where they talked about the merch company where Tubbo got to the point where he slipped and mentioned that there was one case of child labor in said company, something that clear came from his insider knowledge, and Dream started to use Tubbo's words against him to justify himself even though he had not know about it when making his video therefore it was irrelevant. His attitude also was very much "rules for thee not for me" any time Tubbo tried to hold Dream to the same standards Dream is holding other people who talk about him. Another thing that rubbed me the wrong way was how hard Dream was trying to make himself look good at the very end of the discussion by throwing complements and trying to act as if everything got resolved. I'm pretty sure he hoped this would encourage people to talking it out with him in private but I feel this might have the opposite effect since everyone got to see how such call would potencialy look like.

[wheelie-sick]

Frustrations about "transabled" wheelchair use

sparing people the long post and putting this under a cut

saw a post that frustrated me in the wheelchair tag that I'm not going to directly respond to because the person who created it seems young

it was a post encouraging people who are "transabled" to use wheelchairs under the reasoning of

it hurts no one

wheelchairs are not in limited supply

and then encourages people to get them from thrift stores for cheaper

I don't... really care about the whole "transabled" thing and I think a lot of it comes from people with BIID (<- real thing) using an inappropriate label for their experiences. while I pretty flat out think that people without BIID who don't need a wheelchair should not be using a wheelchair I can acknowledge that the situation gets much more complex when it comes to BIID.

many people with BIID will physically injure themselves in the name of alleviating their dysphoria. I would much, much rather someone use a wheelchair without physically needing it than injure themself. if a wheelchair helps someone with BIID I am, generally speaking, not opposed to it. there's more nuance to this but that's not the point of this post so I'm not entirely going to derail it.

the point of this post is that this person is wrong about this kind of frivolous wheelchair use being harmless towards people who need wheelchairs.

contrary to the point most people make of "this will make people fake claim wheelchair users even more!" I actually don't think that will happen- yet. transabled people exist in a very small, dark corner of the internet that hasn't really had any spotlight cast on it? at least not yet. someone considering themself transabled is also exceptionally rare. I doubt that this will, as it exists currently, encourage a significant increase in fake claiming. could this happen? sure. I just don't see it as a current problem.

the main fake claiming I see fueled by the existence of transabled people comes from places like r/fakedisordercringe. they once posted my Twitter (? I've been posted 5 times, I lose track) where I had "adult" in my bio, edited out the "adult" line, and posted it with the claim I was 14 and self diagnosed all my disorders. when my tiktok was posted someone claimed I was currently a student at their highschool, I was... in university. my point is that they're liars and don't care about what you say or the reality of a situation. they want content, not truth.

places like r/fakedisordercringe will come up with any excuse to accuse someone they dislike of lying. accusing someone of being "transabled" is just one of their latest fads. to me, their fake claims mean nothing. I acknowledge they can dish out some serious harassment, believe me, they have gone after me plenty. what I mean by that is that their claims are meaningless in the real world. I have brought up being posted there, what, 5 times? to offline friends many times who are aware of the subreddit and they laugh then say "yeah that's absurd." they're just not taken seriously.

the caveat to this is if this were to get a spotlight shined on it. I truly hope this does not happen because it would be a nightmare to deal with for anyone affected by the radqueer community. I could see a world where doctors treat patients who don't present with quantifiable symptoms with suspicion because they could, possibly, be transabled.

this is pretty verifiable because physically disabled patients with a BIID diagnosis are treated truly just awfully.

once the label of "faker" gets applied to you by a doctor it follows you around until you can find a doctor who is willing to look past it. especially with hospitals having greater communication with each other through online connections between hospitals it's becoming increasingly difficult to escape faker accusations and bullshit diagnoses like fibromyalgia and functional neurological disorder**.

**these are real conditions. they are just so often misdiagnosed by doctors who think you are lying/hysterical/exaggerating/making it all up/all of the above. once you have them, it's hard to escape them. every symptom will be blamed on them and no further testing will be done.

I think the big current hurt this is doing to wheelchair users is suggesting that there is no hurt. in theory wheelchairs are not a limited resource, standard wheelchairs are mass produced and widely available. it's just less true in practice.

anyone who uses a wheelchair can attest to the fact that it is difficult to obtain one- especially on a budget. when someone is encouraging people who don't need wheelchairs to do things like buy thrift store wheelchairs they tangibly take away resources from wheelchair users. standard wheelchairs are widely produced enough that buying one from the source is not going to make a dent, and even if all transabled people did it there would be little impact.

thrift store wheelchairs are hard to come by.

I know so many disabled people who spend months scouring thrift stores for wheelchairs and who still turn up nothing. buying a thrift store wheelchair is not something with no impact, it does take away resources from wheelchair users.

beyond this, I have seen people encourage transabled people to lie in order to get custom wheelchairs. anyone who has used a standard wheelchair knows they are uncomfortable, hard to push, etc. we've all heard the spiel- they're awful to use. for many people they're better than nothing but anyone able to will aim for a custom wheelchair.

a lot of transabled people are really in it for a glorified aesthetic. generally speaking, standard wheelchairs are not their "aesthetic." I could write a whole post on this, I'm not going to dive into it.

unlike standard wheelchairs there is not an unlimited supply of custom wheelchairs. as their name implies, they are custom made to every individual person. this means there are wait times! people die waiting for custom wheelchairs. on average the process in the US seems to be around 6 months from evaluation to receiving the final wheelchair. that's a long fucking time to have little to no mobility. having little to no mobility comes with its own health problems, like pressure sores (sometimes referred to as "bed sores")

"but my custom wheelchair will only delay someone else's wheelchair by a day!"

have you ever been sick and stuck in bed? how anxious were you to regain the ability to move? did every day fucking suck? I bet it did. because it sucks to be stuck in bed. that's the position many people are in while waiting for custom wheelchairs.

one day can be the difference between no pressure sore and yes pressure sore. one day can be the difference between one stage of pressure sore and another stage of pressure sore

pressure sores kill. pressure sores can go to bone. pressure sores can become infected. people die from pressure sores all the time. once you have them they are incredibly difficult to treat. one day is a difference.

overall it's just so frustrating to see people treat getting a wheelchair like it's meaningless and has no impact on people, especially when people are getting wheelchairs in ways that take resources away from the people who need them. then when actual wheelchair users (you don't get to call yourself a wheelchair user if you don't need the wheelchair 🤷) express frustration at this flippancy we're labeled "mean exclusionists who just want to ruin their fun."

I think the mobility of people without it takes priority over someone's "fun aesthetic"