#if you look at the viewer count and ratings

[prael]

Chemistry

Jenna Ortega x male reader smut [Commissioned fic]

Masterlist word count: 9,196 Kofi(donations/commissions)

"You know that's not my thing, right? Why even bring this to me?" You throw the papers down on her desk and they spill over the wooden surface.

"Did you even look it over?" She sighs, holding out her hands for you to take them back, "This could help you break out of the R-rated mould you've found yourself in."

"Look it over? You know this isn't my genre."

She rubs her forehead as though she's stressed, "Look, we all have to make concessions, right? It's a few months of filming and a lot of money."

"It's fucking romance," you dismiss.

She raises her voice in response, "It's your fucking career."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You push back, and she's taking a glass from the shelf behind her desk and emptying the whiskey within it in one practised motion. She's keeping her cool and taking a moment to simmer down by cleaning up the papers. The silence tells you as much as her words could. She's trying to help you like she always has.

She says, "You know what it means. You're no George Clooney. You're no Vince Vaughn. One trick ponies are rare. You gotta work on your range."

You stay quiet, clenching your jaw because you can't argue. This is what she does: tells you what you need to hear instead of what you want to hear. She's tough love and always has been. Took you under her wing and at times carried you to where you are today, so who are you to question her judgement?

"Did you ever stop to think 'why'?" She asks before taking a drink. "Why would I bring you a part that I know you're going to hate?"

You cross your arms, remaining silent as you stare at her. She smirks before answering her own question.

"Because I know who they're eyeing for the leading actress. Jenna Ortega. You know she's all the rage these days. Netflix deals and music videos. She's fuckin' viral and she's fuckin' money. Her name is gold so I want you on her fuckin' hip." She takes another sip, watching you absorb the information she's feeding you with an unrelenting stare.

She always gets like this, all the foul-mouthed excitement is enough to convince you that she really believes what she's saying.

"Alright. Got a pen?"

-

Pre-production is... well, it's different. It all feels a little foreign to you, right from the off with the script reading, because it's obviously such a different vibe than anything you're accustomed to. It's all so light and breezy and a little comical. You don't do comical.

There's no deep-seated angst, or hatred festering below the surface of your character, rather he's kind, loving, funny, a little bit of a klutz. It's a long stretch from the characters you usually play—murderers, drug dealers, car thieves. Now the viewers are supposed to like you?

Most days on set aren't that far outside of your comfort zone though—you don't think. You go through the motions like you always do, take direction and talk to the production crew, and keep it cordial and civil with the cast, especially with Jenna. Up until now, your characters have had a few brief scenes. It's all coffee shops and public parks, pretty places with lots of wide shots and lingering looks in the script, and you aren't sure how comfortable you are with it.

"Camera two," The director calls and you and Jenna take up position.

You grab her hand, and her smaller fingers curl around yours instinctively, holding on tight. She smiles at you and says softly, "Just like we talked about, okay?"

You nod and rub your thumb over hers to ease her nerves. There was this awkwardness for the first few days that has gradually eased away, the two of you talking more often. Not work stuff, which might have been smart. Just small talk. About food and places you've visited, TV, and bands, it kept things light and amicable.

"Quiet on the set."

Silence falls, and your heart rate speeds up. Your breathing is a little laboured as you wait.

It's the first time you're supposed to kiss her and somehow it doesn't feel like just acting, not really. Acting for you is fighting with some rogue cop or soldier, all stunted rage and brute force. Or you're stalking someone through the dark streets at night, the cold metal of the gun in your hand biting at your skin while you focus on nothing but landing a kill shot. There was never anyone looking at you the way Jenna is right now.

She's biting at her bottom lip, hazel eyes peering through impossibly long lashes to stare at you. You've been told this scene is important because it's a bit of a catalyst for the rest of the movie. She's looking at you, you're looking at her, and then when they call 'action' it's supposed to be one of those moments where fireworks erupt and the earth moves. That's what they want; a connection.

"Action."

Jenna bites her lip and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing up at you nervously. She's so much more practised than you, so much more effortless with putting on her act. All you have to do is smile and lean down to meet her lips. That's all there is to it, as the director says: just like that, perfect. But you want him to call cut. To say it's too staged, or the lighting is bad, or that the location isn't right.

No such luck.

You move slowly like she needs to be savoured. Of course, you've been coached, there's stage direction in your head in addition to her hand on your forearm.

Your lips brush hers tentatively, once, twice, and you tilt your head a little further to bring her closer. Close, but still not quite... until she breaks character and giggles into your mouth.

"I don't think you're supposed to be laughing," you joke, and there's an eruption of frustration from the other side of the cameras at a ruined take. You aren't bothered though, and neither is Jenna by the looks of it. She's half hiding her face against your chest and grinning like an idiot.

"I'm sorry," she says weakly, pulling away. "It's so hot in here."

She fans herself and starts pacing, while the director calls out, "What the hell was that?"

You wave a hand, "Sorry, my bad." You try to take the blame. "Can I get five minutes?"

The director sighs and gives in with a shrug. "Five minutes!"

"Really, you don't have to—"

"It's fine," you explain quickly, before turning to the line producer who just happens to be passing, "Hey, can someone cool her down? Maybe some water?"

"I'm fine," she tries to argue.

"You're flustered," you tease.

"You were doing this thing with your eyes. I don't know how to explain it. It was kind of intense, I had to laugh," she laughs again, and it's an easy, airy sound, the kind that soothes, and you decide that you like hearing it.

"I was? Damn," you sigh, running a hand through your hair.

"I know this isn't usually you're thing, I'm guessing it's your first kiss on camera? Just relax. It'll be nice," she shrugs, clearly far more sure of herself than you.

-

You're deep into the filming now. You think you're selling it, this whole relationship thing, making it seem natural as well as making the people around you believe that the chemistry is there. The weirdest thing of all is that you really enjoyed kissing her. Or, at the very least, you haven't minded it thus far. You don't know if that's the right feeling to have, there's no guidebook for this—not that you've read.

Off the set, she's nice, she's friendly and eager to get to know you. Maybe it's weird that she's trying too hard, maybe she just wants to work as seamlessly as possible. Regardless, it seems to be helping, because now, when it's your turn for coverage, you're more than happy to lean in and capture her lips. She's gotten bolder and so have you, to the point where she runs her fingers through your hair and kisses you back, so when 'cut' finally comes and the mood is broken, it takes a few moments to reorient yourself to the real world.

It's easy, you decide.

Now, the two of you have been joking about today for a while. She's been running this rhetoric of how excited she is for the car scene.

You remember your first read of the script and how this part had you almost cancelling the gig. So, sitting here in the backseat, with cameras fitted all around you and Jenna in your lap, is just a reminder of the monumental shift from where you were then to where you are now.

"Just ignore them," Jenna instructs and kisses you lightly. "Do whatever feels natural." She's echoing the words of the director, though from her they're much more relaxing to hear. You kiss her, her body languid and warm, pressed flush against yours. The touches you feared come so naturally now as you put a hand on her waist and trace her ribs, dragging her shirt up a little bit more with each pull.

There's something rather enticing, you must admit, about putting hands on her slender waist, even if it's under the watchful eye and strict instructions of the camera. Especially when her tongue does that thing where it flickers past her lips and finds your own. Fuck, she's good at this. There's no other word for it.

There has to be a call for a 'cut' coming soon, right? It was supposed to be a brief make-out, so says the script, but they don't seem too interested in stopping either of you anytime soon. You've heard that it's normal, to feel aroused while filming, but it certainly doesn't feel right. The fear is seeping in the longer this goes on; fear that Jenna will feel exactly what you're scared she'll feel.

But those short jean shorts she's wearing while sitting atop your lap, hips flush with yours, tend to elicit some automatic reaction, whether you want it to or not.

"Alright, cut! Great work everyone. Break for fifteen!" The director yells, the tension snapping immediately as Jenna rolls away, giggling.

She says something to you, you don't catch what as you blink in her direction, but she's already climbing out of the car, bending forward ever so slightly to give you a tantalising show of her ass before shutting the door behind her.

A few minutes later you've made your way to the drinks trailer for some much-needed water, that's when there's a tap on your shoulder and the unmistakable strawberry scent that accompanies Jenna hits your nose.

"You look a little shocked, is everything okay?" She has this wry smile on her face that turns your stomach a little bit.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you respond stiffly, cracking open the water bottle and taking a long drink. You nod towards her and state, "Good work out there."

"I should say the same to you," She's closer than before, the tip of her shoe bumping against yours as you stand with the picnic table at your back. "You're a natural. And the boner? Nice touch," she mocks.

She's far too cavalier for your liking right now, and more than a little brazen.

"Don't look so freaked out. No one is going to say anything. It happens all the time, don't worry."

"Do you just have a thing for humiliating me, Ortega?" It's a thing the two of you have been doing for a few days, the fake sternness and the use of surnames, like you're pretending to be angry with each other.

"What if I do? Are you going to go file a complaint?" She sings, tracing her finger down the centre of your chest.

"Watch it, Ortega," you respond half-heartedly, and she steps a little closer.

"How about you keep the boners to a minimum from now on though. It's distracting." The smirk on her face grows only more devious before she winks and then turns away, vanishing into the crowd and leaving you alone and in need of a very cold shower.

-

On-screen chemistry is the single most important thing in a film like this. If you don't make the watchers believe that the two of you are madly in love, then it's all pointless. You're getting good at this, playing this game, this new facet to your role. You think about the warmth of Jenna's kiss and her fingers curled around the nape of your neck; the feel of her in your arms.

Each take gets harder to finish. Make no mistake, it's not that the kisses are a problem, in fact, they're actually a little too easy.

You're both laid in a bed, under the covers, you're on your back and Jenna is half-draped over you. Her hair is a purposeful mess and there's lipstick on your neck. The implication is clear, the two lead characters hooked up for the first time, and you're simmering in the morning after, caught by your character's phone ringing beside you on the side table.

Jenna is quiet, watching the sheets twitch every time you move. You can tell that she's thinking by the furrow in her brow and the way she bites on her lip. The cameras are rolling and you need to answer the phone. There's no one on the phone, of course, that gets added in post. For the purpose of the scene, it's your ex-girlfriend who can't quite let you go.

"Why do you keep calling me?" You look weary like your heart is about to give up. The line is silent, but you know the script. "I don't care if you're upset with me, it's over. It's done. There's nothing left to say."

Jenna props herself up on one elbow, facing you with her dark eyes, her tousled hair falling over her shoulder. She is, in a word, mesmerising, and it feels wrong to turn your face away from her, even to add more angst for the camera.

"I'm hanging up," you continue, staring back at her.

Jenna pushes her hand under the sheets and balls it into a fist. She hovers it right over your crotch. Her character is supposed to jack you off while you're on the phone until you manage to hang up. That's what's supposed to happen.

You fake a gasp as her hand begins to move. When she bites down on her lip in response, it's the hottest expression you've ever seen. You swallow hard and your cock gives an honest twitch that feels as though it catches her attention for a fraction of a second. Her eyes widen and flick to the source of the movement, her jaw clenches and it brings you an almost unwanted satisfaction.

Each fake stroke presses down onto the growing ridge of your hardening cock, but neither of you breaks character or even dares to break eye contact. You keep up with your lines, and the strain in your voice is all too real, "I don't care how torn up you are about this, me and you are finished."

The ache in your muscles builds heat prickling under your skin, setting you on fire. You tighten your jaw in response as a means to control yourself. Only for Jenna to do the unthinkable. She lowers her hand and glides it down the length of your hard cock before wrapping her hand around it.

What's she doing?

She grips tightly, and even though there is a pair of underwear separating the two of you, it's still her. For the first time in the duration of this shoot, you drop out of character completely, staring at her in utter disbelief. What are you supposed to do in this situation? You can't just say something, it's going to get you both in trouble.

She strokes you beneath the bedsheets in tandem with the scene, so no one else has a chance of knowing. So, you keep talking, murmuring some fake dialogue and struggling with every word.

"It's—mmh," you turn your head, squeezing your eyes closed and steeling yourself. This is madness, utter madness. The throb of your cock only worsens the longer her hand keeps sliding, stimulating. It's a hellish limbo. "It's not fair for you to harass me like this, delete my number will you?"

This is the point where the ex-girlfriend realises something is wrong. In the script, she's figured it all out. She recognises the whimpers in your voice, and you're supposed to deny it. But Jenna won't stop touching you, pushing down harder, applying more pressure and using the full length of your erection as her playground.

Your breathing is heavy and strained. You try to clear your throat subtly, "No, no I'm not with someone right now." You glance at Jenna who grips tighter and smiles devilishly. "You have no idea what you're talking about. If you think, for even a second—"

You try your best to focus on your performance, but with the physical distraction, all your carefully practised lines start to fall apart, coming out jumbled. Jenna is rubbing harder, stroking faster, and her hand feels so good around your cock.

This is the point where your ex shouts, and you finally hang up the phone and drop it onto the floor, kissing Jenna fervently.

"Cut!" The director calls. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

Suddenly, the two of you are apart. A rush of cold air floods the space between you. Reality checks in again, reminding you that this was not in the script.

"You good?" Jenna asks, and you nod back. She looks proud of herself, the cheeky little smirk that crosses her features is all too telling. A reminder of just how insufferable she can be.

"What was that?" You lean closer and whisper, trying to make sure that the rest of the cast and crew can't hear you.

"That was acting." She responds confidently.

The director interrupts by calling your name and saying, "Alright, next scene. Going to need you under the covers. Prepare the phone call."

Now it's this whole role reversal, Jenna's character gets her own phone call from her own ex. That's the concept at play here. Meanwhile, you're down between her legs. The script says to 'mimic oral sex' which sounds... so much easier than it actually is.

Aiming to ignore the whole ordeal, or at least your conversation and what it could mean, you duck down beneath the sheets to prepare. She's lifting them up and watching you get into position. She's spreading her legs, while a team of assistants adjust the sheets over you to dress up the shot.

Looking up at Jenna under the sheets, through the darkness and at the apex of her thighs, this feels so wrong. She's... pretty. No. You stop the thoughts in their tracks. This isn't a time to indulge. You're filming a movie, playing a role. In reality, this is your job. There's a script, there's a purpose.

Still, the whole situation just feels so strange.

"Action," the director yells.

As per the script, Jenna drops the sheet as the phone rings. Now it's just you and everything below her chest, trapped under a blanket. Your hands are barely hovering near her thighs, and revenge is on your mind. If she can toy with you, you can toy with her.

So you hold her spread legs, grip them firmly just as you hear her answer the call, "If you want to grovel, then go ahead and grovel. Just remember the last time." Jenna's voice is perfect for her character, and just as it's always been, full of attitude and feisty. She's passionate, especially when it comes to putting her acting on display.

Alright, 'mimic oral sex'... first it's kissing. Lightly placed, right at the top of her thigh, little pecks to tease and taunt. You feel the slight tremble beneath your fingertips as she attempts to carry on the faux conversation. They said you shouldn't touch her. They said she shouldn't touch you.

But you feel the heat coming from her. You're mere inches away, and sure, there's the cotton thin fabric of her underwear blocking the way, but even still you catch the barest hint of her scent—sweet and musky. You grip her thighs more intensely and press your lips against the fabric.

"It was one kiss," Jenna continues, and her voice betrays her now. A subtle tremor that undermines how put together she had seemed moments before. It's enough to have you smirking.

You roll your tongue over the shape of her through the fabric, testing your limits. There's only so much you can get away with, but you'll push it. Push it as far as you can, this is the bed she made.

Jenna rolls her hips towards you, and, of course, the cameras can't see this, all they can see is her on the bed holding the sheets and pretending to talk to her ex.

"It didn't mean anything..." She tries again and fails, a breathy moan forcing its way out and revealing the growing pleasure, the need growing in her voice. She has to place her free hand over her mouth as you continue to taste her, your tongue working over her panties with no hesitation, all rhythm and no breaks.

You continue, running the flat of your tongue over her, flattening the damp fabric against her cunt, and you feel her throbbing. It's undeniable, the way she tenses under your grip and shifts ever so slightly, each slight movement an obvious clue towards her struggling with maintaining her composure.

It's not difficult to hear the change in her voice. The shake and strain of each breath only grow worse the more your tongue curls against her panties. Sure, you haven't yet come into contact with bare skin, but simply knowing just how enraptured she is by the teasing, is enough.

You can't help the slight chuckle that follows, and why would you? This whole performance is starting to become very personal, and when you squeeze her thighs, and apply pressure until it's enough to bruise, you can hear the soft mewl as she fights her way through a rather passionate phone call.

"Why don't you just fuck off?" She hangs up the phone and throws it to the side. In a moment, the same hands are wrapping around your head and dragging you close. As if there was any space left to separate you. "Oh god yes!" she moans out—it's all the script. The scene is supposed to continue until there's a fade to black. No one needs to know that the moan is real.

At the very least, she tries to contain herself. Though her hips swaying, and bucking rhythmically against your face say something very different. And the heat radiating from her core is undeniable. The cotton of her underwear sticks to her so heavily, clinging to the slight folds and wrinkles. Enough to get a good idea about what's going on behind it. That there is indeed a welcoming, quivering cunt that might benefit from an enthusiastic tongue.

Jenna's groans take on a noticeable tempo. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop. Fuck. Yes!" Her words are spilling out messily. For a moment, her responsibilities seem to vanish. She's abandoned her character and resorted to feeling your tongue against her pussy with such ferocity that, were it not for your hands pinning her down, she might have suffocated you in that tantalising heat.

As the cameras continue to roll, with filming still going on above the sheets, the pace only grows hastier.

You're aware of your heart rate spiking, the sudden realisation, the knowledge that someone might be onto the two of you, that you've crossed the imaginary line that exists between the bedroom scene. With the flicker of your tongue, that line gets a little more blurred.

And Jenna seems to be in no hurry to stop either. What was supposed to be just acting becomes a carnal need. Her hips wriggle frantically against your gyrating mouth.

"Cut!" Comes the much-needed command, and you rip away from beneath the sheet.

Jenna's chest heaves, her thighs tremble and her toned stomach tenses. You struggle, forcing back the burning desire to claim her, devour her, kiss her senseless.

It's just acting.

-

Filming goes late into the night, as it so often does. Jenna has a series of scenes with the supporting cast, and you're only there to support them. Still, you make sure to keep watch from the sidelines. She's beautiful when she acts, all passion and fire. That's another reason you're so drawn to her. Everything is so easy for her, flawless. Talented little minx.

Hours after sunset, you stop by her trailer to check in, like you so often do.

You knock, and seconds later she peeks out of the door, saying, "What? What did I do now? Oh, it's you." The harsh greeting melts away into relief, and you grin at the reaction.

"Damn, maybe I'll go then." You make a gesture to turn away, and Jenna grabs your wrist and pulls you inside with all her strength.

"Are you stupid?"

"Me? No, the very definition of sanity." You laugh and follow her further inside. It's bigger than your own, with a seating area and everything. Not that you can focus on the surrounding amenities. Because her black, lace thong is the only thing she's wearing, and, for a second, it leaves you speechless. It's impossible not to stare at the way her round little butt perks out behind her.

Jenna asks, "Like what you see?"

"What happened to your clothes?"

"My clothes are fine, I'm in my trailer aren't I? Nothing strange about relaxing like this." She says as she saunters off, the golden curves of her back highlighted by the single lamp she has lit in the corner. She stands in her kitchenette, bare back to you, pouring herself a glass of red. Her thong contrasts starkly with the honey colour of her skin. She stretches an arm back, and half glances over her shoulder.

"I can feel you staring, you know?" Jenna says, pausing for a moment while the cogs turn in your brain. After a while, there's no point in resisting. So, you close the distance between you, stand behind her, and embrace her thin waist.

"Am I bothering you?" you question, pressing closer.

"Only a little," she leans back into the touch. "But that doesn't mean stop."

An unseen force guides you. Perhaps it's those thoughts that came to mind when you were holding her, on set. What would happen if you just got to know her better?

Your mouth feels so dry from the nerves, but you drag a hand up the length of her waist, over her taut stomach, before cupping her breast. Jenna closes her eyes and hums in response, and when your palm rubs against her bare nipple, her mouth falls open.

You sink to her ear and bite it gently while catching her nipple between two fingers, which elicits a sharp gasp from her lips. You pull her firmly against your chest, and her back presses to your shirt. Fingertips brush her belly, stroking from hipbone to ribcage.

"I figured we had a little unfinished business. Remember?" You kiss her earlobe and grin, fully aware she can't see the expression.

"It did seem to me like you were quite close to being finished," she teases. Your fingers curl and squeeze the swell of her breast, earning a groan. "Tell me. How was my performance?"

"Could use some work," you mumble, kissing the side of her neck. Jenna's breath shudders when your teeth drag against her throat. She sets the glass down, freeing her hand to rest on your forearm. Holding, or perhaps holding on, you can't tell. Either way, it's an invitation to keep going.

"You think so? Looked to me like it was the best performance you had ever seen—ahem—felt."

You chuckle in her ear. All the while, her breathing becomes a little heavier. She even reaches a hand back, curling fingers in your hair to make sure your mouth remains on her. It sends an alarm bell ringing in the back of your head, a warning, a red flag, a stop sign. But what if you don't?

"I'm not like my character," she whispers. "She's all romance, nice dates and lovey-dovey shit."

"No?" you whisper.

"No," she says sternly. She twists under your grasp to face you. Your hand lands on her hip, and before she's looking up at you with her lips parted, she murmurs, "But I do enjoy being eaten out."

This time, Jenna pulls you down into the kiss. The sweet pout of her lips draws you in. She tastes sharp, like the wine, but her mouth is warm and inviting. You take her bottom lip between your teeth, and she moans, her painted nails scraping through your hair. You feel her hands fumbling, then the thud as your pants fall.

"Fuck me," she breathes the command when your palm finds the swell of her breast again. She's pushing you back, guiding you across the room, pinning you onto the arm of her couch. She lifts her knees and presses it between your legs. She pins you there and continues to kiss you, harder, rougher.

She grabs the collar of your shirt, and then the buttons begin popping. The air brushes your chest making you even more aware of the insanity unfolding in her trailer. As she unravels the rest of the shirt, Jenna pulls back, standing up with a cocky smile on her face.

There's not a chance to speak, or even comprehend, for that matter. She puts her palm on your bare chest and forces you back. You crash into the cushions, and the next thing you know, Jenna swings a knee over your head.

In an instant, she's hooking her thong to the side, then taking a handful of your hair and sitting on your face. Your hands move automatically, gripping her thighs, pressing thumbs into the soft, ample flesh. Your tongue brushes across her pussy, and the feeling of your tongue flicking across her makes Jenna let out a beautiful, quivering moan.

Her scent intoxicates. It's divine.

With strong hands, she leads your movements, grinding forward against your mouth. Daring, unashamed, desperate. She's just as much an animal as she is a woman, and that realisation makes your body tense. You part her tender folds with your tongue and taste the warmth of her nectar, causing Jenna to keen.

Her cheeks grind against your lips as she quivers atop you. Her sighs alternate between delighted huffs and breathless moans. As long as you're licking, the sounds keep coming. If anything, they grow stronger and more desperate. She won't hold back, and it makes your head spin, your focus becoming a singular, dizzy blur.

Her juices coat your mouth, slicking your chin and running down your throat. She tightens her grip on your scalp as if trying to punish you. But really, her actions only draw you closer. The taste of her makes you drunk, and not the kind that comes with a hangover in the morning, no. But the kind that makes the rest of the world and its expectations dissolve, leaving just the two of you in the remaining silence.

Jenna's pussy is a beautiful thing, you realise. Swollen and dripping, deliciously wet. It's a tempting treat just begging to be toyed with. You tongue her clit, rolling it back and forth. When you get just the right spot, a tremor passes through Jenna's frame, a hard squeeze of your scalp, as though it had been scalding her.

"Fuck, so good," Jenna groans. "Keep going. Just like that."

More noises pour out of her and splash into your ears, exciting you in a way you've never been before. And the little shimmies she gives you aren't unpleasant, or unwelcome, far from it. Those subtle dances send waves through you and make the motions of your mouth automatic. Your tongue can't get enough. Neither can your hands. You bring them higher, taking her firm ass, sinking fingertips into her plush, round cheeks and pulling her onto your face.

The movement makes her laugh. "Look at you, so excited. Hungry, are we?" You stroke your tongue up the length of her glistening wet cunt, and Jenna twitches on top of you. Her delight returns, a cry of joy and want. "Go on, eat it. Eat that fucking pussy."

The muscles in her abdomen tighten. Sore and taught, every part of her shivers and shakes, twitching and fluttering with your movements. She cries out in ecstasy, as driven mad by your tongue as you are by her taste.

Her thighs clamp around your head. You can feel her begin to writhe, twisting left and right as the pleasure rages through her. She can't control her hips, keeping them glued to your mouth and twitching violently.

Jenna cums, and her juices flow into your mouth. You drink the reward of your handiwork, as her words become hazy murmurs. An erratic pattern of curses and blasphemous platitudes. As if singing all her highest praises.

When she stands, her legs wobble with the aftershocks of an orgasm, but her posture says there are still things she wants, things only you can give her.

It takes seconds. Jenna's thong is on the floor and then she's pulling at your waistband, tugging them down until she has your cock free. Her nails scratch along the length of your length and her palm settles around it.

"Fuck, you're so hard."

Jenna strokes your shaft and gives it a playful squeeze. You watch the heat shimmer and roll around in her eyes as she sizes you up, and the way your cock gives a stubborn and needy twitch. She seems to like that, too.

When her eyes go lidded and she lowers her head down, opening her mouth and slipping her tongue across the head, you almost can't comprehend how good it feels. Your spine tightens, everything goes rigid, and you're left without a shred of control over your voice. That seems to matter not at all to Jenna.

"Hold on," she slips the head of your cock between her lips, just barely, and smiles around it as she smears your precum across her tongue. Before she looks up, meeting your eye, and then forces her head down further, wrapping her warm, wet mouth around as much of you as she can manage. You both gasp as her tongue sweeps along the underside, and you see her cheeks puff out for a moment, then relax once she settles into a rhythm.

It feels amazing, un-fucking-real. Jenna is bobbing her head up and down. Blissful moans leave her with every pass, and the lust-fogged look she gives you should be illegal. Wet sucking and slurping fill the trailer, drowned out by her hums of adoration. Each one sends vibrations shuddering through your cock.

You thread your fingers in her hair. It's a token act, your control as she moves means nothing. In a blink, she's sucking the length of you down to the very base. She struggles a little when you hit the back of her throat, but pushes through, going again and again, deeper and harder each time. Tears threaten in the corners of her eyes. Still, she won't stop.

"Jenna," your voice is thick and strained. "I'm going to—"

A few more passes of her hungry, slippery mouth have you finally toppling over the edge. If she has any intention of pulling away, the temptation or aversion isn't potent enough for her to react. She kisses and slurps, bobbing feverishly, drinking your spurts of cum and caressing your length with her soft, swollen lips.

Jenna stays with you in her mouth, breathing heavily, the look of satisfaction on her face intense and perverse. She takes her time to gently nurse the last pulses from your erection until you're twitching and overstimulated. Only then, and after a minute longer, does she finally concede and pops her mouth off your cock.

The emptiness it creates feels too much like a loss, and yet, all you can do is stare at her, heart hammering and unable to feel anything past the aftermath.

Jenna perches herself on the coffee table, her legs pressed together and angled to the side, letting her hair fall over her bare shoulders. With one hand, she cleans her mouth and smiles at you.

"I guess this puts a line through unfinished business, huh?" She laughs a little. "Long day tomorrow, best get some sleep."

Then just like that, you're half-dressed, watching her slip off to the tiny bathroom to clean up. A few minutes later the trailer door swings shut, clicking behind you.

Outside, the night air is cool and bitter. It snatches the warmth away from the memory of her touch.

-

They're saying it's going to be a success. Critics have reviewed the project already, including early screenings, and private showings. The reception is very positive. That's great, you know it is, and everything is piling up and coming to a close now. All that's left is one last night, the premiere itself, the main event. This will determine the fate of the film, whether it's a runaway hit, a fantastic start to awards season, or a straight-to-streaming disaster.

"Been a while," the voice behind you says and you turn to see Jenna at your shoulder. She looks exquisite, elegant, and alluring in her gown.

"Understatement." You take the time to look her over again. It was only a couple of months ago you saw her naked and had her on your face. It feels so distant, and almost like a dream. Maybe it is, given how quickly she went cold afterwards.

"Red carpets aren't really my favourite thing. It's... all overrated, isn't it?" She sighs.

"Yeah, you told me."

"I did?"

"At the party, on the last day of shooting. You said, and I quote, 'I hate red carpets, everyone is so fake.'"

She rolls her eyes and laughs. "I must have been drunk."

"You were very drunk," you confirm. "Remember? And you were doing that thing with your foot."

Jenna tenses. "I did, didn't I?"

It was a few hours into the party, and most everyone was way too drunk to even make sense. You found yourself sitting down, trying to stop your head from spinning the way it was. Then she came and sat across from you. Apparently, she'd been drinking more than usual, given the wide-eyed look she had when she'd approached.

"You're handsome," she told you and flashed a drunken smile.

"You're drunk enough to say that to anyone."

"You're smart," she leaned closer, and even in the darkness of the room, you were mesmerised by the way her tanned skin contrasted with the tight, white dress. "You're talented. I'm glad they cast you." She runs her foot from your ankle, along the inside of your leg.

Her toes met your knee. You think you stopped breathing as she traced circles on your inner thigh. You looked up at her face, and she was smiling, a devilish one that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

"You smell so good. Like coffee and mint. It's infuriating." Her shoe slid higher, pressing against the crotch of your pants, and she frowned. "No reaction. Maybe you're shy? Oh, wait."

She pulled her foot back and then bent to the side to reach down under the table. After a few seconds and a few confused expressions, as she fiddled with something out of sight, her shoe fell to the floor. Jenna slid the sole of her bare foot between your legs.

"That's better, right?"

She sat up straight and clicked her tongue. You couldn't believe it. Barefoot, hair down, smouldering gaze and curling her toes against your crotch. It was a lot for you at the time. She smirked, shifting again and sipping a glass of champagne before putting it to the side.

"So, how has it been? This whole romance thing?" She stepped closer with her toes and her heel pressed over your cock, digging in slightly.

"I hated the idea of it. Didn't want any part of it. But being here with everyone has made me change my mind. I've done well."

She started to rub the underside of her foot faster, creating an overwhelming amount of friction. And her smug, smiling face wasn't helping your cause at all. Then she leaned closer, so her chest was bunched up and exposed. She teased the top of your cock with her toes and rested her chin in her hand.

"I think you just have to accept it. Learn to enjoy it. It helps that everyone was so nice to work with."

"Was I?" she asks with a flirtatious lilt, pressing her toes harder against your stiffening cock. "Was I particularly nice to you?"

You choke out a laugh. "You don't need me to tell you that you're nice to look at. But you don't need me to tell you you're more than a pretty face either."

"Do me a favour, undo your trousers."

Now? Really?

"Seriously? Here?" You're sure your voice was shaking.

"Now or never."

The pressure in your loins was undeniable, and you went to work unzipping and undoing buttons. Discreetly you pried them open and pulled down your underwear. Your cock sprung free, and you sighed in relief.

She rested a hand on your arm. It was surprisingly comforting. Then she pressed her foot down to angle your cock against her instep, slipping her soft, warm skin up and down your shaft, barely rocking it back and forth.

"That's better." She smiled sweetly, teasing the head with her toes. "You were nervous." She circled the tip of your cock with her big toe. "That first day of filming, you were so worried about messing up."

"Well, yeah. New role, new movie, no way of knowing."

"Hindsight is always 20:20, but you worry too much. Don't spend so much time thinking about what can go wrong, focus more on the things that can go right."

"Like this?"

"Like this," she grinned as she spoke. Her foot pressed harder and moved faster, stroking you up and down and you did everything you could to keep a straight face as people walked by. Each with an innocent conversation, unaware of what was going on beneath the table. "Besides, you did alright."

Alright. Not great. Not good. Alright.

It's about as much of a compliment on your work that Jenna has ever given you verbally, though you wondered if the foot on your cock is indicative of anything.

"Thank you. I, uh, appreciate the feedback."

"We make a good team." Her eyes narrowed as she focused on getting you off and her top lip stiffened. "Solving problems. Improvising scenes." Her foot kicked up a gear, in a blur, up and down, faster and faster.

"Jenna, I'm—"

"Great on-screen chemistry. Great off-scene chemistry." She pushed you right over the edge with her sole on the underside of your cock. The look on her face said it all. A smile so wide as she felt you twitch against her, throbbing, shaking, and pouring cum right over her skin. "Though you are rather easy to manipulate, aren't you?"

She shot you a wink as she cleaned her foot with a tissue. "See you around."

That image has been burned into your head for a long time since then, though you work to shake it out of there while walking the red carpet. It's all camera flashes and the chore of being paraded in front of them. You follow her lead, and she meets the press with the very embodiment of what they'd want—grace, charisma, flair and passion.

You answer a few basic questions that can't reveal anything interesting or new. Something about keeping the magic, and hopefully breaking it when you win a bunch of awards. Wouldn't that be nice?

"Where do you think this opportunity takes you after the film is released?" one interviewer asks.

"Obviously, any opportunity to work with other amazing talents is an honour. I don't know when, if, or what the offer will be, but I'm certainly happy to be working again."

"And if you had the opportunity to work with Miss Ortega again?" It's a question that she overhears, and she throws you a look over her shoulder.

You try not to stammer. "Of course, if I was fortunate enough, I'd take it. She's... unparalleled."

-

This has never been your favourite part, it might even be the worst. Sitting through your own premiere, watching your own work, it's like a long, self-aware nightmare. It's a natural reaction, but that's little consolation, particularly when you know what scene is coming next. It's some over-complicated form of torture to watch yourself get a handjob on the big screen. Everyone's watching. Including Jenna, sitting next to you.

This is the cavalcade of self-humiliation.

To your surprise, Jenna reaches over to slip her fingers between your own. It's the gentle and comforting squeeze that's accompanied by a sly smirk from her when you glance in her direction. Her eyelids lower and an undeniable tension builds between the two of you. She leans in to whisper to you.

"About last time..."

You smirk. "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

"The ending was abrupt, don't you think?" Her teeth catch on her lip, and those sinful eyes narrow.

"A little."

"Follow me."

Jenna stands up without waiting for an answer. Being in the back corner of the screening makes it fairly easy to slip out after her. When you reach the corridor leading to the bathrooms, Jenna looks you over and smirks.

"Tell me," she laughs out the words as she brushes a few strands of hair out of her face and pins you against the wall, "How often do you think about that night in my trailer?" She pushes up onto her tip-toes, wraps an arm around the back of your neck and pulls your ear to her lips. "Don't lie to me, I know you've thought about it."

Her tone is a familiar temptation, and you've missed it. The sensual inflexion in her voice winds its way through every bone and tendon until it's there, inside and immersing you in the raw carnality that Jenna makes you feel. "All the time."

"Me too." She pulls on your wrist, leading you again and heading for the bathroom. You let her, and she pulls you into a cubicle with her, closing and locking the door behind you. "And how many times have you got off imagining it, picturing it." Her hands stroke along the front of your trousers, and the button pops open in her fingers. You don't even get to reply before she says, "Yeah, me too."

There's something perverse about hearing her say that. Something lewd in the way she smiles at you and peels down your trousers and underwear and instantly slumps to her knees. There's no teasing, no showmanship, nothing but blunt hunger, naked and fierce.

"You're beautiful," you whisper, and her eyes dart up, and her lips pause just as she's about to take you. Her hot breath spilling over the tip of your cock.

"Shut the fuck up," she laughs. Her gaze narrows. She sinks her wet, warm mouth down onto your length, swallowing it bit by bit. When the head touches the back of her throat, she giggles as her eyes water.

A moan involuntarily slips out. Your hips buck forward. Jenna's tongue is like velvet, rolling around the tip of your cock, then enveloping your shaft. You can't help the thrusting. It's automatic, primal, a natural response to being encased in her intoxicating mouth.

Jenna looks up at you, cheeks hollowed, eyes wide with anticipation. She pops her mouth off your swollen cock with a wet noise, and immediately, her fist closes around it, jerking you. She smiles. "Wanna do it?"

"That's how you're going to ask?" You scoff, leaning against the cubicle wall, a slight grin pulling at your mouth. "Is the art of seduction really that dead?"

"Well, forgive me if I don't quote poetry at you and cover myself in rose petals," she says as she climbs back to her feet and places her hand on your shoulders. She guides you to take a seat as she jokes, "Poetry bores the shit out of me."

It's almost too fast when her slim hands lift her dress up to her waist. She watches your face, her teeth pin her lip as she reaches down to hook her panties to the side. She slips a finger inside her already dripping pussy. You throb, hard as a rock, when her hand withdraws and she's reaching up and pressing the gleaming digit against your mouth.

You taste her wetness, licking your tongue against it. "Fuck," you growl, the urge to have her, devour her, ravage her takes you.

"You want it?" Jenna sways her hips and bites her lip. Her tight little body was made for sinning, it's plain and simple. You can't resist touching her, teasing your hands up the back of her thighs and around the ample curve of her ass, then pulling her onto your lap.

"Want it," you breathe the words against her lips. Her hand settles around the base of your cock and drags it across her slick pussy. She sighs into your mouth when your thumbs dig into her hips. That's an invitation to slide inside her.

Then you fill her. Her lips seal onto yours, her eyes flutter closed, and a sweet, deep, hungry sound of satisfaction leaves her. It's a sudden rush, everything about this situation, here and now, is a euphoric madness.

She looks incredible above you, her round, firm tits straining against the dress fabric, beads of sweat at the hollow of her collar and the heat in her eyes. Perched on top of you, Jenna rolls her hips forward, grinding against your lap, coiling that hot, wet flesh around your cock.

"God, your cock feels so fucking good," she gasps as she rides you, the way she moves her hips, the wild shifts and squeezes of her tight cunt around you bring the knot in your stomach already. You buck up into her and a ragged cry tears from Jenna's throat.

You seize her hair and kiss her, swallow her cries and moans, her gasps and whimpers, drink every little sound she makes and lose yourself in the rocking grind of her hips. You're both animalistic now. Her with her bouncing, grinding and needy fucking. You with your digging fingertips and the pounding of your crotch against her. It's filthy, it's unhinged.

"This might be the last time we—"

"Shut up," you interrupt.

"Last time we do this."

"Shut the fuck up," your hands dig into her waist, pulling her down and plunging your cock deep.

"Tell me," she says breathlessly, slamming her hips to meet your thrusts. "If we end this right here, is that good enough?"

"Fuck no," you hiss the words. You reach up to pull down her dress, prying her perky, bare breasts free and enveloping one in your mouth. Your tongue traces the nipple and you draw it in deeper. Jenna slows to a firm grind, holding your cock tight inside her before she snaps forward, locking her arms behind your head. You feel the shudder inside her, feel her clenching on you.

It's a deep, powerful moan, straight to your ears, as she cums. Pulling back and grabbing your face in her palms, forcing you to look right into her eyes. The blissful, fucked-senseless expression on her face is priceless, so is the dizzying, tightening feel of her cunt. Jenna collapses, huffing and panting, while you still hunger for more.

You pick her up and slam her against the cubicle door. It rocks under the impact. She giggles and takes a handful of your hair.

"Go on, fuck me. Like it's the only time you're ever going to get the chance."

So, you do. What more could you ever do? Is there anything more rational than drilling Jenna Ortega against a door in a movie theatre bathroom?

"Good, yeah," she wraps her legs around your waist and curls fingers in your hair. "You're getting there." She tilts her head and you claim the side of her throat, biting her neck. "If I tell you that you can cum inside, will you fuck me harder? Is that it?"

You groan into her neck, grip tightens, and you draw her body right to yours.

"If I tell you how badly I want to feel you cum, that it's driving me crazy, would that make it better?" She tightens her thighs around your waist and huffs out the words as though the effort is too much. "Go on. Do it."

The door rattles on its hinges, but you hardly even notice. Everything is her. Her body, her eyes, her voice, her. Your fingers lock around her waist, hold her tight while you pound her. The sweat-slick strands of her hair hang across her forehead, her skin glistens, and you're mesmerised by how good she looks while you fuck her.

You sink your teeth into her shoulder as you fill her. You lose control, twitching, and buried to the hilt, a groan into her skin as you twitch inside her. Cum spurts, your body shakes, her sex pulsates and clenches. She milks everything, and the next thing you know, you're falling back onto the seat, her collapsed on top of you and heaving. Gentle movements of her hips keep the sensations alive until you have nothing left to give her.

Overstimulation sets in quickly, her fingers slowly entwine with yours as you sag back against the seat, trembling and spent. The pair of you stay there, sweat-drenched, messy and grinning, sharing the tangle of soft noises in the silence.

"So, that was..."

"Pretty fucking good," she cuts you off. She rests her head against your shoulder, her hands settle on your arms, caressing you.

"That's what I would have said," you tell her, as you run your hand over her thigh and palm her ass.

"Damn. We might as well get married and drive off into the sunset." She laughs, and you chuckle with her.

"Or maybe we could just do this again sometime?" you ask with a slight grin.

She considers it. Pouting her lips and twitching them side to side. Her expression takes on a knowing edge, something mischievous as she looks you over and replies. "I'll see you around, maybe."

Now that...

That's just cruel.

[angelsknifeprty]

streamer!ellie hcs ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

a/n: this is more focused on ellie and less on ellie x reader but i am for sure gonna follow this up with something else more focused on the both of you >:3

warnings | mentions of weed, the smallest hint towards struggling with eating if you squint

word count: 698

do not buy tlou | ways to help palestine | operation olive branch | keep eyes on sudan | haiti’s history | learn about congo

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ started off posting unlisted videos of her playing games with the stupidest, shittiest editing ever for you and her friends to watch and later decided to give streaming a try

‎ ‧₊˚౨ৎ starts off her twitch channel as a faceless streamer but does a face reveal when she hits a big milestone

‧₊˚౨ৎ has the creeper mini fridge for sure!!

‧₊˚౨ৎ has a ginger cat named garfield that she exclusively calls garfunkel on stream because her viewers made fun of her for garfield being too unoriginal

“guys, what do you mean it’s unoriginal, look at him. that’s literally garfield, the real deal. you’re all haters.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ plays a bunch of different games: minecraft obviously, fortnite, roblox (and argues with kids on there, you can’t tell me any different). also loves fnaf, elder scrolls and resident evil

‧₊˚౨ৎ more on her liking resident evil, i think she’s not super wimpy when it comes to games like that but she HATES the regenerators from the re4 remake (i’m totally not projecting…)

“i am NOT a wimp, but look at their freaky fucking arms!! and they have gross little butts too, that was not a necessary choice for the character design.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ she does find it funny when she kills them and they jiggle as they fall on the ground though

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ i’m throwing it in here that she smokes weed because i simply cannot help myself teehee :P

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she does more chill streams of her eating n stuff as a way of comforting her viewers so they can eat along with her )):

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ and in turn chat always spams her with comments to drink water because that girl survives purely on energy drinks to combat her sleepy girl syndrome

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ abuses the soundboard so heavily, loves using a sound effect of an audience clapping and cheering when she tells the most painfully unfunny joke

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she is ABSOLUTELY a jerma985 fan

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ loves putting her fans on blast and reacting to edits of her on stream and finds it so funny (especially the ones that have the reverb fart noise just randomly slapped in there, she thinks it’s peak humour)

“you guys think i don’t see this stuff? i have eyes everywhere. y’know what though, you guys are actually really talented.”

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ wears stupid t-shirts that say stuff like “i paused my game to be here” (omg i just found one that says “gamers make better lovers, they know all the right buttons” she would absolutely wear that)

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she wears her silly t-shirts with pride and has the audacity to ask chat to rate how hard her fit goes

therealher0brine: BOOOOOO 🍅🍅🍅 0/10

elliebellie69: i beg that you don’t leave the house in that /lh  (╥﹏╥)

gnarpgnarp500: never beating the loser lesbian allegations i fear…

“guys you’re just not seeing the vision, sorry that you’re not this cool.”

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ oh my gosh she is OBSESSED with the little ikea alien, she has multiple of them in her room. she keeps one on her desk and when she sometimes doesn’t know what to say she’ll just hold it up super close to the camera and make incoherent high pitched babbling sounds

smelliams420: omg cancelled you can’t say that dude…

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ gets her viewers to send in clips and she’ll do high try not to laugh streams and fails miserably because she has the dumbest sense of humour ever. she’ll blame it entirely on the herb though as if her reaction wouldn’t be near enough the same when she’s sober

‧₊˚౨ৎ will occasionally play guitar on stream and she’ll sing too if you catch her in the right mood. she’s a bit awkward about it so it doesn’t happen often cuz she hates messing up and always makes a way bigger deal about it than necessary

“fuck- no wait, i was just messing with you. that fuck up was on purpose, shut up,” and her cheeks are flushed bright red as she tries to brush it off and compose herself before trying again

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ loves to get sidetracked and info dumps about stuff she is far too knowledgeable on

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ in conclusion, loser ellie supremacy

a/n: raghhh i love streamer els with my whole heart !!! i’m gonna eat her (˶˃⤙˂˶) anyways i hope you enjoyed, k bye mwah! >3< ♡

[hardlyinteresting]

Any Other Way

Tyler Owens x Reader

As voted on by you the people. Relationships aren’t too unlike Tornadoes when you really think about it.

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, passing mentions of childhood injuries and bull riding accidents (nothing detailed or graphic), depictions of storms and tornadoes. (please let me know if you want me to tag anything else).

Word count: 1.3K

Masterlist | Talk to me about Tyler and Jake

The first time he ever saw a tornado touch down it was only a couple miles outside his home town. it's the same town he met her in. A force of nature; upending his life in ways neither of the two of them would have been able to anticipate in that bar all those months ago. 

He thinks now that nature and fate must be much the same, dictated by some higher power he's always believed in but never truly understood. As terrifying as it is mesmerizing, he finds him head over heels for her and it scares the shit out of him. 

Life moves faster when he's just falling into it. He's fallen out of trees as a kid, and been thrown from horses; an adrenaline rush halted only by a sudden and painful meeting with the ground. Love feels somewhat the same. He'd heard the phrase whirlwind romance, but he never expected it to be so life-altering. 

She rides shotgun in his truck and wears his favourite flannels, she changes the radio station while they are driving and he doesn't even flinch. As terrifying as it all is he chooses to look for the beauty in all of it. Tucked safely in his truck harnesses as the world spins around them he's certain he's finally found a safe place to land. 

The sound of the tornado passing right over the top of them echoes in his ears, and his eyes after all these years of chasing are still never quite sure where to focus. At a distance he's practiced at identifying precipitation patterns, analyzing the structures and collapses of storms; he's made a living doing it. But, in the centre of the storm, it's the pounding of his own heart rate that grabs his attention. Riding out a fear isn't the same as ignoring it, so he chooses to let it ground him. He focuses his mind on the science and the still unfathomable pulchritude of the natural world. 

Unrestrained and blithesome, laughter escapes him as the dust settles and they climb out of the truck. Her smile is as big as he's ever seen, it as she jokes along with Boone who clambers out of the backseat camera in hand. With an excited prompt from his friend, and the camera pointed in his direction, Tyler is quick to explain some of the science to their viewers breaking down their tornado experience into layman's terms. It's one of his favourite parts of the job; spreading joy and wonder. 

A few feet away he watches her grinning as she observes first-hand the soft purpling of the sky above in the wake of the storm. These are the good days. 

On the bad days; hours in the truck, and nights spent on bad mattresses havoc on everyone's bodies. A lack of promising storms on the radars leaves them pacing gas station parking lots, and sitting around the motel rooms they swore they didn't want to spend time in except to sleep. 

The air conditioner buzzes, humming an air of uneasiness into the already tense room. The room is silent otherwise and Tyler wishes one of the two of them would say something, but after 12 hours of nothing but waiting there doesn't seem to be much conversation left to have. She sprawls out on the bed, her arm draped over her eyes blocking out the yellow incandescent lamp light. He scrolls on his laptop, wading through radars and projections, searching for a new destination and a new objective, his fingers tapping an untimed beat against the bedside table. It's the calm before the storm. 

He can't pinpoint when the tension began to grow though in hindsight he's sure he should've seen it coming. But next thing he's in a shouting match, his own behaviour thrown at him as a heavy insult, he knows he's saying things he doesn't mean. In the middle of it all his heart races, waiting for the calm once more so he might be able to understand what happened. The door slams behind her when she leaves, and the brown shag carpet is scratchy against the palms of his hands as he lowers himself to sit next to the bed. Defeated he tries to analyze her actions and his own, accessing the potential damage as he goes. 

Who's to blame? who's at fault? He doesn't care as he replays the events of the day in his head. The bigger questions rattle around his skull begging for his attention, where did she go? Should he go after her? The aftermath is always the hardest part of a storm. 

A sudden flash of red illuminating his laptop screen has him on his feet and across the room again in a heartbeat. An unexpected, oncoming storm. His stomach feels lead-lined as he taps her contact on his phone; gutted when he hears the rhythmic vibration on the nightstand. Her phone lit up with his contact photo. 

There's a hopeless in it, the wind howling through the small town, whipping around the tiny motel. He hopes they're not in the direct path of the storm, but he doesn't take the time to check. Texts from Boone and Dani confirm they're sheltering with Lily and Dexter. Tyler texts back: looking for her. 

His breath rattles in his chest, and he ignores the way his hands shake as he calls out her name, hoping beyond hope that she's near by. Surely she noticed the shift in the weather and found somewhere safe. Surely this isn't how he loses her, on the back of a stupid fight. 

He thinks his knees might buckle if he lets himself stand still for too long, a foolish brand of restlessness stirs him into moving. The thought of what he stands to lose pounding in the back of his mind. The air is thick, and the rain that's now falling makes it hard for him to see the ground in front of him. He fights his way forward without a thought of himself, it's not the storm that scares him, but rather what it might take that strikes the chord of fear he's wrestled his whole life. 

He manages to make his way across the parking lot of the eerie quiet town, the echo of a storm siren blaring in the near distance. The window of the motel office has been shattered by some kind of debris and he has to shield himself from the wind even indoors, crouching low as he moves. He calls her name again, he voice cracking in a desperate plea. 

“Tyler?” A tear filled voice calls from behind the counter. 

He finds her curled on the floor under the large front desk, the sweet motel owner Doris holding tightly to her. He slips himself beneath the desk taking note of where it's bolted into the ground, a good distance from the windows; she's a clever girl. “I'm sorry,” she gasps out quickly, her eyes locking onto his own, “me too, darlin’,” he swears, “but we'll have time to talk about it later”. 

The world grows quiet again, pounding rain, and vicious winds slowing before stopping, air pressure releasing its heavy hold. He helps Doris out from under their hiding place, the gray haired older woman patting his hand in thanks as she catches her breath. He helps his girl up next not at all shocked when she throws herself against his chest. The familiar smell of her shampoo, and the feeling of his own flannel shirt on her frame ground him. 

“We're okay, baby,” he promises. 

“I got you these,” she says holding out a now crushed packet of milk duds. “I just wanted to clear my mind and I saw them in the vending machine. I was on my way back to the room--but the storm. I didn't mean to scare you”. 

His smile is wide despite the weight of tears behind his eyes, “honey, you scare the hell out of me and I wouldn't want it any other way”. 

[lam-ila]

I Care About You || Fernando Alonso

Summary: An unfortunate crash prompts Fernando to defend you and confess his feelings.

Word Count: 1,513

Warnings: slight descriptions of a crash

please let me know if you find more that i should add

F1 Masterlist

a/n: this is gender neutral. hope you enjoy this! feedback is appreciated

LIKES ARE GREAT, REBLOGS ARE BETTER ♡

Just like any other F1 driver, you hated crashes. They were always inevitable, you knew that, every driver knew that, but you absolutely hated them, especially when you were involved in them.

Early on in the first few laps of the Monaco Grand Prix, you were crashed into. The driver behind you tried to overtake you at an extremely narrow part of the track and ended up crashing into the side of your car.

“No, no, no, no, no!” you yelled into the radio as you were crashed into, resulting in a red flag. As you slowed to a stop, TV screens at viewers’ homes displayed “Are you ******* kidding me?”

“Not your fault. Not your fault at all,” your race engineer calmly told you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure my race is over.” You threw your head back as you responded, annoyed at the circumstances you found yourself in.

You climbed out of your car and assessed the damage, realizing that you were right, your race was over. You glanced over to the car that crashed into yours, noting that it had a similar amount of damage as yours and also wouldn’t be able to continue racing. You somehow felt better knowing that you weren’t the only driver to DNF, only feeling a small amount of guilt upon taking pleasure in someone else’s pain, pain that wouldn’t have happened if the driver didn’t try to overtake you.

Once you were off the track, you angrily ripped off your helmet and looked back at the crash, making eye contact with the driver who crashed into you. You quickly turned your head away, not wanting any prolonged eye contact to result in a conversation with the driver, and started to make your way to your team’s hospitality.

After changing out of your racing suit and meeting with the press, you sat down on a couch in your team’s hospitality and opened your phone, only to see the blame of crash being placed onto you. You furrowed your brow upon reading the seemingly endless posts, comments, and headlines blaming you for the crash. Deciding that you read enough, you placed your phone face down on the table in front of you and heavily exhaled in attempt to calm yourself down. You were running on adrenaline since the crash and looking at your phone wasn’t going to help bring your heart rate down.

You placed your elbows on your knees and leaned forward, so that your head was in your hands. You sat in that position for minutes, deep in thought. This was a just a misunderstanding, right? This wasn’t actually your fault, right? You took a deep breath as you shifted your body weight and took support from the back of the couch. You widened your eyes and you realized that you knew for a fact that the crash wasn’t your fault. Not only did your race engineer tell you so, but you also did nothing out of the ordinary while driving on the track. After all, it was the other driver who crashed into you because of a mistake they made, not the other way around.

Your gaze shifted to your phone as you contemplated opening it again to see what else people were saying. Deciding against it, you sighed, rubbed your hand against the top of your head, and stood up, making your way to your team’s garage. You needed a distraction and besides, it would probably look like the crash was your fault if you weren’t seen for the rest of the race.

Once the race ended, you went on your phone again, wanting to see what the overall narrative of the race was and if it was still highly focused on your crash. A video of Fernando, one of the drivers you were good friends with, kept showing up on your Instagram feed and on the fifth time that it showed up, you decided to click on it.

“I don’t think so,” Fernando started, looking a little off screen to look at the interviewer. “The driver behind them to overtake when they shouldn’t have. The track is too narrow to overtake there and this crash just proved that to be correct.” Fernando listened to the interviewer asking a clarifying question before continuing. “No, Y/N L/N is not at fault for this crash.”

You initially smiled and filled with a feeling of warmth. That was your friend, your Fernando, defending you. But then you realized, Fernando was defending you. As much as you appreciated it, you wanted to take care of everything with just you and your team. You didn’t like the way that it all looked: veteran Fernando Alonso defending a driver who is being blamed for a crash.

You marched out of the garage and entered the big post-race crowd of drivers, staff, interviewers, and friends and family of drivers, determined to confront Fernando. You spotted him within the crowd and sped up to reach him before he disappeared in the crowd again.

“I could have handled that myself, you know,” you declared once you caught up to Fernando, still navigating through the crowd.

“You’d rather have me just stand there and let the blame be placed onto you?” he challenged, slowing his pace to hear you out.

“Yes!” you exclaimed while raising your voice a little, turning a few of the heads around you. “That was not your battle to fight.”

“I didn’t want you to have to fight it on your own," Fernando reasoned, one step ahead of you as you two navigated your way through the crowd.

“Why? You’ve let other drivers figure this type of thing out on their own.”

He quickened his pace, trying to lose you through the chaos of the surrounding crowd.

“Fernando!” you sternly yelled his name, similar to a parent scolding their child and like a child being scolded, he froze and stopped in his tracks. “Please, I just want to understand,” you softly explained, meeting his eyes with a sincere look. He stayed silent, taking a moment to study your features: wide eyes, raised eyebrows, and lips slightly parted. Fernando’s eyes darted around, taking in the amount of people around you.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” he stated, gently grabbing you by the hand, pulling you out and away from the crowd. You followed Fernando and stumbled over to a less crowded area of the paddock. Once you were standing face to face, you noticed that the area was only used as a means to get from one place to another.

“This private enough for you?” you teased as one side of your lips curled up into a smile. Fernando didn’t verbally respond, but rather nervously nodded with his head slightly tilted down as to not meet your gaze. Your smile fell as you watched a nervous Fernando, something you rarely saw unless something was very much wrong. “Nando?” You used his nickname, hoping it would calm his nerves. “What’s wrong?”

He shifted his head to meet your gaze, then looked back at the ground. Deciding you had enough, you cupped your hand around his cheek and gently moved his head so he would look at you.

“Fernando?” You tried to get him to respond again.

“Hi,” he finally said.

“Hi,” you softly laughed. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

He sighed and straightened his body, removing your hand from his cheek in the process.

“You want to understand, yes?” You nodded enthusiastically, resulting in Fernando chuckling at your silent answer. “Okay, well you are right that I wouldn’t defend other drivers.”

“Then why-”

“You going to let me finish?” Fernando cut you off before laughing once again, this time at you miming zipping your lips together. “I care about you and before you start again, I know what you’re going to say: you care about me because that’s what friends do, they care about each other. But I care about you more than the way friends do, mi amor.”

“Mi amor?” you repeated, raising your eyebrows.

“Eh, too much?” he asked, nervously running his hand through his hair.

“No, I like it.” Fernando breathed a breath of relief at those four words. “It’s a good thing I care about you more than the way friends do too.”

“Yes,” he smiled brighter than you’ve ever seen him smile. “it’s very good.”

Fernando leaned forward and angled his head to kiss you, but you stopped him by lightly placing your hand on his lips. He raised his eyebrows and slightly tilted his head as if saying ‘why’d you do that?’

“I think we sound find somewhere more private for that,” you whispered with a shy smile on your face, not wanting anyone else, or any cameras, to partake in the moment.

Fernando smiled, kissed your hand that was against his lips, then took that hand and held it in his. Taking a few steps, he began to guide you to a much more private location, just as he did before, so he could continue without any worries.

——————————

F1 taglist: @2manytabsopen @matthewkniesys @fallinallincurls

join my taglist here

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

i can't stop thinking about Hawks getting pissed during an interview where another pro hero makes a remark about how Hawks pretty little sidekick could do so much better at their agency,,, and he has to sit there and play nice but once it's over hes allllllllllll over her,,,,, yea <3

I was at a con when I got this request and it got me giggling out loud and shit.

This took so long to write because I had writer's block, but I hope you like it <3

Warnings: the tiniest bit of spice, basically just enhanced making out, I tried to make this one a bit more fluffy, language, a random oc because I couldn't really think of any other pro-heroes within the age range who were assholes

Word Count: 2.5k

"And now for our next set of guests, I would firstly like to introduce the primary reason that half of our female viewers tuned in tonight."

The live audience erupted into applause as the pro made his way onto the stage, waving a hand before running it through perfectly-styled golden bangs.

The host, a middle-aged man with strikingly purple hair met him halfway. "Hawks, how are you doing tonight?"

"I'm doing great." He smiled, perfectly aware of how easily that grin could melt hearts. "Happy to be here."

"We're happy to have you!" The host reflected his expression, flashing a set of teeth that were so flawlessly white it was almost unnerving. "And next up, we have another hero slowly climbing up the ranks, the Hound Hero, K-Nine!"

Another man hopped on to the stage, earning another round of cheers from the crowd in front of him.

Umber hair had been wrapped into an unkempt bun, matching the deep shade of his eyes. He could be considered pretty attractive, Hawks supposed, if you could look past the ears poking past the up-do.

Although he didn't know the hero's legal name, nor did he care enough to look it up beforehand, he was ninety perfect positive that it started with the letter 'K.'

Cheesy, but he wouldn't judge. He'd been known to appreciate a good pun.

What he didn't appreciate was that fact that his PR rep had dragged him to another interview on his supposed day off.

Still, he was better than most at keeping up appearances, flashing that heart-stopping grin and throwing in a clever comment when the time called for it.

The host asked the usual questions, the similarities to K-Nine and himself, even though he was sure that those ended at their shared animal-based quirks and the fact that they were both in their mid twenties. Regardless, anyone with eyes would see that the two could barely be considered to be on the same level, something that brought an air of dullness to the interview.

As usual, the winged pro found it difficult to pay attention, leg bouncing in anticipation of how long he would be stuck here. That was one of the less-apparent downsides of being someone who prominently valued speed; sitting through such monotonous situations was quite the feat.

Instead, he droned out the voices as the men across from him started to discuss the importance of sidekicks.

And that's when he heard your name.

He perked up, immediately recognizing that K-Nine was staring in his direction, wolfish grin only accentuated by the sharpened canines poking out from under his lips. "I gotta say, I'm jealous."

Hawks cocked an eyebrow. "Jealous?"

Nodding, the brunet allowed the surface-level authenticity to settle for a moment. "Someone as cute as that? I don't know how anyone there manages to get work done."

It was almost unnoticeable, practically unseen over the televised pixels many were watching through. Regardless, the slight tense of his wings in pure irritation was undeniable.

So, that's what this was about.

Forcing a smile, he replied. "Considering our criminal apprehension rates, I think you'd be surprised."

K-Nine leaned back into his chair, haughty expression flickering between the good-hearted playfulness he was supposed to be exuding. "All I'm saying is a pretty little thing like that could do a lot better at my agency."

Golden eyes narrowed slightly as the connotation, fingers digging into the plush sofa as he used every bit of mental strength to will the spite from his tone. "As far as I know, all of my sidekicks are perfect content to work with me. Just like I'm sure yours are happy to work with you. Not sure how they handle all the fleas, though."

The cluster of people in front of him busted into laughter, and he joined in, but the sound seemed to be laced with a soft malice if you managed to listen hard enough.

Playing nice for the public was one of his strong suits, and considering his resilience in a long-term business relationship with Endeavor, he could rightfully say that he was able to handle difficult personalities.

All that tolerance seemed to fly out the window when it came to you.

And the hero across from him either had the social recognition skills of a goldfish, or was too dumb to care.

Regardless, K-Nine turned to the audience. "Come on, I've got a chance, right?"

Some man in the crowd let out a whistle and Hawks felt a compelling urge to hurl a shoe at his nose.

"Speaking of romance," the host verbally silenced the room, making Hawks more grateful than he thought momentarily possible, "I've got to ask, anyone special worthy of a mention?"

Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief, the inquiry signaling the closure of the interview, which had seemingly gone on for a few decades at the very least.

It was always like this, the same question would be asked, and then he'd give the same bullshit-answer about the love from his fans being more than enough.

Fuck, how great would it be if he threw your name into the mix.

That'd shut that arrogant mutt up real quick, that's for sure.

But he'd keep his mouth shut, if not for his own benefit, but for yours.

With your take-down rate, it was blatantly how talented you were as a hero and, even if it wouldn't be many, Hawks would be damned if anyone questioned your acceptance into his agency.

In all honesty, he had initially recognized your power and intelligence, traits that had gotten you the job in the first place.

It was in those first few months that he had begun to realize how much he liked you, how much he liked to watch you kick ass, or how pretty you were, even if it was preposterously early in the morning.

So he'd stay quiet, if only to keep a few impudent naysayers off your back.

Not to mention that you might wring his neck.

Instead, Hawks sat simmering with annoyance on that plush sofa until the cameras were cut and he was forced to shake hands, first with the host, then with his fellow interviewee for the night, the latter receiving the tiniest bit more squeeze.

The night was cold but he opted to fly back to his agency, allowing the chill to tangle through his hair and hopefully disperse some of the vexation he desperately needed eradicated.

Besides, driving would mean lesser access to his office skylight, which also meant a long-ass elevator ride that he didn't have time for.

It was unlocked, thankfully, and he slipped into the room. He moved to shrug off his jacket, but paused, double taking at the light blooming under the thin fracture between his door and the marble flooring.

Obviously, he wasn't scared. Anybody would have to be pretty idiotic to attempt robbing a place belonging to the number 2 hero, and even more so to leave a light on.

Regardless, he stayed quiet, hoping to avoid an unnecessary interaction with a coworker he didn't have the patience for, and crept around the corner, expression softening a bit at what he saw.

It was you.

You were huddled over your desk, typing furiously at some important looking document. The computer screen illuminated your features, casting a dull glow over the otherwise unlit room.

Hawks recognized the soft tense of your eyebrows every few seconds, the way that you would pause to collect your thoughts before issuing that recognizable click-clack of your keyboard in focused chunks of writing.

He leaned back on the wall, arms crossed as he watched you work with a fond grin gracing his features.

After a while, you sighed, taking a moment to rotate the stiffness beginning to take place in your neck. Your gaze lazily flit over the room and you jumped. "Fuck!"

"Wow, that took you forever, sweetheart," he sighed, tilting his head in a teasing inquiry. "Do we need to work on awareness skills with the other sidekicks?"

"If you're gonna keep lurking behind corners like the boogeyman, then probably." You rolled your eyes, allowing his petname to settle in your mind. "And I thought I told you not to call me that during work."

"Why? Because you get all blushy and embarrassed?" He pushed off the wall, strolling over and nestling his head on your left shoulder.

You tensed a bit as he arms snaked over that of the chair, hands wrapping around your torso. "I don't."

The hero laughed, pulling at your cheeks like he could feel the heat creeping into him. "Work hours are over anyway. Which means that you shouldn’t be here."

"I need to finish this report." You nodded to the screen as if to prove your point, eyes narrowing as he continued to bury his face into your neck. "Are you okay?"

He paused, eyebrows furrowing as he backed away. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You get extra clingy when you're upset. Did something happen at the interview?"

So, you hadn't seen it.

"How dare you," the faux-hurt lacing his tone was a stark contrast to the satisfaction he felt knowing that you were close enough to recognize some of his physical tellers. Still, you didn't need to know that. "I do wonderful in interviews."

You smiled and he felt his heart melt. "Well, I'm just going to have to check and make sure."

Saving the work on your current tab, you moved your mouse to open up a new one before finding YouTube, which would most likely already have clips of the program uploaded. You were barely hovering over the search bar when the man all but threw himself on to your lap, arms latching themselves around your waist. "Don't. There were so many annoying people there."

"I thought you had an avian quirk," you groaned, arms straining as you tried to detach his. "If you had boa constrictor powers then I would've liked to know."

He glanced up, eyes wide and oddly reminiscent of a child waking up his parents in the middle of the night. "I'll let you stay and work overtime if you let me hang out here for a while. It's been a very long day."

"Oh, I'm sure it has." You rolled your eyes, sighing in exasperation.

Despite the sarcasm, you succumbed to his request, letting go of his annoyingly firm grasp in favor of continuing to finish your report. Hawks found himself relaxing into your thighs, overly hyper brain surprisingly calmed with the muted tapping of your keyboard.

After a few more minutes, you shifted, pushing his unsuspecting form onto the floor and giving a laugh at the pout overcoming his face. "Bathroom. I'll be two minutes, at the very most."

It was, in fact, just past one-hundred and twenty seconds by the time you returned. The hero was currently taking up occupancy in your swivel chair, oblivious to the confusion at which you glaring at your phone with.

"Do you somebody named Kano Kirisaki?" You asked.

"Who?" He asked without looking up.

"The Hound Hero. He's somewhere in the late sixties on the charts, I think?" Despite your career as a pro-sidekick, you weren't exactly overly concerned with the rankings.

"Oh," he replied, ignoring the urge to add a 'called it.' A tic of annoyance threatened to emerge on his forehead, but he did his best to ignore it. "What about him?"

"I just got a text. The guy said that you gave him my number. Is that true?"

That made him pause.

"He said what?" The vexation simmering in his copper gaze was downright terrifying, only extenuated by the slow upturn of his chin as his eyes met yours.

"Apparently not." You made a beeline for the door, device still in hand and fingers typing away. "I'll just let him know that-"

Something whizzed past your face and you came to an abrupt halt, feeling the breath of air over your cheek as the object whirled by and just barely missed you.

You blinked, taking a moment to recognize what had just happened. You hadn't been hit, but the object previously in your hand?

Less lucky.

Spinning around in shock, you were met with the stupefied face of Hawks, who was currently staring in horror at the item stuck in the wall and the feather protruding out of it.

He just skewered your phone.

You turned again, silently walking over and yanking the hardened plume out before inspecting the damage. The screen had been shattered, the back cameras also blown to bits from the harsh impact.

"Oh, fuck." The hero stood, movements quick and panicked as he ran over to you. "Oh, shit. I am so sorry."

"What the fuck?" The sentence was less of an aggressive statement, more of an actual, bewildered question. Seeing as how completely flabbergasted you were, it was almost hard to be genuinely angry for the first few seconds.

"I swear, I don't know why I did that," he assured, running a hand through his hair in alarm. "But I'll get you a new one. That model was kinda old anyways…"

You scoffed. "Oh, thank goodness. I was hoping to get a replacement. How wonderful that you happened to impale this one."

His arm caught yours as you turned to leave, forcing your line of sight to meet his. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Against your best efforts, you felt your chest lighten a bit at the tenderness he was regarding you with. It was almost impossible to stay cold when the guy you had been admiring for weeks was looking at you like that. "I just don't... I just need you to know that you can be honest with me. I don't know what's wrong, but if there's anythi-"

Your eyes shot open as his mouth smashed against yours, taking a pause before fluttering to a close.

One of his hands curled into your hair, the other finding its way around your waist. His kiss traveled over your jaw, trailing until it was above your collarbone.

With his enhanced senses, it was easy to tell what areas you were most sensitive. He relished in every pleasured breath, the way your heart rate would speed up when he bit down ever so gently.

It took a tangible amount of self-control to keep himself from jumping you when the smallest whine fell from your lips. Instead, he lifted his leg in between your thighs, watching your form falter as a spark of warmth shot through your abdomen.

You around an arm across his shoulder, an attempt to steady yourself as you watched him pull away, arrogant grin gracing his features and eyes glowing softly. Their soft luminescence was nothing less than beautiful and you silently questioned why you hadn't scheduled more late night patrols. His fingers grazed underneath your shirt, tickled the skin of your waist with their gentle warmth.

The breath had escaped your lungs, but it was nearly impossible to keep the smile from your features. "What the fuck happened in that interview?"

Hawks chuckled, touch brushing over the small mark on your collarbone that he had left behind. His heart jumped at the thought of leaving more, leaving zero questions about who you belonged to. "Nothing that you need to worry about, sweetheart."

It was less than a day by the time you got your new phone.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Also don't think anyone has said this (thats a joke) but like, art styles aside:

The animation, expressions, movement, everything of ATSV is IMPECCABLE.

Like insanely, ridiculously, almost mind bogglingly good.

[This is a MEDIUM length post]

The main strength is the Emotion -

In terms of animation, the range of emotions Miguel is capable of expressing is like... crazy good. Gwen's emotions ARE UNSPEAKABLY IMPRESSIVE.

LIKE...ANIMATING HER FUCKING BREATHING???? AND BLINKS!! AS AN EMOTIONAL CUE. HELLO???!!

And the movie hinges on this - almost every scene has an emotional cue that HAS to hit. Whether is Jess's looks of hesitation or Peter B.'s looks of horror.

And this may seem like the most ridiculous comparison ever made but like...

The Bee Movie and Across the Spider-Verse came out FIFTEEN YEARS APART.

THE BEE MOVIE...THIS MONSTRASITY that has plagued humankind - was made less than two decades from THIS:

The fact that we progressed that far as a society (pun intended) in that short of a time will never not baffle me.

I genuinely cannot name any other animated movie that:

Has multiple styles throughout the duration

Can seamlessly change styles without the viewer immediately noticing (like Gwen returning to her universe)

Show two or more animation styles on screen at the same time (and no, Roger Rabbit and Space Jam don't count - that's half live action lol)

Just off the top of my head - ATSV shows up to three styles in one scene: I'm mainly thinking of the scene that shows Hobie (customized - style 1), Peter B. (standard - style 2), and Miguel (a light stylized - style 3).

It can be brought to four if you want to count Miles/Gwen, though their style isn't visible.

I can think of a couple scenes that genuinely blew me away in terms of animation -

One being Rio's 'What-EVER?!' because of the little stance correction and head bob she does, because it's such a natural thing to do. And it adds so much to an already perfect line.

It's something someone would genuinely do IRL without even noticing.

Another I LOVE is Pavitr and Hobie roughhousing.

Like, I can't yell about these five seconds of animation more.

It's SO fluid it looks like Motion-Capture and I left the theatre googling is any Mo-Cap was used in the movie (and from what I can tell - no, it's all original animation).

The way Pavitr falls to the side and bumps them - This not only being a natural reaction to Hobie and his weight, but it also LOOKS natural. So much so you can see it affect Hobie's model too. The movement has kinetic energy on both models -

Which is AMAZING CONSIDERING THEY'RE ANIMATED ON LIKE FOUR DIFFERENT TIMES.

In this shot alone, there's the guitar, vest, AND Hobie, all of which have their own animation rules. Plus the outline on his guitar AND him. And then there PAVI too, who's running at a higher frame rate, touching and interacting with Hobie.

So much so that Hobie's model nearly wraps himself around Pavi. Pavi's hair is moving, Hobie's guitar is moving, there's movement in the background - and it looks GREAT.

PLUS THE CAMERA IS MOVING AND GOSTLING. IT'S NOT A STATIC SHOT. The models and camera are moving AS IF THEY'RE REAL when they're not.

That's - My..I CAN EVEN COMPUTE THAT.

But by far, I think the range of expression used on Miguel is like... Chef's kiss.

(of course I was gonna trick you into reading another post about Miguel. Uh-huh that's what's about to happen)

Like... are you kidding me?

NAH DEADASS ARE YOU KIDDING ME?????

The whole later half of the movie hinges on Miguel looking buckwild crazy insane and they NAIL that. And like-

Oh my god what the actual fuck

?????????????????????????? I........ I have nothing to add. After that picture......Nah... LMAOOO

(left: actual photo of Moche watching this happen)

But Anyway chile, This movie is like.. genuinely a modern marvel.

If Marvel gave Tim Gunn 4 billion dollars and five years, whatever live-action rendition he would have made would not even compare to ATSV on any conceivable level - that's how good it is so jot that down.

And like...don't even get me started on Hobie..his design..his representation...girl I will start crying in this Arby's do not play with me

I just felt that needed to be said.

you get what I'm saying yall know what I mean iight coo

Here's a picture of Hobie to cleanse your palette.

Bye.

[10-honglazia-24]

𝐒𝐚𝐧’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐏+ 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨

ミ★ oneshot

Pairing: Solo content

Chapters: 1

Word count: ???

Rating: 18+, mature, legals only, mdni !

Genre: smut, solo smut, porn with a little plot

Warning/tag: idol!san, fan!viewers, masturbation, edging, praise, idol!wooyoung, just POP+ live smut, san being teased by another member, pervert san

Summary: After getting himself all worked up over a certain pair of shorts, San decides to spoil the fans twice in one day- ONLY his usual audience aren't the only ones tuning in.

Inspiration from: Ateez as Camboys (Pt. 1) written by @akistaytiny

It wasn’t long after San had stopped to have a bite to eat with his other members, that he found himself in a dilemma.

He was bored.

And horny.

Especially after having seen Wooyoung make his rounds around the dorms, in a dangerous pair of shorts. It was already bad enough that he had called San into the kitchen to help him prepare their meal. So naturally, San’s curious eyes traveled towards the nether regions of his friends attire.

He was dressing comfortably, of course. A pair of black shorts, a little shorter than what one would imagine the average males shorts to be. A loose, mesh material, yet they still hugged the others hips just enough to capture San’s attention. His ass looked great in them of course, but that was almost Wooyoung’s ass in anything. Most of all if not the way his cock was loose, free for the viewing, shuffling about beneath the fabric everytime Wooyoung moved around in the kitchen.

San’s brain was a mess.

So now here he was.

Setting up his camera angle on his desk setup, before starting the live, from his POP+ account. Fidgeting about a bit, trying to find a proper placement of himself. He wanted to tease his viewers a bit, but he was already worked up to a point where it might be a little hard to hide that.

“Hello!” He waves to the camera as he sees the comments begin to roll in. A various of greetings, emojis, comments on his looks, the usual script for the first couple of minutes.

“𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧?”

“𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞!?”

“𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥 𝐮𝐬?”

San smirks seeing the comments roll in, before he simply shrugs, leaning back in his chair, as he props one leg over the other.

“𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞?”

“𝐒𝐚𝐧-𝐚𝐡?”

“𝐒𝐚𝐧, 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠?”

His smile grows wider, and he brings a hand up to try and hide the amusement gathering at his lips.

“𝐒𝐚𝐧!?”

“𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐬…”

“𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐠? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠~?”

He points to his leg, giving the camera a look as if to say ‘this?’ And the comments are flooded with confirmation. San then goes to move his leg yes- But as he does he’s zipping his hoodie up, enough to wear it’s baggy to hide the erection underneath. He can’t help but smile at all the begging and complaining that follows after.

“Maybe if you keep begging for me like that?”

He finally speaks and his viewers bend to his will. He can’t help but imagine just how the mix of voices would sound begging just to see his cock. All his fans. The women. The men. Maybe Wooyoung even…

He licks his lips at the thought, and then slowly begins to pull on the zipper of his hoodie. Completely revealing the more than prominent boner that was hiding in the tan pants underneath. Completely shuffling out of his jacket, and letting it drop to the floor.

“𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐧~”

“𝐒𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬.”

“𝐒𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞?”

“𝐒𝐚𝐧-𝐚𝐡, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞?”

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲.”

San was dragging his bottom lip between his teeth as he couldn’t take his eyes off the comments coming in. His audience was always in a mood, especially today and he was glad to see the energy. This would be a fun session.

“You want a taste? Of me? Tsss, Yunho might get jealous…” He says as he moves a hand down to begin palming himself. Taunting at the fact that Yunho gets a little possessive of his audience. Letting off a soft groan as his eyes fall closed for a moment at the sensation. “Fuck…”

For a while, he’s there, just like that. Head titled back, grinding his palm slowly over his trapped erection. Just groping hi self and missing the comments that roll past admiring his sounds, admiring the way his muscles tensed- They loved it all.

He finally raises his head back up, bringing his attention to the comments. Moving his other hand to scroll a bit through what he missed and smiles.

“I guess I should let you see it then?” He teases his crowd once more before he’s taking in the comments as his hands work on the button and zipper of his pants.

Reaching in and unveiling himself to his viewers. Taking in a hiss of a breath as the cool air greeted his aching cock. The tip already slick with the bit of pre-cum.

“𝐖𝐚𝐡~, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬.”

“𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩?”

San noticed that one comment in particular, as it lead to similar questions being asked. His fans poking and prodding as to what had gotten him so stiff or what he was thinking about now. His fingers wrapped around his length as he gave in to slow, firm strokes.

“Mmm, should I tell you~?” He hums, letting out a breathy chuckle at the eagerness of his audience. “Sorry, it’s a secret~”

“𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝?”

San’s actions froze for a moment, his eyes coming open fully as he leaned over to get a closer look at the screen. There was no doubt about it: Wooyoung was pondering around in his live. Surprised at first, he couldn’t help but be caught off guard. He’s sure Wooyoung was laughing at him or something from the other room. But he swallows, and puts on a cheeky smile, leaning back in his seat, and going back to stroking himself slow.

“Sorry Wooyoung- It’s still a secret~” He teases and Wooyoung plays at being pouty. The comments really becoming lively at the interaction between the two of them.

“𝐒𝐚𝐧-𝐚𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠!?”

“𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨?”

“𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞!”

San pouts at this, despite Wooyoung’s answer to enjoying the sight of the others cock.

“If you’d all like to watch Wooyoung instead, I can end it and finish by myself?”

“𝐍𝐨, 𝐧𝐨!”

“𝐖𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐧, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐠𝐨.”

“𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐭.”

“𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”

San grins at the change of tone now. “Good, that’s more like it.”

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰.”

It’s Wooyoung’s comment that’s stands out again.

“Yeah? Because my fans want to know so bad?” He starts to stroke himself faster.

“𝐄𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲~ 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐰.”

San quirks a brow…And then it hits him. Somehow it gets him even more turned on and his cock twitches in his grasp. Causing him to tighten his grip as he moves his hand.

“𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐰?”

“𝐒𝐚𝐧-𝐚𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲?”

“𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨?”

“𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠?”

“𝐌𝐦𝐦, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨..“

“I-I was watching, Wooyoung…” San gives in and huffs out. His thumb swirling around the slit of his cock. Smearing the precum and using it to lube up the rest of his length as he kept going. Half lidded eyes watching the string of comments.

“𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠?”

“𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?”

“𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐚𝐧~”

San swears he can hear Wooyoung’s laugh from through the wall.

“𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 ♥️”

“𝐖𝐚𝐚𝐚𝐡, 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐦.”

“𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩.”

Back to the audiences attention on San, the other is holding an expression on his face that has the comments sending, and he’s bucking into his own hand. Not at any pace to wild and feverish, but rolling his hips up to meet with the steady rhythm he finally has with his hand.

“𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐦, 𝐒𝐚𝐧?”

San sees the string of comments getting started by Wooyoung once again. The fans now following his lead in edging him on. He nods with a needy moan, his hand moving even faster around his cock. Grip growing even tighter as the wet noises from how slick he his, can definitely be heard by his fans. Definitely not minding the mess he was making of his own hand just from his own juices.

"𝐁𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬-“

"𝐖𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐧-𝐚𝐡"

"𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭"

"I-I want to cum- I-want to cum for you…Wooyoung...All of you…Make me cum…” He groans the others name out shamelessly. Something about another member contributing to his live…Feeding into with the fans and all. One would think he should be embarrassed, but no. He was enjoying every second of it.

"𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐚𝐧-𝐚𝐡~ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧,𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡"

"𝐃𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐭,𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲~"

"𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫?"

"𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐬, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲?"

Seeing the comments now through hazy eyes, San bites his lip letting out a distressed groan as he's now moving his hand slower. A painfully slow pace that has him letting out a string of curses. His mind was reeling. The frustration building up becoming unbearable to a point where he's practically whining. Begging with his eyes, his expression, but they either don't realize, or are enjoying every moment of his "suffering". San wasn't one for the slow and steady pace when it came to his own pleasure- But when he thought about what the others could be doing, enjoying this so much…What Wooyoung might be doing- He was driving himself crazy, and he knew at least one or the other was aware of that.

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫"

"𝐎𝐡 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞!”

"𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞?"

"𝐒𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐲"

"𝐒𝐚𝐧-𝐚𝐡, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞-𝐮𝐩-?"

"𝐃𝐨 𝐢𝐭~”

With a somewhat shaky hand, he moves to carefully take his phone off of his desk. Bringing it to sit on his lap in a way that hides his face. If not most of his upper half as well.

Like this, now, the sounds from the glide over his wet cock and ragged breaths are much louder for the fans.

"𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝"

"𝐖𝐚𝐡𝐡, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠"

"𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫”

"𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞~,

"𝐈𝐭,𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭~”

"𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐜𝐮𝐦?"

“Please…Please…I want to cum for all of you…I need to…You wanna see it too, right?” San is practically begging. The comments rolling just to almost sadistically wallow in how desperate he was becoming. “P-please…Need more…”

“𝐖𝐞’𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞~”

“𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 :)“

“𝐖𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐜𝐮𝐦~”

“𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐬”

“𝐈𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?”

“𝐒𝐚𝐧-𝐚𝐡, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐧𝐨𝐰 ♥️”

“𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫”

San took that as all the permission he needed before he’s moving his hand faster around his cock. Every wet glide, building up to his release even faster now. The wet sounds from his cock and breathless moans entertaining his viewers completely.

“𝐎𝐡! 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝”

“𝐒𝐚𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐲”

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐛𝐚𝐝, 𝐡𝐮𝐡?”

“𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐒𝐚𝐧-𝐚𝐡~”

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭”

San is practically whimpering. His hand moving even faster, the filthy noise echoing through the room. His own moans and other little sounds he was sure could be heard through the walls by now. He’s bucking his hips, fucking into his hand, almost losing the grip of his phone with the other.

“I’m gonna cum- I’m gonna cum- F-Fuck…Fuck!” He chants, before his eyes happen to flicker down to the comments.

They’re coming in so fast and he’s so close to his release, he doesn’t bother scrolling as they come. Eyes fixed on the camera and what he can catch a glimpse of as they roll in. Some begging for him to cum, others saying how close they were, a few wanting a cumshot over the lens of his phone- Then there was Wooyoung with the occasional filth he could share in the comments but he was sure the man would never say these things to him vocally. But all of his fan admittedly in their own space, touching themselves with him, asking to cum together- Getting off on him, getting off on them- He couldn’t anymore. Suddenly he’s throwing his head back, a loud moan, almost a cry working it’s way out of his throat. Coating his hand and some on his shirt as he bucks into his hand with a sloppy rhythm.

If the other members didn’t hear him before, they without a doubt definitely heard him now.

“𝐎𝐨𝐡, 𝐒𝐚𝐧-𝐚𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝~”

“𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐧”

“𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭”

“𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡..”

“𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞, 𝐒𝐚𝐧~”

“𝐈 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭!!! 𝐒𝐚𝐧-𝐚𝐡, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧? :(“

San finally raises his head up, catching his breath. Messy hand still around his cock, humming softly as he gives himself a few mor soft strokes as he catches up on the comments.

He gives a weak chuckle. "Maybe after I have a little nap. I had fun, everyone. I hope you all enjoyed today." He says before making a kiss at the camera, and ending the live with his signature smile.

After that, he carefully places his phone back on his desk. Getting up and tossing his clothes aside to be cleaned later, and wiping himself clean. He's cleaned himself up, and throws on a new pair of boxers. As he plops down onto his bed, he gets a notification that Wooyoung's just posted on his POP+. Curiously, he taps on the notification and what he sees…is absolute foul play. Wooyoung was not going to let him live this down anytime soon...

A/N: so the post was an actual edit that I had made, a fake TokToq post on Wooyoung’s POP+ Account, revealing the aftermath of what was happening in Wooyoung’s shorts after finishing San’s live. It was just a little boner shot but I’m afraid it may have violated Tumblr guidelines! So I removed it! But my messages are open if you get curious enough to see the edit! I hope you all enjoyed! ✍️

[spicyseonghwas]

answer me. - kim hongjoong

pairing :: kim hongjoong x male reader viewer rating :: 18+ genres :: smut au's :: i dunno content warnings :: choking, begging, rough sex, a hickey i think, biting, slutshaming/name calling, heavily implied recording of the rough sex, slight sadism word count :: 767

18+ ; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

you chuckled, leaning in and letting your whole body weight fall onto hongjoong as he continued to rail him into oblivion. you buried your face in his neck and bit down as hard as you could, relishing in the loud, sinful, obviously exaggerated moan that ripped from his lips.

he was being recorded, after all.

"such a hungry little cockslut, huh?" you growled into hongjoong's ear, looking directly into the camera of your phone, which was propped up against a pillow leaning against the bedside table, recording the whole thing as hongjoong whimpered weakly into your ear.

"answer me," you hissed when hongjoong didn't respond, grabbing his hair and yanking harshly on it to summon forth another one of the shorter man's pretty moans.

"f-shit, y-yes," hongjoong whimpered, fisting the sheets as you thrusted continually into him at the fastest, roughest pace you could get your body to let you keep.

"open your mouth," you commanded, gently tapping hongjoong's left temple with your finger to get his attention before you spoke. when he obeyed your wishes, you chuckled, spitting into his mouth. he swallowed it with a needy groan, wrapping his shaking legs around your waist and pulling you as close to him as he could get you.

"yeah?" you taunted, "you like that, whore? i bet you do, i bet you like getting used like this, huh? you like it when your boyfriend uses your slutty little hole for whatever he wants, hmm?"

"y-yes, i l-love it, ugh- FUCK, RIGHT THERE-" hongjoong cut himself off let out a high-pitched moan as the tip of your cock hit his prostate dead-on. his eyes rolling back into his head and his cock twitched as he (barely) registered the words you had just said to him.

your eyes raked over his face, taking in the stunning pink color your ministrations had made his cheeks turn. then you pulled out without warning, switching positions so that you were on your knees. then you took hongjoong's knees in your hands and pulled him closer to you before thrusting roughly back into him so that he screamed in a blissful mixture of pain and pleasure. you leaned over and grabbed your phone, immediately resuming the pace you had been fucking him at before as you moved the camera so that it was recording hongjoong.

"fuck, you're so sexy, baby," you cooed, cupping his face in your hand and letting out a little "awww" as he leaned his face into your hand. then you chuckled, your voice full of sadism, and slapped his cheek just roughly enough that he would feel it through the foggy sense of cloud-nine pleasure he must have been feeling.

"look at you," you growled quietly, "taking my cock like such a good little slut."

hongjoong just whimpered weakly in response, groaning as his eyes rolled back into his head again.

you chuckled, ending the recording and chucking the phone lightly over your shoulder towards the foot of the bed. you leaned over him and let your weight fall on top of him again, wrapping hongjoong's legs back around your waist. he wrapped his arms around the back of your neck and pulled you close, pressing his lips to yours in a heated, needy kiss. he licked your bottom lip and nibbled lightly on it, growling as the tip of your cock hit his abused prostate again.

"oh f-fuck- right there, don't stop, please…" he begged weakly, a broken moan escaping into your mouth that you gladly devoured.

you broke the kiss and chuckled darkly, licking his right temple and then moving downward and biting down as hard as you could, almost melting away completely when you heard the whoreish, broken moan that ripped from his throat. you gladly obliged in hongjoong's request, putting your hand on his throat and squeezing. he moaned again, his eyes rolling back into his head for what had to be the tenth time tonight; his cock twitched again, indicating that he was getting close to his release.

"beg for it, slut." you whispered simply.

"y-yes, sir-" he whimpered, "fuuuck, right there- please, m/n, fuck me harder…"

"you promise you'll be a good, obedient slut for me if i give you what you want?" you asked, pulling his hair roughly.

"yes, i pro-fuck- yes, i promise i'll be a good slut-"

"good boy." you said simply, putting your hand on his waist and holding him down as you willingly indulged in the railing your cute little boyfriend had requested of you.

fuck, you were so lucky to have this man for a boyfriend.

© bouncyyunho 2023-2024.

[lixiesfreckless]

No Translation Needed | h. h.

➸ synopsis: when the language barrier between you and a stranger becomes too wide, your shared interests bridge the gap for you.

➸ starring: hwang hyunjin x female reader

➸ word count: 2.7k

➸ general content: artist!hyunjin, there is somewhat of a language barrier, both people are complete art nerds and it's way too endearing, takes place in south korea, flufffff(I'm so fond of this man)

➸ warnings: microscopic mention of alcohol

➸ rating: teen+

➸ author’s note: an older fic but I'm still so attached to it. two kinds of people: the type who hear hyunjin speak english and move on, and then me

♫ this fic has a soundtrack! you don’t need to listen to it while reading, but rêverie by the man, the myth, the legend, claude debussy goes SO HARD ON THIS FIC LIKE-

You were never the type to dabble in realism.

A pair of headphones, a wide brush, a blank canvas, and a bucket of red paint; that was your activity of choice on friday nights. Nothing that came from that ever resembled anything in particular, but it was never supposed to. Just looking at it, one could tell what emotions fueled the creative process those nights.

The feelings behind them were real enough, you'd hear people say.

But of course, there's always some people that detest abstract art. They say it takes no talent, no thought, that you're just slathering paint on a canvas and expecting to get recognition for it. Sometimes you think they're right.

Other times you buy a plane ticket out of the country, you know, for fun. If you were a starving artist, maybe you'd think about letting their words get to you.

And while some would argue that booking a spontaneous vacation to Seoul could classify as a form of escapism, the painting in front of you has you wondering whether you could mark this trip in your tax forms as a business expense.

All of your years in art school and not once had you ever learned so much from one piece of canvas.

Art museums are designed to look boring. They are supposed to draw your eye from one acrylic-covered canvas to another, making you forget about your surroundings and immerse you into the various artworks. This one was no different, hues of beige and black and white littering the geometric space.

That being said, you are certain that this painting would have caught your eye even if it was posted in Times Square.

You had made your way across the room, ears picking up on the few Korean phrases you knew as strangers shifted around you. A graphite cityscape. A gouache vase of flowers. A portrait made of ink prints on wood. The exhibit you randomly picked over tonkatsu and soju last night in your hotel room was definitely a good one, no doubt.

And to think you almost walked past this piece.

Bold strokes of blue, tiny specks of white, all on a frame that was wider than your wingspan. 

The girl was depicted just off center, in some billowy white dress.

Floating? Drowning? 

You settle on suspended as your footsteps slow down, turning to approach the watery scene.

Staring at it feels like staring at a glass of water. You can't definitively say whether it’s half-empty or half-full, whether she’s reaching for the surface or letting herself sink. Her face is covered by wispy brown hair, obstructing her true emotions from view. Somehow you know this was a conscious decision the artist made, to let the viewer come to their own conclusion on the piece.

Even though you know about the negative effects that human oils have on artworks, you still find yourself fighting the urge to reach out and touch it. To feel the ripples of the oil paint and somehow find your own hand soaked, as if you reached through the canvas barrier and felt the cold loneliness yourself.

Impressionist paintings did always have this charm about them, at least to you. They felt abstract upon inspection, just a mess of strange brushstrokes and controversial colors. And yet when viewed from a distance, it feels like a completely different experience. Up close, a dizzying mix of the shades of the sky. A step back, and it's an unspoken thesis on the solitude of limbo, or whatever you've decided to name this piece.

You glance at the info card at the bottom right corner.

Buoyancy- Hwang Hyunjin

You make a mental note to research him later before your eyes get pulled to the subject once again.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

You have been staring at his painting for eight minutes.

He had walked around, chatted with other featured artists, talked with a few strangers, but when he came back, you had acted as though you were one of the items on display; still locked in the same position as before. Eyebrows furrowed, one hand resting on your canvas tote bag, the other in the pocket of your trousers. 

In the nicest way possible, you looked like a tourist.

But tourists don't have long attention spans, and you could have been roleplaying a statue with how long you'd been standing there.

A strange mix of anxiety and excitement rushed through Hyunjin when he found you still standing there. 

No one had ever observed his art for that long before.

At least, not in one sitting. Definitely not like this. Why haven't you moved on? Can you see something that he can't? Are you thinking of buying a print?

He wants to approach you. To leave you alone. To watch you scrutinize his painting. To run screaming to the event coordinator.

Casually, he sticks both hands in his jeans and stands a few feet from your right side, as if he's one of the visitors.

He takes a moment, gaining whatever’s left of his composure before speaking.

“I'm so glad I know how to swim.”

You snap out of your daze, surprised to hear English in the Korean white noise you've been immersed in. You look over and see the gorgeous young man standing near you, looking at the painting you've been so engrossed in.

“Yeah,” you exhale, “I totally get the fear of open water.”

Hyunjin chuckles, strangely drawn in by the sound of your voice.

“Although, she doesn't seem all that scared to me,” you add, shifting your focus back to the canvas.

“You don't think so?”

“I mean, you could argue that she doesn't want to be there, that she's drowning,” you begin, pointing to the girl. “But…the longer I stare at it, the more I feel like she's just hanging there, not reaching for the surface on purpose.” Your finger trails down to the bottom right corner. “I think that's why it was named Buoyancy, at least that's what I got out of it…”

You trail off, realizing that you're rambling to a total stranger about a random piece of artwork. Looking back at him however, you find your face heating up at the amazed expression on his, as if you had just told him his middle name.

“I wish I had thought of that,” he lies. It was almost scary how quickly you had found the meaning he'd tried to convey after months of fighting with the paint.

“Well that's the fun thing about art,” you say, smiling to yourself. “It's all subjective. What were you thinking?”

Hyunjin opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again in mild frustration.

“I'm not…very good with English,” he says, defeated.

He would argue that he's not very good with any language, even his mother tongue.

Art was the only language he felt he could speak easily without hesitation. It was easy to throw himself into that with reckless abandon, because it was the only place where he truly felt understood.

“But I can still understand you,” he quickly amends, glad to see that spark behind your eyes again. He walks past you, stopping at the painting on your left. “What about this one?”

“This one has some really dramatic lighting, which makes me believe…”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Evening sunlight filters in through the exhibit windows as you and Hyunjin examine an organically-shaped vase, admiring its handiwork.

“I’ve always wanted to try pottery but…I don’t really like the feeling of cold clay on my hands,” you chuckle, looking at the tall man next to you. He grins, scrutinizing his hands as he contemplates his answer. 

“People tell me I have good fingers- for clay,” he adds quickly, even though the meaning wasn't lost on you, and you fight back a smirk to appear unphased. “But I haven't found a good studio? Is that how you call it?”

“I wouldn't know, I've never been,” you say, walking to the next painting. Which happens to be where you both started.

“Wait, have we been through this whole gallery?” You quickly check your watch, confirming that you have been there for much longer than you had intended. Looking back at the stranger you have spent the evening with, you feel heat start to scatter across your face.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take up so much of your ti-”

“I liked it,” he blurts, and you feel reassured as his face lights up with panic. “Talking. With you, I mean.” He looks just past you to the art on the wall, ears turning the slightest shade of red. “No one has ever said anything so beautiful about my art before.”

He watches as your face circles through several emotions, before settling on embarrassment. 

“You're…you're one of the artists? Which one is yours?” You say, trying to recall what you said about every art piece.

He nods toward the painting that had first caught your attention, the one that practically jumped out at you an hour ago.

“Hyunjin,” he says quietly, extending a hand toward you in a humble introduction, as if that same hand didn't produce the masterpiece in front of you. 

“Y/n,” you whisper, trying not to let your mouth hang open in awe. “And to think I was going to Google you later.”

“You were?” The light in his eyes was unmistakable.

“I always research artists that inspire me,” you admit, bashfully dropping his hand.

“I inspired you?”

You meet his eyes and you know then, the weight that your words carry.

To create is a desire that all artists cannot shake; it is what keeps the painter keep coming back to the blank canvas, the sculptor to the slab of clay. But when the process is finished, all they can hope is that someone will see it, and feel a fraction of what they felt whilst creating it. 

Moving someone to the point of giving them the desire to create, through their artwork, is a dream many artists never get to see come into fruition.

And maybe that's why Hyunjin stares at you now, wondering which lucky star is shining down on him now.

“Can I…” he pauses, hoping he's saying the line like how they do in the movies, “can I buy you a drink?”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

When people say studio apartment, this is what you wish they mean.

Floor-to-ceiling window walls on one side, where several canvases sit propped up against the city skyline, and an apartment on the other, with a cute kitchenette and loft bedroom that doesn't feel cramped. It's perfect for someone who needs enough space to think, without sacrificing their space to live.

You hear Hyunjin click the door shut behind you as you set your bag down on a chair, surveying the studio side of his residence.

Several canvases catch your eye.

You can't even blame him for attempting to paint it because with the view he has, you'd paint it every day. 

Different versions of the Seoul skyline are scattered across the room, each depicting a different time of day. Sunrise is leaning against the window. Midday is sitting on a canvas. Twilight is hanging up on the wall, and something akin to golden hour lays unfinished, perhaps even abandoned on the floor. You crouch in front of it to get a better look.

“That one is…not finished,” Hyunjin says from the kitchen, pouring two glasses of soju. You can feel his nervous gaze on you even with your back turned to him.

“It's beautiful,” you whisper, looking at the palette he used to mix the colors. An array of browns and yellows are smeared on the glass, which were no doubt used to put the buildings into the scene.

He doesn't say thank you; his face does that for him when he crouches next to you, cheekbones pink as he sets the soju glasses on the floor. 

“I can't get the colors right,” he sighs, staring at the painting in discontent. “It looks…dull.”

“Maybe you should try adding red instead of brown,” you suggest, picking up a palette knife. “May I?”

Hyunjin stares at you in bewilderment, before opening a tube of vermillion and squeezing a bit onto the palette. 

“I studied color theory for what felt like forever,” you chuckle, taking the knife and adding red to a few of his previous colors.

“I never went to art school,” he says, as if that makes him a lesser artist. You feel a twinge of jealousy at that statement, knowing that the man next to you was this skilled without coaching, before adding, “You didn't miss much. It killed my creativity.”

Hyunjin goes pale at that as you pass him a clean paintbrush and toss the palette knife aside.

“Did you get it back?” He asks, and when you tilt your head, he adds, “Your creativity?”

“It comes and goes.” Sometimes you wish you didn't stake your livelihood on your ability to create. Inspiration is always a welcome guest but it never stays for long, at least on your side of the ocean.

Watching him add your hues to the painting is like having inspiration fed right into your bloodstream. Immediately the painting comes to life, the reds of the sunset becoming visible at the whim of his paintbrush.

He stops for a minute to admire the changes, and turns to you for feedback, eyes twinkling with joy. Or maybe that's just the soju.

“It was beautiful before,” you say, tracing your finger along the side of the canvas, “but now it looks alive.”

“I love the way you talk,” Hyunjin says quietly after a moment of silence, and the bluntness of the compliment nearly has you choking on your soju. But he just looks at you, no hint of humor in his eyes, sitting entirely too close to your tipsy self, and you feel your body buzz with warmth.

“And I love the way you smile,” you whisper back, unable to look away as he sets down his paintbrush, trying to hide his contagious grin.

He turns back to you, and you wish for several things. You wish you didn't have a plane ticket taking you away from this place in a week. You wish that you had finished your glass of soju. You wish you could poke the mole under his eye, or the dimple in his cheek.

You wish that you were drunk enough to close the gap between you two without a second thought.

But when your foreheads touch, your phone buzzes, so you grin and chuckle to yourself.

“I…I think we've had too much to drink.”

He looks at you through hooded eyes and smiles again.

“Or not enough.” He counters.

You nod in agreement at that and pull back, mentally kicking yourself for losing the only chance at finding out what his smile tastes like. But it's probably better this way. You don't want to be remembered as the girl who sweet talked her way into his bed.

You're halfway to the sink with your glasses when he speaks up suddenly.

“I want to see you again.”

You set the dishes down before turning to face him, and you wish you had brought a change of clothes. And maybe an extra toothbrush.

“I don't want to finish it without you,” he says, nodding to the painting that he had moved to the easel.

“I can come back tomorrow morning,” you promise, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“I can make crepes.”

“I love crepes.”

He picks up your bag from the chair and brings it to you, hating how much it feels like he's rushing you out the door. 

“See you tomorrow, y/n.”

“Goodnight, Hyunjin.”

You leave the apartment and close the door behind you, but your feet don't advance down the hallway. Hyunjin's hand hovers over the locking mechanism, unable to click the deadbolt into place as he considers running after you.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you spin around to knock on his door, only to find him throwing the door open and grinning in delight at the sight of you.

“It's past midnight, isn't it?”

His smile tastes like mint and chamomile tea.

[chaileaf]

𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐑 - part two

› featuring: camboy!shuntaro chishiya + fem!reader

› word count: 8,451 words

› synopsis: shuntaro chishiya is the star student at your school. not only is he handsome and athletic- he is extremely well liked by all the professors with perfect grades. whenever you attend a meeting for the school council, as you’re the only one currently running for president, you feel the presence of the one and only chishiya. realizing he is trying to take your spot as president, you listen closely to what he says. then and only then did it click: his voice, those eyes, the way the corner of his lips curl… he is the camboy you watch in your free time! when you get a notification on your phone for a bidding livestream, you're intrigued. it was an auction hosted by none other than k1ng0fd1am0nds. the prize? a private cam date with him, orgasm included.

› rating: nsfw, +18

› cw: vulgar language, mutual masturbation on camera, rivals to fucking, dominant!chishiya, face slapping, oral sex (f), facefucking (m), submissive!reader, degradation, calling chishiya daddy, slight praise, public sex in a library, creampie, somewhat rough sex

› setting: college au

⤷ chai's note: hiii! this is my first fic i've written in a while! i'm so excited to publish this and i really hope you all enjoy it. i had a lot of fun writing it. i love chishiya sm if it wasn't already obvious. anyways, this isn't proofread so if there's mistakes, pls ignore them. love u byeee xoxo (p.s. there’s a hint to my next fic in here and no, it’s not aki hayakawa hehe)

⤷tags: @poetrieshouse @tungstenorc

it was a familiar feeling for you. the feeling of getting off to his voice, to the way his lips curl into a blissful smirk whenever he touched himself on camera. he was your favorite cam to watch after a stressful day of classes.

you let out a deep breath, reaching for the small towel beside your bed to wipe your hand of the juices that covered your fingers. your heart was still racing from your orgasm and your breathing was slowly but surely slowing to a normal pace. your brain was foggy from the quick orgasm, but it still felt like one of the best ones so far. of course, you said that every time you watched his show and came to him.

you let out a deep breath, reaching for the small towel beside your bed to wipe your hand of the juices that covered your fingers. your heart was still racing from your orgasm and your breathing was slowly but surely slowing to a normal pace. your brain was foggy from the quick orgasm, but it still felt like one of the best ones so far. of course, you said that every time you watched his show and came to him.

“i hope you all enjoyed my show. i’ll be doing another livestream in a few days so make sure to turn my notifications on. thank you for tuning in and have a splendid night.” his sultry and noticeably softer voice made you turn your head towards your computer screen, admiring how pretty his lips looked in the camera. even though you could only see from his nose down, you knew that he was handsome. there was no doubt about it. no amount of masks and camera angles could hide how attractive he was. it was no surprise that he had so many viewers watching him get off using various toys and methods. not only that, but people paying for these toys, and for him to touch himself how they wanted to see him do. you wished you had more money to spare, to see him get off in a way that you desired. unfortunately, being a college student didn’t give you the ability to spend your extra income on some popular camboy.

to say you were sexually frustrated was an understatement. you never thought you’d get to a point in your life where you would have notifications for a camboy set so that you wouldn’t miss his show. you shook your head and layed down, opening your emails to see if any of your professors had sent anything important out.

just as you had thought, a new email was sitting at the top of your inbox. you rolled your eyes, closing them and laying your head back further into the pillow. school wasn’t difficult for you, more so tiring than anything else. you couldn’t wait for it to be over, and as a senior, you were so excited to graduate with a degree in the spring and start your life.

your fingers glided across your screen and opened the email titled ‘school government meeting’. it was nothing more than a reminder of the meeting for tomorrow. you groaned, rubbing your eyes with one hand before realizing it was the hand you got off with and quickly removing it. what would the student body have to say if they knew their future class president was getting off to a camboy, you wondered. that thought alone made your face grimace,

you set your alarms and plugged your phone in before turning the bedside lamp off and snuggling into bed with your stuffed animal. your brain created thoughts of the camboy and what he looked like. you’ve only seen his eyes and lips, amongst other explicit body parts. you could feel the blush on your face as you slowly fell asleep, wondering what his hands would feel like on yourself instead.

the morning of the school meeting came sooner than you would have liked. it was prior to all your classes, which eased the anxiety you would’ve had if it had been at the end of the day.

getting out of bed, you decided to look professional today. instead of the usual tee-shirt and sweatpants combo, you went for something more work casual: a pair of black bellbottom slacks and a white button up with your favorite light wash jean jacket. you topped the outfit off with your signature white converse and headed out the door, leaving early to get breakfast from the school cafeteria.

it was a nice day outside. the sun was shining enough to warm you while the wind was blowing. you smiled to yourself, putting in some headphones while you walked to the student center where the cafeteria was located. your head nodded to the beat of the songs on your playlist. while lost in song, you realized one thing: you left your bag at the dorm. all the blood rushed from your face and turned you pale. part of you wanted to run back and get it, while the other part of you knew that you’d be late for the school council meeting. you groaned to yourself, rubbing your eyes and carrying on with your walk. you decided it was best to be late for your first class rather than the meeting. in the process, you also realized that meant you didn’t have your wallet either. skipping breakfast was the only option now.

as you arrived at the student center, you headed straight to the library where the meeting was being held. you were about twenty minutes early due to not getting breakfast, which was fine with you. you went inside and decided to peer around the bookshelves to see if there was anything interesting.

while looking through the books in the medical sciences section, one in particular caught your eye. you lifted it off of the shelf and examined the cover that read ‘anatomy of the human body for dummies’. the title made you have to stifle a laugh. you’d hoped to yourself that anyone who was reading this wasn’t a pre-med major. you took your headphones out of your ears and put them back into their case before placing it into your pocket.

as you looked through the contents of the book, a familiar voice brought you back to reality. it sounded very similar to someone you knew, but who? your eyes left the pages to meet with the eyes of the one and only, chishiya shuntaro. you did your best to not immediately roll your eyes after making contact with his, closing the book you had and holding it against your chest. “can i help you?” you quizzed, attitude seeping through your words. it made him chuckle as he leaned himself against the bookshelf with his arms crossed. anyone could tell that he was an arrogant prick by the way he carried himself. you couldn’t understand why so many teachers and students alike were enamored with him.

“i said, hi y/n. is it so wrong of me to greet my fellow classmates?” the rhetoric question made you want to roll your eyes again but you didn’t, you knew it would only instigate him further. chishiya’s eyes moved from yours to the book in your hands. “anatomy of the human body… for dummies? that’s the perfect book for you.”

your eyes widened and you shoved the book back onto the shelf. you didn’t have the time to deal with his snarky attitude at eight thirty in the morning. as you walked away, you felt a hand grab at your arm. you quickly pulled it away and turned to face him, only to reveal that the gap between you both had closed in. you could feel chishiya’s breath on your face, and the scent of strawberry was in the air. it was nearly repulsive. “hey, hey. i didn’t mean it, sweetheart. you know i was jo-”

“don’t call me that.” you cut him off before he could finish his sentence. his cocky smile turned to that of a false frown, a finger lifting to just below his eye being dragged down to simulate a tear falling. it took everything in you to not scowl at him. “what do you want anyways? shouldn’t you be at track practice or tutoring some girl who’s fawning over you?” you questioned in a sarcastic tone, turning towards the bookshelf to avoid looking at him any longer. your fingers scanned over the bindings of the books, the indentions of the letters being grazed by your hand. “or better yet,” you began with the same sarcasm exuding from each word. “don’t you have some teacher’s to kiss ass to?” your eyes left the bookshelf to meet with his, a hand leaving the books to rest on your hip as you faced him this time. an eyebrow raised in question to further show how irritated you were with his presence. chishiya scoffed, holding a hand over his heart to feign hurt.

“now why would i do that?” he retorted back, seeming slightly annoyed with the rudeness you were giving him. “y’know, i don’t really understand why you don’t like me.” that statement earned a small chuckle from you as you leaned more into the hand resting on your hip. chishiya crossed his arms, returning to the stance he had against the bookshelf earlier. “i don’t get it, honestly. i’m kind, athletic, intelligent… what is there not to like, y/n?” he probed.

chishiya was right. he was a star student and the talk of the college. his grades were as perfect as they could be. he was extremely talented when it came to track and won almost every race. he wasn’t even close to being unattractive, leaving half of the female population at school that knew of him to be head over heels. there wasn’t much to not like about him. except one little thing.

“your attitude.” you answered, honestly at that. it was nearly immediate. chishiya raised an eyebrow at your statement. you took a deep breath and then sighed. “everything about you seems real, but it isn’t. you think you’re the king of the world and you’re not. i could go into detail and would love to express the ways i think you’re a phony, but i won’t. just know that you’re not who you make yourself out to be.” a genuine look of confusion and concern was plastered across his face as you spoke. you shook your head and turned to leave the star student and the stressful conversation behind.

you checked your phone as you walked away and went to go sit at the table the email told you to meet at. with five minutes left, you decided to spend it looking through your instagram feed. the door to the library opens and a few people in your year come in. you greet them with a smile and a little wave. “hey!” you say to your classmate, lily, who then sits next to you. she returns the smile as the rest gather around the table inside of the library. “you ready for the meeting?” you asked her. your anxiety for the meeting about to happen continues to rise, but her presence alone begins to stifle it.

“yes, and no. i just really wanna get it over with so i can go to class and see professor nanami!” lily leans toward you while dragging out the professor’s name. you rolled your eyes and giggled a bit before looking around. your eyes landed on chishiya who was standing close to the table, yet again leaned up against a bookshelf as if it was his signature position. this time, however, he was reading a book off of the shelf next to him. as if he was reading your mind, his eyes slowly left the pages to meet yours. a smirk played across his lips as he made contact with your eyes, making you turn back to lily who was now talking about what she had for breakfast.

mr. hayakawa, the head instructor for the student council, came through the door of the library. a sigh of relief left your lungs as you could finally get chishiya shuntaro out of your head.

the meeting went on as usual, until a familiar and annoying voice decided to speak up. “uhm, sir. i thought i’d mention that i’m also here because i wanted to run for class president. i wasn’t able to attend the last meeting, unfortunately, so i hope that i can still apply.”

all the blood that was in your face had left at this point. you couldn’t believe it— actually, you could. this is exactly the kind of thing he would do. chishiya would have the nerve to come in and ruin everything you’d planned for. the voice of mr. hayakawa brought you down from the thoughts clouded in your head and you listened to what he had to say. “that is unfortunate, but considering today is the deadline you still have time to be put on the ballot. lucky you.”

your stomach churned at the idea of having to run against someone that nearly the entire school and staff was madly in love with. you knew you had no chance and would have to pull strings if you even wanted a chance at becoming president of the graduating class. all of these thoughts were racing through your head at once and you started to feel light-headed, although it could be because of the lack of sustenance in your stomach as well.

“splendid. thank you, mr. hayakawa.” chishiya responded happily.

but… that word. splendid. your mind couldn’t understand why that single word in his voice sounded so familiar, as if you’d heard it over and over again.

until it hit you.

the flashbacks from every time you’d watched k1ng0fd1am0nd’s cam. every single time he logged off, he would say ‘have a splendid night’. you wondered why chishiya’s voice in your ear earlier sounded all-too familiar and it hit you. but could he be…? no, he couldn’t be the same person. you rejected the idea completely and pushed it in the back of your head to be locked away.

before you knew it, lily nudging your ribs brought you back to reality and you realized you’d been staring at chishiya this entire time who was returning the stare with a grin on his face. you shook your head, moving a strand of hair behind your ear before focusing back on the conversation at hand. “so, mr. shuntaro, what is your goal as president?” mr. hayakawa asked with a plain yet curious tone of voice.

“before i, hopefully, become president, i want to raise funds for a senior activity of some kind. i think it would be nice to get all of my senior classmates together for one last outing before finals, y’know? i know that it would help relieve the stress off of some of the students, me included.” chishiya answered with a smile, glancing at you ever so often. it made you want to puke.

after zoning out for most of the meeting, trying to retain some of your sanity, you finally managed to get through it. “see ya later, y/n! try not to worry too much. you’re going to be a great prez.” lily said with a smile, waving you off. you smiled back and headed to your first class of the day with a pain in your head and a pain in your ass.

you finally made it back to your dorm and immediately flopped onto your bed, face down into the pillow. a pillow-muffled groan left your mouth as you recalled the events of today. you really couldn’t believe the audacity of chishiya shuntaro, and you really couldn’t get his voice out of your head. no, not his voice. k1ng0fd1am0nd’s voice, the camboy’s voice, out of your head. you rolled over onto your back, chucking your shoes onto the floor by pulling them at the heel. a ding from your phone distracted you, with that set tone being the indicator it was from your favorite camboy. you didn’t even want to think about him. he was the one thing that brought you some sort of happiness, and it was ruined by the one and only chishiya. you grimaced before picking up your phone and reading the notification.

k1ng0fd1am0nds: “hello, my lovely watchers. i will be holding an auction to raise funds for something very dear to me. the prize? a private cam session with me, orgasm included. tune in tomorrow night to join in on the bidding. have a splendid night.”

you took a second before realizing you were holding your breath and breathing in deeply before letting it out. everything that was happening is all too coincidental for chishiya to not be him. but there’s no way, right?

you shook your head and slid your lock screen to the side, checking the numbers in your bank account before deciding that you’re going to win that auction once and for all. there was no resting until you did.

“hello, my lovely watchers. it’s so good to be back.” the camboy’s voice rang through the speakers of your headphones as you watched him contently. he had a mask on as usual, and his shirt was nowhere to be seen. you admired his smile, amongst other things, as you listened to what he had to say. “now, before we start, i wanted to lay out some rules. you can bid in $10 increments at minimum. the second rule is that to buy out all the bidders, you must autobuy. that means you will be paying $1000 to win the private cam session with me. got it?” his signature smirk was plastered on his face and you couldn’t help but notice how uncannily similar it was to chishiya’s grin. “let’s begin!”

it took twelve turns of bidding while the cam boy did suggestive things before you placed the bet of $500. you thought no one would outbid you, after the last bid being $250. you bit your nails, watching the screen intently. “wow! $500 from…” the camboy leaned in with a squint, reading out your username. “queenofdiamonds222? that’s adorable.” he smiled, showing all of his beautiful pearly whites. your heart raced as he said your screen name out loud. you never thought he’d notice you, and although it was because of your bid, you still felt a rush of anxiety and excitement run through you.

five bids later, you finally decide to say fuck it. “god damn it.” you say after placing your final bit with an exhale, closing your eyes and leaning your head into your hands. it was the autobuy. you knew you shouldn’t have, but your need for knowing whether or not your favorite camboy was chishiya led you to this decision. it was a win/win in your head. on one hand, if he is chishiya shuntaro, you’re right and can potentially use it against him. if it’s not, you get a private session with the one and only k1ng0fd1am0nds. it wasn’t the most financially stable decision, but you had to do what you needed to. the camboy raised a brow in the middle of gripping his semi-hard cock, almost giving you the impression that he was getting off to people bidding money on him. his eyes focused on the screen before widening and letting out a breathy laugh.

“an autobuy from none other than queenofdiamonds222! wow, thank you so much. i- i honestly can’t believe it!” the video star’s voice was full of surprise, genuinely not thinking someone would dare spend that kind of money. “i guess there you have it. i’ll send you a friend request shortly, queen. as for everyone else, i’ll be doing another livestream later this week to take donations. i hope you all enjoyed, and have a splendid night.” with that, he was gone.

part of you felt relieved that you didn’t have to wait any longer. the other part? you could die on the spot. your heart was racing and your palms sweaty at the idea of meeting k1ng0fd1amond’s. although it wasn’t in person, the idea was still extremely anxiety inducing. a fwhip ding from your laptop distracted you from the nerve-wracking thoughts in your mind. it was a friend request from the one and only cam boy. you gulped deeply, hands shaking as you slid your fingers across your mousepad to accept. a few seconds later, a video call notification popped up on your screen from him. “fuck.” you whispered under your breath. “i can do this, i can do it. it’s fine.” you muttered, fixing your hair as if that would make a difference. you answered the call with your video camera still turned off.

k1ng0fd1amond’s face was plastered across your screen, a soft smile playing across his lips. “hello, my queen.” he greeted, leaning back to show off his toned torso. muffled r&b music played in the background of his video call, seemingly setting the mood. “now, as i said, you get this video call with me. however, it would make it much more interesting if i also got to see your face, considering i’m showing mine for the first time.” he leaned forward, mask still covering half of his face. his pretty chesnut-colored eyes were sheltered by long lashes, making his eyes look more sultry. “so, how about it?” the camboy quizzed and lifted his fingers to the edge of his mask as if he were to lift it at any moment.

you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. “okay.” you stated softly, reaching the mousepad with your hand and turning on your camera. you stared at him as your face popped up in the corner of the screen, slightly messy hair framing your face. you bit your lip out of anxiety, hoping nothing could go wrong. the cam boy paused, mouth open slightly as if he was examining your face. his eyes darted around, intently staring at the screen before smiling.

“this does, in fact, make things much more interesting.” his fingers delicately hovering over the edges of the mask finally grasped it and pulled it off. your heart nearly dropped out of your ass. all of your suspicions were proven at this moment as his face was uncovered.

chishiya sat there with his signature cocky grin, staring at you through the screen. it felt like you were also naked with how embarrassment flooded your entire body. “are you going to say anything, y/n? or are you just going to stare at me with your mouth open as if you want something inside of it?” his attitude was repulsive, but you couldn’t help but think back to how many times he’d gotten you off without even touching you. his voice, his eyes, the way he stroked himself… all of those things led to your own orgasm countless time. you clenched your jaw, pushing those thoughts aside for the time being.

“i knew it was you, i just needed to prove it.” your voice was shaky, and your breathing continued to become more unsteady.

“okay, so now you know it’s me. now what?” chishiya questioned, raising a brow and seeming unfazed. “you gonna tell the whole school that i’m an exhibitionist? that i take pleasure in knowing people watch me to get off, hmm?”

“n-no…” all of your confidence went out the window. “i just wanted to prove it to myself.” your answer was honest to an extent. you did want to use it against him, but that would be cruel. the perfect chishiya shuntaro, a cam boy. it would be hard for some to believe, but you knew that somehow it would benefit him.

“you paid all of this money, so do you want to get to it?” chishiya asked, cocking his head to the side and letting his hand slowly glide to his lower torso. you stared intently before looking back up at his face which was riddled with arrogance.

“get.. get to what?” you asked curiously, breath hitching in the back of your throat as you felt yourself start to get more turned on. although you truly despised him, he was still the camboy you admired dearly.

“you know exactly what i mean. you can still hate chishiya shuntaro, but don’t try to deny that i get you off better than anyone else could.” that statement from him earned a breathy and near-silent moan. you weren't even touching yourself and he’d already gotten you to the point of wanting to do indescribable things to yourself while listening to his voice. “see, that’s a good girl.” chishiya praised you for the noise you made, his voice dripping with confidence.

“i-i can’t. you’re… i-” words seemed to get stuck in the back of your throat with every sentence you tried to speak.

“and why not? you mean to tell me that you paid all of that money and are gonna let it go to waste, princess?” the nickname made you clench your jaw out of frustration, but not in the bad way. “you know you want to…” you watched his hands grip around his cock, getting harder with every word. you stared at the spot on his grey sweatpants that began to get soaked with his precum. “look at what you’re doing to me, y/n.”

nothing could’ve stopped you at this point. you placed your laptop towards the end of the bed and sat on your knees, unbuttoning your shirt that you’d worn to school earlier that day. you looked into the camera, heart racing and breath spiking with every button that was undone. your hands lingered on the last button before pulling off your shirt to reveal your pretty white lace bra. chishiya bit his lip, his hand gripping his dick and moving up and down the shaft slowly as if he was teasing himself. you could hear him stifle a moan as he watched you undress yourself.

“you’re so beautiful. i’m surprised you don’t show yourself off on camera.” that comment earned a small chuckle as you were finally down to your bra and panties. chishiya slid his grey sweatpants off to reveal a tented bulge in his boxers. his hands stroked the member at a slow and steady pace, as if he went any faster that he’d combust. you let out a soft groan at the sight, feeling yourself become wetter by the second. “lay down on your back. i want to see all of you.” chishiya ordered, becoming more flustered by the second.

you listened to his words as if they were controlling you, positioning yourself on your back to where he could see everything from the side. your eyes closed briefly before the nerves got to you. “chishiya, i-” you started before he quickly cut you off.

“i don’t want you to speak unless spoken to. the only things that should be coming out of your mouth besides moans are ‘yes, daddy’, ‘no, daddy’, and ‘thank you, daddy’. understood?” his words made you moan as your fingers lingered over your bra-covered breasts, touching yourself so lightly that it made you want more. you nodded, biting your lip and daring to look at the screen. chishiya was positioned to where you could see from his thighs to the top of his head. you took in the way his face stared intently at you with a lasting expression of lust. his toned torso moved in sync with his rapidly increasing breaths, and his hands were teasing the tip of his cock. the cam boy raised a brow, expecting you to answer.

”yes, daddy.” you replied nearly breathless. you couldn’t believe the state you were in with not having done anything yet. this reply garnered a genuine and lecherous smile.

“that’s my girl. now, take off your bra.” your hands didn’t hesitate to reach around and unclasp the device, taking off the undergarment in one swift motion. you awaited his next command as the cool air from your room made your nipples perk up. chishiya licked his lips. his movements on his girthy member becoming more steady with each stroke. “i want you to touch your nipples, softly. pinch them, tease them. show me how you touch yourself when you watch me.”

you did your best to push the embarrassment of knowing that chishiya knew you had gotten off to him countless times. the tips of your fingers came up and twirled your nipples, head leaning back into the bedsheets as you let out a soft gasp. you pinched them in between your fingertips, teasing them while replaying thoughts of him stroking his cock. “daddy…” you let out in a breathless moan. it was a plead for more, and you knew he wasn’t going to give it to you just yet.

your other hand came up and gripped your breast, squeezing it softly as you closed your eyes. your pussy tingled with anticipation and your hips bucked up slightly at the feeling. you wanted more. you needed more. your eyes opened as you turned your head to glance at him. chishiya was staring at you with lascivious eyes, almost as if they were imploring for more.

you slid your hands down, not caring that he only said to touch your nipples. you stuck your thumbs on the inside of your panties, glancing down at them for a moment before returning your eyes to him. his teeth tugging on his bottom lip was confirmation enough, leading you to pull your underwear completely off. chishiya followed suit, revealing his cock that was hidden behind his boxers. you’d seen it many times, but this one was different. it was so much more intimate knowing he, too, was watching you. his hands gripped the thick member, stroking it at a steady pace as he watched you unravel yourself for him.

“fuck, i fucking need you.” chishiya’s words were enough for you to bring one hand to your breast and slide the other down to your pussy in hopes of relieving some tension. “that’s a good fucking girl. keep going.” he ordered as moans left your mouth over and over, eyes fluttering back and forth. you imagined that instead of your fingers, it was chishiya’s stroking your sensitive and swollen clit. you wished it was him teasing at your nipples with his tongue instead of your own hands. the thought alone pushed you closer to the edge.

“chi!” you gasped, curling your fingers inside of yourself and watching him continue to speed up the movements on his cock. his hands were curled around his member, stroking at a fast pace while watching you touch yourself. the moans leaving his mouth were heavenly. thoughts of what they’d sound like as he was inside of you flooded your mind, making you speed up the pace of your fingers.

“keep going. fucking faster. that’s my good fucking girl. such a good toy for daddy.” chishiya muttered out of nothing more than lust. you obliged to his demands with a ‘yes, sir’, doing what he ordered as if you’d done it a million times.

you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm. your hips bucked over and over as you continued to fuck yourself with your fingers, watching him pant and continue to stroke himself. “gonna cum for me?” chishiya asked in between melodious moans. you nodded intensely, squeezing your eyes shut as your felt your orgasm bubbling. “beg.” he ordered sternly, mouth opening as sweat rippled across his forehead.

“please, chishiya! please, daddy!” you begged, curling your toes and bucking your hips. you turned your head and dared to open your eyes and watch him. “please let me cum for you. please, daddy. i need to cum for you.” you pleaded as your release was closer than you could imagine. chishiya moaned deeply, speeding up his movements to match yours.

“cum for me. cum, you stupid fucking slut.” with his words, you felt your orgasm wash over and relieve you of any stress you’d built up. your moans rang through his speakers as you reached your release. looking over, you watched as he reached his orgasm, squirting his cum all over his torso. chishiya’s breathing was rapid and his eyes were closed. he brought a hand up and brushed his hair out of his face, leaning his head onto the pillow behind him. “fuck…” he said breathlessly.

“yeah…” you agreed with a stifled chuckle, closing your eyes and leaning further into the mattress. the real world creeped in slowly, persisting you to grab a shirt from the floor and put it on to cover up. chishiya did the same, grabbing his boxers and putting them on to cover himself after cleaning his release from off of his stomach. “so.” you said awkwardly, brushing your now messy hair behind your ear and positioning yourself to sit and face the camera.

“so?” chishiya asked curiously, a sweet smile curled on his lips with the singular word. he rolled his eyes and scoffed. “please don’t tell me you’re gonna make this awkward now.” you blushed, looking away and biting your lip out of anxiety.

“no, i just-” you began before shaking your head and looking down. you lifted your head shortly after to face him and begin again. “this never happened, okay?” the look of disappointment replaced his smile and he pursed his lips to the side. he nodded in agreement, mumbling a defeated ‘yeah’ while shaking his head.

“as you wish, my queen.” the name made you genuinely laugh, causing him to sit for a moment and admire you. you took a moment before regaining yourself, admiring him as well. his eyes were so beautiful, something you loved about him before knowing it was him. chishiya’s lips were so perfectly tuned for his face, as if god himself took his time to make sure he’d have a lovely smile and an even more lovely kiss. you shrugged the thoughts off and decided to call it here.

“bye, chishiya.” the voice was not meant to sound sad, but it came out as if you were slightly heartbroken. you didn’t want the fun to end, but you knew it was for the best. chishiya wasn’t your friend, nor your acquaintance. he was the star student of your college, a famous cam boy, and your academic rival. nothing about this would work. you sighed, content with knowing the answers you sought after in the first place.

“see ya later, y/n.” even his voice sounded sad, but in the same way as yours of knowing what’s best for each of you.

it had been two weeks since your escapade with chishiya and you’d been avoiding him the entire time. every time you seen him, whether it be in the cafeteria or the library, you immediately turned around to go the other way. he tried multiple times to give you a small wave but you couldn’t bear to think of the things you two did together.

the thoughts flooded your mind as your physics book was laid out in front of you, notes scattered across the table in the back of the near-empty library. it was 7pm on a friday, meaning everyone was either out partying or doing their own thing in their dorms. you, however, had to study immensely for your upcoming midterms. the thought alone made you groan and shove your head in your hands. “fuckin’ christ. i should just drop out.” you muttered dismissively, not wanting to study any longer.

“that’s not the attitude i’d expect from our future class president.” the words stung your ears as a familiar voice flooded them. you lifted your head slowly, eyes cautiously settling on chishiya who was watching you intently. your face flushed with a crimson blush after avoiding him for so long. he lifted his hand and did a small wave that you’d rejected many times before this meeting. “hi, y/n.”

“chishiya, i really don’t have time for this.” you stated in an annoyed and exhausted tone, beginning to close your books. he walked over slowly, grabbing at your wrist that was trying to put away the notes. chishiya closed the gap between you, leaning over and getting closer to your face. his eyes left yours for a moment to peer at your lips, only to look back up and smirk. you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding and pulled your wrist away. he released a chortle, sitting close to you on the table where your scattered notes lay.

“c’mon. you don’t wanna talk to me?” chishiya questioned with a smile, shaking his head. “and after all we’ve been through…” he tsked, putting a hand over his heart. the blush that had since faded returned, making you turn your head away from him in attempts to hide it. chishiya noticed by the redness of your ears and without further hesitation grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. “what do you say we do it right here, right now?” a devilish grin was stuck on his face as he leaned in closer to you, almost as if he were to kiss you. your tongue left your mouth to lick your lips before he moved right past your face and went to your ear. the star student licked along the outskirts of your earlobes before breathily whispering. “i can feel how much you’re aching for me right now, sweetheart. tell me you want me to take you in this library for everyone to see.” a moan slipped from your mouth as the grip on your chin shifted to your throat, squeezing ever so slightly to arise a reaction from you. “don’t you wanna be a good girl for me, y/n?”

that phrase alone made you wiggle with anticipation, causing his mouth to leave your ear and look at you. his hand left your throat and rested on either side of you, positioned on the chair you were sitting at. chishiya’s eyes darted from your own to your lips, as if questioning if you really wanted to do this. your breathing was steadily increasing, as was your heart rate. part of you wanted to say no, to leave immediately. but you were desperate for him. you needed him to devour you like an animal. before you could say no, your body produced a nod for chishiya.

his hands left the chair and instantaneously connected with your jaw again, closing the space between you and engulfing your lips into a kiss. your hand wrapped around his wrist, nudging it down as if begging him to put it around your throat. chishiya smiled into the kiss and did as you requested, gripping your neck just enough to cut off the blood flow and send a rush to your head once he let go. the bliss of his tongue entering your mouth and intertwining with your own made you moan into his mouth, scooting closer to the edge of the chair to be more near him. chishiya took this as a sign to further things as he lifted your body off of the chair , still locked in the kiss, and move you to the table. pages of your notes fluttering across the floor with the swift movement. you wrapped your legs around his waist, deeping the kiss by pulling his head closer. the feeling of his hardening cock behind his white joggers against your own sweatpants made a moan escape your vocal chords into his mouth. chishiya pulled away from the kiss and moved the chair you’d previously been sitting in to settle himself on his knees. you raised a brow, confused by his actions. “chishiya?”

a fiendish grin made its way onto his lips as he placed his thumbs through the waistband of your sweatpants and tugged them down along with your underwear. “i don’t want you to speak unless spoken to. the only things that should be coming out of your mouth besides moans are ‘yes, daddy’, ‘no, daddy’, and ‘thank you, daddy’. understood?” the familiar words made you lose your breath as you remembered the moments from a week ago. you nodded hastily and let him continue. “atta girl.” chishiya praised before kissing up your thighs, gripping them with a steady pressure on either side. his mouth found its way to your stomach by sliding your shirt up, lifting himself up ever so slightly to reach your nipples. he looked up at you with his dark chocolate eyes before immersing your the sensitive buds into his mouth, sucking on them with no hesitation. his teeth bit them gingerly, continuing to suckle at them as he did so. chishiya moved to the other side and continued to do the same thing before moving on, lips interchanging between peppering kisses down your torso and fellating the skin there.

his movements continued until he was face to face with your pussy. a deep breath exhaling from him caused you to buck your hips, in search of some sort of contact. you bit your lip at the unconscious act of desperation that your body performed. you never expected to be so submissive in the presence of chishiya shuntaro. his eyes locked with yours before licking up the sides of your folds, tasting in the sweet juices that had trickled out. you leaned on one arm and used the other one to cover your mouth with your hand. even though you knew no one was in the library, you couldn’t imagine getting caught in this position right now.

chishiya continued to explore you with his mouth, licking along everywhere except where you needed him most. “chi- daddy…” you corrected yourself quickly, before continuing. “daddy, please. i-” his eyes focused in on you, darkening as you continued to speak in stuttered breaths. “i need you, chishiya.” those words were like a switch in his brain as he began to devour every piece of you his tongue could reach. you did your best to withhold the sounds of pleasure that dared to escape your mouth as he suckled at your extremely sensitive clit. chishiya’s tongue made its way up and down your folds before settling on your clit, nibbling it ever so slightly. the explicit noises he made ellicited a deep moan from you, causing chishiya to groan into your pussy. before you knew it, you were being filled by not one, but two, of chishiya’s fingers. a loud whimper made its way out of your mouth. you gave up leaning on your arm and gave way to laying down fully on the table, squeezing your thighs around chishiya’s warm face. the pressure against your sweet spot combined with the movements of his tongue had you seeing stars.

“cum.” chishiya commanded out of nowhere., muffled by your wet cunt. you hadn’t realized the feeling of your orgasm creeping up on you before he’d said something. not responding in a proper enough time frame from him, he got up and leaned over the table, fingers still working at your g-spot. “i said cum, you pathetic whore. cum for me.” his hand went over your mouth as he kept bullying your insides with his middle and ring finger. “look at me.” chishiya demanded. the look on his face and his continuous movements led you to your orgasm, slick juices covering his hands as he slowed his pace down. your erratic breathing elicited a smirk from him, the signature, cocky smirk. he removed the hand covering your mouth and replaced it with the fingers that were inside of you, which you gladly and hastily licked clean. “what a good fuckin’ girl. now say ‘thank you, daddy’.”

“thank you, daddy.” you replied breathlessly, still coming down from the high of having an orgasm by his hands.

chishiya leaned in and kissed you, his tongue slowly making its way to ravage your mouth and selfishly steal the taste of your juices from you. suddenly, he pulled away with a familiar devilish grin. “now, should i give you what you want, or should i fuck your face like you’re my own personal fleshlight?” the vulgar words made your face hot with embarrasment, but you didn’t care anymore. you just wanted him, in any way you could have him.

“whatever you want, daddy. anything for you.” you responded in a sultry tone, wanting nothing more than to please him at this moment. chishiya’s lips curled into a smile as he pulled you to the edge of the table, making you sit up.

“knees. now.” those two words sent chills down your spine as you moved to listen to him. you looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, giving him an innocent facial expression even though he ate you out like he’d been starving for days. chishiya chuckled, pulling his sweatpants down enough for his cock to bounce out from the restraint of the clothing. “look at you,” he began with a hand on your jawline, running his thumb across your chin and up to your lips. he pulled your bottom lip down with his fingertips, eliciting you to open your mouth. chishiya’s spare hand was stroking his member at a painfully slow pace, precum dripping onto the floor. you took his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and closing your eyes before opening them and making eye contact. “you’re such a pretty fucking slut, y/n.” he took his thumb out of your mouth and continued to stroke your jawline, eyes never leaving yours. a smirk took over his face before he pulled his hand back and landed a slap on your face, just enough to move your head but not enought to hurt you. “open that slutty mouth of yours, yeah?”

you made an opening with your mouth for him, continuing to stare up into his hazel eyes. chishiya used his hand to move his member and hit it against your cheek, making a light slapping noise from the contact. he moved the tip to your lips, rubbing the dripping precum against them before slowly entering his dick inside of your mouth. he let out a deep moan as you continued to take him inside of your mouth, flattening your tongue as to rub it against the underside of his shaft. chishiya’s soft palms grasped at either side of your face, fingers tangling in the hair that he could grasp. he started off slow, pulling his cock out to the tip and moving back in, doing the same again but only taking half out this time. you mustered up the confidence you could to not gag and pull off of him. suddenly, he began to fuck your face fiercely. chishiya shoved all the way in to your mouth with each thrust at a steady, quick pace. he was desperate to feel you around him, gripping your hair harder with each thrust and letting moans go with each time you’d gag around him. “s’fuckin good.” he praised while moving a hand to clench your hair into a ponytail. he used his free hand to lean on the table behind him while he thrusted into your mouth. the sounds coming from his mouth could’ve made the heaven’s cry by how lovely they were. you closed your eyes, focusing on breathing through your nose and whimpering with every harsher thrust chishiya delivered. the feeling of his cock riding in and out of your mouth so recklessly made you wish it was inside of you instead.

all too soon, he pulled his cock out of your mouth and grabbed you by your arms to place you on the table. “need you. now.” chishiya stated frantically, kissing you in between sentences. his hand made it’s way to your folds, entering two fingers in suddenly and curling to hit your sensitive spot a few times before pulling them out almost as quickly as they were inside. he grabbed his girthy cock, positioning it in front of your pussy and sliding it along the slit. a breathy ‘fuck’ escaped his lips before he shoved it in without warning. you leaned on one arm, your free hand covering your mouth to prevent a scream from escaping as he pounded into you at full speed. you could tell he needed this.

chishiya thrusted into you over and over again, continuing to defile your insides with his cock. you bucked your hips in sync with him as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you onto him more with each thrust. you felt like you were drunk or high, as if you were in a haze. your thoughts were incoherent as he started plowing in and out of your cunt, merciless by accident with how roughly he moved— not that you were complaining, quite the opposite with how hard it was to keep quiet inside of this empty public library. sounds of desperate moans and skin on skin filled the room. chishiya seemed determined to make you cream around his cock in a way that would make you completely forget everything but the image of him on top of you on this table. a groan slipped from your lips, making you arch your back as he hit the sweet spot inside of you. “be quiet.” chishiya grunted, moving your hand from your mouth and letting it fall onto the table to support you. he replaced your own hand by shoving two fingers in your mouth. you happily obliged to this filling, sucking on his fingers and whimpering around them as he relentlessly thrusted.

between incoherent pleads for more around his fingers and breathless moans, you felt your orgasm drawing closer with each time he entered you. a bubbly feeling was growing by the second, and your expressions of pleasure soon heightened in pitch. “d-daddy… ‘m close!” the broken words escaped your mouth as soon as he removed his fingers from your mouth to return to your hips in hopes of somehow bringing himself deeper into you, although being already balls deep. “that’s it, cream all over my cock.” chishiya’s fingers immediately went for your clit, fingertips circling the swollen and sensitive bud to send you over the edge.

between the clenching of your walls closing around him from your high releasing and the thrusts continuing at full force, his orgasm followed suit. his beautiful, low moans filled your ears as he emptied his load inside of you, the thick liquid slowly coming out your hole and spilling onto the table as he continued to thrust slowly while he hit his high. chishiya stopped moving his hips eventually, leaning his chin to rest on your shoulder. you both were a panting mess and the library was extremely dark. he pulled out with a wince at how sensitive he was before pulling up his boxers and sweatpants. he helped you off the table, legs still shaking from the exchange. you leaned into him, pulling your own sweatpants up and tightening them around your waist. you looked up into his eyes. they were glassy and still full of lust, but still beautiful. “let me walk you to the dorms.” chishiya said, more of a statement than a question. you inhaled deeply and nodded, not having the energy to tell him you could go alone.

chishiya helped you pack your things into your bag before you both left the library, eyeing the one old lady sitting at the desk who seemed to be oblivious to everything happening around her. she had an old headset on and seemed to be reading a very thick book. you both shook your head simultaneously and headed out the door towards the dorms.

after a few minutes walking in silence, you decided to speak up. “y’know this doesn’t change anything, right?” you quizzed, looking straight ahead so as not to look at his face. chishiya’s familiar chuckle flooded your ears as he nodded.

“i figured. you’re very stubborn.” he joked, playfully pushing you to the side. you laughed in return and returned to your original position on the sidewalk next to him. “however,” he began, making your ears perk up. you looked over at chishiya who had a devilish grin. “you don’t always have to watch me on camera. you could join me, too…”

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

pairing: dieter bravo x ghost hunter!female reader word count: 4.9k rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲

The producers of your hit ghost hunting show, Spirit Seekers, have picked your next celebrity guest. Dieter Bravo. You’re not looking forward to being locked in a reportedly haunted mansion with one of Hollywood’s biggest divas.

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

the first of my october spooky specials is here! ghost image in title art is from TO LIFE, TO DEATH by Jean-Marie GITARD. if you enjoy this fic, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment and thank you for reading!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), drug use - weed, smoking, dub con - sex following drug use, vaginal fingering, handjob, dry humping, getting locked in a haunted house together, misunderstandings. let me know if any tags are missing!

It’s not often you get called into an actual meeting with your producers. You’re on the road a lot filming for your hit ghost hunting show, Spirit Seekers, so they usually spare you from attendance and send you an itemized e-mail recap.

Not today, though. Today, all five producers were CC’d on the e-mail that requested a meeting to go over your next episode, which is set to start filming in two days. You tap your fingers against the shiny wood conference table, staring out at the Los Angeles cityscape through the panoramic windows as you wait for the suits to join you.

They all arrive at once, three men filing through the doorway with veneered smiles and abnormally smooth foreheads. They shake your hand one by one before taking their seats.

It’s Alec, a paunchy man with grey hair and round glasses, that speaks first, starting with a mumble of your name followed with, “I’ll cut to the chase. We’ve got a celebrity guest for the McCallister mansion episode that you’ll need to work into your production this week.”

“This is pretty late notice,” you reply, mind already running through what you’ll need to do to adjust for the format of a guest special. “Who is it?”

The three men exchange wary glances and you sit up straighter, bracing yourself for the response.

“Dieter Bravo,” Alec finally says, smoothing his tie with his hand.

“You’re shitting me.” If there’s one person you can’t stand, it’s Dieter fucking Bravo. “Is this how I find out Ashton is filming Punk’d again?”

The joke doesn’t land. Alec clears his throat before saying, “This isn’t a joke. And it’s an excellent opportunity to—”

“To what? Pander my show to a diva who’s just going to make my job difficult?”

“He has a very strong fan base that could bring in a large number of new viewers. Your show is popular, but only to a limited demographic,” Alec says. “We’re doing this for you. Spirit Seekers has a lot of potential but if you’re going to remain at the top and have a chance for another Emmy nomination, maybe even an award, you need to be willing to work with the guests that will bring in views.”

You sigh heavily. “I hate that you’re right.”

“I know. But I always am.” He slides a folder across the table to you. “Here are his requirements.”

“Requirements? He does know this isn’t a blockbuster production set, right?”

“This is the modified list,” the man to Alec’s right, Stephen, says. “Trust me, this is significantly better than it once was.”

You open the folder, scanning the document. “Alkaline water, glass bottle. Absolutely no plastic,” you read. “Organic, non-GMO, dye free, gluten free crackers. Did he just pick every Whole Foods buzzword and stick them together?”

“We will make this as easy for you as we can. We just need you to focus on the episode. Okay?”

“Fine,” you mumble, shutting the folder. “He breaks any of my equipment, I’m billing you.”

“Deal.”

Two days later you’re sitting in your makeshift command center with your crew mates, Andrew and Mike, making sure that all the monitors are displaying the feeds from the static cameras set up inside the mansion. You’ve already filmed solo interview segments with the owner, an elderly man who inherited the house over thirty years ago but left it untouched because of what he believes is a ghostly presence.

The sun is low behind the gorgeous Queen Anne Victorian home, orange sky haloing the steep roofed mansion. The historic building sits on six acres of land surrounded by a wrought iron fence that the owner, Paul, had to unlock for you to set up for the night filming session you would be doing this evening. He stands behind you now with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you connect your equipment.

“So you’ll be in there all night?” He asks, voice wary.

“Most of it. We’ll get three hours of footage with Andrew following us through the house and then a few more hours of single camera action, coupled with the static night vision feeds that will roll all night. We’ll be inside until 3 a.m. and then work out here for a bit before packing up,” you reply. “Thank you so much for letting us come in and do an investigation.”

“I’ve got a bet going with a buddy of mine,” Paul says, puffing his chest out. “If you find something, he owes me a hundred bucks.”

You laugh. “I can’t guarantee anything. My goal isn’t to make a ghost where there isn’t one.”

“I know, I know. But I’m telling you, this place has always been weird.” He glances up at the house, his frame shivering despite the California warmth. “Doors always opening and shutting on their own, footsteps, voices. Whole nine yards. S’why I never moved in.”

You knew all of this, of course. You’d done a walk through of the property with one of your camera guys, letting Paul tell you his first hand experiences in the old house. You’re about to reply when the sound of a car barreling up the gravel driveway pulls your attention away from the conversation.

A black Escalade approaches, coming to a stop in a cloud of dirt that makes you cough. Paul pats your back as the back door opens and designer boots drop onto the gravel.

Dieter Bravo stands with one hand gripping the door of the car while he uses his other hand to tilt his sunglasses down his nose to squint at you. He’s wearing black joggers and a faded gray t-shirt with a hole near the collar, his hair a fluffy mess of dark curls.

“Hey,” you say in greeting. You hold a hand out and give him your name, forcing a smile on your face. “Welcome to the command center.”

“Command center? This some kind of secret army operation or something?” He asks, shutting the door and walking past you, leaving you with your hand out stretched for an unreciprocated handshake.

“Michael keeps an eye on the static cameras in case one needs to be fixed,” you explain, gesturing to the man sat in front of the wall of screens with a headset on. “Now that you’re here only,” — you check your watch — “an hour late, we can get started. Andrew, could you get him mic’d?”

Andrew approaches with a wireless microphone and the actor steps back and holds his hands up. “Hold up, I gotta make sure you got everything.”

“Got everything?” You ask.

“Yeah. My snacks and water?” He looks around expectantly.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yes, they got your snacks. They’re in the cooler. Can you please let Andrew get your mic on? We have to start the guest filming before the light is gone.”

Andrew approaches Dieter again, who lets him get close enough to hook the mic to the waist of his pants. Dieter smirks as he says, “You could at least buy me dinner first.”

You groan, grabbing your own mic. “Let’s get started.”

“The mansion itself was built in the late 1800s and has only been home to two families since it was finished. It’s been in Paul’s possession for thirty years,” you say, walking backwards towards the house as the camera man follows. Dieter stands off to the side of the wraparound porch, waiting for his cue. “And tonight, we’ve got the exclusive opportunity to explore this gorgeous home with a special guest. Tonight’s Spirit Seeker is none other than Emmy Award winning actor, Dieter Bravo!”

Dieter steps into frame and gives a smile to the camera, clapping his hands together. “Let’s catch some ghosts!”

“Now, Dieter, we’re not the Ghostbusters,” you say, your voice deadpan. Dieter raises his eyebrows at you.

“That’s the best you’ve got?” He asks. Your brows pinch together.

“Excuse me?”

“‘We’re not the Ghostbusters’? Really?” He waves his hands to the camera. “Come on, sweetheart, give it a little more energy.”

Your teeth are clenched so hard your jaw aches. “I had energy over an hour ago. You know, when you were supposed to get here?” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Can we just get inside?”

He holds an arm out, gesturing for you to enter in front of him. Having toured the mansion already, you signal to Andrew to focus the camera on your guest for his reaction.

Dieter looks around the foyer, grand staircase and marble floors the centerpieces of the large space. “It’s a damn shame they don’t make them like this anymore. Look at the carvings! This has gotta be all original, right?”

“Yep. They’ve only upgraded the internal stuff, like plumbing and electrical,” you confirm. “The owner, Paul, inherited the house after his grandfather passed thirty years ago. He used to spend his summers here when he was a child and vividly remembers experiencing some…unexplained events that have left an impression on him.” You approach a table that’s been set up with your usually line up of equipment. “Tonight, we’re going to see if we can find an explanation for the inexplicable.”

“That’s so cheesy,” Dieter laughs. “You’ve got the cutest serious face, though.”

He thinks I’m cute? Your treacherous brain says, your face heating in response to the compliment. You quickly look at your equipment.

“Anyways,” you say, clearing your throat. “Let’s go through the equipment.”

You start with the basics. A digital recorder for capturing electronic voice phenomenon, night vision cameras, and dowsing rods. Further down the table you have thermal cameras, electromagnetic field meters, REM pods, and spirit boxes. Dieter listens attentively, to your surprise, and even asks a thoughtful question about the spirit boxes.

“How about we divvy up the gear? I can take the recorder and thermal camera, you can take the EMF reader—“

“No can do,” he interrupts, holding his hands up. “I don’t fuck with EMF.”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

“That shit is toxic. It’ll warp your DNA.”

“Dieter,” you say incredulously, “The entire planet is comprised of EMF.”

“No, that’s the geomagnetic field,” he argues.

“It’s the same thing!” You take a deep breath. “You know what? I’ll take the EMF detector. You can have the thermal camera,” you compromise, shoving the camera into his hands. You hastily gather the rest of the devices.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

It’s the last hour of the main filming session where Andrew films you and Dieter using the equipment. So far, there haven’t been many notable experiences. You’ve captured a few creaking floorboards and the EMF meter has gone off a few times, but nothing that you can undoubtedly point to as proof of the paranormal, which is par for the course. What people don’t realize when watching your heavily edited show is that you cut out hours of silence and empty footage.

“Alright, Andrew, you’re welcome to head out. We’ll do a bit more upstairs,” you tell the camera man. “Thanks for you help.”

“‘Night, boss,” he replies with a little salute. Dieter watches him as he leaves.

“So, it’s just us now, huh?” He says, his eyebrows raised suggestively. “All alone in a haunted house…pretty hot.”

“Oh, please,” you say nervously, fiddling with your thermal camera, “We haven’t gotten any evidence that this place is haunted.”

“Maybe the ghosts are just shy,” he suggests.

You grab the REM pod and turn on the device, the LED lights flashing. “Let’s do a REM pod session. Here, hold the camera.”

Dieter holds the expensive equipment delicately, staring at the night vision screen to keep you in frame. “Not often I get put behind the camera,” he comments.

You spend the next twenty minutes asking a series of questions in the quiet room, your digital recorder running in your hand. Dieter remains focused on the screen.

“Why don’t you playback the recording?” He suggests. You glance at him, his face illuminated in the dark by the lights of the camera and the faint moonlight that filters through a window.

“Good idea,” you admit, hitting the stop button and running the tape back. There’s some static feedback before your voice announces the date and time of the recording.

“Is there anyone here with us?” Your recorded voice asks. There’s a beat of silence and you fully expect your voice to be the next thing you hear but instead there’s a garbled, “Yes.”

“Holy shit!” Dieter shouts. “That was a fucking ghost!”

“Shhh!” You hiss, flapping your hand at him. You play it back and sure enough, the same disembodied voice echoes through the room, clear as day. “Holy shit!”

“Play the rest, play the rest,” Dieter demands. He steps closer with the camera trained on the recorder.

Together, you listen to the rest of the recording. There’s another moment where you think you might have gotten a response, but it’s not as clear as the first one. You play it back again and again, and finally Dieter takes the recorder from you.

“Alright, enough, if I hear you ask, ‘Do you mean any harm?’, one more time, I’m going to have to tattoo it across my ass,” he says with a laugh. “Actually, that would be kind of cool, right? Very…provocative.”

“Oh my god.” You can’t help but laugh and the man’s face lights up with a cute smile, the corners of his brown eyes creasing with the force of it. “Let’s go check out the study.”

“How does this one work?” Dieter asks as you turn on the spirit box, the staticky feedback noise filling the room.

“It sweeps through different radio stations rapidly and, theoretically, a paranormal entity can manipulate it and use it to speak. Just ask question.” You fix the camera on him. “Ready when you are.”

“So…do any of the ghosts think I’m hot?” He asks, glancing around the room. You bite your lip to hold in your laugh as the static continues. “Tough crowd.”

You roll your eyes. “Be serious.”

“Okay, okay, fine. Uh…did anything like…bad….happen to you?” No response. “Do you…like having guests?”

“No.”

Dieter jumps, eyes wide as he looks at the spirit box. “No fucking way,” he says excitedly. “Okay, uh, why don’t you want guests?”

“Loud.”

“Oh my god,” you murmur. “Keep going!”

“Do you want to hurt us?” Dieter asks. The device is silent, no responses coming through. His shoulders drop in disappointment. “Damn. Some confirmation that we’re dealing with Casper and not that fucking thing from Insidious would have been nice.”

“Try one more question? I’m going to get the thermal cam,” you tell him, rushing to the desk in the center of the room for your equipment. You hastily power it on and point both cameras at him. “Ok, go.”

“You’re supposed to say action,” Dieter says, making you roll your eyes. “But I’ll let it slide. Hmm…ghost, is there a room we should explore next?”

It’s silent for a beat, and you think maybe the session may be over, but suddenly the device spits out the word, “Attic.”

Dieter stares at you with wide eyes. “Guess we’ve gotta go higher.”

“Let’s do it.”

You open the door to the attic, revealing a dark, narrow staircase that looks particularly haunting. The man stands at your back, looking up into the inky black darkness. He audibly swallows.

“Uh…how about you go first? You’re the professional,” he suggests.

“You scared?” You tease, taking a tentative step forward. “It’s just a little attic.”

“In a very haunted house!” He hisses. “What if it’s luring us here to kill us?”

“Then you would have had to film for this ‘stupid show’ with nothing to show for it. Tragic,” you reply sarcastically, placing quotes around the words stupid show.

Because that’s what you’ve heard him call it. Your show was up for a Primetime Emmy award last year for your Halloween special and it was your first time attending an award show. Dieter was there to present an award and was seated only a few seats down from you, talking to another actor you vaguely recognized, when you overheard his feelings for your show.

“I can’t believe they put such a stupid show in this category,” he said, loudly. “It doesn’t even belong here.”

“What are you talking about?” Dieter asks as you reach the open attic. There’s a circular window that looks out over the grounds, caked with dust and only allowing a tiny amount of light into the room. You turn to face him.

“At the Emmy Awards last year. I was sitting two seats down from you and you said — and I quote — ‘I can’t believe they put such a stupid show in this category’,” you snap.

He stares at you incredulously. “Are you kidding me? I love your show. I’ve been begging my agent to get me on as a guest since your first episode!”

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically.

“It’s true! Just ask him!” He steps closer, eyes wide and pleading, looking like a puppy who’s just been reprimanded. “I was talking about that stupid potato documentary. It was boring as hell and had no reason being nominated!”

“Wait…so...you like my show?”

“I love your show. It’s, like, the closest thing to being in an episode of Scooby-Doo.”

You laugh and Dieter’s face brightens, like he knows he’s in the clear. Suddenly, the sound of a door slamming has you both screaming and Dieter launches forward, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he leaps into the air.

It catches you by surprise, all of his weight leaning into you and sending you crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs and an echo of groans.

“What the fuck was that?!” You ask. “Dieter, get off, I can’t breathe!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, rolling off of you with a thump and another pained noise. “You were supposed to catch me.”

“Catch you?” You wheeze, flat on your back.

“Yeah, like in the shows. Scooby always caught Shaggy.”

“Why am I Scooby?!”

“I don’t know,” he shouts. “Listen, let me go check what that was.”

“You’re not leaving me up here,” you hiss. “We go together.”

The two of you make it to the bottom of the stairs, only to discover that the door to the attic has slammed shut. Not only that, but the damn thing won’t open. Dieter slams his shoulder into it as he twists the knob, cursing up a storm as he tries to shove it open with no luck.

“Remember what I said about the ghosts trying to murder us?” He asks.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a radio. I’ll tell Michael he needs to come try to open the door.” You tug the radio free from the waist of your jeans, pressing the button and asking, “Mike? You there?”

Silence fills the room. You try again.

“Mike?”

More silence.

“Fucking Mike,” Dieter grumbles. He heads back upstairs to the attic and you trail after him. He makes a beeline for the small window, feeling around the edges of it. “Maybe we can get the window open and call out to him.”

“Good idea,” you tell him, coming up beside him and pulling a flashlight from your back pocket, shining the light on the windowsill to help him find the latch.

There’s a rusted crank that he starts turning, the hinges squeaking loudly enough to make you wince. The window opens the slightest bit, fresh air flowing into the stale room.

“Can you get it open a little more?” You ask. With a grunt, he forces the crank around, his biceps stretching the sleeves of his shirt.

Not that you’re watching his biceps. Or the muscles of his back as he moves. Definitely not.

“That’s as far as it’ll go,” he says. “See if you can see your little tent down there.”

“Command center,” you grumble, doing as suggested. You can can’t see much except a corner of the white tent fabric, but you call out anyways, “Michael! Mike! Hey!”

There’s no movement from below, no responding shout. You call out for him again and again, but it’s no use. He’s clearly not answering.

“I don’t have my phone during investigations. Do you have yours?” You ask. Dieter pulls his phone from his front pocket.

“Fuck, it’s dead,” he groans, tapping the black screen. You sigh.

“What are we supposed to do now?” You check your watch and find it’s 1:30 a.m. You have no idea where the fuck Mike went, but hopefully he’ll be back by 3 a.m. for debrief and a very stern lecture about abandoning his post. Dieter grins at you.

“Wanna get high?”

“The episode you did at the asylum in Kentucky is my favorite. It’s so fucking scary. The gurney moving? The shadows? Fuck, I was hiding in a blanket the whole time,” Dieter says.

You’re sitting beside each other with your legs out in front of you, your backs leaning against the wall beneath the small window. You’re pleasantly buzzed, your head a little fuzzy and your limbs loose from the joint you’ve passed back and forth for the last half hour and you’ve been talking about your favorite episodes, yours to film and his to watch, the conversation flowing surprisingly well.

“You know, maybe I was wrong about you,” you say when there’s a lull in conversation. Dieter looks at you, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I just…I don’t know. I thought you were this high maintenance asshole, I guess. But you’re kinda cool.”

Dieter laughs. “Oh, baby, I’m definitely high maintenance. You weren’t wrong about that.”

Something about Dieter calling you baby makes you feel warm and gooey. You’d like to blame it on the weed but if you’re honest with yourself for once, it’s because of him. You tried not to like him, you really did, but he’s funny and nice and doesn’t think your whole ghost hunting gig is a waste of time like a lot of men you’ve dealt with in the past. Not to mention he’s so hot, with his messy hair and pretty brown eyes and warm tan skin. Sure, he’s a pain in the ass, but you’re realizing now that it’s actually part of his charm.

You must be quiet for too long or fidget too much because he’s smirking at you now, plush lips tilted up mischievously. “You liked that, huh?” He asks.

“Liked what?” You whisper. He’s scooches closer, his thigh pressing against yours and your shoulders brushing.

“Me calling you baaaaby,” he says, drawing out the word teasingly. “You got all quiet about it.”

“N-no I didn’t.”

“Riiiight,” he teases. He twists his body, reaching an arm across to grip your thigh. “C’mere.”

You go willingly, maneuvering your clumsy limbs until your legs are spread over his lap. He looks up at you with glassy eyes and a syrupy smile, sliding his hands into the back pockets of your jeans.

“You wanna try that again, baby?” He buries his face against your chest and you laugh, squirming in his grip. “Come on, be honest with me.”

“Maybe…maybe I kinda like it,” you mumble. His hands drift up your waist.

“Like what?”

“When you call me baby.”

He presses a kiss to your collarbone, the touch electrifying. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“You’re so annoying,” you huff, trying to pull away from him. He holds you tightly.

“Nooooo,” Dieter whines, peppering kisses along all the skin exposed by your tank top that he can reach.”’M sorry, I’ll be good for you, baby.”

Your eyes flutter as you sink into his hold. His light kisses turn into teasing nips of his teeth that make you gasp and grind yourself over his lap. You can feel him growing hard beneath you, the length of his cock pressing deliciously against the seam of your jeans to give you the friction you’re craving.

Dieter’s hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you forward to press his lips to yours. It’s awkward at first, just a lingering peck, but then he licks at your bottom lip and you open up for him, his tongue hot against yours as you explore each other. Your mouths are a little dry from the weed but the kiss quickly grows hot and wet, a little desperate and messy as you move together.

“Fuck,” Dieter groans when he pulls back for a breath. “Keep moving, just like that.”

You have a better idea, though. You move down a little bit until you can get your hands on the fly of his pants, popping the button and pulling the zipper. He helps you out a bit, lifting his hips to shove his pants down just enough for you to reach into his boxers and wrap a hand around his thick cock. His eyes are dark and his mouth goes slack as you slowly bring your fist up, palming the slick head and smearing the bead of precum around the sensitive tip.

You withdraw your hand, bringing it to your face to lick your palm, getting it nice and wet as you keep your gaze fixed on him. He’s breathing hard, chest heaving with the effort and he gasps when you take him back in your hand.

“Fuck, feels so fucking good,” he groans, tipping his head back against the wall with a thump. “Tighter, baby, squeeze it tighter. Fuck, that’s a good girl.”

His words have your clit aching with need and you reach down with your other hand to unbutton your jeans, trying to keeping your motions coordinated as you do. Dieter looks up and notices what you’re trying to do.

“You need a lil something, baby?” He asks. When you nod, his hand smacks yours away, successfully undoing the button and zipper. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

His hand slides beneath your jeans and panties, thick fingers quickly zeroing in on your needy clit with tight circles that have your hand stilling around his cock as you moan. His other wraps around yours, encouraging your movements as he plays with your pussy.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, fingers dipping lower until they’re pressing against your slick entrance. “Keep moving your hand, baby.”

You hadn’t even noticed that you stopped, too focused on how good his touch felt. “‘M sorry,” you mumble.

“Don’t be sorry,” Dieter murmurs, one finger pressing slowly inside of you. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

You try to focus on his cock, sliding your tight fist over his length, twisting your wrist around the flushed head, smearing the wetness at the tip around with your thumb. He pumps one finger, then two inside of you in a matching rhythm, the heel of his hand brushing your clit and making you moan.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, rocking your hips the slightest bit. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, baby, I’m right there with you,” Dieter replies, his own hips chasing your hand. “Come on, come on, all over my hand, baby.”

The wave of pleasure crashes over you, your muscles tightening before releasing all at once as you cum, clenching around his fingers and moaning his name. Warmth spreads over your hand and when you finally open your eyes you see that Dieter has cum as well.

“Uh,” you say awkwardly, “What…what do I do?”

“Huh?” Dieter mumbles, withdrawing his hand from your jeans.

“With the” — you nod towards your cum covered hand — “mess?”

“Oh, right. Uh…just kinda…wipe it into my boxers?” He says. You do as he suggests, wiping the sticky mess into the fabric. “I’ll just deal with it later.”

“Boss? You there?” Mike’s voice calls out over the radio, which sits discarded to the side. You scramble off of Dieter’s lap to grab the device.

“Mike! We’ve been locked in the attic for over an hour!” You hiss. “Come get us right now and maybe I’ll let you keep your job.”

Mike responds that he’ll be right up and you fix your pants, hooking the radio back onto your jeans. Dieter stands, pulling his pants up and gathering some of the equipment. You stand together, waiting for Mike in what you would consider an awkward silence until Dieter bumps your shoulder with his.

“We should do that again sometime,” he says. “Maybe without the audience.”

“Audience?” You ask.

He leans in close, lips brushing your ear and making your shiver as he whispers, “The ghosts.” You shove him away, both of you dissolving into giggles. His face grows serious once more. “No, really. You wanna like…get breakfast or something? I know this good farm-to-table place that opens super early.” You smile at him.

“I’d like that.”

Dieter sits on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a box of gluten free crackers in his lap. “Hurry up! It’s starting!”

“Your fancy microwave burned my popcorn,” you whine as you rush back into the living room. Dieter sneaks a hand into your bowl, shoving popcorn hastily into his mouth. “Hey!”

“Boyfriend tax,” he explains. “Now, hush, or I won’t invite you over to watch anymore.”

“It’s my show!”

The opening theme music starts, some eerie instrumental that plays over a montage of scenes from earlier episodes. As the music fades, shots of the house and your recorded voiceover explain the location for the episode right before it cuts to you and Dieter.

“…And this, is Spirit Seekers,” you and Dieter say along with your recorded self, matching grins on your faces.

Dieter Bravo masterlist

All masterlists

[footballerimaginess]

Rate my outfit

TikTok Prompt List 15. Rates my outfits  Erling Haaland Word Count: 321 There are going to be a lot of photos in this fic, credit to the owners of these photos. "Okay so Erl, we are rating my outfits" you smiled as you took your phone out to show you some old and newer outfits posts. You had the camera all placed ready, so you could show the viewers what they had asked for, they were obsessed with seeing Erling in your videos.

"This one, what do we think?" you smiled, showing him the photo which was quite a basic one. "Hmm, boring. That is my hat and isn't that my jumper?" you laughed because you knew he hated when you borrowed his clothes. "Oh and don't take photos on the road, you'll get run over" he smirked.

"Another basic and boring outfit, I feel the shoes look good though. But it is quite boring for you. Sorry babe" you gasped out loud.

"Right I like this one" you muttered as you showed him. "Oh okay, cute but not sure why you are wearing this because surely you're sooo cold" he laughed. "I wasn't that cold actually" you smirked. "But I looked cute, so guess that means nothing" you smile as you scroll through your phone again to find even more outfit photos.

"I look so different here, my hair looks perfect here. I think my short hair is better here" you told him as you showed him the photo. "I think you look hot, love the outfit. I know the others are casual outfits. But this one may be my favourite" you felt yourself blushing again as Erling was full of compliments.

"The final one, what do you think?" you showed him the final photo. "Hot hot hot hot, love it" you laughed as you could see Erling's light up. "Erl" you playfully hit his arm. "I am telling the truth you look hot" you felt yourself going so red yet again.

Taglist: @screechingphantompuppy @ghwoticz

[starstruckbyacomet]

Tevan, Buddie, and the Diversity Quota

This is a speculation about the reason behind Tevan's break-up:

9-1-1 show was launched in 2018 using racial & gender diversity to differentiate itself from other procedural shows, However, majority of audience are white cishet men & women, who are probably conservative leaning. Thus, the show's been trying to balance the casts, to make all groups within the audience happy. Most movies & TV shows, whose target market is the general audience, operate in similar manner. They include diversity in their shows to attract liberal-leaning audience, but within a certain quota, to prevent upsetting the conservative-leaning audience.

It seems like the quota of queer diversity is one representation for each queer group per show. For example: Lone Star has one queer couple (Tarlos), one bisexual (Nancy), and one trans (Paul). Other shows like Spartacus, Game of Thrones series, even Grey's Anatomy also seem to maintain one queer couple most of the time. If there are more than one queer couples, the situation is usually temporary.

In 9-1-1, there has been one established queer couple since the beginning: Henren, but the show hadn't had any bi/trans representative yet until Season 7. To attract new audience, Buck came out as bisexual on 7x04. Luckilly, this move garnered positive response from the general audience. Yes, Oliver gave a speech about how humbled and proud he was to play a bisexual character on a national TV channel. But he gave his speech AFTER the rating/viewership number came out, not before.

To draw as many viewers as possible, Tim made Tevan's love story like a romcom, a genre which has been proven to generate massive loyal audience (see Bridgerton and other Shondaland's works). Tommy is also made very likable, and welcomed by the rest of 118 family. This to make the General Audience symphatizes towards Buck and is willing to follow his journey in nursing his brokenheart. The show also put a lot of signs that indicate the possibility of Tevan reunion, to keep audience curious enough with a 'will-they, won't they' trope. How about Tevan shippers? The show expects Tevan shippers to behave like Buddie stans: watching the show religiously week after week, while searching for signs of Tommy's return. The show has been stringing along Buddie stans for 6 years and counting. It seems about to do the same to Tevan shippers. Alas, by saying that Tommy could show up in the future, Tim has dropped the first crumb, which Tevan shippers ate so eagerly.

Does Tim actually wants Tevan to be end game? After the break-up on 8x06, I doubt it. It looks like Tim genuinely likes Lou, but his hands are seemingly tied to the quota: one queer couple for every show. The queer couple spot has been occupied by Henren, that's why Tevan has to break up. And that's why Buddie will never happen.

Our only chance for Tommy return is if RATING/VIEWERSHIP LOW ENOUGH to push the show to pivot.

This is hard to happen if you keep watching via the official channels, live or streaming. Submitting complaints to the show also only worked right after the break-up episode (8x06) on air. Posting comments after 8x07 indicates that you keep watching, even after the show shattered your heart to pieces. Similarly, it's better to refrain using 911 hashtags, except to post critical pieces like this one. You are promoting the show for free, exactly what they have expected. You can use Bucktommy or Tevan hashtags instead.

[sailoryooons]

Suga's How-To Guide | Play | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Camboy!Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: Min Yoongi has been a cam boy for a few years now. The work is easy, the money is good, and he has loyal viewers. When he approaches you and asks if you want to be his muse for a ‘how-to’ series, your view on the infamous Yoongi changes.

☾ Word Count: 820

☾ Genre: Friends to lovers, pwp

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Sex work (cam couple), vaginal fingering, voyeurism, mentions of oral sex (f. receiving) mentions of cum eating, explicit language

☾ Published: May 14, 2023

☾ A/N: I lowkey forgot that I wrote this when I was traveling back from Chicago and seeing Yoongi in the flesh and just came across it when I was editing all my writing folders so - surprise? This is unbeta'd and unedited so please forgive me.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Series Masterlist | Part of Hali’s Happy Agust | Previous Chapter

Keyed up doesn’t begin to describe how you feel, hips jutting forward as Yoongi presses a finger firmly to your clit. You’re breathless, head pressed against his shoulder as he chuckles, mouth pressed to your ear. His breath is hot, making you shiver as he slow circles your throbbing bud, a whine leaving your mouth. 

“Can you take it?” Yoongi asks, voice scratchy. His fingers dip down to gather the wetness dripping from your cunt, slicking up his fingers. “Yeah, you can take it. Look how fucking swollen you are.” 

You do look. Up, into the laptop screen, where your bodies are a tableau of pleasure that is hard to recognize. Seeing yourself like this still doesn’t feel normal. It doesn’t feel like it’s you on the laptop screen, where comments from viewers flood the side channel. It doesn’t feel like your body, sweaty and pressed against Yoongi’s chest, sitting between his legs with your legs hooked over his knees, butterflied for the camera. 

The person who looks back at you is lost in a haze of pleasure, gasping as Yoongi’s fingers circle your clit lazily. His mouth attaches to a delicate patch of skin just below your ear, sucking noisily. Pleasure thrums through you in response, your lids closing, losing the vision on the screen.

It feels like heaven. Body hot, held close to Yoongi’s bare chest. His cock his hard, pressed up against your back, sticky and eager. Your nipples tightend, spit slicked from his mouth early and cold from the temperature in the room. 

Yoongi has you wrapped up in him. Melted. Splayed. His. 

It feels so fucking good. Yoongi’s touch is reverant but determined. His hands know your body better than anyone else in the world, his fingers intent as he slides down your cunt with his hands, slipping a finger in your hole. 

A moan drips out of your mouth and you drip around his fingers, sticky and slow. He smiles against your throat, nipping you lightly as you grip his fingers, wanting more. He doesn’t give you more, though. Not at first. He’s intent to lazily fuck you with one finger, palm of his hand pressed up against your clit to provide pleasure.

“Fuck,” you whisper, head lolling to the side. “Please?”

“You said you’d let me play,” he asserts. You can’t see his face but you can hear the pout. You open your eyes to look at him and sure enough, his bottom lip is jutted out, eyes round. It would fool you if his pupils were dilated and his finger wasn’t buried in your pussy. “You don’t want to let me play?”

Instead of giving him a proper response, you whine. His finger presses up against your g-spot, making your vision go white. He snickers and continues, strokes growing faster and firmer. The wet slap of his hand against you spurs you on, your hands shooting to the arm looped around your waist and the one pulling you apart. 

You’ll never get tired of this. The way Yoongi lets you squirm against him, the deep vibration of his voice humming through you as he whispers to you. Such a wet fucking pussy. Just like that, let me hear you. 

The room spins when he adds another finger. You squeeze down on them, walls sucking his finger in. He curses and keeps going, keeps playing with you. Teases you a little, teases the audience as he retracts his fingers for a moment, bringing them to his mouth to suck generously and bring them back down.

“So good,” Yoongi murmurs, more to you than the camera. “Gonna let me eat you out after you come, hmm? Gonna let me taste you?” 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” 

“You’re squeezing my fingers holy shit.” 

There’s a sound that comes from you that is a blur of almost words. You go taught in his arms as your orgasm inches closer. Legs shaking, locked behind his knees. Nails digging into his skin, eyes clenched, breath held. 

When you come, it’s with his fingers buried in you, palm pressed hard against your clit. Yoongi doesn’t stop, the pressure is so strong that your vision pulses on the edge and you can’t catch your breath. All you can do is squeeze until you’re gasping for air, muscles losing strength and melting into him, body twitching. 

You’re spent, panting and slack against Yoongi. He’s soft, lips pressing feather light kisses to your jaw. He sneaks in a small nip to your earlobe, sucking it into his mouth and you wine. He laughs and the sound makes you shiver worse than the post-orgasm tingles.

Carefully, Yoongi slides his fingers from your cunt. You’re soaked, thighs slick and sticky and cold where the air conditioning hits them. Yoongi traces your entrance lightly, enough to make your hips wiggle but not enough to overstimulate you.

Yoongi murmurs to the camera, “Now watch what I do with my mouth.” 

previous chapter

[aeligsido]

[WM — September 2024] Prompt 23 — Pensieve.

Rating: G.

TW: none.

Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Tom Riddle; heavy mention of the Black family in general.

Additional Tags: reality tv show au; the Black have a reality tv show; press; media article; implied prongsfoot in the article; implied James/Lily/Sirius/Remus in the fic; it is very much a thing in this au tbh; a bit of domesticity.

Summary: Sirius Black Returns: A Black Lives Exclusive!

Words count: 691.

A/N: Heya! I got the idea of this au some time ago and decided to have a bit of fun here eheh. I hope you like it! 💕

@wolfstarmicrofic

read on ao3.

-

SIRIUS BLACK RETURNS: A BLACK LIVES EXCLUSIVE!

Black Lives, the most watched reality TV show first in the UK, then in the world, from Pensieve Production, is well-known, and so is the family the show follows. The Blacks, from the late English nobility, started this project almost fifteen years ago, and it had since been going strong. The shows followed closely Walburga and Orion Black (or as many call them, THE power couple), beloved Alphard Black, Cygnus and Druella Black, as well as frequent apparition from Lucrecia née Black now Prewett and her husband Ignatius. Other usuals guest stars were Arcturus Black, the family patriarch, and the five family children: Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa, Sirius, and Regulus, whom the show started centering itself on.

Andromeda created the scandal nine years ago when, then aged eighteen, she renounced her family to marry a commoner. (Since then, she gave birth to an adorable daughter!) Four years later — and thus five years from now — the heir of the family himself, Sirius Black, stopped appearing on the show. The family at the time told us the sixteen years-old wanted to focus on both his studies and mental health and as such, was taking a much-needed break. Of course, multiple theories spawned following this statement — but need for it no more!

Just this morning, Pensieve Production announced Sirius Black’s return in an upcoming, special, exclusive season!

“It is with great joy that we are welcoming Sirius back with us,” states Tom Riddle, the Blacks’ manager. “We missed him during those years, but we know how important it was for him. And now, he will, if he wishes so, tell you more about it himself!”

We got more details about this exclusive season as well:

“We will follow Sirius and his brother Regulus on a vacation across the Mediterranean,” announced Riddle — to the glee of quite a lot of us, I would assume! “They will be joined by a few friends, some of which are quite familiar to our long-time viewers.”

Some of those friends are already confirmed. As such, we will greet James Potter (Sirius Black’s long-term best friend, and maybe more), as well as Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, and a young lady somes could have forgotten but who appeared a few times in Sirius' last season on the show, Mary Macdonald.

Riddle teased—

“What are you reading?”

Remus startles, his phone almost falling out of his hands; Sirius, thankfully, catches it. Not thankfully, he starts reading the article — and groans rather unnecessarily, if anyone asks Remus.

“How many times did I tell you not to read those?”

“It was in my recommendations?” he tries innocently.

Sirius sends him an unimpressed look.

“James!” he hollers, and then waits; from somewhere on the ground floor of their house, James hollers right back.

“Yes?”

“We need to keep Remus away from Internet!”

“Hey!” he protests, but Sirius just drops a kiss into his hair with a smirk and no answer.

“Okay!” unhelpfully agrees James; it would be it if Lily hadn’t appeared in the doorway, then, a pile of her favorite fluffy towels in her arms.

“What for?”

Sirius waves Remus's phone as if its answer enough. Lily reaches for it, checks the screen, and sighs.

“Oh, Remus,” she says with a soft, concerned tone he hates having directed at him.

“I just wanted to read a few comments,” he mutters.

“It’s my first time and even I know it’s a bad idea,” she notes, handing the phone back to Sirius. They exchange a look, and she nods decidedly before leaving again.

“Easy to say, everyone loves her,” Remus mutters some more. He has grown disaccoutumed of the show and all it entails over the years, perhaps. He’s feeling almost anxious now.

Sirius drops on the bed beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders and embracing him protectively.

��And we love you,” he reminds him softly.

Remus burrows himself against his chest, feeling Sirius’ heartbeat under his ear. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.”

“Good.” Sirius kisses his hair again, tender and fond, and Remus wants to bottle it and drink it every time he feels down.

[honey-worm]

A fanfiction I wrote about 10 years ago. You can find it on Wattpad here https://www.wattpad.com/story/51392437-all-my-love 🫶🏻 More chapters will be published soon! **Please be aware that this story is RATED-R. Viewer discretion advised. It is full of ups and downs. A rollercoaster full of vulgar language, alcohol, sex, passion, kindness, confusion, pain, anger...but most importantly, love. I would like to warn you that it is a toxic relationship where love overpowers all. I do not advise that you romanticize toxic relationships in real life. This is strictly for entertainment purposes only. It has been a way to escape from the real world for me and to use my creativity.**

Rebecca Bowman is the soft and sweet type of girl. Her world is turned upside down as she finds herself in a sticky situation with one of her best friends, Harry Styles. She never would have thought she'd end up being friends with benefits with someone. That's not how she values love… Only something in her changed as she decided it was time to move out and live with her best friend, Stella Paxton. Over the next year, she found herself mesmerized by Harry and his unusual, mysterious ways. He's charming but arrogant. Sweet but angry. Cold but hot… All the traits her mother always warned her about as she was growing up. "Stay clear of the misunderstood and unemotionally available men, they'll only cause you pain." Angie would say. Rebecca knew she was in deep for a rude awakening once she made up that irresponsible label with one of her best friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Viewer Discretion Advised For Mature Audiences Only 18+

Chapter Word Count: 2.2k Chapter Includes: Oral Sex

CHAPTER 1 I wake up to my cell phone ringing and vibrating out of control somewhere in my bed. I keep my eyes closed for as long as I can as I search for my phone that seems to be lost between the sheets and blankets which only frustrates me. I groan and sit up, leaning over to turn on the light that sits on my night stand next to the bed. It feels more like a cloud right now. I shuffle the blankets once again and my phone appears, face down, still going off. I grab a hold of it, flipping it around to see that Harry's name is across the screen. I roll my eyes and click the green circle before bringing it up to my ear while I fall back into my pillow.

"Open the door." He blurts right when he notices I answer without getting a word out.

"What?" I say, scrunching my eyebrows together in confusion. I wait for an answer from him but hear nothing so I take the phone away and sure enough it's my lock screen. 

I rip my blankets off and step out of my cozy bed, looking over at the alarm clock that tells me it's two-fifty in the morning. I roll my eyes at the fact that Harry likes to pop in at any time during the night. I pad my way across the quiet apartment and get on my tip toes to see through the peephole. I quietly open up the door when I see Harry standing there and he smiles at me, snaking his way in. 

"What are you doing here?" I whisper, looking towards my friend's bedroom. I shut the front door, locking it and out of nowhere I'm pushed up against the wall. Harry grabs ahold of my arms, putting my hands above my head and stares at me with hooded eyes. His famous smirk appears. 

My eyes glance over at my friend's shut door once more before looking back at Harry. He brings his lips to mine the same time he lets my arms free. His arms snake around the bottom of my back, lifting me up where my body naturally knows to wrap my legs around his torso. He begins walking us to my room as my hands run through his lion's mane. He takes a breather, looking at me with a sloppy smile.

"I missed you tonight." Harry's voice is husky already and the sound of it is making me melt in his arms. "The party was boring, I had no one to make fun of." He adds in a whisper and I roll my eyes at him, playfully. 

"You need to stop coming in the middle of the night." I try to hide a smile but fail as he playfully rolls his eyes just like I did. We finally make it to my room and he shuts the door with his foot before dropping me on the bed. 

"Really? Are you sure? Because I know you love how exciting it is to sneak around." Harry's hovering over me and I can already feel my heart beat increasing rapidly. His hair is falling next to his face, making me take my hands and push it back before cupping his face and pulling him towards me. Our lips connect a couple times before he goes back to looking down at me. "That's what I thought." Harry licks his bottom lip, looking into my eyes with seductive emeralds and I can't help but be excited for what's going to happen. "You missed me, right?" Harry asks, dipping his head in the curve of my neck and planting a soft kiss. I suck in a breath right as I feel his right hand slip under my old high school t-shirt. "Did you?" He asks, planting a kiss underneath my ear where I like it and I hesitate a nod. 

"Yes." It comes out more of a pant when Harry cups my left breast. I bring my hands to his back, gripping the bottom of his shirt while I start to pull it up. Suddenly, he takes his hand away from my breast and grabs mine.

"Nuh uh." Harry shakes his head slowly, putting my hand above my head. "You know what to do." He adds and I release my right hand that still holds onto his shirt. I slowly bring it above my head, connecting it with my other. 

He sits up on his knees, untying the blue bandana that's around his neck. His eyes meet mine and I knew at that moment I had to bring my hands to him. Harry smirks before licking his lips while he concentrates on tying. 

After it's tight around my wrists, he pushes my hands back above my head and moves his knees to reposition himself even lower. 

I take a deep breath through my nose and suck in my stomach as he slowly pushes my shirt up, scrunching it up before placing it in my mouth to keep me quiet. I don't doubt that my eyes are glistening at the sight of him above me, staring down at me with the most seductive body language. 

Harry takes his left hand, dragging his fingertips from the top of my chest, down to just above my waistline of these cotton pajama pants. I wiggle underneath his touch, goosebumps rising all over my skin. I earn a small chuckle from him. My breathing is already ragged and my skin is on fire. 

Harry's sitting there with his knees on each side of me, staring down at me with an evil smirk on his face. I'm practically begging him through my eyes and he finally decides to bring his hands back to my body. 

His large hands run over the curve of my torso, moving from the bottom of my stomach to just below my breasts. Harry has always loved to tease me, no matter what it is. Sexual or not. It's his favorite thing to do. Within a blink of an eye, I feel his mouth on the middle of my chest.

Harry plants soft kisses in a straight line down the middle of my breasts before taking a detour and covering my nipple. My chest drops from a breath I didn't know I was holding and I close my eyes once I feel him take my other in his hand. I force open my eyes and look down at him. 

Dark greens make their way up to look me in the eyes once his tongue starts circling around my nipple but rips away to give kisses down my stomach. My breathing has been getting heavier by the second and he loves it. He loves knowing he can completely take over my mind and body by his touch. 

I wiggle under him, begging him with body language that makes him smirk. He moves closer down towards my legs, running his fingertips down my torso to my shorts. He curls his fingers underneath the waistline of the shorts, pulling them down ever too slowly, keeping his eyes on my skin to watch bumps appear. 

Harry licks his lips before sucking them in while he tosses my shorts onto the floor, showing off my hot pink panties. His left thumb and pointer finger take ahold of the little white bow that's sewn underneath the laced hem and twists it while having a cheeky smile. 

"Cute." He says, looking me in the eyes. I swallow hard getting impatient at the lack of touch I'm getting from him. I begin to spread my legs underneath him and he goes to look from the eagerness. "Wet already?" His head lifts back up and he moves his knees back, getting himself off the bed away from me. 

Harry runs a hand through his hair before taking in his view. I watch as the corner of his lip comes between his teeth and it causes me to move my legs back and forth for a few seconds from the throbbing I'm getting down there by just looking at him. 

"You have no patience, do you?" His voice is so low, I'm dying to feel his tongue and fingers. I'm hungry for him and I can tell he's hungry for me. "Do you want me to touch you?" He asks, stepping closer to the end of the bed. I nod quickly, keeping my eyes locked on his. He takes my knees in his large hands, spreading them far apart before opening his mouth to speak. "Here?" Harry asks bringing his middle finger to my clothed clit, putting pressure on it. My eyes close and I raise my back from the bed then feel his hand press down on my stomach. My eyes go back to him and he's staring down at my panties that are probably showing off the prominent wetness. He brings his middle finger back to the most sensitive part of my body but runs it slowly back and forth a couple times before looking me in the eyes. 

Out of nowhere, he hurries to get my panties off, tossing them to the floor next to my shorts. Harry doesn't waste another second, he gets on his knees the same time he wraps his arms around my thighs to pull me closer to the end of the bed. A mixture of a giggle and squeal escape against the fabric of my shirt and I stare down at him, waiting. Waiting for the sensation to finally take over my body completely. I'm waiting for the build up in my stomach to burst. The feeling of his curls tickling my thighs causes my legs to already stutter a shake which causes him to chuckle.

"I haven't even tasted you yet and you're already shaking." Harry keeps his right hand on my stomach, making sure I keep still once he brings his tongue between my folds. 

My head rolls back in the pillow, pinching my eyes shut. I feel my mouth part open and I gasp the same time I look down at him in between my legs. The more his tongue moves, the more I move my body which is only aggravating him. His hand isn't doing a very good job keeping me still that's for sure. Harry's head lifts up from my folds and he licks away my liquid on his now swollen red lips. "Stay still." He almost demands with hooded but seductive eyes and I nod before looking up at the off white colored ceiling, trying to concentrate more on not moving. I try my best to keep my back on the bed once his tongue finds its way back onto me.

The tip of his tongue goes in zig zags, up between my folds and I give a small moan which cause Harry to give me a smirk from being proud of himself. His mouth finally moves to my clit and that's where I begin to feel myself building up to lose it all together. I lift my head from the pillow, still trying to keep still, and look down at him. Seconds later, his eyes look up, piercing into mine all while his tongue goes into sloppy circles. My thighs tense, almost magnetically pulling back together but Harry keeps them separated, his arms still around them. I'm suddenly falling back into the pillow, moving my arms away from above my head not being able to handle the pleasure I'm receiving. I swipe my hands across his hair wanting to pull but stop myself, knowing that he's not allowing that tonight. 

Without warning, I feel a finger enter me, moving in and out while he's still working on my favorite spot. That's where I lose it, my lips part and my back lifts up off the bed.

"That's it, come for me. Only for me." I hear his husky accent and feel his breath against the wetness down there. I obey his command, letting go for him. Electricity fills my veins, my toes curl, and my legs begin to shake under his grip. As hard as I try to bring my knees together, Harry doesn't allow it. His arms keep my thighs apart so he can keep going, watching my high until I'm having to take my shirt out of my mouth and beg him to stop from the sensitivity.

I watch as he stands up straight, licking his lips and wiping away my high with the back of his hand after cleaning me up with his tongue. 

A smirk, showing off some teeth appears, while he watches me try to catch my breath. My head falls back in a sharp breath and I take a couple deep breaths to control my heart rate. I feel the bed shift on the side of me and I look over at Harry who plops on his stomach, grabbing the pillow. He closes his eyes and smiles at me when he senses my staring. 

"That's it? You're just going to go to bed now?" I ask in a laugh and his right eye opens to look at me. A dimpled smile appears once he recloses it and yawns. 

"That's all the fun I have the energy for." He tells me, sucking in his beautiful red lips. I roll my eyes to myself in a smile and get up to get on a pair of new panties after tossing the others in the hamper. What an interesting thing to wake up to in the middle of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Thank you for taking the time and reading the beginning <3