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burymagdalene · 19 days ago

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A Closed Mouth Doesn't get Fed - S. Reid x Reader

When reader notices Spencers dark circles and glossy eyes, they store away their pressing need for him in bed. This desire locked away forms into a wet dream that escalates their prior expectations substantially.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Smut (nobody's shocked) 18+ pls pls, always fluffy when they're in love! tags: softdom!spencer ("soft", I need to invent subdom!spencer), he's a bit sassy, established relationship, wet dream, sleepy sex, pining, fingering, praise, teasing, piv sex, creampie, Spencer at your beck and call! wc: 4.3k a/n: Kind of stream of conscious & self serving smut. I always see Spencer's pov of a wet dream & wanted to write about the other side of it! Enjoy!

The plastic straw currently placed between your lips has been chewed into a nearly completely flat state as you sit across from Spencer at dinner. Looking into his more-tired-than-usual eyes, you listen to him drowsily recount some memorable moments from the case he just got back from.

There’s a single dangling light above you two that's pouring out a muted yellow that combined with the ugly grass mat wall beside you is making the dinner after Spencer’s case finishes rushed and antsy. You want to go home, give him a proper welcoming back, but he just looks so tired.

You try to pull your sprite through the straw, but it seems you popped a hole into its side with your incessant nibbling, causing the pull to be drawn out and emit a sound close to sucking in air, you sigh and pull away from it.

“You really did a number on that straw,” Spencer chuckles, “you know, I’m surprised you’re seeking sensory feedback in that manner, usually when you’re anxious you fiddle with the wrapper.” He smiles at you warmly.

You’re actually not anxious at all. Spencer’s voice has this way of subtly getting more used and spent after he’s been gone and awake for a while. A meditative hum in the bottom of this throat he gets with exhaustion that sounds eerily similar to the voice he uses in your ear when he’s praising the way you can take all of him or when he’s realised he has to ask you where he can finish too close to when he’s almost tipping over the edge.

“Hm?” He poses again, squinting at your glossed over eyes.

“Oh! Sorry, no. No, I'm not feeling anxious. It just feels nice. I… can’t finish my drink now though.”

Spencer reaches over and pulls out your ravaged straw, plopping it in his empty water cup and moving his straw to your cup, continuing his story like his minute display of tender attentiveness didn’t curl your toes slightly in your shoes.

You sip your drink until the cups' empty noises are too loud to continue trying to get anything out of it and your oral satisfaction for the night finally comes to a close as you fidget looking at your boyfriend with zero alleviation.

The rest of your night progresses painfully slowly as the inner turmoil of arousal swirling in your belly gets increasingly hard to navigate ignoring.

When you look at how Spencer holds his steering wheel (loosely while the wheel slides itself through his palms on a turn) driving you back while rain thuds steadily at the windshield you want to lean your head out of the window for a wake up call.

When you walk into his apartment that you haven’t seen since he’s left right beside him like it's both of yours you consider, in-depth, the grisly intimate details of domesticity. More specifically, a future shared bed between you two where he’s slowly sliding his dripping cum back into you with his fingers after he pulls out. Baby (making) fever.

It’s a plague of the most impure of heart ideas. You think, if he gave you a penny for your thoughts he would stare at you in eerie silence until you begged for mercy.

You could beg for mercy.

You want to roll your eyes at yourself, you have to wash this day off.

In bed you prop your chin on Spencer’s shoulder and gaze over the case file he’s been studying relentlessly. You feel a bit guilty when you consider closing the file for him to move into a straddle, better yet, when you consider gently rubbing his bulge from overtop his linen pajama pants until he’s whimpering and can't focus on the details anymore.

You’ve never felt so tongue-tied around Spencer than how you do right now. Realistically, you know that if you initiated anything he would either happily agree or kindly decline, not an end of the world situation. Your eyes linger over to his hands and you pull away and lay down sighing.

Internally you suppose that you don’t want to make him feel bad for potentially being too tired or paint yourself as a partner who doesn’t notice and understand your boyfriends cues for looking sleepy and engrossed in his work. You don’t want to be a burden, ultimately.

So you keep your mouth shut and stare silently at the ceiling and toss from side to side while Spencer continues his work by the lamplight.

“What’s up, wiggle worm?” Spencer smiles while keeping his eyes locked on his case.

You can’t help but grin at the bit of attention he’s still giving you. Knowing that even after his long day today Spencer cannot resist his magnetism towards you, noticing your every move.

“Too bored to be tired,” you mumble out with your eyes closed “I feel like I have one more activity in me today…” You’re almost too subtle and cryptic with it that Spencer’s social cues skip over your bait.

Turning his head to you he pets the top of your head and smiles a dopey smile at you, a sight for sore eyes after scanning over his case for too long.

“Do you want me to make you some tea? I might have green, oh, I guess that’s caffeinated–”

“Mm-mm.” you non-reply “I’m just going to try to sleep, keep working.”

Spencer hums and places the hand he was petting you with to your cheek as you lay on your side facing him, his palm working as another layer to the pillow you’re resting on, his thumb (though pinned between your cheek and the pillow) softly caresses you as he shifts the file to his non-dominant hand.

With his touch acting as a personalized bottle of melatonin, you drift off into a light and lucid slumber, strange waves and blotches of color bursting behind your eyelids in place of your typical dreams.

This feels way better than a typical dream.

Whatever pink apparition that’s keeping your brain in a sludged malleable state feels exceptionally good. Despite the cold sweat that's pricking up on the back of your neck making you feel akin to a slab of meat in a pressure cooker, this state is leaving your heart racing.

Even the blanket you have wrapped around you feels better, smells better. Hey, you think to yourself, this smells like Spencer. You press your face into it further, the burning intrusion of Spencer’s detergent, the stale cologne left on his collarbones filling your senses almost overwhelmingly.

Too scared to actually tell Spencer how you wanted him earlier must’ve had your brain illustrate its own ghostly representative of what you wanted from him before bed.

You wrap your legs around the blanket a bit more now. There’s an instinctual roll of your hips that is haywired into your anatomy whenever you feel a similar Spencer-induced haze when you’re awake so you naturally feel implied to go with your muscle memory.

Slow rolls of pleasure throb up your spine like someone is massaging measured passes into your back. Your hips take on a circular motion now, the up and down grinding you had set in place earlier taking too much energy.

You’re not a stranger to sex dreams. You find yourself painstakingly alone from time to time with the line of work Spencer is engaged in. You dream about him every day of the week regardless, so from time to time you get rewarded with a nearly satisfying dream that takes his spot.

However, Spencer is not gone right now. What you’re experiencing currently is a production of your pent up sexual frustration because you were too shy to let out a reserved beg for your boyfriend to fuck you.

The pleasure you’re face to face with at this moment has a larger and more embodied sensation than what you’ve experienced prior. Your hands tremble slightly around the blanket you have been rocking yourself against, and you feel whips of pleasure stemming from your gut that is abnormal to these sex dreams.

You just feel so fucking good.

You feel this good when the brutal summer heat overtakes the capabilities of your AC at your apartment and you lazily grind over Spencer on your couch, both riddled with heat exhaustion. You feel this good when you take a midday nap after work with Spencer and wake up humping your mattress with a breathless laugh. You feel this good when Spencers delicate hands lines up his dick with you and teases your clit with it before fucking you slowly.

This particular lucid sex dream is unlike the rest because funnily enough the blanket you’ve subjected your unhurried grinding on sort of feels like it’s pressing back at you, like it's gained sentience in order to get you off.

The generous veil of sleepy delirium takes up all your senses in such a robust way that the air you’re sucking into your lungs isn’t satisfying you. You gasp in a breath and your eyes crack open a sliver.

You try to blink away the reality you’ve woken up to, trying to savor any last semblance of your raving sticky pleasure before the unmeasurable embarrassment catches up to you.

What you thought was your soft blanket that was supplying you unwavering delirious pleasure, was actually the thigh of your boyfriend, whom you had made a concerted effort to leave alone when you were awake.

One hand is tightly fisting his pajama shirt (a black shirt with FBI written on the pocket) with so much fervor that his midriff is exposed and the slight hairs leading from his happy trail are exposed to where you look down between your bodies.

Frozen in fear and embarrassment you keep your body posed in the same position it was in motion as a mere minute ago, the position so delightful that you let out a whine when halting your movements.

You glance at the undeniable tent in his pants before you brave yourself by looking up at Spencer’s face for the first time since using his left thigh as relief for your pent up sexual urges.

Spencer has his case file closed with one of his thumbs holding his spot and is staring directly down at your face, eyes almost black with the lack of light reaching the front of his face.

The lamp is still on and he hasn’t really moved much since you fell asleep. In fact, his hand that was softly against your cheek is still there, albeit a bit more damp with drool than it was when you fell asleep. It probably hasn’t even been an hour since you said goodnight.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to spiral into anxiety over how to apologize to him when Spencer speaks first.

“I-I didn’t know if I should’ve woken you up… I assumed you would have woken up when you-” His words sound faint and trail off as if your sleepy grinding and grabbing did a number on him and wasn’t an annoyance.

“I’m so sorry.” You rasp out, peeling your hips away from his leg, feeling a sticky resistance between where your cunt and sleep shorts meet.

“Why?” He pinches his eyebrows slightly at you in genuine confusion and the dialogue between you pauses for a moment. You’re scanning his face for any discomfort and just find his regular big beggy doe eyes. Oh.

“You would’ve let me come?” You ask blearily back at his first words to you.

“Wh-...why would I not let you come?” The corner of his mouth lifts in a tired and flustered smile at the way you’re acting like wanting to fuck your boyfriend is a crime charged on multiple separate counts. “What were you dreaming about?”

Spencer is still wearing his doe eyes but his tone switches to a probing tune similar to the greasy way guys have asked you to play 21 questions in the past, but in this case it’s making you pull away the bottom of your shorts stuck to you as you push your thighs together.

“Nothing even,” your voice gets meek with confusion. “Bunch of shapes and colors moving around.” You meet his gentle gaze.

You’ve seemed to have stunned him a bit. Spencer has spent many nights dreaming of your naked figure in less than appropriate ways, the way his skin is prickling at the thought of you returning that experience fizzles his brain.

Surely the case can be looked over intently tomorrow with fresh eyes?

“Uhh,” he clears his throat, “do you want me to touch you?”

Normally this would be his first response but he’s exhausted and his brain is mush from the long day he had. He’s back to his old factory settings from when you first started dating.

“Yeah… I’ve been thinking about it nonstop today, actually.”

Now this does not make sense to Spencer.

“You didn’t mention anything?” He looks down to try to retrace your conversations from the day, scanning to see any missed memos or innuendos he might’ve missed. Nothing?

“No… I mean, you’re so tired! You’re working so hard! I didn’t want to… I dunno.”

Spencer briefly considers looking around the corners of his rooms for prank cameras.

“You were worried about bothering me? Bothering… me? With… you?” He’s genuinely perplexed.

You laugh slightly at his perturbed words and cover your face with your hands. “Didn’t wanna say something and make you feel obligated or anything.”

“You didn’t–” he pauses briefly, his sassy irritability coming up in place of chiding laughter.

Spencer looks down once more at your face, his own hard on, the image of you moments prior grasping onto him, drooling on him while getting off because you’re pent up from being too polite to mount him. His perfect angel, suffering in silence. A closed mouth really doesn’t get fed.

He leans down and starts kissing you sloppily immediately, the only way he knows how really. Can barely harness his desire when he feels his open mouth against yours. You breathe out your nose like you can’t believe you got here finally.

Hands gripping the back of your neck and side of your face, you were not prepared to go from your “I have to keep my hands to myself” mindset to “I can’t even tell where his hands are on me” so quickly.

Unsurprisingly, he’s whimpering into your mouth before you, fully laying all of his weight on you like a big dog that still thinks it's a lap puppy. With his precedent put in place, you follow willingly, a trail of small “ah’s” are moaned back at him.

You haven’t shaken off your sleep fully, the room is so dim and Spencer is so warm that the only real difference between right now and your dream is that Spencers rolling his hard dick against the hem of your pajama shorts.

Trailing the tip of your tongue lightly against the roof of Spencer's mouth he huffs out a shocked whine like you did something unfair and pulls back to look at you with tunnel vision.

“How do you want it?” He pants hard.

“Mmf. However.” You’re a bit sick of mulling over the logistics and just want to skip to feeling the expanse of his back under your fingers.

“You’ve had all this time thinking about it and you can’t tell me how you imagined me taking you?”

He’s pulled back fully now, pushing his linen pants down just enough so that his cock pops above it and he wastes no time taking it into his palm. He’s being needy enough that you’d think he was the one tormented with sex dreams, but you’d never complain about his attachment to you.

It makes your throat dry. The lamp illuminates him in such a picturesque way you’d consider directing a movie scene just like it. Your clit throbs again as a painful reminder of where you are.

“I want it slow.” You sigh out as you watch him palm the very thing you’ve been fantasizing about for the six hours you’ve been together today.

“You want it slow… what?”

“Stop it.” You’re too frazzled by him right now, he knows. Deep down you know you’re going to have to ask properly after dancing around it all day.

Spencer smiles and his jaw drops an inch in pleasure as he starts twisting his fist around the head of his dick now.

Okay! Maybe you can give into his teasing a bit.

“I want it slow, please.”

You feel hot with embarrassment immediately but as soon as it comes it dissipates when Spencer gasps and pulls his hand off himself with a displeased grunt. He takes your jaw into his hands as he lays on top of you to kiss you again, the angle of your jaw is being smeared with whatever precum he got on his palm.

Moving your hand between both of your bodies to get to the top of your shorts was slow and crushing as neither of you wanted to part from the other long enough to expedite its trip down.

Nevertheless, Spencer can hear every tiny noise and breath of pleasure you let out in situations like these and props himself to the side on one of his hands as the other brazenly pulls your shorts quickly down from the middle of them where the hem was pressing against your clit.

The ferocity of the cold air that meets your folds is your first indicator of how wet you’re going to be for this. How much Spencer is going to be cooing in awe of you in 3...2…

“Jesus Christ.”

Your eyes follow to where he’s looking but it's too dark from where you’re lying to truly take in how wet you look, you just know how you feel. And you feel achingly ready.

“Baby, I just can’t believe how wet you get. For me.”

He’s turning himself on with his own words as you plop your head back down to the pillow to squeeze your eyes shut as if to bat away how good his praise feels. Come to think of it, you don’t really think it’s been mentioned in the many conversations you’ve had about likes and dislikes, yet Spencer wields his words like a heavy axe every time.

You jolt when the pads of his pointer and ring finger rub slightly at your opening, gauging with touch how much wetness he’s going to be inside momentarily. Soon later he trails up to circle your clit and when you moan in response he gives the sight of his fingers against you a toothy grin.

The stretch those same fingers give you have your thighs opening up lazily, up to your sides when they usually strain to shut at the too-pleasureable sensation. Even the cells in your legs and the neurons in your brain are begging for Spencer.

Soft squelching is coming from between your legs and you can’t even be bothered to shy away from it, you know how wet he makes you and he sure as hell does, so playing coy is just not in your capabilities right now. You moan out another loud “mmm” as your eyebrows screw together.

“You sound so pretty.”

You’re not sure if Spencer is referring to the wetness between your legs or your moaning but you drink in his approval of your noises anyway.

“Spence– I really need it.”

“Hm, right. Slow please.”

You oughta slap him. Right now you could be threatening celibacy at his toying, but you can’t even conjure up such a frightening concept. You let out a “hhng” instead.

For the final time, Spencer lays down against you and presses a kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, as he rubs his agitated dick against the new wetness you’ve produced at his playing. Satisfyingly coated, he shutters a sigh and sinks into you.

He is looking down between your bodies while he enters you, his cheek moved and pressed against your forehead as you whimper against his neck. You haven’t checked the clock in forever, a liminal space created in the blue of the deep night that engulfs the both of you.

Spencer is surprised that his skin is blushing now when he’s already fully sheathed inside of you (when he’s been fully inside you countless times). He can never truly believe the pleasure the human body can experience, that he can experience with you.

Once his hips have settled neatly against yours, when you’re mumbling out a “God-” Spencer begins to kiss back down your face again to where his mouth makes a home in your neck.

Not wanting to risk any muffled noises that he could be letting out against your skin, you move one of your hands to pull back his head by his hair, rewarding yourself with a more clear articulation of the pretty moans he was enveloping against your skin.

Fist still gripping his head back, Spencer begins to make slow and deep thrusts into you, the exact ones you’ve been craving in the pit of your stomach, you feel dizzy with arousal. Fluttering around him you gasp as you feel more of your slick tremble out of you, making his intrusion continuously slippery.

Spencer’s eyelids are shutting and opening repeatedly, wanting to fully close his eyes to the mind numbing pleasure, but equally wanting to stare at your face while he gives you what your biological need was trembling for in your light sleep.

He gets re-offended.

“Nuh-never hide- oh shit… always tell me when you want this. I will always, hm, give you this. Ne-ver spare my exhaustion, oh please-”

Your hips start meeting his consuming thrusts as you whine at his begs. What were you thinking? How could you ever stand in your own way of this?

Frantically nodding at his request, not trusting your voice, you move your fingers out of his hair to trace your nails against his back like signing your name in approval at his order.

Spencer moves slightly to cover your body with his completely, crowning in your head with his forearms. Little strands of his hair, slightly damp with sweat, tickle your forehead. You move to wrap your legs around his waist, locking in the position by putting one of your feet over the other.

With your legs on his lower back you begin to push him with your legs, guiding his rhythm, as you deepen his thrusts more. You two gasp in tandem.

“Touch me please.” You grit out with a raspy voice. Needing to feel yourself come around Spencer is becoming frighteningly high on the list of your necessities currently. You wiggle your hips against his as an invitation.

“M’ course. Pretty.”

Somehow the most intelligible praises are what get your gut swirling the most. Something about Spencer so lost in pleasure that he can barely talk but still making the effort to compliment you makes you want to make breakfast for him in the morning. Sweet boy.

“Sweet boy.” You’ve learned your lesson on biting your tongue.

He leans down to kiss you just as he starts rubbing your clit in fast movements. You could fall into this limbo of almost-there thrusts and soft caresses for the rest of time. You feel overjoyed with gratitude towards your wet dream, for the cock spreading you open.

Spencer inevitably picks up the pace of his thrusts, the slow rhythm driving him crazy. At the increase of speed you and Spencer find yourself whining out “I love you” at the same time. You’d giggle, maybe, if you were in a normal state. But the state Spencer has fucked you into has made this transaction feel like an omnipotent sign from the universe that you are tethered for life.

His fingers slip around in sloppy circles for a few moments more and you whimper out “coming” in such a strangled way it barely even sounds like it anymore. He gets it instantly though when he feels your walls contract and expand against him, how you whimper and shake your head back and forth like you still can’t believe how good coming feels.

Slowly breathing and speeding up his thrusts even more, he fucks you through your orgasm as he begins his, his cum spreads over himself as he moves it in and out of you. The whines he’s letting out are unrestrained and high pitched while he smooths your cheek with a thumb.

Bordering onto stinging overstimulation now, your thighs wrap around him tightly enough to indicate his slowing down till he��s resting idly in you.

The urge Spencer gets after you two finish to place as many kisses on your exposed skin as possible festers again when he’s trying to distract you from the empty feeling of him pulling out.

“Spence,” you gulp back little saliva, “hah, thank you.”

He shakes his head at you again, goofy smile on his face as he’s already forming the highlight reel of the night in his head, reliving it.

“I’m never going to be too tired for that. I’m in love with you, I’m not too tired for that.”

“Mmkay,” you start petting the wild strands of hair down from his head that you were tugging earlier “consider that lesson learned.” You chirp in finality, eyes closing with a similar exhaustion to Spencers.

“Mm, let me clean you up.”

Even with eyes closed you know his whereabouts, you can hear Spencer’s feet padding against his floors and you can map where he’s going in his apartment depending on how the hardwood dips underneath him.

In such a tired state, the cool cloth against you barely jolts you as it usually does, the slightly rough fabric against your sensitive skin doesn’t work to jar you, completely in bliss with nothing that can shake you.

You can’t sleep fully without feeling the dip of the mattress and Spencer’s body settled between sheets. With his addition to the bed again, case file extremely discarded, you can lay cradled to his side where the sleep you fall into is so deep you don’t dream at all.

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #smut #criminal minds

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fear-is-truth · 4 months ago

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JINGLE BELL ROCK — rodrick heffley

synopsis : you’re performing at the school’s annual holiday show, the only reason rodrick heffley bothered to show up in the first place. warnings : suggestive

THE SCHOOL AUDITORIUM buzzed with holiday cheer, packed with parents, teachers, and students. rodrick heffley, though, was barely paying attention. the only reason he even showed up to this dumb musical was because he knew you’d be performing, and he figured it couldn’t be that bad if you were in it.

still, as rodrick slouched in his seat, he tried to hide how much he was looking forward to it. beside him, his little brother was fiddling with the family’s camcorder.

“gotta get this all on tape,” greg muttered, adjusting the settings.

“yeah, sure,” rodrick scoffed, rolling his eyes. he knew his loser brother had a huge crush on you, though you were way out of greg’s league. not that rodrick was any better—he was down bad too, if not more.

the lights dimmed, and the crowd hushed. music started—a jazzy rendition of “jingle bell rock”—and you stepped into the spotlight. rodrick straightened so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. among a group of girls, there you were, rocking a santa-themed outfit—a short red skirt with fluffy white trim, a cropped top, black knee-high boots, and a tilted santa hat that somehow made you look even sexier.

“whoa…” before greg could settle on his angle, rodrick snatched the camcorder out of his hands. “hey!” greg whisper-yelled, grabbing at it, but rodrick just held it higher, leaning away.

“rodrick, give it back!”

“just shut up,” rodrick hissed, eyes glued to the tiny screen as he focused on you. “i’ve got the better shot, anyway.”

his brother glared, finally giving up and crossing his arms, mumbling, “jerk.” under his breath.

before rodrick could sock the little dweeb, mr. heffley leaned forward, giving them both a stern look. “boys,” he warned, and they exchanged a quick, scathing look before slumping back in silence.

you began with a sassy strut, each step punctuated by the sharp tap of your heels against the stage. the short skirt flared as you twirled, flashing the audience with your lacy black panties before settling into a hip sway. a few parents and teachers exchanged uneasy glances, clearly disapproving of the provocative choreography, but the boys didn’t seem to mind; rodrick’s face was flushed as he leaned forward, white-knuckling the camcorder, while next to him, greg watched with the same awestruck expression.

as the routine continued, you moved into a coordinated dance with the other girls, adding in a series of hip rolls and dips that only amplified the sultry vibe. midway through, you turned, gave the crowd a wink, and broke into a slow, very deliberate twerk, grinning at the audible gasps rippling through the audience. rodrick’s jaw nearly hit the floor, and greg mumbled a quiet “how is this even allowed,” though he as hell wasn’t complaining.

with a smirk, you leaned forward and did a quick, playful shimmy that brought scattered gasps and a few horrified “oh my gods” from the more conservative audience members. meanwhile, rodrick’s grip on the camcorder shook slightly as he adjusted the zoom to capture your boobs, before switching to your ass. all the while the crotch of his jeans was growing increasingly tight as he squirmed in his seat. god, this was straight up jerk-off material.

as you blew a kiss at the audience, but to rodrick, it almost felt like you were looking directly into the lenses, at him. the routine ended with your final pose under the spotlight, and the crowd burst into applause. greg nudged him with his elbow.

“give it back, rodrick.”

rodrick didn’t even look at him, his gaze still glued to the camcorder screen.

“yeah, right… nope.”

before greg could argue, rodrick abruptly stood up, forcing his way out of the row of seats, ignoring the annoyed looks from people he brushed past. he was already making a beeline for the bathroom, gripping the camcorder tightly as he moved.

 fear-is-truth

#doawk rodrick #doawk #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick heffley imagine #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley smut

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no-144444 · 5 days ago

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carpet confessions- l.hamilton

summary: you surprise lewis on the red carpet, he surprises the world with some news

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem! reader

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Lewis had no idea you’d be there when he pulled up to the stupid livery launch thing. He had no interest in it, other than sitting there and being perfectly polite. You were supposed to be his plus one, but you’d been called overseas for work as the Indycar season started, so you couldn’t make it.

Or so you thought.

As things wrapped up with Daytona, the interviewer you were filling in for recovered from the flu quickly, so you rushed back to London to be there with Lewis.

You stood on the red carpet with a gorgeous long red dress on, perfect for his new team, ready to ask some questions to the drivers. Lewis and Charles showed up in style, posing with Fred as they got out of the car. He looked up to pick a camera to look at, and all he saw was you, 20 metres down the carpet. His jaw dropped and he rushed over, forgetting about the photo and just rushing up to you. He wrapped his hands around your waist as he pressed his lips to yours, the crowd going crazy.

“Couldn’t make it?” he pulled back, sassy as ever.

“Things change,” you shrugged, smirking.

“I am so glad to see you,” he smiled, taking your arm and starting to walk up the carpet. .

“Woah mister,” you stopped. “I’m not off the clock,” you pointed out the big SkySportsF1 camera in front of the two of you, which had in fact video your entire greeting, broadcasting it to many screens. “So, Sir Lewis Hamilton, how are you feeling about tonight?” you asked, going straight into interviewer mode.

He rolled his eyes but kept his arm around your waist and smiled. “I’m feeling good, very excited to start this new chapter. How are you doing Mrs. Hamilton?”

Your jaw dropped as you lowered your microphone. “Lewis!” you scolded. “I thought we weren’t telling people-”

He grabbed your mic and lifted up your left hand, showing off the engagement and wedding rings there. “We got married over the break!” he cheered into the mic as again, the crowd on the carpet went wild. You just chuckled along with him, shaking your head.

Lando came up behind you two, grabbing the mic off of Lewis and adding his own news. “Lewis cried the whole way through his vows!” he shouted into the mic with a cheeky grin as Lewis rolled his eyes, then he gave the mic back to you and ran.

“Oh and he almost dropped the ring,” you told the camera before Lewis pulled the mic out of your hand. “Yeah, yeah, enough. I’m going to commandeer this lovely interviewer from you, if you don’t mind Sky, and I’m going to enjoy my night with my wonderful wife,” he smiled into the camera, then waved, and whisked you down the carpet.

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navigation for my blog :)

ferrari masterlist

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livwritessometimes · 4 months ago

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F1 Drivers & Their Couples Halloween Costumes

: Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, George Russell, Lewis Hamilton, Pierre Gasly, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, and Daniel Ricciardo

: Main Masterlist

: Author’s Note - Ik I’m a little late, but I had terrible migraine and just could not bring myself to finish this. But here we are! Here are some costumes I think that F1 Drivers will wear with their girlfriends

…

Max Verstappen

- Was absolutely against any stupid costume but the moment he saw this, it was over for him.

- For someone who was not interested in dressing up, Max took an awfully long time to make the cat’s head.

- Tried to show his outfit to Jimmy and Sassy……ya let’s just say, it did not go as well as he would have liked it to go 🤭

Lando Norris

- I mean….do I even need to explain this one???

- Lando was the one who came up with the idea (shocker)

- Put more effort and dedication into making the boobs than he does in race strategy! (He’d like to call this costume his life’s best work)

Oscar Piastri

- After rejecting several costume ideas (which included salt & pepper, socket & plug, jam & toast) he finally gave in to this costume (not that he had a choice)

- Decided to be Pete (totally called McLaren to get the orange hoodie set)

- Wanted to truly understand the essence of the character (spent 20+ hours trying to memorise the rap)

Charles Leclerc

- Honestly….even Charles has no idea why he suggested this costume.

- He wanted to do something fun….so he asked Arthur for help (this actually explains a lot why he was dressed like The Simpsons)

- This costume really grows on him, especially the headpiece (the expression reminds him of his years in Ferrari)

Carlos Sainz

- Tbh he has no idea what he’s doing! He’s just happy to be included.

- He doesn’t have many opinions about the costume; he just likes the fact that he gets to be close to his girlfriend.

- Gets so many compliments that he’s already started planning for next year’s couples costume.

George Russell

- Made a bet with Alex about who can become the most iconic Disney duo….hence Darla and Nemo 🐟

- Is more than happy to wear an orange wig, plaid skirt and glittery sweatshirt…🤨

- Even called Toto and asked him to play the dentist as a way to gain bonus points.

Lewis Hamilton

- He would rather die than be caught in these tacky outfits….which is why he found the best costume to wear!

- Got the suits custom made from the best designers (yes the alien is also custom made 👽)

- Won the best costume award (are we even surprised tho 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Pierre Gasly

- Just don’t ask why….this is what Pierre came up with!

- Now you might think the girlfriend is dressed as the chicken. Well….YOU’RE WRONG!!!

- Pierre insisted on dressing up as the chicken (bonus: he even asked Yuki to dress up as a knife)

Alex Albon

- Made a bet with George and he knew exactly what he wanted to become!!

- Truth be told, Alex made one hell of a Vector.

- He was surprisingly good at putting on the bald cap for Gru….which makes you wonder this isn’t the first time he’s done this 🤔

Franco Colapinto

- He had no intention of dressing up but got invited by the other drives, so he had to come up with something QUICK!

- Voila! Did a quick google search and decided to dress up as the first thing he saw.

- Not the best costume but 8/10 for his efforts and last minute planning 🥉

Daniel Ricciardo

- Does this not look like a pose Daniel would 100% do!!!!

- He said #Green&Proud

- Tried a lot to convince Max to dress up as the donkey 🫏….ya it didn’t happen!

…

Tags: @wobblymug | @evasmlp | @ln8118 |

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giuseppe-yuki · 3 months ago

Text

birthday celebration?

normal!max verstappen x billionaire!reader

w.c.: 3.8k

warnings: suggestive material, curse words, danica patrick (?), sassy and jimmy slander (sorry i love them irl i promise)

part of my money, money, money!universe

summary: yesterday was max's birthday. the press wants to know: you guys went all out to celebrate, right?

a/n: so yesterday was actually my birthday 🤭 i tried my best to post this before it hit 12 as a birthday treat for y'all, but it didn't really work out... consider this a late birthday post + max 4 wdc celebration :)

p.s. this is NOT the money, money, money spinoff that i promised- i'm working on that i swear🤞🥲

picture credits from pinterest :)

to say the driveway up to the gala building was crowded was an understatement. if you looked out the window of the very expensive rolls royce you were currently seated in, you could spot at least five rosso corsa ferraris and like, three jet black lamborghinis within a meter from you. to be honest, you had to give props to your private driver, daniil, because there was no way you could have strategically maneuvered the car onto the jam-packed road without causing a rather exorbitant pileup of supercars. next to you, on the plush leather seats, was your boyfriend in his freshly pressed, custom fitted suit that you had your assistant buy just for the event. he sits there politely with his hands folded together, wide blue eyes blinking at you innocently. he looked mighty handsome, and if you weren’t currently sitting in a car with a billion cars, paparazzi, and influential figures right outside, you certainly would have done some not-so-appropriate things to max right then and there.

instead of doing said things and traumatizing your poor private driver, you quickly glance at your phone.

a bold 5:10 flashes across the screen, in front of your lockscreen of max curled up in bed with jimmy and sassy.

shit.

you were scheduled to do some press stuff outside the event around 5:20, and had to be inside by 5:45. if the queue of cars of ahead of you didn’t hurry up, you would probably be late, and it wouldn’t be a good thing if the ceo of redbull herself was late to her own redbull gala.

max, like the sweet, observant boyfriend that he is, peers down at his own phone, notes the time, then tilts his head at you.

“do you want to just run up to the entrance?” he asks, pocketing his phone. “i’m sure it’s not too far, and i don’t want you to be late for your pr stuff!”

that didn’t sound like a bad idea.

after notifying daniil, you and max slip out of the vehicle, much to the surprise of the people in the cars around you. once you squeeze out of the crowd of exotic cars onto the sidewalk, max takes your hand and bolts his way towards the grandly decorated stairs of the gala in the distance.

unfortunately, you might have misjudged the distance to the entrance, because you both end up a little moist from sweat by the time your heeled feet reach the red carpet-lined stone stairs that lead up to open double doors- the entrance to the gala. lining the stairs are multiple cameras and interviewers, met-gala style. you are sure these are the pr interviews that your assistant was talking about, judging by the sprinkle of red-bull sponsored athletes chit-chatting to a few press members along the stairs and groups of photographers sending off bright flashes with their high-tech cameras. to your right, a man you recognize as sergio perez nods slowly as his interviewer animatedly gestures to a picture of sergio diving into what looks like a pool with a mexican flag wrapped around him. directly in front of you stands daniel ricciardo posing in different silly positions, much to the delight of the gossip magazine paparazzis that were probably having a field day photographing him. next to you, max ecstatically pulls on your dress and points to your left to the esports content creator, ludwig, who laughs loudly to your left as he banters with an excited looking man with a rather large microphone in hand. you haven’t really looked into ludwig’s content, but you often saw max watching his streams while you were in your online meetings, so if he liked ludwig, you guess you did too.

you attempt to quickly pull max towards the top of the stairs towards the entrance to the gala in an effort to completely avoid doing your media duties, but you are unfortunately stopped within the next twenty seconds by your own interviewer, a lady in the brightest pink outfit you had ever seen in your life.

“heLLO!” the lady says rather enthusiastically. “danica patrick, reporting for tmz!”

“er, hi!” you respond, a little less enthusiastically. max, half-hidden behind you, gives a light wave to the camera.

unperturbed, she flashes you both a toothy, unnaturally white smile at you both and places a microphone towards her glossy lips.

“so, miss redbull ceo! it’s so nice to meet you!” she remarks, “and you look absolutely flawless today!”

you give her and the camera a tight smile.

“thank you,” you respond, as if you didn’t have two drops of sweat going down your neck and a slightly dirt-dusted gown from the sprint from your car.

she nods, and then as if just realizing max’s presence, snatches him out from his half-hidden position behind you.

“and you!” she exclaims, looking max up and down. “you must be the boyfriend! max-” she checks her notes- “verstappen! yes, i’ve heard so much about you!”

your boyfriend blinks at her, nervously twiddling the redbull pin that was pinned to his lapel.

“okay,” he says after a beat of silence.

the lady nods, and scribbles something down in her notes as if max had something absolutely life-changing, before turning back to you.

“so, i’ve received the news that yesterday was max’s birthday,” she proclaims. “and i was just wondering what’d you guys did to celebrate! as a successful ceo, you must have went all out, huh?”

seriously? you think. what of question is this? you get to interview a ceo and this is the best thing you can come up with?

when you hesitate a second before answering, she probes, “rumor has it that you both went to bora bora yesterday...”

as if it knew that today was your boyfriend’s birthday, the bright rays of the monaco sun shined a golden beam of light straight onto max’s hair, lighting the blondish-brown strands into a little halo around his head. even if it feels like a creep to just stare at his peaceful face, you can’t help but gaze a little too long at his pouty lips, long eyelashes, and light stubble. from the corner of your eye, you can see one of his devilish cats balancing precariously on the bedframe. you clock it as sassy, who you knew, unfortunately from experience, loved to pounce on max’s face in the morning when she was feeling a little hungry. sassy meows at you innocently before proceeding to crouch in a position, ready to pounce. jimmy watches at the end of the bed, doing absolutely nothing as you fight for your life trying to wave sassy away without waking up max.

like the absolute devil sassy is, she leaps off the bedframe, claws extended, right at max. with your lightning quick reflexes that should earn you a seat in the redbull f1 team that your company sponsors, you snatch the bengal cat out of the air before she gets a chance to maul your boyfriend and send him to the emergency room on his birthday.

she hisses at you, teeth bared, and you just about catapult her out of the open window next to the bed.

instead, you take a deep breath. you deduce that max probably wouldn’t like to wake up finding out that his cat was a pancake on the streets below his apartment, probably ran over by someone’s ferrari pista. instead, you opt for a less extreme “fuck you,” that you hiss right back at sassy.

like he sensed someone threatening his baby, your boyfriend shifts around.

“whadyou say?” max mutters from the pillows behind you.

you whip back to face your boyfriend, simultaneously shoving sassy away from you.

max rubs his eyes sleepily and uses a hand to block the sun that now shines into his eyes. you try not to stare again at his eyes that light a warm whisky brown in the beams of sunlight that seep through his fingers. it cannot be legal to look this good.

“nothing,” you dismiss.

leaping forward, you wrap your arms around him in a hug.

a surprised look crosses his face, but he leans into your embrace anyways.

“do you know what day it is, maxie?” you ask, voice a little muffled from being pressed into the crook of his neck.

max takes a shockingly long time to respond.

“um… saturday?” he says slowly.

you give him a weird look.

“well yes…but it’s also your birthday!” you exclaim.

“oh!” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “i totally forgot!”

“no way,” you say incredulously.

“yes way,” max replies, tucking you into his side with an arm around you.

leave it up to your boyfriend to forget his own birthday.

“well,” you state after a beat of silence of looking at the popcorn ceiling of his apartment. “good thing we still have, like, sixteen hours left to do whatever you want- and we basically have unlimited budget- so go crazy!”

“hmm,” he says.

“anywhere you’d like, really- bali, the hamptons, paris, dubai, maldives, bora bora,” you suggest helpfully. “or all of them?”

max thinks for second.

“how about monaco?”

you blink confusedly.

“so… right here?”

“yeah,” he responds.

you shrug.

“sure, that’s fine too!”

deborah, or danica, or whatever her name was, babbles on as you and max stand on the stairs awkwardly.

“an inside source has also relayed to us that you might have bought your boyfriend an abt audi rs6, legacy edition for his birthday- an insanely rare and expensive car which only has 200 made in the entire world!

an abt-legacy what? you can’t help but think, what the hell was that?

once you get dolled up with your 12-step get-ready process and max pulls on his usual clothes (white shirt + unfortunate-looking skinny jeans), you both hop in max’s trusty little yellow renault clio rs. of course, like the cat lover he was, max refused to accept any expensive material gifts from you, and instead requested to visit the cat shelter as a birthday “gift.” you guess you would probably have to return the tag heuer watch in your bedside drawer that you had gotten him plus the keys to that yacht that was currently sitting in the monaco bay that you thought he would like.

max whistles a cheerful tune as he types in the cat shelter address onto his phone’s navigation app as you try your best to think of the best way to approach your assistant and tell him to return the yacht that he might have spent the last week negotiating with some old rich prick to buy. his phone makes a small “ding” and prompts him to back out of the tiny garage underneath his apartment, which he does with surprising ease. the ride to the shelter is pretty smooth, except that tiny part where this dumb guy with an all-black ferrari with a red ‘16’ on the side runs the red light, almost t-bones your boyfriend, and then proceeds to stop diagonally in the middle of the road with the most rancid parking job.

your boyfriend walks into the cat shelter with you in tow. he passes right past the front desk, waves to the man playing sudoku on his phone, and then proceeds navigates the halls like he’s been there a million times. (actually, he might have) you pass row after row of cats in little kennels that your boyfriend somehow knows the names of, before coming to a stop in front of a young lady filling little formula bottles with milk. she has at least three cats worth of cat fur all over her paw-print sweater.

“max!” she remarks, looking a little too thrilled to see him. “how are you? i haven't seen you since, like, last tuesday!”

looking to you, her smile drops significantly.

“oh, and… who is this?”

“hi, i’m max’s girlfriend,” you articulate, answering her question. you reach your hand out to shake, but she pointedly ignores it.

“great…” she says fakely. “um, so how may i help you guys?”

max seems to not notice. instead, he has a wide smile pasted on his face.

“well, it’s actually my birthday today, and i would like to spread kindness by making a donation to my favorite cat shelter!” he announces.

ten minutes later, you find yourself signing a check that is made out for the ‘monaco meow manor.’

max twiddles his pen around his fingers.

“how much should i put it down as?” he asks, pen hovering above the empty line on the check.

you shrug.

“i don’t know, it’s your birthday, maxie. you choose.”

the lady who was obviously into max and the sudoku guy at the front eyes the both of you from their place at the front desk.

you watch as max writes down a 3300 on the piece of paper. he glances at you quickly. when you raise an eyebrow at him, he turns back and adds two more zeroes at the end. but, then he proceeds to place the commas all wrong.

“that says 3,300,00, max,” you say, pointing to the obviously misplaced commas.

“oh,” he says. “i can’t really erase it- it’s pen.”

the lady, whose scowl has disappeared, and the guy, who sudoku puzzle has long been abandoned, whips around after hearing this number, jaws dropped.

ignoring them, you take the pen from max’s hand.

“here,” you say, adding another neat zero to the end of max’s blocky numbers so it reads 3,300,000.

“okay, great, thanks!” your boyfriend says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

he then turns to the lady and hands her the check.

“here’s the check. i hope all the kitties in here can all live long healthy lives and get everything they ever need!”

the two people at the desk look like they are about to pass out.

the lady clutches at the check with a white-knuckled hand and profusely thanks the pair of you.

you fight the urge to roll your eyes. oh, now she pays attention to you.

max, oblivious, beams, before taking your hand and leading you back out to his little yellow car.

“helping the kitties- check!” he declares.

you can’t help but smile and pull max into a searing kiss in front of the little cat shelter that was about to become the best-funded feline sanctuary in monaco, and most likely france too.

you don’t even have a chance to respond to danica’s inquiry about the complicated-sounding car that you supposedly “bought” for max before she rambles on.

“i bet you bought your little boyfriend the most luxurious foods too!” she spouts. “wagyu beef, spaghetti with saffron, caviar- ooh! maybe a glass of moët?”

“i’m not telling youuuuu!” max trills, leaping around the tiny living room of his monaco apartment with his phone held high above his head.

you don’t know whether to start raging in annoyance from your place on the scraggly carpet or to laugh at your boyfriend twirling on the lumpy sofa, phone screen purposely held away from you. jimmy only aggravates the situation by butting his head directly at your shin.

“max! is it a crime to want know what we are going to eat for dinner??” you shout, exasperated.

max somehow does a perfect pirouette off of the sofa (???) and smiles at you.

“no, but it should be a crime to look so pretty,” he says, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. you try and bat him away, but he is faster. he leaps up, cackling, and bolts away. his apartment isn’t that big, just his kitchen, living room, and his single bedroom, so you take your time hoisting yourself off the carpet. you resist the urge to punt jimmy away from your shin like a football, and instead gingerly step over him before sprinting over to max’s bedroom.

he awaits behind his bedroom door, and literally tackles you to his bed, pinning you underneath him.

its hard to stay mad at max when he’s giggling like a little kid and looking at you with those impossibly blue eyes that crinkled in the corners while he laughs.

“i hate you,” you say with no heat.

“mhm, i’m sure you do,” he says, all the sudden sobering up. he leans his head down and nips at your neck.

you both know where this always leads.

max’s white shirt disappears within seconds like the sight of a f1 car by the grandstands, and soon enough, yours does too.

before you can do anything, though, the doorbell rings.

your boyfriend pulls off of you, albeit hesitantly.

“foods here, i guess,” he says, pulling his shirt back on like he wasn’t about to whip off his pants two seconds ago.

you roll your eyes as max goes to fetch the food while you get presentable again.

when you pad into the kitchen, you genuinely expect to see the world’s best chef tossing vegetables a meter in the air, considering how secretive max was about the birthday dinner you both were having.

instead, max sits at the table with a ripped bag that displays a tell-tale green ubereats sticker, along with a few black plastic boxes that takes up half of the table space.

your boyfriend rips the lids off with a flourish, showing you the contents.

“my favoriteeeeeeee!” he chirps, gesturing to thin slices of beef carpaccio laid out prettily in the container, fragrant tomato soup in another plastic bowl, and two cupcakes.

it was kind of a weird combination, but hey, if max liked it, you weren’t gonna argue with it.

you grab utensils for the both of you, and dig in.

when the dregs of the tomato soup is all that's left in your bowl, the beef carpaccio is reduced to a few stray capers and lemon juice, and the wrapper is all that’s left of the cupcake, you lay back contently in your chair.

“you know, “ you state, “i could’ve flyed in the best beef carpaccio maker in the world, the best tomato soup chef ever, and like, gordon ramsey for the cupcakes and had them make this for you.”

“eh,” he says, also laying back in his seat, feeling full and happy, “ubereats from the restaurant three blocks down is honestly just as good too.”

danica was still not done.

“the parties must have been wild for max's birthday, too!” she raves. “with your influence, i bet all the celebs were there! kim k, rihanna, carlos alcaraz, oprah winfrey, lebron james, johnny depp, billie ellish- shall i go on?

no, you think to yourself. no, you shouldn’t.

feeling content, you flop onto max’s bed. your boyfriend slides onto the mattress next to you, allowing you to snuggle into his soft body. you inhale the smell of his cologne, and a feeling of content drapes over your body like a warm blanket.

“happy birthday, again, max,” you mutter, voice muffled in his chest. you slowly slide a hand suggestively into his shirt.

“thanks,” he says. he pauses a moment before getting up, effectively making your hand drop out. “i think i’d like to play a video game right now.”

“oh,” is all you can think to say. you loved your boyfriend very much, but sometimes he just could not understand context clues.

“are you sure?” you ask as he sets up his gaming system, loading in f123. “we could do something else…” you trail off slowly, seeing if he could pick up what you were putting down.

“yeah,” he says, eyes trained on the tv. he scrolls through a bunch of men in racing suits, and you spot a like, two with your company’s sign, big and bold, across their chest. huh, you kind of forgot your company sponsored f1. you squint your eyes at the white lettering displaying their names- sergio perez and daniel ricciardo. they seemed like pretty successful dudes, looking at their stats. max clicks on daniel’s profile, and jumps back onto the bed next to you as the loading screen pops up, still oblivious to your intentions.

he let him zoom through a track named mug jello or something like that for the better half of an hour before making another move, since it was his birthday, after all.

“do you want to watch netflix and... chill?” you suggest, nudging max.

“one second,” he responds, as the stopwatch thing at the side of the screen turns entirely purple. a checkered flag fills the screen, and the guy with the redbull racing suit appears, drinking champagne out of a shoe. “woohoo!” he says, beaming down at you, who has now draped yourself over his lap. “i won!”

you blink at him. how was being in his lap not obvious enough?

“oh, yeah, sure, we can watch a movie.” he says hurriedly, misjudging the seriously? look on your face.

max gently moves you out of his lap as he changes the tv channels to netflix.

when he turns back around, you have your shirt off, sitting suggestively on the bed.

your boyfriend laughs.

“is it really that hot in the room? i can turn on the ac if you want,” he offers helpfully.

reaching over, he opens his window, effectively blasting your semi-naked body with a blast of cold monaco wind that frequented the coast at night. you swear to god, if you get sick tomorrow-

you finally give up your attempts after max switches on a film called “crazy rich asians.” you snuggle into him innocently as the movie starts, and honestly, the beginning is kind of good.

you are right in the middle of the scene where the movie’s main character, rachel, is getting a makeover by her friend, peik lin, and her ridiculous family when you catch max staring at you.

“hey, baby,” he whisper-yells, nudging you.

“mmm?” you respond, fully intrigued as Rachel tries on dress after dress.

“do you want to..?”

you don’t really comprehend what he is saying as you are too focused on an intense emotional scene that pops up on the screen.

“huh?” you say distractedly.

max’s mouth latches to your neck.

you manage to tear your eyes away from the screen to realize what max is doing.

oh.

you notice are still shirtless and your boyfriends hands were now wandering to places that were not so family-friendly.

damn it, you curse silently, the movie was just getting good!

still, you can’t help to give in to max’s urges.

pretty soon, the screen glazes over in black. a prompt pops up: are you still watching?

the brunette interviewer beams at you and max, awaiting a response. the microphone that she holds is shoved a little too close to your face for comfort. seeing your silent form, her face drops into a scowl.

“no comment?” she sniffs in disdain.

turning to max, she prods the microphone towards his lips.

“you?” she snaps.

your boyfriend shrugs.

“all i can say is that my birthday yesterday was simply lovely.”

taglist: @sunny44 @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @xjval @fellowwomenlover @ironmaiden1313

@phobiccneel @comicalivy @amz824 @gloriousartisanpastacroissant @mastermindbaby

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf fic #f1 imagine #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #mv1 x y/n #mv1 x you #mv1 x reader #📝

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suiana · 9 months ago

Text

(yandere! co-actor x gn! co-actor reader) (theyre co-stars who act as lovers n have to act like they love each other but they actually don't)

"but oh, darling, how i adore your face in all its glory..."

"cut!"

your co-actor immediately pulls away from you, face scrunching up in disgust as he completely refuses to acknowledge your presence. you do the same, wiping your hand with a cloth as you walk to the opposite side of the set.

yes, the two of you were co-stars who secretly hated each other. shocking.

to be honest, it was shocking because you didn't hate him initially. you had actually admired him and even wanted to act together in a movie! he was once your idol after all.

and by some stroke of luck, your manager had gotten you the opportunity to be a co-star on a romance-horror movie that was predicted to be the biggest film of all time.

but now that you had achieved that dream... you really wish it hadn't come true. for people's facades come down once you get to know them.

you and him did not get along at all. constantly butting heads, fighting over the littlest of things... yet, you two manage to act out the roles of obsessed lovers who would die for one another.

the fact that the movie was about how you (the love interest) and him (the male lead) were dating and how he would go crazy and stuff-

ugh you can't believe you had to act this out! you're too annoyed to even think straight now! like, what kind of false reality is this?!

...

well i mean, it is kinda your job as an actor to sell a false reality but still! the way you two can pull a 180 each time you have to get on set is crazy!

"oi you, don't breath all up in my face next time. yoy are repulsive."

"we're literally supposed to stand close to one another! how am i not supposed to do that-"

"then don't breathe."

"you two stop it!"

the director barks at the two of you, shaking his head as the both of you roll your eyes. seriously, to everyone else it looks like little kids who are fighting over the smallest of things. how childish!

"we're gonna be filming the next scene. get in position!"

you begrudgingly walk over to the middle of the set at the familiar phrase, getting into place as your co-star unwillingly holds you in an intimate pose. with him pressed up against a wall and you pinning him up against said wall.

you shudder in disgust as the cameras begin rolling once more. ew, you really can't understand what you used to see in him. like he's so dramatic and sassy! what-

"ack!"

your eyes widen as you see him shiver fearfully, a spider crawling on his head. what the hell?! where did this spider come from?!

you wanted to back away from your co-star but the second you saw how his eyes started to water, the way his lower lip trembled... you knew you couldn't just leave him to suffer. even when you hated him.

"don't move..."

you mumble, eyebrows furrowing slightly as you use a shaky hand to approach the spider. hm... it's not like you were scared it's just... why's it so big?

you gulp nervously, eyes widening slightly as you watch the spide crawl up your arm. damn, if you were a bit more of a coward...

you set the spider on a nearby desk, humming softly as you let out a shaky sigh of relief. oh well, at least it's over.

as you were drinking some water, your co actor couldn't help but feel his heart race, cheeks flushed red as he tries to regulate his breathing. what the hell? why is he getting so flustered over you getting close to him?

his eyes drift to your figure, taking in your carefree attitude. he quickly looks away as your eyes glance at his staring. hiding his face in his hands, he huffs and turns around, grumbling something about you as he feels his heart rate spike even more.

all he can think about as the rest of the shoot goes on was whether you had looked this beautiful before.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere concept #yandere co-actor #yandere co-actor x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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crstilia · 2 months ago

Text

Arcane actor AU scenarios!

☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

Jinx and viktor have a sibling dynamic and they always goof off on set despite not having many scenes together. They always get in trouble for talking during scenes they aren’t in and they are constantly told to stop laughing so loudly.

Vi has embraced the flop duo title and calls Jayce her “floppy.” The crew then surprised them with chairs that say “flop duo.” Jayce proceeded to cackle so hard he had to be escorted off set to get a breath of fresh air.

Caitlyn and Jayce love to film TikTok trends together and they did the “give me my money” prank on viktor. He hit Jayce with his cane.

“Ok so what is this?”

“Ok so me and Jayce have been seeing this thing on TikTok and you have to say “just give me my money” and then after wards we all clap.”

“Yeah! But you have to be dramatic or like funny when you say it.”

“Uhm? What’s the point in that? I don’t understand the joke.”

“We don’t either but everyone is doing it.”

“Hmmm… okay? I guess I’ll do your tic tac.”

“Ok I’ll go first… ahem… just give me my money!” Caitlyn struck a dramatic pose and Jayce cheered and whistled as viktor just clapped.

“Alright… just give me my money!” Jayce said it in a weird accent that made them giggle and they both clapped, Jayce clapping for himself.

“Ok… uhm. Just. give. me. my. money!” He said in a sassy tone and he smiled at the camera before he realized he’s been set up. He looked at Jayce and Caitlyn both of them averting eye contact and just snickering amongst themselves. Viktor took and deep breath, grabbed his cane, and threw it over his shoulder like a bat making Caitlyn and Jayce shriek trying to run away from him.

Mel made a secret group chat with Caitlyn, Ekko, and Viktor where they take pictures of their cast mates sleeping in their trailers. They make it a challenge to see who can take the most absurd awful picture. Ekko always wins because he’s always taking pictures of Silco with the .5 camera setting. Mel comes in second place taking pictures of Sevika since she sleeps with her mouth open.

Vander is seen as father figure by most of the cast mates and he always comes to set even in scenes he’s not in to make sure everyone is doing ok. He helps them with their lines, grabs them coffee, etc. He once had to give Jinx a serious talk because she was doubting herself as an actor. The conversation ended in them both crying and hugging each other.

#arcane actor au #arcane actor au is living in my head rent free please I can’t get this out of my head #Jinx and Viktor being sibling coded #Actor au to cope with the season finale #arcane #league of legends arcane #viktor x reader #vi x caitlyn #jayvik #vi x reader #caitlyn kiramman #Cait vi #vander #silco #mel medarda #Jayce x reader #sorry for the random tags

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thinemoonshine · 8 months ago

Text

୨♡୧ "𝔀𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝔂𝐨𝐮 𝓶𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝓶𝐞?" ˚｡⋆

enhypen 8th fem!member x ot7 content(s): enha are either supportive or not at all, (y/n) accepting the proposals—earning objections, a tinge of jealousy(?), dramatic jake, playful jay, sunghoon is NOT playing type: oneshot(s) word count: 2.3k

this work is based of ૮꒰ྀིthis꒱ྀིა ask!

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚synopsis: (y/n) sees a fan’s marriage proposal and she accepts just for the fun of it but her willingness evokes mixed reactions from her dramatic teammates ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

⋆˙𐙚 L.HEESEUNG 𐙚˙⋆

“sunghoon’s gonna be a bit late because of his schedule so it’s just me and (y/n) for now,” heeseung explains briefly after starting the live with the aforementioned girl.

the two make small random conversations in the meantime and even end up making ramen cups—a permitted late night snack since they have the next day off.

“‘heeseung, you’re so handsome and cute,’” (y/n) reads a comment and turns to him with a smirk when she sees him already wearing a smug grin. she turns back to the camera. “his ego is getting bigger by the day because of you guys.”

heeseung scoffs a retort. “oh, you’re just jealous. engene is just showing love.”

“i never told them to stop,” the other defends, hands raised to her chest. she then stares at the screen again to read comment after comment, some mentally and some verbally when one catches her eye. “‘(y/n), will you marry me?’”

now it’s her turn to wear a smug grin as she gives a knowing look to the lens. with a playful tilt of her head, her rosy lips part in an equally kittenish manner. “sure.”

“ohh~” heeseung sounds while turning to her, a grin forming before he chuckles. “you’re getting married now, huh? you haven’t even told the other members. they’re gonna be upset.”

(y/n) snickers, playing along his script. “i can just get married in secret.”

“oh?” hee sounds and a smirk forms. “i don’t think so. you can’t hide something this big from us.”

“i can, though.”

her stubbornness only ignites his urge to win and he scoffs.

“then, i object.”

“huh?? you can’t object my wedding!” (y/n) argues at his sudden declaration and he only retains his sneaky mien—knowing full well that his opinion and thoughts matter a lot to her since he’s the oldest, even when she doesn’t realise it.

heeseung shrugs languidly and bottom lip sticks out mockingly. “well, if you’re going to do some secret wedding without us then i think it’s going to be a problem. we practically raised you.”

“…tch.”

her little sassy noise makes him stifle a chuckle and he pats her head as if trying to tame an angry kitten.

“you’re not leaving us just yet, (y/n).”

⋆˙𐙚 P.JONGSEONG 𐙚˙⋆

(y/n) skips across the stage to go to jongseong, waving ecstatically at the fans who are watching occasionally. jay smiles seeing her hop to his side as he sings his line flawlessly.

when the two aren’t singing, they’re interacting with fans—waving, posing, and even jabbing at one another to show their harmonious relationship with one another.

(y/n) however, spots a very noticeable signboard designed with white frills and even a pair of mini bells stuck on the centre upper page of it. below them, the question, ‘WILL YOU MARRY ME, (Y/N)?’ is bolded and hard to miss.

she laughs at the sight, making the fans scream and cheer as she points at the proposing fan before giving a thumbs up. the fan practically vibrated on their spot at being acknowledged.

“a proposal?” jay then asks after seeing her gestures and (y/n) grins cheekily.

“yeah. look at the sign, they designed it so well,” she admires. both of their mics down to their sides so their conversation remains private.

jay stares at her momentarily, watching as she interacts with more fans before turning to the one who proposed—his arms crossing one another to make an ‘X.’

(y/n) catches and nudges him by the arm. “hey! don’t object my marriage!”

the man chuckles, laughing it off. “no, i’m going to keep going to~ they’ll have to talk with us first if they want to get married with you~”

“this isn’t a serious thing,” she scoffs with amusement at hearing his squeaky, nosy tone he uses at times and shakes her head. “but you’re still going to be the mc for my wedding though, right?”

jongseong stares at her once more, eyes shifting between hers before a grin of mischief forms. “nope.”

this earns him a playful kick to which he runs away to—not without looking back at her ‘fiancée’ and swiping his hand side to side near his throat to gesture a ‘cancel the wedding’ before pointing to a chasing (y/n) to emphasize her aggressive nature.

⋆˙𐙚 S.JAEYUN 𐙚˙⋆

(y/n) and jake are having a duo live with him doing most of the talking and the former reacting. it’s nighttime, she’s tired but she can’t just forego the scheduled session.

“yeah, so (y/n)’s room is actually a bit further away from us in the hotel but she’s always lurking around ours and stealing our food,” jake reports with a grin that widens to show his beautiful set of teeth when he sees her shooting him a glare through the screen.

a comfortable silence engulfs them once more as they read the comments flooding the screen.

“‘(y/n), will you marry me?’” jake thoughtlessly reads as it’s an english question, not expecting anything since the subject is too sleepy to even utter a single word.

so when she replies a short, casual, “sure,” his head whips towards her instantly with eyes wide and lips parted. she reciprocates the stare although, not as intense and dramatic as his.

“what?” she asks, brows knit at his prolonged eye contact.

“i didn’t think you’d accept. are you gonna leave me now?” his question falls from his lips sadly, brows angled downwards at the ends as his eyes stare pitiably at her.

she blinks. once. twice.

“huh?” she sounds, missing portions of his questions due to her drowsiness and jake dramatically turns to the screen like he’s in an episode of ‘the office.’

“guys, (y/n) doesn’t wanna be friends with me anymore. she’s actually leaving me,” he says with an exaggerated sniffle and adding more theatrics by wiping his dry eyes with his index finger.

the girl behind can only furrow while shaking her head at the camera and mouthing, “i don’t know what the man’s talking about.”

jake lets out a pained ‘ack!’ as he clutches his shirt covering his chest. “oh, the agony. the agony!!”

“like he hasn’t accepted marriage proposals before right, engene?” (y/n) scoffs and side-eyes the other blatantly. “he even brought a whole ring.”

jake brings his hands up in defense. “but that’s different!”

“so you can do it but i can’t?” she arches a brow and both of them share a staring contest before he suddenly turns to the camera again.

“guys, she’s actually leaving us. my bestfriend doesn’t like me anymore, she wants to leave us.”

“quit changing the narrative!”

⋆˙𐙚 P.SUNGHOON 𐙚˙⋆

“‘(y/n), will you marry m—’ no,” sunghoon firmly objects even before reading the whole comment. “she’s young.”

(y/n)’s brows knit and she stifles a laugh. “you make it sound like you’re that much older. we’re around the same age.”

“no,” he rejects sternly again and faces the camera while she watches their live from a tablet. “guys, (y/n)’s still young.”

and as if intentionally teasing him, the fans quickly flood the comment section with facts.

‘but she can already marry tho.’

‘she’s an adult.’

‘she can still have a fiancée.’

‘they say marrying young is better.’

the girl’s already grinning as she reads through them, cognizant of the protective nature of sunghoon, the brother she never had.

and her theory’s proven right when sunghoon subtly yet visibly clicks his tongue to show his displeasure like when ni-ki mispronounced ‘flower princes’ that one time to something…entirely different.

“you’re finding this funny?” sunghoon asks with a disapproving tone when he turns to a giggling (y/n)—which only makes her giggles evolve to laughter.

“whaaat? it’s not like i can’t get married. they’re not wrong at all, y’know?” she adds fuel to his flame and he sighs exasperatedly.

he doesn’t push the matter further after that. in fact, he’s mostly silent throughout the live with face to the ceiling and hands joint in front of his face like a prayer everytime someone comments the word ‘(y/n)’ and ‘marriage’ in the same sentence.

“wah~ it’s like the whole world wants to marry (y/n) suddenly, huh?” he sarcastically says with a smile that belies his internal discontent but his tone surely sends the message.

(y/n) only grins at the camera but quickly drops it when sunghoon whips his head to her with a thick brow arched.

“why are you smiling?”

“oh, come on! first marriage and now smiling’s a problem too??”

⋆˙𐙚 Y.JUNGWON 𐙚˙⋆

“someone’s asking to marry you,” jungwon tells after reading the proposal from a fan.

(y/n) looks up from playing with her hoodie’s trim, a bright grin stretching. “really? you want to marry me?”

jungwon stares at the comment section, watching it flood with people’s abrupt proposals to her suddenly. “wah, there’s a lot.”

“hmm~ let me think about it,” she hums with a finger on her chin. “what do you think, leader-nim?”

“me?” he asks back with brows raised and eyes round. her nod urges him to continue. “um… maybe? i don’t know. but then, how about the other fans that you don’t marry?”

she gasps hysterically, hand flying to her mouth. “you’re right! i love allll engenes~!!”

making finger hearts, she then blows a flying kiss to the screen which calls upon the fawning fans and jungwon chuckles at the effect.

“we love all engenes~” jungwon sings too, joining her as he makes a half heart on his left cheek which automatically makes (y/n) make a half heart on her right. they hold their faces side by side to complete the shape as they giggle.

“i did good, didn’t i?” won then asks quietly while still posing for the camera. (y/n) hums questioningly. “if i let you accept a proposal like that, hoon hyung would’ve given me an earful.”

the two snicker at this which lead to fans making edits with the clip—some trying to crack the puzzle on what they were talking about that’s so funny while some others are shipping them and making groundless romantic assumptions.

at the end of the day, jungwon ends up getting told off by sunghoon anyways.

⋆˙𐙚 K.SUNOO 𐙚˙⋆

sunoo stretches his microphone to (y/n) to let her sing in it while she does the same to him. both of them are smiley and giggly as they perform—radiant even in the dark stadium that’s only being lit up by their stage and the fans’ lightsticks.

as the two walk across the stage to interact with fans, he spots an interesting signboard which makes his clap his hand like a seal. eyes upturned to crescents, he pats the girl’s shoulder before directing her focus to his object of amusement.

‘(y/n), will you marry me?’ is written on a manila card with a cutout of her face next to it and glowsticks stuck to the edge of the page.

the female idol brings her hands to her mouth, acting all surprised and nodding vigorously to which the fan shrieks ecstatically at.

“ya, i better be your best man. i practically brought you guys together,” sunoo says with lips slightly jutted as he eyes her up and down—already accusing her of not going to do so without her even saying anything.

(y/n) cackles at this as she bobs her head again, at sunoo this time. “of course, you are! you can even be the one to help me choose my makeup look.”

he squeals at this before they high-five one another. they then turn to the others—rushing over once they realise they got too immersed in their conversations. hand in hand, they dash with hair flying back like capes in the wind and laughter ringing in each other’s ears even when the in-ears muffle them a tad bit.

the realization of (y/n) one day marrying, of one day separating from him imbues a heaviness in his chest. will that mean there won’t be any more ‘make-up’ fun times? or duo skincare nights?

sunoo’s grip tightens at the thought but still, the smile on his face remains.

he’ll worry about that when they cross that bridge.

⋆˙𐙚 N.RIKI 𐙚˙⋆

ni-ki’s the first to see it—the colourfully decorated board among the crowd with ‘(y/n), will you marry me?’ brightly written on the surface. and his first instinct? make sure (y/n) doesn’t see it.

“ki!” (y/n) calls gleefully as she dashes to him. he smiles that boxy grin of his and a chuckle escapes at seeing her hair jump and wiggle.

riki’s hand pats her head before it gets pushed away by the girl.

“you’ll ruin my hair,” she grumbles and immediately starts smiling and singing to the fans as her line comes in.

slowly rotating in her spot, she makes sure to wave at the audience on every side and that’s when riki realizes she’s going to spot the board. for some reason, he doesn’t want her to.

(y/n) finishes her line and riki’s is next. she turns to him to watch but instead finds herself in a headlock and struggling to get free.

fans scream at their interaction as riki continues to keep her captive in his arm, ignoring her attempts as he happily sings—only letting her go when her back’s turned to the proposal.

“you’re in for it now! hairstylist unnie is going to scold you!” she threatens as she touches her hairdo, making sure it’s still intact. riki snickers, a rectangle grin worn as his brows raise and shoulders shrug.

he emits a prolonged shout, barely raising his voice when she starts chasing after her with her bobby pin in hand.

“ya!! get back here!!” she commands but can’t help letting out a laugh while riki easily slips away with the use of his long legs—eyes glancing at the board before a smirk appears.

‘not today, fan.’

his brief distraction allows her to catch up but his swiftness makes him able to spin just in time for her to crash against his chest.

holding her nose, she hisses before her eyes widen at the faint foundation marks on his shirt. gasping aloud, she clasps her mouth.

“i’m going to get scolded by stylist unnie!” she dreads to which riki snickers at.

as dramatic as it is, riki doesn’t want to hear what her answer to that proposal is. not now, not ever. not when it’s for that fan, anyways.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

𝜗𝜚 this turned out longer than i expected :0 if you enjoyed it, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog—they give me some motivation, ya know? but please, do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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