#most desirable actress

[navree]

I straight up forgot about those Bridgerton posters! smh.

Like, it takes my breath away at how disrespectful it is to legit photoshop your lead actress to be thinner. That's a real fucking woman, have some fucking class!

[ooops-i-arted]

Happy less than a week til Mandalorian Season 3!!

[mv1simp]

prompt: max finding out one of the driver's "innocent" sister actually has a secret diary/account dedicated to all her naughty desires for him

Sweet Like Candy ♥️

Max Verstappen x Camgirl!Reader

sugar coated, lies unfolded, you still lick the wrapper. its addictive, you know this (but you still lick the wrapper)

At 27, three time world champion Max Verstappen has become bored with the blinding glamour and fake crowds who try to cling onto his fame. So when you catch his interest, sparking desire for the first time in months, he quickly becomes obsessed. He just never imagined his favourite camgirl would turn out to be his ex teammate’s shy, little sister who needed to pay off her college loans.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, camgirl!reader, Riccardio!reader, basically sugar daddy! max vibes lolz, somnophilia, blackmail, filming, cheating, 3.8k WC

Max Verstappen knew he was famous - everyone wanted a piece of the most desired driver in the richest sport on earth. When he'd been younger, high off the rush of being crowned a world champion, he’d been cockier about it, too. He enjoyed the smug arrogance that came with his skill, with his million figure paycheck, knowing that most men he met wanted to be him and most girls wanted to be with him. And it certainly didn’t hurt that he looked the way he did, all 6 foot of thick, built muscle and angled jawline with intense blue eyes. He’s had more than his fair share of rolling around in the sheets (and private jets and yachts and backseats of luxury Aston Martins - you get the picture) with countless models and actresses.

Now, at 27, he’d mellowed out, being quietly assured in his confidence and dominating aura. His talent and insane track record does all the talking for him without him needing to say a word when he steps into any room. And he’d stopped his playboy ways too, now the very picture of a loyal family man with his long term model girlfriend and her child who he doted on. It was true that he didn't hold any romantic feelings for her or love her particularly - but that was rare these days, anyways, with the superficial women who constantly surrounded him. But he knew he had her loyalty and in turn, she was provided for with access to Max's fame and finances.

Sure, he’s still offered temptations of money, drugs, alcohol, and sex on the daily, with tens of thousands of people desperate to offer him something to get a taste of the famous Max Verstappen. But unlike his younger self, his self control these days was much better. He rarely found something new that he hadn’t already tried and gotten bored of in his glamorous life as a F1 driver. He’d already started planning his retirement after his Redbull contract ended, somewhere on a remote island far away from all the greedy swarms eager to sink their claws into him.

So one day when one of his mates sent him a link, and your OnlyFans page pops up as he hovered over it, Max just rolled his eyes. His friend had texted that he had to check this chick out, she was so fucking sexy. Max had almost ignored it, already being used to countless offers from insta models DMing him on the daily. But maybe he’d been extra bored that day, because somehow he ends up clicking onto your page. And everyday, he thanks whatever fucked up God was watching from above that he did. Because what he saw next quickly became the world champion’s secret obsession.

You’re a cute young 20something, the very vision of a pure angel who lusted for dirtier fantasies she was too shy to ask for in real life. Your OnlyFans feed was filled with horny thoughts about wanting to get fucked by your older brother’s hot friend or which sexy songs you liked to listen to as you breathlessly use your pink bullet vibrator. It's a new page, started only a month ago, but you already have a few thousand followers, all drooling over the innocent yet tempting pictures you post. Nothing too raunchy - but more suggestive, in tight pastel crop tops with your nipples poking through or a shot of your curvy ass in a white lace panties. Probably a college kid, Max guessed, from the fact that the corner of a textbook could sometimes be seen in your photos and that you offered more naughtier photos to those viewers who payed a little extra. Clearly not any sort of adult film actress - and Max would know, because he’d definitely had some fun with one (or two) before.

But the real cherry on top was when he scrolled across a recent video stream you’d posted. Playing it out loud in his empty penthouse, his cock immediately hardened at the sight of your petite, curvy figure dressed up in lacy lingerie. You sat on your fluffy bed, surrounded by pink fluffy cushions and throw blankets, your face hidden from your teasing smile up. Your glossy, pouting lips giggle easily as you sway your hips in the cute lace babydoll you’re wearing, excitedly chattering about some pop singer you liked or the other. You're answering prying questions viewers are asking, reading them out loud from the chat. Did you have a boyfriend, what's your ideal type of man?

Max likes the soft, playful sound of your girly voice. His mind dirtily wonders what you'd sound like moaning underneath his much larger form. You hmmm for a second, pouting cutely, before shyly admitting that there was just one guy you’d had a crush on for ages, but he had no idea you existed. A friend of your brother's, in fact, you guys probably know him, you mused. He’s pretty famous! Comments flood the chat, trying to guess if he was a singer or actor or-

Nope, he’s an athlete! You giggle, biting your glossy lip and playing with your hard nipples. Max can’t resist palming his own cock through his sweats as he hungrily enjoys the sight of your pretty brown areolas through the see-through lace. He-mmmh-he’s Dutch, you begin, suppressing cute gasps as you toy with your oversensitive, perky tits. So tall, too, and super strong, I love seeing him shirtless! I’ll give you guys one more clue…he’s the fastest man alive when you put him in a racecar.

Ice blue eyes narrow as the comments finally hone in on just who you were talking about. So this is why his friend had sent him this, huh? He couldn’t deny he wasn’t pleased with the way you giggle cutely and confirm that your big fat crush was on Max Verstappen. I know it’s wrong, you whine, breathless as your small, manicured fingers slip down your body to play with the edge of your panties. It’s so naughty, he doesn’t know me and even has a pretty girlfriend, but every night I dream about him fucking me. He’s so hot, so dreamy, and that Dutch accent of his - you cut yourself off with a pleasurable moan, now teasing the audience as you finger yourself through your dripping panties, not letting anyone get a full view of your innocence. Let’s just say I’d let him use me anytime, anywhere, however he wants, you laugh sweetly, your voice a contrast to your dirty words.

Oh, fuck. Talk about a vixen. He hadn't seen a treasure as rare as you in a long time. And it looked like many, many viewers enjoyed your particular brand of angelic sinfulness as multiple donations flood in, begging you to finally take your panties off on the main stream. Max can't stop himself from sending a generous one himself, after jacking off to completion at the sweet sounds of you cumming through your panties. You'd eagerly humped one of your pink cushions, tits bouncing through the practically see through lingerie, moaning Max’s name as if he was right there under you when you reached your peak. Oops, sorry guys! You giggle again, your sweet voice now bashful. Got too caught up, next time I’ll make sure to say the name of the highest donor, mmkay?

It's a good OnlyFans account - no, a great one, but Max didn’t think of it much afterwards, getting caught up in his own busy life and making sure to erase his search history in case his overly paranoid girlfriend came snooping. The fact that you'd mentioned he was friends with your brother also meant very little, given his very large circle of friends and acquaintances given his fame. Everyone liked to say they were mates with Max Verstappen, F1 champion, even if the extent of friendship had been a single handshake.

To his surprise though, a few days later he received a private DM from you, sweetly thanking him for his generous donation! Curious, he opens your message, knowing you wouldn't know who he was from his generic username of CatDaddy33. He hadn't thought he had sent you much at all, maybe a couple grand? You deserved it, working so hard to dress up cutely and pay off whatever college loans you probably had.

But apparently you thought it was a very lavish contribution, because you’d sent him a very tempting photo as a thank you gift. He’d almost dropped his phone when he sees your lush bare tits, out on display as you stuck your pink tongue out cheekily, the rest of your face still hidden. Just for you. Hope you enjoy! you captioned, one small hand cupping your breasts and squeezing a pretty nipple that practically had Max salivating to sink his teeth into. Oh, he certainly enjoyed it, saving it to his private collection to jack off too later when his uptight girlfriend wasn’t in the mood - which was usually the case the majority of the month.

He ends up logging back onto your page that night to enjoy your latest steam, then another, and soon enough he had a full blown infatuation with you. Your tempting, curvy figure and your pretty lips that you bite as you keep talking about how turned on Maxie had made you in the qualifying today, looking so muscly and angry! has him downloading your naughty nudes to his phone. It’d been a long time since a girl had gotten him get so turned on, after all. You drove him wild with your girly, innocent mannerisms paired with your sexy body and filthy words as you play with yourself, always making sure to never fully reveal your face or naked cunny to the viewers with a slutty outfit covering you.

Of course, he generously tips each time he visits your page, resulting in you frequently sending him more thank you presents each time. Lately you've been asking him if he wants you to wear a certain outfit or call out his name in your next video, but he texts back that he just enjoyed watching you have fun, sweetheart. And that's true - because that's all this can be, just a private guilty pleasure for him to enjoy behind closed doors. The rest of the world wouldn't respond well to his dedicated, family man image if they knew that the Dutch champion secretly liked his girls sweet and begging for his attention on adult websites. Even though his actual relationship had become more of a PR facade, now, and had been that way for well over six months. The last chemistry fizzled out when she’d tried to wake Max up with her mouth on his morning wood, somehow trying to make up for weeks of no sex. He made up some excuse about being stressed for the race as he rapidly softened despite her repeat attempts, pushing her off him and going to shower.

But as soon as he’s under the warm steam, he’d only had to close his eyes and picture your perfect, full pouting lips on his cock instead for his impressive semi to come rushing back. As he lazily strokes himself, he wonders what your eyes looked like, still having never seen them with how you kept the top half of your face off the frame. Would you look up at him sultrily as your pink tongue darted out and licked his slit, or did you prefer having him meanly shove his cock all the way in as you gagged with wide, teary doe eyes? He guessed the second fantasy would be your pick, judging by how your breath seemed to hitch in excitement whenever a commanding order was DMed to you following a donation. The submissive type, for sure, who’d once said she’d eagerly let Max Verstappen have his way with her wherever, however he wanted her-

He came with a muffled groan, panting heavily as his release drips down to be cleaned away by the hot water. Maybe he’d finally give into your pleas to him to request something and ask you to suck a sweet lollipop for him on your next stream.

He puts his distracting thoughts about you to the back of his mind as he arrives on the paddock, camera flashes going crazy as they note the increased distance between the Redbull driver and his unhappy girlfriend as she trails behind him. Frankly, Max had stopped caring what his public image was at this point in the season, knowing it was only a matter of time before he got his PR manager involved to cook up some mutual breakup story to feed the media.

Qualifying goes well and the race even better for once, despite the shit box his car had been this season. Afterwards, he greets Daniel, who greets him excitedly and commends his race efforts. The two drivers are laughing, catching up easily in their conversation - when a small figure turns the corner to come up next to Daniel’s side. Oh! The Australian man grins, gently tugging the shy figure by his side forward. You remember my little sis, right Max?

The Dutchman stared at your blushing face as you nervously avoid eye contact with the much taller blonde. Cute, he thinks briefly, finding your brown doe eyes and Riccardio curls pretty. Sure, I remember her, we met at the Silverstone race last year, right? It had been a brief meeting, Daniel swinging by the Redbull garage to congratulate Max and you’d been trailing behind him. Max vaguely remembered you from your younger days, when you’d shyly stayed out of the older boys' way when he had visited Daniel in his Perth family home in Australia. But you’d grown up now, and had chosen to attend college overseas in London, and Max politely asks if you were still studying there. On a full ride scholarship too, Daniel confirms proudly, fondly ruffling your curls and making you protest. Still won’t accept a dime from her older brother, even with the ridiculous London rent.

Pouting rather adorably, you quickly fix your hair, glaring at your sibling as you mutter that you didn’t want his tax evasion money, thanks, you could look after yourself. Max laughs, pleasantly surprised you had some teeth behind your blushing, pretty face. You immediately look up to see his gorgeous blue eyes looking at you in interest before nervously flicking them away again, clutching onto Daniel’s hoodie as the two men resume their conversation. Later, as he watches you walk away, Max can’t help thinking about how your girly voice and pouting lips had looked so familiar. He knows many beautiful women, but there was something about your unique, natural face that made attraction swirl in his chest. He’s still thinking about it that night, annoyed about not knowing where else he’s seen you besides at your brother’s side.

And then your latest video had him sitting up straight in shock. Because he recognises the hoodie that’s draped across the back of your chair in the corner of the screen. He'd recognise it anywhere. You, of course, probably had not thought twice about the item of clothing that belonged to your brother - with it just looking like another piece of F1 merchandise to anyone watching. But Max knew that Redbull insignia on the back, signed DR3 along the logo generically but with an extra little present that Max had drawn on himself when his teammate had fallen asleep next to him on a private plane ride. The crude, cartoon dick drawing stares back at Max through the screen as he immediately recognises what he’d found funny as an 18 year old. There was only one person in the world who would own this sweatshirt personally customized by the world champion - and given the fact that you were the one who seemed to have borrowed it….the mystery of your identity finally unravels.

He sends you a private DM that very night, not wanting to play any games. He knew he had to have you, now that he knows you’re right under his nose. I know who’s little sister you are, baby.

You respond back immediately, which isn’t suprising considering how you’re in the same time zone currently. I have no idea what you’re talking about, you text, trying to deny his claim. Max smirks. He almost feels mean for winding you up but he knows you’ll be so grateful for it in the end. You’re telling me you aren’t Daniel Riccardio’s little sister? I saw you on the paddock today. No point in hiding anymore.

You seen his message for a few tense minutes, and he wonders if he approached this wrong because you could just block him. But then you frantically send back a how the hell do you know that? How did you find out?

Max chuckles as he corners you right where he wants. And an hour later you’re on a private video call with him, very differently dressed that your usual skimpy attire in a baggy t-shirt that covers all your skin as you demand to know just what he wanted. Of course, you still have no idea who he is, because even though he has his camera on, his face is well out of view. You can only squint at the image of a fit appearing guy, dressed casually in sweats but his strong muscles still showing through. You impatiently read out the next DM he sends you. I want to see your pussy, spread open for me completely-What the hell?! you shriek, outraged.

You try to get out of it, saying that was too embarrassing to do, but he makes you realise there it was futile to resist. He orders you to show your face in the video, saying there’s no point hiding it anymore since he knew exactly who you were. All over DM, of course - he couldn’t have your recognising his deep, Dutch voice that you always gushed about.

You pout cutely, lips downturned and an upset expression on your face as you slowly undress yourself for him. Then you follow his orders, gently playing with yourself as you teasingly suckle on your pink vibrator so that he could imagine what you’d look like with your lips around him, instead. Max lazily jerks himself off to the sight, enjoying how you started obediently following his instructions once you saw his hand reach into his sweats and slide his erection out. Your doe eyes went wide with guilty desire at the sight of his impressive, hard length, and you swallow back drool when you see his leaking, angry tip. Soon he had you spreading your puffy cunny lips wide for him to greedily look at, before you start sliding your little vibrator in between your achy core. He makes you call out his name like you always did, of course, and say out loud all of the dirty fantasies you’d been dreaming about lately involving your brother’s best friend. You cum intensely and Max follows shortly after, the both of you caught up in the sinful activity.

It’d been easy enough to find out the room number you’d been staying at as the Riccardio siblings were at the same hotel as him, and even easier to get the swipe card. He was Max Verstappen, after all. Leaving his bitchy girlfriend alone in his room, he makes his way to yours in the middle of the night. The hallway light briefly illuminates your peacefully sleeping figure when he opens the door, quietly locking it behind him.

You’re deep asleep, plush tits rising and falling, dressed in a cute see through lace nightgown and matching panties. After admiring the sight for a few minutes, he slides into bed behind you, finally getting to toy with those pretty nipples and squeeze the plush ass he’d been fantasising about for weeks on end. You quietly moan in your unconscious state, sleepily grinding back against the warm, hard body holding you and arching your back into the hungry mouth suckling on your stiff nipples. Soon he’s wedges his fat cock in between your thick thighs, panting heavily as he fucks then slowly so you don’t wake up. He barely lasts a couple minutes, his head dizzy with pleasure for the first time in months as blood rushes to his already hard cock. After he’s cum copiously all over your tanned skin, he slides off your panties to take for himself, making sure to rub his creamy release along your puffy slit with his large hands. He can’t resist sliding a finger inside to get feel of how luxuriously tight your pussy feels, groaning when he feels your walls clench down on him. His cock was going to experience heaven when it finally got to sink home inside you, he was sure.

You spend your day confused the next morning, remembering hazy wet dreams from the night before but not quite being able to recall exact what you’d dreamt. And you’d never been able to find your favourite lace panties, assuming they got lost in the laundry when room service cleaned up. Until your online bully, as you’d taken to calling him, sends you a naughty photo. It’s one that he could only have had access to if he’d taken it himself, you realize with a shocked gasp, as you stare at your peacefully sleeping figure. A gigantic cock, much bigger than any of your cute toys, slides into the waistband of your pink panties - which are completely see through from how soaked they’ve become. And that was one of the tamer pictures Max took that night. He wonders how you’d react to the one he has of his drooling tip brushing against your parted lips, his sticky release from earlier now leaking into your wet mouth.

You’re even cuter when you’re not putting up a fight his message says. You freak out, of course, but he doesn’t respond to your frantic questions and instead orders you to be dressed up for him tonight in that navy lace babydoll and matching blindfold set he’s having delivered, okay?

You swallow, unable to hide the rising curiosity and desire at the rich, mysterious stranger you had drawn in. You can’t really be mad at him when he sends a $10k reward to your account after teasing you with the filthy photos he’d been taking. A girl had to pay off her college loans, after all.

Besides, a hot, muscled sugar daddy appealed to you a lot more than streaming for thousands of strangers. You couldn’t wait to meet him tonight!

—————————————————————————

A/N: 😏😏😏 thank you so much for waiting patiently my dearest readers, work has been crazy but I finally have some time now to feed you!!! Get ready I’m about to be dropping some hot pieces for you including part 2 of earned it and haunted!!

[rileysluvr]

literally just könig jacking off to you and being delusional idk

He’s tossing and turning in bed, and he can’t seem to get comfortable no matter what he does. He had ditched his shirt after around an hour of staring up at the dark ceiling and feeling like his chest was going to cave in, but the sensation still wouldn’t leave him even after. Like it’s clinging on to every square inch of his body and eating away at him, similar to his tight shirt before being removed, though refusing to dissipate after the multiple attempts in distracting himself.

He’s burning up, and he feels it most beneath the fabric of his sweatpants. He stretches his back and shoulders against his mattress, but it gives him no relief. And he needs that relief, so desperately, he thinks he may just die if he goes another minute longer in this state. The twitching in his muscles with the compulsion that plagues them are far stronger than his mind. He huffs a final exasperation, mutters some broken and degrading swears in German, and ultimately, he gives in.

He swipes his unusually cold palm over his face before dragging it down his chest, trailing across his abdomen and following the wake of soft hair that disappears beneath the peaking waistband of his boxers. His fingertips stretch the band as they dip beneath it, and his breathing is becoming heavier yet weaker, more shaky-like, as they creep closer to where he needs attention the most.

He’s teasing himself, involuntarily and painfully. Perhaps this is his last attempt to allow himself a second thought, think twice before he commits such a dirty act on military grounds. But his mind is far too fuzzy to pay attention, it’s just been so long.

His hand finds his cock, exhaling a shaky breath at the forbidden contact, this is his last chance to turn back. His boxers are growing to be too tight around him, and this time he won’t be able to just put up with it until his thoughts dissipate. He needs release, and soon. It won’t be much, it’s only once, and then he can finally sleep, he convinces himself.

He pulls his boxers down his pelvis, leaving them just below where his hard cock is now free. He wraps his fist around his base, fingers enveloping each vein that bulges with desperation. He groans ever so softly, jaw slacked and eyes closed as goosebumps coat his chest and arms. It’s mere seconds before his mind is plummeting into uncontrollable thoughts and damned-worthy desires.

It’s your hand, he’s already imagining. It’s your smaller fingers around his cock, not enough to compensate for his size but still a hundred-times better than any fist could work. He knows you’d make it work. You’re clever like that, far more than he is.

It’s your thighs straddling his as your arm moves up and down at an excruciating pace. He needs your weight on him so fucking bad, preferably on his shoulders and face as he’d hold you down on his mouth. Fuck, he needs to taste you so bad.

It’s your voice that would talk him through it, command him on what to do until he’s broken down to the young, naive, want-to-be soldier he once was. He’ll do anything you say. He’ll walk through Hell and back if you tell him to. Hand on his heart, honest to whatever god may be out there. Smack him around.

Anything you say.

And it’s him who would satisfy your every want with unending diligence to thank you. Just fucking use him, already.

He couldn’t shake the thought, no matter how hard he tried.

No matter how dirty he felt imagining his coworker in such a position, rather than a woman of what he thinks his type should be, or even an actress from a porn magazine. No matter how unlikely it was that he’d have a chance with you, it’s downright embarrassing. And no matter how heavy that guilt sat in his gut, his fist only squeezes tighter with his strokes, retaining that languid speed that has him gritting his teeth.

You flood his mind and you don’t even know the magnitude of it because you’re just a girl living your, perhaps slightly unconventional, life in the military, and he’s the coworker that people only look twice at to check if, yes, he really is that tall.

Flashes of your face, and that pretty body of yours in the most innocent of outfits, refuse to quit their tormenting of his mind, and here he was, fucking his fist to them at night like a desperate dog. He wants to see how your skin would contrast his pale and heavily scarred exterior, and how you would surely take him from his comfort zone and make him a better man.

He swipes his thumb over the head of his cock with a broken whine, collecting his pre and spreading it down his shaft as far as it goes; fuck, he’s so sensitive, and he just needs more. He can hear your voice in the back of his mind, conceptualizing what you would say as you guide him past his threshold. You’d be so sweet on him, just as you always are on the rare occasion you’re put in a position together where talking seemed the best option for pastime. You really are just perfectly perfect all around, he thinks, and he wants you to know it, so bad.

You’re too good for him, you’re too striking. Truthfully, while the thought of you taking care of him in his most vulnerable state has him thirsting like a dog and bucking his hips up into nothing but a mangled hand and cold air, he knows that’s not him. No, he needs to be of service, one way or another.

He knows he’d be on his knees in front of you, on the ground you walk on, looking up at you with big eyes as he’d place kisses all up and down your bare thighs, careful not to ruin your clothes. He’d worship every part of your body until all you knew was utter admiration, though he doubts you’ve ever gone a day without being honored for your being.

How could any man not leap at the opportunity to praise your every step in life, especially if you’ve taken him to bed?

He actually whines out into the empty space of his quarters, face all beet red and eyes bleary from surprising himself with such an act. Self-deprecating whispers linger in the back of his mind and will remain for when he’s later clearheaded, but for now, the only thing he can think to do is continue fisting his sensitive cock to the notion of being with you.

He’d let you mold him to whatever you wanted, he’d beg you to ride his face and get yourself off with his assistance. He wants to get drunk on your pussy, he knows he would. He knows you’d taste better than anything he has ever had, and he knows he wouldn’t be able to stop himself once he starts unless you say something. Punish him, even, for not doing it right or knowing both of your limits because he’s just such a hungry, greedy whore who only wants more, more, and more.

Should you ever let him into your life, he’d be better off quitting his job and dedicating his future to just making you feel so good and so loved, and so, so proud of him. He wants to hear you call him a good boy, maybe even a loyal slut. Etch it into his skull so he could never forget, as if that’d ever be possible.

He’d fuck you in any position you’d like, and he means any.

Lay on your back, legs spread and just begging for him to bury his face in your cunt, and he’ll listen like the good boy he is until you’re beyond satisfied. Stretch it out to hours if you please; the man has stamina that would put any gold-medalist to shame, and never once in his life, has he been a quitter.

“i’m good, i promise i am… i’ll be a good boy for you, please.”

Pin him to the mattress and ride him until he can’t think or speak, use him to reach your own high while taking him for all that he has because that’s all he’s there for, is to make you feel good. The strictest soldier would turn to putty under your hold.

“das ist—…s’too much, ich flehe dich—ngh—! bitte, bitte—”

Pull him into an abandoned building and make him fuck you on the cold, hard floor despite being at work, on the job. He would jeopardize even the highest value of intel for a piece of you.

“i’ll do anything, i swear… i’ll be quiet, i-i’ll let you use me… jus’ wanna make you feel good. it’ll make me feel good, too.”

Either way, he’s going to end up on his knees once again and, if you allowed, watch his pearly cum drip from your puffy cunt before taking two of his fingers and pushing it back in, words and babbles of endless praise slipping from his lips as he imagines the idea of starting his own little family with you.

His abdomen feels tighter just thinking of it, you, and his hand with a lethargic pace around his cock. His breathing is jagged, ruthlessly so, and it picks up when his fist does as well. He stretches and rolls his shoulders, dying whimpers spilling from his lips. Your name, as well, and he’s blushing more violently then ever. You’ve got a spell on him; he’s all yours, if you want.

Christ, what would you say to him right now? Scold him, berate him. Even slap him for jerking off to the mental image of you without your permission, and edge him until he cries like an abandoned baby. Call him pathetic and promise him he’ll never, ever have a chance because he is such a coward, and all.

Oh, but you’re just so sweet on him. He doesn’t think he’s ever even heard you swear, let alone insult someone. You go to such great lengths to lighten the mood, make people feel so safe and welcome around you. And your fucking laugh, Christ, your giggles are always music to his ears. Anything that isn’t praise would sound far too foreign in your voice for him to compute. With those soft, plump lips at his ear, cooing him through his high he’s gonna reach so early, so fucking soon— fuck, he's…

He’s gonna—

A soft knocking on his door causes his hand to stop and eyes to shoot open, lightly gasping for air as he was pulled just seconds away from his orgasm. He’s frozen, dead in his tracks, and he waits for it to happen again to make sure he wasn’t just hearing things. The one time, he succumbs to his perverse hankerings.

A few seconds go by before he hears the knocking once more, this time sure it was for him. He swiftly sits up and then stands, shoving his cock in his boxers and pulling his pants back up. He leans down to grab his shirt, pulling it over his big head, introducing a new type of discomfort from before due to the cold sweat he broke coating his chest. He’s reaching for his helmet when there’s a voice coming from the other side of the door, and the hardened soldier nearly jumps in surprise.

“König?”

Oh, fuck. His entire body tenses up at the wake of your voice. Outside his room, right now, when he was just fucking his fist to the image of you. He couldn’t begin to describe or label what he’s feeling, but it’s something along the lines of utter shame and mortification. He mutters a quick and defeated curse under his breath, aggression only aimed at himself.

You’re speaking up again before he even has time to think, granted his mind was spinning and he was making no move to answer you. He’s frozen, stuck in space. Time seemed to race by him without warning, and he hated it.

“Are you awake?”

Your voice is gentle, as always, and so quiet in order to not wake anyone else in the corridor. He’s surprised he could understand you so well, then again, he’d recognize your voice from a klick away.

Could you hear him from outside his door? He wouldn’t ever be able to recover. His hard cock twitches in his pants at the thought of being caught in the act of jerking off to you, and he shakes his head, fighting back the groan boiling in his chest at the simple, yet so fucking intricate, idea of it. He’s a mess.

He decides against the hood, which would most likely prove a mistake as he could literally feel the heat exuding from his face. He knows his hair is a sore sight and his clothes are wrinkled beyond repair. You’ve ruined him, and you don’t even know it.

He swallows thickly as he trudges over to the door, attempting to clear his throat and stabilize his breathing, and his hot palm lands on the screaming door handle.

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (12)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: see that up there? He's a good fella. He's not going to fumble this time.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The Mallorca getaway continues. Ewan takes on a new approach when it comes to winning you back. With flirty dares and rising tensions, will you be any closer to making a choice?

The news barely needed any time to settle. 

It spread like wildfire, from those with professional connections in Hollywood to casual celebrity gossip enjoyers. In less than an hour after the first batch of headlines broke out, it was clear—Bruce Haversham is now an industry pariah. 

It was yesterday when Ewan rejoined the group by the pool, a strange look in his eyes. Before Phia could finish asking if something was wrong, Freddie exclaimed a very surprised, “What the fuck?” as he scanned his phone, and the rest was history. 

The following morning, the villa gradually wakes to meet the sunrise. 

The place screams simple luxury, with the interiors painted in a standard white and cyan, lush potted plants stretching tall in the corners. There are eight bedrooms and four full bathrooms, so your large group split up as desired. 

You’re sharing a room with Phia and Liv, which means that Phia has gladly taken the role of being your personal alarm clock. 

You are already awake when you feel her breathing in your ear. You crack open an eye and see her leaning over your bed, a wide grin stretched across her lips. “Day three!” she squeals. “Rise and shiiiine. Buenos dias!”

You groan halfheartedly. It’s impossible to be grumpy even in this hour when Phia acts like it’s going to be the best day ever. Like the day before that. And the day before. And pretty much every day since you’ve met her. 

“What time is it?” you croak, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“6:30,” she happily chirps. “It’s our turn to make breakfast.”

Some of the boys volunteered to be the chefs yesterday, and the highlights were Freddie and Matt’s spaghetti bolognese, and Ewan’s sparkling sangria.

You remember telling Emma in the late afternoon that you’ve never tried sangria and you’ve always wanted to, but surely that’s not the reason why Ewan chose to make that drink for dinner. But you knew he had been lounging around, always within sight of you. 

He almost never stays far from you. 

When you make your way into the kitchen, most of the girls are already busy. Pots and pans hiss and smoke on the stove, filling the air with the scent of cooking.

“We bought ingredients for pancakes, right?” you ask, shuffling through the cupboards. 

“Of course we did,” Liv replies, as she slices and carefully arranges fruits on a platter. 

“Stacks of pancakes coming right up!” you say, mustering some of Phia’s early morning enthusiasm. 

“Oh, I could kiss you,” Liv preens. 

A few minutes into your process, you hear gasps in the room. You don’t turn right away, knowing that with your group, it could be anything. From something as simple as juice spilling, or Fabien suddenly going bald. A flock of actors will be dramatic. 

But someone barks out, “Ewan! You’re not supposed to be in the kitchen.”

“Let us girls cook in peace. You’ll get your turn again tomorrow,” Phia scolds. 

Your breath hitches as you suddenly feel someone standing right behind you. “Good morning, darling,” Ewan’s voice rumbles softly, and you turn to find that he has moved closer, his hand propped on the kitchen counter by your waist. “Are you making pancakes? I’d love to help.”

“Do you want his help?” Bethany questions you plainly.

Ewan shuffles to your side, casually leaning against the counter as he looks at you, his brows raised as he bites his lip in a cheeky manner that sends your pulse skittering. 

“I… I wouldn’t mind,” you stammer, and he turns to the rest of the girls to give them a what-can-you-do shrug.

“Fine,” Phia relents with a knowing smile, throwing you a wink that is impossible to miss. 

Ewan proves to be a good sous chef, taking note of your remarks, and sticking to the steps you laid out. To be fair, you don’t even have to say much, the both of you falling right into a comfortable rhythm. He hands you the right ingredients without missing a beat. The wide kitchen is filled with the soothing noises of cooking and soft chatter, but your focus is zeroed in on the effortless system that you have going with Ewan. 

It’s simple. It’s calm and domestic. It reminds you of a time long gone, when you were dating in LA, spending nearly every waking moment with each other. Before everything got so… complicated.

He stands by while you ladle some pancake batter onto the griddle. He’s there, but you miss him.

“You okay, darling?” he ducks his head so only you can hear. “Did you not sleep well?”

You find concern etched in his features. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just… thinking, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

Ewan knows you well, so does he know that you’re worried about his nonchalance at what happened to Bruce? The PR arrangement is effectively scrapped, which means that the biggest hurdle that once stood between you and him is no more. 

He’s always been so forward and upfront about his feelings, but why does it feel like nothing has happened? Like nothing has changed? 

Perhaps the distance that you enforced has become too wide to manage, and he has lost interest? His brow furrows when you don’t answer, and his hand gently squeezes above your elbow. “Hey,” he whispers, trying to catch your attention, “what’s wrong, darling?”

Okay. Maybe he hasn’t completely lost interest. But still. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “But, how are you doing? With all the drama surrounding Bruce and all that?”

“Well, he’s out of the project. And we’re all glad for it.”

“That’s good.” You flip a pancake too late, slightly burning one side.

You rock back on your heels as you wait, and you turn to find Ewan watching you with an unreadable look in his eyes, his lips curling in that signature Ewan way that can mean everything and nothing at all. 

“What?” you finally ask. 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, mirroring your tone from earlier, one that fails to mask the thoughts swirling in his mind. “I appreciate your concern, my love. Thank you for asking.”

“No problem,” you say softly, clearing your throat to be heard better. “I’m happy you’re done with that asshole and his unfair demands.”

“Yeah,” he nods. His face is so close to yours that you can spot the tiny flecks of yellow in his blue eyes. His eyes dart to the side, then back to you. “Darling?”

“Mmm?”

“I know I’m just your humble assistant—” He clutches his chest in a playful gesture, smirking knowingly. “—but I think that pancake has turned to stone.”

“Oh, shit!” You hurriedly take it out of the griddle, but he’s right. Even its sides are charcoal-coloured. You groan at your shoddy work, putting it aside to be tossed to the bin later, as Ewan—the cheeky bugger—laughs openly at your distress. 

“Alright, alright.” You roll your eyes at him. You should be annoyed, but how can you, when this moment feels like a vivid snapshot of a better time? 

You can pretend that you don’t care for it, but what’s the point? Even after all this time, and everything you’ve been through together, and apart. 

Always. 

“Ewan,” you say, trying to keep a straight face, and failing, “let’s just keep going, okay? And no more accidents. We’re not going to poison everybody.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Yes, it was.”

“How so?”

“You were… being distracting.”

He tilts his head, and stares at you so intensely that you have to turn back to the griddle. As you should, anyway. Oh, if smugness had a face… 

The stack becomes higher, then multiplies into two, three… The whole time, the skip in your heartbeat becomes more and more impossible to ignore. Once again, you’re that newbie actress, that girl with a crush, who had to spend an entire day doing press with the Ewan Mitchell. 

Your Ewan, who can level you with just a glance. 

“Okay,” you exhale. “Just a few more, then we’re done. And please—quit looking at me.”

“What?” Ewan shifts away, as if he hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes with his eyes glued to you for no particular reason. “I can’t look at you? You know I would do anything for you, darling, but that’s kind of an impossible request.”

“Oh my god,” Phia's voice inserts itself in the moment, causing you and Ewan to turn around sharply. It is only then that you notice that everyone has gone out to the patio, judging by the source of the ruckus. 

Phia stands there, cool as a cucumber with a glass of juice in one hand, wagging her eyebrows when you make eye contact. “Ewan… just…ugh.”

“What?” Ewan snorts at her faux frustration.

She shakes her head for a few seconds, before landing on, “You’re impossible. I can’t deal with you two. I just can’t.” She then walks away, only pausing briefly to remark, “At least those bloody pancakes were made with love.”

Ewan begins arranging the pancakes to take out to the dining area in the patio, while you tidy up the mess. It’s not long before the rest of the lads come thundering down the stairs, still disheveled and groggy from sleep. 

“Time for breakfast,” Ewan remarks as you finish your work, his hand drifting to the small of your back, sending warmth radiating through your skin.

Inevitably, you’re once again caught up in a moment where he is all there is, and you wish he would just make some comment on where things stand between the two of you. Some reassurance, something more than flirtatious remarks and fleeting touches. 

But a new arrival in the kitchen melts the moment away.

“Good morning.” It’s Matt, leaning casually against the wall. 

Your face heats up in shame. You have been so preoccupied with Ewan and the state of your relationship with him, that you forgot to factor in Matty. The sweetheart you’re technically dating, who has been nothing but good to you.

He walks over, planting a quick kiss on your cheek, his hand resting on the small of your back, mirroring where Ewan’s had been moments before.

“Smells good in here,” Matt says, his voice easy. “You two make a good team in the kitchen, huh?”

Ewan’s smile tightens, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Just trying to keep up, mate. You know how it is.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to those pancakes.” Matt winks at you, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in your mind, then heads toward the patio, leaving you and Ewan standing awkwardly in the kitchen.

Ewan clears his throat, glancing at you with a look you can’t quite decipher, but it gets your heart racing all the same. “We should—” he gestures toward the pancakes, his voice softer now. “We should take these out.” 

You nod, meeting his eyes. “We should.”

He stands still, brows furrowing for a moment as he continues to gaze at you, before the muscles in his face release their tension. His eyes soften, and his lips pull into a gentle smile. “Hmm.” He hums to himself, like he has realised something. 

“What is it?” Your curiosity gets the better of you.

“I always thought you look your best in the mornings, when your hair’s a bit mussed, and you’re fresh from sleep, and you’re just… you.”

“Oh.”

“But then again,” he says, as he takes the pancakes, balancing one full plate in each hand, “When are you not beautiful, darling?” He smiles sweetly, before turning on his heel and walking away.

A long moment passes before your heart starts working again. 

The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the villa, and everyone is scattered on the property. You’re sitting with Liv, Bella, and Phoebe by the pool, sipping on fresh juice and exchanging stories. 

Then, from the entrance, you hear the unmistakable sound of wheels crunching over gravel, followed by the final rev of a car engine. The rest of the guests have arrived. 

It’s Luke who bounds out first, his arms thrown wide as he hollers, “The party’s here, baby!”

“Lad!” Phia calls out, running up to greet him with a warm hug, “You’re late, as usual.”

“Fashionably late,” he grins, patting her back and winking at you as he catches your eye.

Harry and Elliott follow close behind, totally at ease, pulling their suitcases and nodding toward the group. Behind them is Milly, who practically jumps out of the car. She’s all smiles, her bubbly personality lighting up the space in an instant. She hugs everyone in quick succession, her laughter ringing out as she quickly finds something to tease Fabien about.

But it’s the last arrival that makes your heart plummet.

Louise steps out of the SUV, dressed casually but effortlessly put together, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. Louise, Luke and Eliott’s cousin who was spotted with Ewan ages ago, just before you and him began dating. It was the usual paparazzi blunder, and Ewan profusely swore that nothing actually happened, with the twins quick to vouch for him. 

But she glances around, her eyes scanning the villa before landing on Ewan, who stands just a few away, watching quietly. She makes a beeline for him, leaning in for a quick, friendly kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Ewan. Miss me?”

Your chest tightens.

Ewan’s smile is polite and restrained, but it doesn’t escape your notice how he subtly steps back, keeping a respectful distance between them. “Good to see you, Lou,” he greets evenly, though his gaze flickers toward you for the briefest of moments. It’s subtle—no one else would notice—but you do. 

“Why is it so bloody hot out here?” Elliott exclaims, catching your attention. 

As everyone catches up with each other, the space is filled with chatter and laughter. But despite the chaos, your attention keeps getting pulled back to Ewan and Louise. She’s standing close to him, not too close, but enough that it feels like a deliberate choice on her part. Her smile is bright, and her hand occasionally brushes his arm when she laughs.

Which she does too often. Ewan’s a witty guy and all, but what could there be to laugh wildly about every ten seconds? 

You can’t help the pang of jealousy that twists in your gut. She looks like someone who would have Instagram, and judging by the way she ogles your boyfr—

By the way she ogles Ewan, she would be aware of his doings on that godforsaken app. She would have definitely seen—no, stalked—his profile back when it was still up, seeing his tributes to you. 

Wasn’t this supposed to be a holiday? You tell yourself to relax your nerves, which are currently set on edge. 

Matt appears at your side, wrapping an arm around your waist, as he plants a soft kiss on your temple. “You okay?” he asks, his voice enough to soothe you for a while. 

“I’m good,” you nod, forcing a smile. 

Ewan catches your gaze, before his eyes drop down to Matt’s arm around you. The smallest sense of victory washes over you as his jaw clenches in obvious irritation. But it’s fleeting, gone too soon, when he looks away and slips back into conversation with Louise. 

The rest of the arrivals gather their bags and start making their way inside, talking about what to do for dinner, and where to go tonight.

The party has just begun. 

The hour is late when the group gradually comes together in a circle, much like kids forming around a campfire. Fabien and Bella balance large plastic bowls of snacks in each arm. Meanwhile, Rhys and Tom stagger into the scene, with a full load of six-packs and wine bottles. The rest of the group follow suit, trickling in with a chorus of laughter and shared whispers. 

The circle tightens, everyone jostling for a seat, with some sprawled on blankets, while others perch on low adirondack chairs. It’s chaotic, but it’s the kind of chaos Ewan doesn’t mind, with the cast being like family to him. 

He feels your presence like a magnet, drawing him in despite everything going on. The moment you step into the circle, his heart stumbles. As it always does, without fail. 

You’re wearing a long and flowy, green summer dress, with your hair delicately pulled away from your face. It’s simple, effortless, but Ewan thinks you’re the prettiest person in every room. 

You hesitate, and Ewan’s hand moves on instinct—stretching out to the space next to him on the blanket, a silent offer. For a split second, he sees you acquiesce, taking a half-step toward him.

But just as you begin to shift in his direction, before you can make a move, Matt reaches out from his spot at the edge of the circle, snatching your wrist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His laugh is low and teasing as he effortlessly pulls you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace, like he owns you. 

Ewan takes several deep breaths, trying to fight the surge of jealousy rising up a tidal wave. He tries to be patient, to play this right. But watching Matt hold you like that, hearing him call you my love in that careless, confident way—it’s almost enough to make Ewan snap, pull you aside, and beg for things to go back to the way they were.

When he had you, and you had him, in every sense of the word. Back in LA, when being in love was enough. 

Instead, Ewan leans back, forcing himself to look relaxed. But his eyes remain locked on you. When Matt’s fingers trace along your arm, you steal another glance at Ewan, like you’re checking and wondering if he’ll say something, do something. 

But he won’t. Not yet. Not until you decide. 

Ewan has been patient because he has to be. Things have to go right, because he wants you for good, not just for now. So he lets it happen; he lets you keep pretending. But he makes sure that you know he’s there, watching you, waiting for you. 

Rhys pops open another beer, tossing one to Tom, who nearly fumbles it. Laughter breaks out across the group, as everyone settles into their places. 

For all the commotion, all Ewan sees is you. 

Fabien sits to his left and hands him a beer. Suddenly, Louise drops into the empty spot beside him. 

“Hey, stranger,” she says, her voice playful as she nudges Ewan’s arm. “I barely saw you all afternoon. You avoiding me or something?” She’s got that look in her eyes, and he knows exactly what she’s doing. Now, with Matt monopolising your attention, she’s moving in.

“Course not,” Ewan replies casually. 

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she continues, smiling sweetly.

“Just taking it all in,” he says, keeping his voice neutral. He feels the weight of your gaze from across the circle, but he stops himself from looking at you. 

“Taking it all in, huh?” she laughs softly. “Well—handsome—if you don’t mind, could you pass me a beer?”

Her hand brushes his as he passes her a bottle, and he catches your reaction in his peripheral vision. Your body stiffens slightly, your smile faltering for a split second before you force it back into place. But Ewan knows you too well. You’re not okay with this.

And that gives him just the slightest bit of satisfaction. 

The circle carries on drinking, throwing quips, and even pillows, with Elliott throwing the cushion by his arse to Freddie after a particularly passionate round of banter. Then it’s time to play a game, brought on by the kind of reckless energy that results when everyone has had a little too much to drink.

“Alright, you lot,” Phoebe says, dragging over two makeshift bowls of rolled-up pieces of paper—one for truths and one for dares—the girls’ project for the afternoon. She places it haphazardly in the centre of the circle. “Rules are simple: spin the bottle, pick a truth or dare from the bowl. No wimping out, no lame excuses.”

Matt chuckles, adjusting you slightly in his lap, his arm still casually draped over your thighs as you sit sideways on the chair, your feet propped on the armrest. You’ve been nursing the same glass of wine for a while now, but Ewan can tell by the glint in your eyes that it’s starting to hit you. 

It’s hitting him too.

The bottle spins wildly, its glossy surface catching the firelight as it circles through the group. 

Matt is up first. The bottle stops, pointing at him like it was meant to.

“Truth,” he says, his voice confident, his smirk ever-present as he reaches out to pull from the bowl. He reads aloud, “Who has the best hair?”

Tom is quick to warn, “And it can’t be the girl in your lap! No brownie points for trying to get lucky, mate.”

Matt doesn’t miss a beat. He leans forward, that cocky grin still in place. “Oh, I’m already lucky,” he says, earning oohs and ahhs from the group. You blush, but there’s a cautious edge to your smile, and Ewan can tell you’re wondering how he’s taking all this.

He pretends not to care.

“Oh, come on, Matty!” Bella shouts. “Pick someone.”

Matt surveys the group, dragging it out like he’s milking the moment. His eyes finally land on Olivia, who’s been watching him like a hawk, and he says, “Alright, Miss Cooke has the best hair. Hands down.”

“Damn right I do,” Olivia says, shaking her dark curls with a dramatic flourish, and the group erupts into more laughter. 

The bottle spins again. This time it lands on Ewan. 

“Dare,” he says, trying to avoid the inevitable where he plays it safe and picks truth, but then gets egged on the alternative. They would push the quiet, shy guy to let loose. It is his birthday getaway after all. 

He fishes a slip from the dare bowl, and as he almost can’t believe the words scrawled on the paper. Oh fuck.

“Well, what does it say?” Emma asks.

Ewan swallows nervously. “Uhhh, well, it says kiss the person to your right.”

To his right is Louise.

Of course it’s bloody Louise. He should have picked truth. Why did he have to choose now as an exercise of confidence? Why? 

He can’t help but glance at you on instinct, but your expression is unreadable. 

Louise, for her part, is already leaning in, that smirk of hers so smug it makes Ewan’s teeth clench. Everyone’s watching. There’s no way out of this. He can feel Matt’s eyes drilling into the back of his skull, like he’s waiting for him to mess up. 

Ewan leans in, pressing a light kiss to Louise’s lips—meant to be barely more than a brush, but she pushes forward, making it last longer than he would like. The heat of her lips lingers when he pulls back in a flash. His ears ring with enthusiastic catcalls from the group.

He clears his throat uncomfortably, and he can’t bear to look at you this time.

Before anyone can say anything, the bottle is spinning again. 

It lands on you. 

“Dare,” you say, your voice just a bit too steady. When you’ve chosen, you dramatically read aloud, “Kiss… the person on your left.”

And it’s Freddie.

The second you realise who it is, there is the tiniest flicker of hesitation in your expression.

Freddie raises his eyebrows, smirking like the cheeky bastard he is, leaning back on his elbows as if he’s some kind of prize. “Well, well, well…” he teases, making a big show of puckering his lips. “Happy birthday to me.”

Everyone’s laughing and spurring you on, the group feeding off the chaotic energy of the night. So you unperch yourself from Matt’s lap, lean over the side of the chair, and kiss Freddie. 

It’s quick, almost as if you want it over before anyone can really react, but Freddie leans into it, his hand cupping the back of your neck. Ewan’s stomach twists as he watches, and he knows he shouldn’t care so much. It’s just a bloody game, it doesn’t mean anything. 

But it hits him harder than he wants to admit.

Freddie—being the showman that he is—makes a big deal of it, making an exaggerated gesture as if you’d left him breathless. “I think I’m in love,” he jokes, throwing a wink in Matt’s direction. 

Ewan downs the rest of his beer, the bitterness coating his throat, but it does nothing to quench the fire building in his chest. The jealousy gnaws at him, and he hopes to all that is holy that you don’t have to kiss anyone else for the game. Unless it’s him.

Then it won’t just be a friendly peck. It won’t just last two seconds. He will kiss you in front of everyone, claiming you, like his life depends on it. 

And that won’t just be on the booze. 

The game goes on, but he barely registers the next few rounds. Louise shifts closer to him, her hand casually resting on his knee. She leans in, her breath hot against his ear as she says, “I didn’t mind that kiss, you know.”

He doesn’t respond right away, too caught up in the sight of you laughing at something Matt says to Freddie. You look happy, but it’s all wrong. That laugh used to be Ewan’s.

“Still taking it all in?” Louise asks, her voice dripping with suggestion.

“Something like that,” Ewan sharply responds. Either she hasn’t yet gotten the hint that he’s not interested, or she has and simply doesn’t care, because she asks him another question, squeezing his knee.

And he lets her. Because what else can he do?

The night has a pulse of its own. It starts off slow, a lazy hum of conversations, but soon escalates into something wilder.

It’s hard not to feel electricity thrumming under your skin, not only from the alcohol, but from every look Ewan throws at you across the circle, watching as Matt’s arms stay anchored around you.

Ever since the news about Bruce came out, Matt has been noticeably more bold and doting. It's as if the shift in your relationship with Ewan has sparked something in him – his romantic gestures more frequent, his touch lingering just a bit longer. Where he once might have hung back, now he openly claims your attention, as though daring anyone to challenge his place in your world. 

"Looks like you’re sitting here tonight, my love," Matt had whispered low in your ear, when he pulled you onto his lap, his breath warm and smelling of whiskey against your skin. 

The night spirals even further when a game is proposed. Phia, Bella, and Phoebe had been the ones to come up with the prompts for truth or dare, so you couldn’t have predicted what follows. 

When Matt is made to choose someone else for his question, the possessive way with which he murmurs, “Oh, I’m already lucky,” sends a flush to your cheeks. You notice that Ewan is under tension when you meet his gaze, judging by the stiffness of his shoulders and the subtle tick of his jaw.

Next, it’s Ewan’s turn. You’re mildly surprised when he chooses dare, with that brazen look on his face. You wait eagerly, to see what tricks he has up his sleeve, but your heart plummets when he reads his prompt. 

He has to kiss the person on his right, which conveniently happens to be Louise. She is instantly giddy, grinning like she won the lottery. She’s been eyeing him all night, leaning in a little too close for your liking.

Ewan hesitates, just for a second, his eyes flickering over to you as if to ask permission. You don’t move a muscle, your breath caught in your throat when he finally leans in to give Louise a kiss. 

Damn if it doesn’t feel like a punch to your gut. The group erupts into cheers, and you play along, even though jealousy rises like bile in your throat. 

The bottle spins again, and time seems to slow. When it finally comes to rest, it’s pointing right at you. 

You’re then prompted to kiss the person on your left—Freddie. 

His flawless grin eases your nerves, and keeps you from worrying about how Ewan’s eyes flash with something territorial. The kiss is over as soon as it started, but everyone reacts as if they just witnessed a full-on makeout session.

The game moves on, more dares, more truths, the atmosphere becoming more unhinged with every spin of the bottle. Tom has to shotgun a beer in under ten seconds, which he does to wild applause. Emma serenades their closest friend in the circle, which just so happens to be Liv. Bella is asked who her celebrity crush is, and she gives her boyfriend Fabien as the answer, who is a celebrity after all. 

Then the bottle lands on you again.

“Dare,” you say, the word slipping out before you can second-guess it. You pull out a slip from the bowl, reading, “Call up an admirer, someone famous who’s asked you out.”

The group hums among themselves, looking at you questioningly. 

“Well,” you say after a few seconds, your heart racing. “I guess… there’s… Glen?”

There are some gasps, some woohoos, and you feel Matt shift beside you, clearing his throat to ask, “Glen Powell?” Ewan, meanwhile, sits a little straighter across the circle. He knows this already. This was in August of last year, when both of you were in LA. You got a referral to join the notorious Alo gym, where you linked up with Tate Mcrae, Jake Shane, and Glen, and they became your workout crew. 

Glen easily caught your eye, of course, as he does with anyone. But you turned him down because of Ewan. You remained friends, and your little Alo crew still regularly catches up on a group chat, which is brilliantly called Jake’s Shakes. 

“Oh, Glen Powell,” Bethany squeals. “You have to call him!”

You fumble for your phone, the glare of the screen hurting your eyes briefly. You feel a bit woozy, but maybe it’s just the pressure mounting as everyone’s eyes bore into you. 

With shaky fingers, you scroll through your contacts, finding Glen’s number. There’s a second of hesitation, and then you hit call, turning on the speaker option.

You could practically hear a pin drop, as the group is silent for the first time throughout the night.

The phone rings just thrice before he answers. 

“Hey there,” Glen’s voice is warm and playful on the other end of the line.

“Hi, Glen,” you say, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “How are you doing?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’m just sitting here waiting for a call from you?”

The group erupts into hushed laughter, and you try to suppress a nervous giggle. “No actually,” you say, “I find that very hard to believe.”

“Well, believe it, gorgeous,” he replies smoothly, “When are we gonna see you back in LA?”

“I don’t know, but I might have work out there soon,” you say honestly, falling into the rhythm of conversation. “Are you still helping Jake through his mini earthquakes?”

“Oh, you bet. But I’m glad you’re coming here soon. Just say the word, and I’ll have our first date planned to perfection.”

The whole circle fails to stifle their laughter, shocked expressions abound as the call turns suggestive. Your heart skips a beat, and you decide that it’s best to break it to him then. “Glen, so, uh, I’m playing truth or dare with the cast, and I got dared to call up an admirer…”

“Oh?” Glen’s chuckle is confident, unfazed. “Well, I’m flattered. I gotta say you called the right person. Good call, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, everyone seems to agree,” you say, keeping the mood light, but Matt shifts behind you, leaning forward as if to intervene. Before you can say another word, he gently reaches over and takes the phone from your hand, his smile still intact but icy. 

“Hey, Glen, it’s Matt here,” Matt says smoothly, “Thanks for humouring us, mate. We’ve just had a couple of drinks out here, you know how it is.”

“Hey, man,” Glen replies, unaware of your connection with the guy he’s speaking to. “Yeah, no problem. Hope you’re all having a great time.”

“Thanks, but you know, we’re plenty occupied so… no need to make too many plans just yet.”

Glen just laughs on the other end. “Well, when she’s ready, I’ll be more than happy to make sure she’s treated right.”

Matt, to his credit, sounds genuinely amused when he replies, “I’m sure… but I think we’ve got that covered here.”

You see Ewan’s calm exterior cracking as he silently watches the scene unfold. 

“Oh, really? Well, sounds like I’m up against some tough competition,” Glen jokes, his sweet disposition unshakeable. 

“So, mate,” Ewan says loudly, his teasing drawl heard across the group, “Do you always plan dates with people who are taken?”

The group bursts into surprised laughter, and Freddie even clutches your arm in his glee. There’s a brewing excitement as the game takes on a new life. It’s like watching a fuse slowly burn toward an explosion.

On the other end, Glen pauses for a moment, probably trying to figure out what the hell is happening. “Well, you know, man, I just like to be prepared. Wait, who am I talking to now? Is this Ewan… Mitchell?”

“Yeah,” Ewan confirms, relaxing a little. Fabien wraps an arm around his shoulders to get him to ease up.

Glen responds, still directed at Ewan, “She talked about you a lot, you know. I wouldn’t be worried if I were you, man.”

Tom hollers in satisfaction for Ewan, “There you go, Ewaaan! I bet that made his entire week.”

It’s then that Matt decides to end the call. “Thanks for the call, Glen. We’ll let you get back to your day, yeah?”

“Alright,” Glen says, addressing everyone this time. “Have a great night, you guys!”

The call drops. 

“Wow,” Milly remarks, “girl, I wish I had Glen Powell on my speed dial.”

“Yeah, that was fun,” Phoebe agrees, her eyes flicking between Matt and Ewan, clearly enjoying the show.

The game rolls on, laughter growing impossibly louder, voice slurring with alcohol. Louise remains glued to Ewan’s side, leaning just enough that it’s impossible not to notice. Matt doesn’t let you go for a second, his hand always on you—either resting on your leg or wrapped snugly around your waist. 

The group branches out when the game eventually winds down, scattering across the courtyard. Some head toward the pool, others to the bar on the patio, and the music keeps getting higher in volume. Drinks are passed around freely, conversations blur into one another, and the entire scene glows under soft lights. 

At one point, you’re pulled aside by Phia, as she demands that you settle a debate between her and Milly. Matt becomes distracted, bickering with Fabien and Harry by the pool. 

Then, out of nowhere, Ewan materialises by your side, his hand closing gently but firmly around your wrist. His touch sends a jolt through you, and in an instant, he’s pulling you away from the girls, who are way too drunk to even realise. 

He leads to the side of the villa, and the music fades into the background as you find yourself in a more secluded spot. 

Ewan doesn’t wait for you to speak, pressing you against the wall, and taking your lips in a wet, sloppy kiss. 

And everything else falls away. The commotion nothing but a distant echo, the truths and dares something from a forgotten dream. It’s just you and him. 

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you’re both breathing heavily. He keeps his eyes closed for a moment, and there’s an innocence in the gesture. A sense of intimacy that pulls at your heartstrings and makes you fall in love with him all over again. 

Then, his voice is a rough whisper. “I love you, baby,” he slurs slightly, the alcohol clearly affecting his speech.

“Ewan, you’re drunk,” you say softly, trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words. 

“Yeah, maybe,” he admits, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. I love you, I always have. I mean, if that wasn’t fucking obvious already.”

Your hand reaches up to caress the side of his face, and he leans into your touch. His lips find the centre of your palm, pressing a warm, lingering kiss there. Time slows down just for the two of you.

“I’m serious,” he continues, his voice quieter, more vulnerable. “I’ve messed up before. I know that. But I want to do this right. I want you… for good.”

“Ewan…” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he promises. “Even if you have… him. Even if it drives me crazy… I’ll wait. I want you to choose me.”

Ewan lays it all bare, giving you the choice, letting you wield the power. All you can do is stand there, but he seems to understand your silence. He just smiles—a tired, bittersweet smile that holds everything left unsaid. 

“I’m here,” he whispers. “And I love you.”

He turns, walking back in the direction of the courtyard, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed. 

The next day, Matt enjoys the twilight hour on the patio, his hands curled around a warm cup of tea. Some of the group, including you and Ewan, ventured out into town for the day. 

The thought of you out there with Ewan gnaws at him, but he does his best to keep calm. 

Liv sits across from him, her own cup in hand. She’s been quietly listening for most of their conversation, but eventually, she turns solemn. 

“You know,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “I’ve noticed the way things are with you three. It’s hard not to.”

Matt lets out a breath. Should he act oblivious or just face it head on? “What do you mean?”

Liv gives him a look, cutting past the pretence. "Don’t play dumb, Matthew. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Matt contemplates brushing it off, deflecting like he usually does. But there’s no point in pretending with Liv. She’s been his friend too long for that. 

“It’s complicated, Liv,” he admits, his voice quieter than he intended. “I know there's something between them, there always has been. But I… I don’t want to lose her.”

Liv leans forward, her expression softening. “You won’t lose her, Matt. Not if you don’t want to.”

He laughs, but there’s no humour in it. “That’s easy to say. Ewan’s not exactly giving her much reason to stay away.”

“True,” Liv agrees, giving him a sympathetic smile, “but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the game. Look, I’ve known you for years, and I’ve known her for a while now too. She cares about you, Matt. And if you want to keep her, you’ve got to fight for her.”

“How? How do I compete? They have history, Liv. It’s not something I can wish away.”

“You’re not trying to compete, mate. You’re not Ewan, and you don’t need to be. But if you want to keep her, you need to remind her why. Woo her properly. Don’t wait around, hoping she’ll choose you by default. Give her a reason to.”

Matt considers her words carefully. “And how am I supposed to do that? Woo her properly with him in the mix?”

Liv’s eyes light up with a mischievous glint. “Leave that to me. I’ll help you.”

“You’re going to help me win her over?”

Liv shrugs, her smile widening. “Why not? You’re my friend, and you know, this could be fun.”

Matt wasn’t expecting Liv to offer her help. But now that she has, the idea of having someone in his corner, guiding him, feels like a lifeline.

As the sun sinks lower behind the hills, casting the patio in a dusky glow, he feels a glimmer of hope start to take root. For now, all he can do is wait. 

But when the time comes, he’ll be ready. 

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

This chapter is late to the party, I know. But hey, at least the group ate with their shenanigans, alright? 😉

To the Ewan lovers, to the Matty enjoyers, to the Darling warriors—I think yous can see how things are falling into place now <3 Oh, and we'll see the outcome of Fabien's IG post in the next chapter.

Who will darling choose? Or is her choice already made? Chirp at me in the comments 💕

[lordprettyflackotara]

Did it first || Jeff the killer

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: yandere!jeff, stalking, murder, squirting

Jeff thought you were perfect. He immortalized you. You were his saving grace in a world so cold. You lived a normal life, one that wasn't an option for him anymore. You worked at a law firm, lived in the suburbs. Being with you was like checking his life out at your doorstep before coming inside. If he was being truthful, your average life was apart of his attraction to you. His infatuation with you was anything but healthy. This wasn't a love story for him. It was a passion, a pure and uncensored obsession. He didn't know what to do with these emotions. These pent up desires and cravings. The best part about it?

You didn't even know he was there.

While watching you, he always wondered to himself, what you were thinking? Despite seemingly being invested in whatever was in front of you, your eyes always seemed to stare into outer space. Something was on your mind, Jeff just couldn't place what it was. That was of course, until a man showed up at your doorstep.

That man wasn't Jeff. Jeff learned this man to be a coworker of yours named Jim. The pale killer spent an ungodly amount of time researching Jim. Who was he? Why was he at your house? What was Jim to you? You had never shown romantic interest in anyone before. Jeff had been with you for over a year now and you had never shown desire for another partner. It made the pale killer sick to watch him bring you flowers and chocolates. It made his stomach churn, watching you accept them. The loser didn't even know your favorite flower was lily's not stereotypical roses. He also didn't even bother to know you were allergic to nuts, unable to eat the store bought chocolates. Jeff may not have been a materialistic lover, but he most certainly went above and beyond physically.

You unknowingly had your own guard dog. You walked home from work every weeknight at a crisp six pm, right as the sun would start to set. Your car had 'somehow' broken down a few months ago, the car dealership telling you there were so many internal issues you might as well invest in a new car. What could Jeff say? It was easier to watch over you on foot. He considered himself an unconvential guardian angel of sorts. Jeff lost count of how many men he had mercilessly slaughtered after cat calling you or trying to follow you. Jeff took pride in it, being your savior. He was disgusted as he watched you smile and hug Jim. He shook his head, gritting his teeth. Clearly being your savior wasn't enough. What could Jim provide that he couldn't? Was it sex? Jeff knew your house like the back of his hand. You always left the right window in your living room cracked open for fresh air. Jeff may have tampered with your AC to ensure he could gain proper entry.

He didn't want you to have any intruders he couldn't protect you from. Jeff slid into your closet, watching through the cracked door as you let Jim lay you down on your bed. It took everything in him to not slit his throat right then and there. He watched as Jim sloppily kissed you, practically slobbering on your lips. You were a good actress, pretending to be more turned on then you actually were. Jeff knew all too well what you being hot and bothered looked like. The late nights you spent touching yourself to BDSM porn. He ensured to watch the same videos you did, just to make sure he knew what you were into for when the time came. Jim clearly didn't do even half of his research, skipping foreplay with you entirely. You pretended to not be bothered. If wasn't for the pure envy that ran through Jeff's veins he would've enjoyed the show. You were on all fours, back not even arched in the slightest. Jim couldn't see your beautiful face, but Jeff could. You were bored out of your mind as he fucked you.

Jeff would like to think what he did next was out of your best interest. He patiently waited until Jim finished, not bothering to tend to your needs. He watched the man slump beside you, his eyes fluttering shut. No aftercare either? Jeff sighed. You really knew how to pick em. He watched you slide out of bed naked, your ass jiggling as you slithered out of the room. You shut the bedroom door, giving Jeff the perfect opportunity to make his grand appearance. "Show time," He snickered to himself, pushing your closet door open. Jeff would have loved nothing more than to take his time with Jim. To cut open his insides and make him eat his own intestines. But the pale killer knew there was more important matters at hand. Your satisfaction meant more than his own, meaning Jeff would need to make this as quick as possible. He climbed onto the bed, slapping Jim awake. Jim awoke with beady and fearful eyes, unable to make a sound before Jeff plunged his knife into his chest. "Go to sleep," He snarled, twisting the knife into his chest. Normally Jeff would have taken the time to do his signature, but he could hear you turning on the shower.

You didn't deserve to have to make yourself cum. Sure your experiment was a complete and utter failure, but Jeff knew you were just testing the waters. He knew without a shadow of a doubt you were just testing how far Jeff would go for you. And this? The corpse that was displayed on your mattress? This would show you. But what would show you even more, was him finally gaining the courage to say hi. He watched the life slowly drain from Jim's eyes as he climbed out of your bed, carelessly opening your bedroom door with his bloody hand. He walked over to your bathroom, the steam from the hot water leaking through the door. Jeff could hear your pathetic little whimpers. You were so predictable. The pale killer let himself inside, your sinful noises coming to a halt. "Jim?" You called out, already wrapped in the showers warmth. Jeff slid off his shoes, before yanking the shower curtain open. You jumped, your mouth opening to form a scream. Jeff's large hand covered your lips at the last millisecond, the hot water soaking his blood stained clothes. This was your first time seeing him, Jeff expected this. He expected you to be taken aback by his beauty and unique appearance.

"Relax doll, I took care of that dipshit that didn't make you cum," He said, breathless. The blood from his clothes began to go down the drain, your panicked eyes darting side to side as you took in his hideous appearance. Obsidian and soulless eyes, paper white skin, and a carved smile that was so terrifying it almost didn't look real. "I'm gonna move my hand now gorgeous, I won't scream if I were you. Wouldn't want you to end up like good ole Jim," Jeff advised. Jeff couldn't kill you, he most certainly wouldn't. But you needed a bit of training. Your beautiful mind just needed some time to adjust to him forcefully advancing to the next level in your relationship. He slowly slid his hand away, your back pressed against the cool marble tiles of the shower wall. You didn't know what to say, utterly speechless as the killer stood before you. "My name is Jeff. I'm your guardian angel, doll. I'm all yours. And you? You're all mine," He said, a sincere grin spreading across his lips. You were shell shocked, staring at him in fear as he stared down at you. He brought his hand to your cheek, cupping it as gently as he could muster. "Do you hear me doll? You belong to me. No more Jim. No other shrimp dick fuck. Me. Just me," Jeff panted. The terror that was running through your veins was thrilling to watch, your face involuntarily shifting into dozens of different emotions at once.

Your eyes flooded with tears, your face flushing red. "Don't cry, there there," Jeff cooed, wiping away one of your fallen tears with his thumb. When they continued coming Jeff brought himself closer to you, flattening out his tongue across your cheek and licking your tears off of your skin. You swallowed shallowly, your body trembling from fear. His saliva felt disgusting against your skin, his hair and clothes now soaked from the ongoing shower water. "I won't rush things, I know this may be overwhelming for you," Jeff said. He was trying to be understanding and considerate. You were delicate and needed to be treated as such. He leaned back, a couple of inches separating his face from yours as water trailed down his face. "But I love you and i'm going to show you just how much," Jeff purred. You stared as he lowered himself to his knees. Your core was still throbbing, your legs glued shut from the moment Jeff revealed himself. Yet you couldn't deny how badly you wanted release, Jim failing to satisfy you in any sort of measurement. You knew it would be bad karma, allowing a serial killer to get you off. But you feared what would happen if you denied his advances, your hormones leading to you allowing him to pry open your thighs.

Your cunt. Oh your cunt. Jeff was in heaven, just seeing your slick up close and personal. "You know i've spent many nights watching you, playing with your clit. Trying to get your tiny fingers up to reach that sweet spot," Jeff rambled. He used two fingers to open your folds, admiring you. "But seeing it up close. Fuck, you are perfect," Jeff praised. Without another word he brought his mouth to your aching folds, your hand flying over your mouth to conceal your unholy moans. Jeff peered up at you, delivering a sharp slap to your thigh. "I didn't wait all of this time for silence. Be loud for me. Don't worry doll, no one can hear you," He snickered, knowing the double meaning to his words. Unsurely you lowered your shaky hand, bracing yourself against the tiles as he reattached his mouth to your cunt. Jeff knew you were wet enough to handle his fingers, the pale killer shoving two of them inside of you. You groaned, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as he lapped at your folds. It was terrifying, having an unhinged killer buried between your thighs. But when was the last time you had felt something like this? A man willing to pleasure you? That put your needs first?

Sure, Jeff looked absolutely terrifying. But he killed for you. He killed some loser that didn't satisfy you and was now determined to make you cum on his face. Jeff felt your body begin to relax, one of your small hands finding his hair. He groaned into your folds as you grinded against his face. You were doing it. You were giving into him and he didn't even have to threaten you. He curled his fingers inside of you, relishing in the feeling of your gummy walls clinging onto him. You were so much tighter than he could've imagined. You tasted so much sweeter than he could have dreamed. After all of the late nights he spent watching. All of the endless hours he spent at the mansion, jerking his cock and dreaming of this very moment. You were giving into him, moaning his name. Your legs were struggling to stay upright, causing Jeff to manhandle you. He grabbed your legs, lifting them off of the ground and over his shoulders as if you weighed nothing. You were completely reliant on him to stay upright, your heart skipping a beat as all of your weight was on Jeff's face. Jeff didn't have any issue with this, his tongue assaulting your clit as you pulled at his hair.

You couldn't control your unholy noises, the fact a literal corpse was rotting in your house fading away as Jeff devoured you. He was determined to make you cum for him. He needed you to cum for him. He had fantasized of this moment for so long, he couldn't fail. You could feel the cord inside of you tightening, your body betraying any residue of fear that was left. "Jeff," You cried, whimpering as he abused your g spot with his lengthy fingers. The sound of you moaning his name made Jeff's cock grow harder, his own desires catching up with him. He gripped your thigh as you released, whining as you squirted on his face. You gasped, eyes wide and cheeks red with embarrassment. The shower water had now ran cold, goosebumps spreading across your skin. Jeff set you down, abruptly turning off the water. "I'd love to stay and fuck you senseless but, you do have a corpse in your bed," Jeff pointed out. He silently resented himself for killing him first instead of last. "Right," You panted, out of breath. Jeff stepped out of the shower, offering you his hand. "Here's what you're gonna do doll. You're gonna go back in there like nothing happened and call the police. You never saw me. You just went to take a shower and came back to him dead," Jeff instructed. You licked your dry lips, swallowing.

Could you mentally handle seeing a mangled dead body? "W-What if they suspect me?" You stuttered. Jeff chuckled, shaking his head. He pulled his knife out of his hoodie, showing it to you. "I'm taking the murder weapon with me," Jeff explained. You began to feel overwhelmed, tears flooding your waterline. Jeff shushed you lovingly, stroking your cheek again.

"I know it's a lot doll. But don't worry. It's me and you now. Me and you."

[two-white-butterflies]

★ — lights will guide you home | carlos sainz and multi

Description: Trying to find love after your ex-fiancee told you that his mistress makes him happier. How hard could it be?

part two of it was all yellow

Pairing: actress!singer!reader/multi (undecided), actress!singer!reader/carlos sainz (past).

Trope: Secret Baby Trope

Disclaimer: Everything written in this fanfic holds no truth about anyone's personality or actions. It is made purely for entertainment.

A/N: this part will mainly focus on the main character and her relationship with pablo, while setting things up with her future love interest + angst with carlos?🤔

carlossainz55: Everyday Magic! I love you baby.

liked by because.official and 712,923 others

>comments

ynnationlovebears: GIRL...

because.official: aww he looks so cute hubs 🥺 - carlossainz55: ❤️

iggyagaelabeef2: OH MY GOD SHE'S GOING TO KILL U

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The situation was awkward. Pablo was wise beyond his years, he understood the situation - but his difficulty understanding it was obvious. He wasn't comfortable around Carlos, who until yesterday didn't even exist in his little world.

"Give him time." you comforted the older man.

It felt strange, comforting a man who was the reason of your sorrow. He was the reason that you didn't feel confident in your own skin, in your own face, because he thought that someone was better.

You spent these past years trying to look for the faults that he found inside of you, because if he could cheat on you, the next one could.

"Until yesterday, he didn't even know that you existed." you scoffed, attempting to avoid his guilty stare. "I don't know what I'm looking for - or what he likes. Children are a tough crowd." he chuckled nervously, mentally cursing Kirkman for leaving the both of you.

There was a silence, only interrupted by the slight sound of rain on the background. It was obvious that you had nothing in common. You had no desire with being friends with him. "I posted him on instagram, is that fine?" he broke through the thick atmosphere.

You licked your chapped lips.

"Yeah."

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notdanielricciardopriv: this is so scary 😭

liked by 7 others

>comments

notmaxv33: Slendrina - notynln: a lotta nerve from someone singing gagadegadao with my son ??

landofanbasebutreallandonorris: IM SO SCARED RIGHT NOW PLEASE DON'T KIDNAP ME - notynln: 😭

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ynworldupdates: I literally don't understand why Carlos Sainz Jr. decided to cheat on the most beautiful woman in the whole universe 😭😭 like SHE LITERALLY PLAYS TARGARYENS FOR A LIVING MAN!!

liked by 829 others

>comments

birdsofafeather83: literally mother mary incarnate

holypoodlesticks: i want this woman to play a divine goddess

alex_lnc: that's why i love women, men will always CHEAT

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>comments

floppiana83: "that makes her a good friend" MAX YOU ARE NOT SLICK HAHAHAHAHAHA

arianabanana: And they get married and have kids

inchident01: go to 2:01 I'm sensing a crush

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"Charles told me that you were ignoring Carlos' messages." Daniel sits beside me, his face filled with concern.

"I didn't know how to react, okay." you groaned.

A few days ago Carlos posted a picture of Pablo. Your son's face was in full view, everyone began to critique his features - even the looksmaxxing community had a lot to say. It was a boy! A child!

"If you didn't want him posting P - then you should've told him in the first place." he responded, trying to play devil's advocate. It only added more to your fury. "The deed was done, someone probably already saved it - I couldn't just ask Carlos to delete the picture."

"- plus, you know how I get with confrontation." you breathed.

He was about to respond, but he sees your crestfallen face. The same curve of your lips that you miserably wore when you lost a game of UNO, or lost an acting role that you've been pining for.

"I hate him for what he did, but I miss him like a little kid. He makes me feel so stupid and useless."

" - when I'm around him, I can't help but think about my mistakes. I could've been better - maybe then, Pablo would have both of his parents." you sobbed, burying your face in his chest.

Daniel takes a deep breath.

"It shouldn't come from me ... but it's tough being a mother. Carlos can afford to make mistakes, no one will hate him for it - but it's unfair once you're the one who does." he comforted.

Between all your friends, Daniel was the only one who knew how to comfort another person. He was a blessing. A warm teddy bear.

"I-I just wanted to give Pablo the change of having privacy. His father and I never had that as kids. I know how tough it is being in the spotlight, I thought he'd understand." you sighed.

This was another lesson.

"I'll tell him next time." you nodded to yourself. A human being can make mistakes, but as a mother, it's best to not have any.

I've got to learn how to put my foot down.

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yn.ln: a lot of you don't know this but me and @maxverstappen go way back.. i've seen the interview, thank you for calling me a good friend 🤣💚 ps. we first met each other when we were 5 and i'm pretty sure he forgot about me until we met again at 17 🤣

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen and 83,293 others

>comments

helaenaslawyer: OH MY GOD ?? SHE LOOKED LIKE RHAENYRA WHEN SHE WAS A KID...THE HOTD CASTING DEPARTMENT NEVER MISSED

emmadarcy: OMG 🔥

maxieworldf1: never beating the sibling allegations

maxverstappen: Have you always been that short? - yn.ln: uhuh mr. tall king? lols

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Carlos was taking snaps of Pablo on his new Kodak camera. The little boy seemed to enjoy being the subject of his father's photos. Daniel nudges your elbows, encouraging you to speak up. "Carlos, will you be posting that on social media?" you inquired.

He looked up with a smile - the smile that used to have you weak on your knees, now instead leaving you with neutral feelings. "If it's okay with you?" his eyebrows merged into each other.

"Uh I actually would prefer it if Pablo stays off the media for a few years, just until he's old enough to make his own decisions." the words slipped out of your mouth like a dam.

His eyebrows raised upwards, surprised.

"Oh I'm sorry that makes sense." his voice sounded defeated, but he quickly returns to playing with his son. You lean back on the sun-bed, flashing Daniel a winning smile. "That was surprisingly easy." you leaned back, watching as he takes a sip of his piña colada.

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yn.ln: this is so 2014 core 🕷 📸 shot by p

liked by maxverstappen and 821,239 others

>comments

helaenaworld: this awakened something within me

holdmybeer: pedro alonso, stephanie beatriz, cm punk, carlos sainz I GET YOU...

bandanaqueef: O M G O M G O M G

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formulaonewagsupdate: because and y/n l/n in one boat?

liked by 82,239 others

>comments

becausefanbase: i get it why carlos cheated HAHAHA

hotpotcentauri: Why does Y/N always look so awk? - ynlncloset: y/n l/n does not belong to you because, mainstream media and parties do... - callmeadefender: She's literally the most charming of all of the ladies in that boat 💀

babyohh: to be a fly on the wall during that yacht ride.

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next part>>

thanks for the support guys. pt. 3 will focus on the yacht ride.

IDEAS FOR THE FUTURE ENDGAME ARE STILL OPEN, JUST BECAUSE THIS CHAPTER IS MAX AND DAN CENTRIC DOESN'T 100% MEAN THAT THOSE DRIVERS ARE ENDGAME.

[xtra7s]

𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 (𝗪𝗟𝗪) ──── 𝘙𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘱 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Renee and Y/N got casted as lovers in a new show

Content: Renee Rapp x Fem!Reader, G!P!Renee, penatration sex, alcohol

Word Count: 1.5k

masterlist | part 2

In the bustling city of Los Angeles, two talented individuals were about to embark on a thrilling journey that would forever change their lives. Renee Rapp, a celebrated popstar and actor, was known for her enchanting performances that captivated audiences worldwide. Y/N, a rising starlet, had recently made a name for herself with her remarkable acting skills.

Fate had brought them together unexpectedly as they were cast as co-stars in a groundbreaking lesbian show, “Unveiling Hearts.” The series aimed to celebrate diverse love stories and break barriers, resonating deeply with a very gay fanbase.

From the moment they met during the first script reading, sparks flew between Renee and Y/N. However, their connection wasn’t just limited to their on-screen chemistry. They both sensed an undeniable tension that lingered beneath the surface, threatening to unravel even the most composed of scenes.

As the filming progressed, the tension between the two actresses grew more palpable. Their characters’ love story mirrored the intensity of their own hidden desires, making it increasingly challenging to distinguish fiction from reality. The lines between acting and genuine emotions began to blur.

One evening, after a particularly intense scene, Renee invited Y/N to her trailer to practice a moment they were about to film the next day. The air was thick with unspoken desires as they found themselves slightly drunk on boxed wine, alone in the intimate space. The trailer’s dim lighting and the sound of raindrops against the windows added to the charged atmosphere.

The soft hum of distant music filled the air as they settled onto a plush couch, both feeling a subtle excitement hanging in the atmosphere.

The two had been practicing for quite some time, deciding to chill out for a bit. However, there was an unspoken tension lingering between them. A connection that had subtly shifted, leaving a delicate anticipation in its wake.

As they sat side by side, Renee couldn't help but steal glances at Y/N. The gentle flicker of the candles played on Y/N's face, casting a soft glow that highlighted their features. Renee's heart raced as she felt a magnetic pull towards Y/N, a longing that had been building over time.

Y/N, sensing the shift in the air, turned to meet Renee's gaze. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, it felt as if the world around them had faded away. The conversation paused, replaced by a silent understanding that something was about to change.

Renee's hand found its way to Y/N's, fingers intertwining as they shared a shy smile. The touch sent a wave of warmth through both of them, breaking down the barriers that had kept their feelings hidden.

The room seemed to shrink as they inched closer, drawn by an invisible force. Renee's hot breathe lingering on Y/Ns lips, creating a delicate dance of shared anticipation. It was a moment suspended in time, filled with the unspoken promise of something beautiful.

And then, with a soft and genuine tenderness, their lips met. It was a gentle kiss, filled with the unspoken emotions that had lingered between them for so long. Time seemed to stand still as they explored the sweetness of that shared connection.

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and their inhibitions melted away. Their bodies moved in sync, fueled by a passion that had long been suppressed.

The initial kiss ignited a spark between Renee and Y/N, and as they pulled away, there was a shared, unspoken agreement that they both wanted more. The atmosphere in the room shifted, charged with a newfound intensity that neither of them could ignore.

Without breaking eye contact, Renee cupped Y/N's face with a gentle touch, her thumb tracing soft circles on Y/N's cheek. Y/N reciprocated by running their fingers through Renee's hair, a silent encouragement that spoke volumes. The air was filled with a mix of anticipation and desire as they closed the gap between them once again.

Their second kiss was more rough, a testament to the emotions that had been building up between them. Lips moved in sync, exploring the uncharted territory of each other's mouths. It was a dance of passion and vulnerability, a language only they understood.

Renee's heart raced, feeling the warmth of Y/N's body pressed against hers. The couch beneath them became a haven, a place where time seemed to slow down as they lost themselves in the shared rhythm of their kisses. The soft sounds of their breaths, the gentle sighs, and the occasional quiet giggle filled the room.

As the intensity of their embrace deepened, Renee's hands traced the contours of Y/N's back, leaving a trail of tingling sensations. Y/N, in turn, explored the landscape of Renee's shoulders, fingers dancing delicately along her skin. Every touch communicated a depth of connection that went beyond mere physicality.

The world outside seemed to fade away as they continued their intimate exchange, wrapped up in the blissful cocoon of their shared affection. Time became irrelevant as they surrendered to the magnetic pull drawing them closer.

Y/N's hand rested on top of Renee's thigh, squeezing gently before slowly sliding upward towards her inner thigh. Their fingers traced delicate circles around the hem of her shorts, teasingly brushing against her sensitive skin. Renee bit her lower lip nervously, squirming slightly in anticipation of what was coming next.

"Are you sure about this?" she whispered out, her voice trembling with uncertainty mixed with excitement. Y/N nodded reassuringly, their thumb rubbing circles on the exposed flesh above her knee.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't," Y/N replied confidently, her eyes locked onto hers. Their lips crashed together hungrily, tongues dancing wildly in each other's mouths as they became more bold in their movements. Their hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, exploring every curve and dip until finally, Y/N reached beneath Renee's shirt and pushed it upwards, exposing her boobs to the cool air.

Renee gasped softly as Y/N cupped one breast in her palm, massaging it gently while sucking on her neck and chest. Her nipples hardened instantly under the attention, standing erect and begging for more stimulation. Y/N's fingers fumbled with the clasp holding her bra in place, finally freeing both breasts from their confines. They began to knead and tweak them roughly, causing Renee to arch her back into the touch.

"Oh fuck, Y/N" she moaned, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Renee's hands found their way beneath Y/N's tank top, running upwards along their torso until reaching her navel. She circled it slowly at first, savoring the sensation of skin on skin before working her way upwards to cup Y/N's breasts as well.

Their bodies continued to move together rhythmically, their hips grinding against each other in sync with their passionate kisses. Y/N's hand reached down between them, her hand leading between Renee's thigh. With a grin against Renee's lips, She pushed her hand under Renee's shorts, gasping into Renee's mouth when she feels her hard cock and the precum covering the tip.

"Is this all for me, pretty?"

Y/N worked off Renee's shorts and boxers, taking off the rest of her clothes after Renee. Between Renee's legs, Her erect member rubbing against Y/Ns thigh as she sits on Renee's lap. "Tell me you want this too," Renee panted, her breath hot against her ear lobe.

"Please, Renee" Y/N managed to choke out as she kisses Y/N, her voice hoarse with desire. Renee kissed Y/N passionately, "Tell me if you want to stop" She whispers, before slowly pushing inside Y/N, sinking inside of her and stretching her out to fit her cock. Y/N moaned out in both pain and pleasure as Renee continued to move deeper inside her, filling every inch of her up.

Once fully inside, Renee began to thrust her hips rhythmically, hitting all the right spots within Y/N's body. Their hips rocked in unison, generating a wet slapping sound that reverberated throughout the room. Their bodies were now covered in sweat, evidence of their intense fucking.

Y/N gripped onto Renee's shoulders tightly, her nails digging into their skin as she struggled to find a stable place to put her hands amidst the waves of ecstasy coursing through her body. Her moans turned into high-pitched whimpers as orgasm after orgasm washed over her, leaving Y/N's body shaking uncontrollably.

Renee, also feeling her own climax rapidly approaching, picked up the pace, thrusting faster and harder than before. Their breathing became more labored, their bodies slapping against each other in sync with each powerful thrust.

Y/N leaned up, kissing Renee sloppily as she pounds into her, "I'm close... I'm cumming..." Renee moaned, her voice hoarse with desire. At the same time, Y/N yelled out her own release, her juices coating both of them liberally. Renee pulled out, cumming on Y/N's thigh as they continued to move together until their orgasms subsided, panting heavily as they came down from their shared high.

Finally, they collapsed on top of each other, their bodies entwined in a mess of sweat and fluids. "you're something special," Renee smiled, leaning up as she left soft kisses on Y/N's neck, smiling up at her as they held each other.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Irene Papas (Tribute to a Bad Man, Electra, Zorba the Greek)—"From the opening shot of Michael Cacoyannis's Electra, as the proud, implacable face emerges from encroaching shadows, it becomes impossible to imagine anyone else as Euripides's heroine. Erect, immutably dignified, dark eyes burning fiercely beneath heavy black brows, Irene Papas visibly embodies the sublimity of classical Greece, tragic yet serene." -Philip Kemp (film critic) Also she's a a badass.

Vivien Leigh (Gone with the Wind, A Streetcar Named Desire)—Leigh is exceptionally beautiful. To quote Garson Kanin, Leigh was "a stunner whose ravishing beauty often tended to obscure her staggering achievements as an actress. Great beauties are infrequently great actresses—simply because they don't need to be. Vivien was different; ambitious, persevering, serious, often inspired." She was an actor's actor, one of those big old-school theatre dames, full of drama and temper.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Irene Papas:

An amazing actress and singer, some may say a literal Greek goddess. Fought against military dictatorship in her home country and had an affair with Marlon Brando.

She literally played Helen, the most beautiful woman in the world in Greek mythology, what more could you want

Vivien Leigh propaganda:

"I submit this gifset--help she is so beautiful and tragic"

"Extremely versatile, absolutely beautiful features and a wonderful resting bitch face if needed."

"She has such a range of character types that she could fit any favorite type of woman. And have you seen her in the Red Dress? with her cocked eyebrow???"

[Linked GwtW gifset]

"She played one of the most famously unlikable characters in cinema history and knocked it out of the park."

"Vivien Leigh vs every established and wannabe actress on Earth- grand slam winner for Scarlett O'Hara and won the oscar. Ultimate power couple with hottie finalist Laurence Olivier. I am just on my knees for that arched eyebrow and smouldering look."

"She’s just mmm the PASSION behind her performances is palpable, she’s so beautiful and elegant and amazing and yeah"

"look at her. im a gay man and im in love with her"

[navree]

I mean Rhaenyra can still be beautiful and still put on weight and such. Big Beautfiul Woman. Curvy Rhaenyra.

Like I get why Westeros would be like "yeah Rhaenyra isn't fourteen anymore so she's not hot" because Westerosi society sucks ass, and this is a Mushroom account so it can be taken with a grain of salt (tho not when it comes to shit he said about Aegon so shrug dot emoji) but it feels a bit like the showrunners didn't want to have a fat woman as their lead actress, as literally the main character, because Hollywood is still an insanely sexist and incredibly toxic industry that adheres to slenderness and European beauty standards as the peak everyone else needs to be held to.

I'm not the best person to speak on this subject, due to a variety of reasons, but it feels a bit Weird that Helaena and Rhaenyra are explicitly described as, at the very least, plus sized, and yet that was just completely ignored. It's minor, because honestly Emma is killing it in the role as Rhaenyra, and I think we'll see great things from Phia once they give her more to work with, but it's something I noticed when I saw the casting.

[natalyarose]

𝒥𝓊𝓅𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒩𝒶𝓀𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓈 & 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈 🧞✨💐✩

I've always thought Jupiter ruled Nakshatras (Punarvasu, Vishakha, & Purvabhadprada) to be veryy magical with their themes of limitlessness, expansion, sheer spiritual abundance & power. I'm not sure if it has been talked about before, but something that always comes to mind when I envision Jupiterian Nakshatras or meet heavily Jupiter influenced people, is the concept of genies.

Jupiter's abundance and endlessly giving nature is known to be a blessing and a curse. A Jupiterian can be the sweet, generous, selfless friend who is there when you need them; providing you endless support, refuge & material generosity.

The dark side of this inherently generous 'wish-fulfilling' nature of Jupiter Nakshatras, is the possibility that they enable dark behaviours in others & themselves. Always saying yes, always being available and endlessly giving to the wrong type of cause or person, can make you complicit in the crime so to speak, even if the intention is simply to give, or give chances (Punarvasu's themes of second chances, 'return to the light'). Jupiter Nakshatras entail hugeee lessons regarding purpose (Vishakha, 'the Star of Purpose') & being intentional and wise as to how you use your power and influence (the infamous test of character in Purvabhadrapada 'the man with two faces').

These Jupiterian themes have always made me think of genies- wish fulfilling creatures who are inherently unable to say no to the wishes uttered to them. Having to just sit and watch people wish for dreadful things and just go... 'as you wish'. Obviously in real life, there really is a choice not to feed into others' and ones own toxic patterns but with Jupiterians, the urge to give, to be constantly available to others, can almost feel like it's not a choice. It's energetically intertwined in their make-up.

I would love to gather more examples, but it's 3am here and this was a bit of a spur of the moment thing I had to get out haha- I looked into a few of the most prominent 'genie' roles in movies and as I suspected, every single one features an actor/actress with strong Jupiter influence.

Jeannie from 60s sitcom 'I dream of Jeannie' - actress, Barbara Eden has Punarvasu Ascendant

Kazaam from 90s comedic film 'Kazaam' - actor/basketball player Shaquille O'Neal has Purvabhadrapada Sun

Genie from Disney's Aladdin - played in the live action movie by Will Smith, Vishakha Moon.

This genie theme really makes me think of all of the Jupiterian Nakshatras, but Vishakha especially. A friend of mine who is a Vishakha stellium always tells me about how it is said that Vishakha has the ability to generate 'instant karma'. So Vishakha natives to an extent greater than other Nakshatras will receive the raw manifested result of their thoughts/actions veryy quickly. Much like a genie granting instant wishes.

I was going to mention also that the whole genie archetype also reminds me of Rohini a bit- the wish-fulfilling aspect, the element of fulfilling desires without shame/inhibition. It's a little different in nature, but Rohini Nakshatra's got a similar theme where the native is incredibly nurturing of who or what sets their heart on fire, sometimes to a fault. Rohini is capable of immense growth but can forgo morality/practicality for the sake of immersion in the process of creation & sparking joy. Rohini's philosophy is something along the lines of 'let go of judgement because judgement inhibits creation and disrupts purity'. This is very true, but of course as humans on the divided and dense Earthly plane, we know that having a sense of judgement & boundaries is also important.

That was very wordy, but hopefully y'all see what I'm getting at lol. Although I'm more inclined to associate Rohini with wise old wizard dudes with cool beards & mad but genius scientists lol.

Back to Jupiterians-

I believe that Jupiter Nakshatra's 'remedy' is to eventually realise that they are not a slave to their giving nature, and the power lies in them to decide, & give only to a person, dream, goal or cause that truly is aligned with their own soul's path. Break free from the shackles lol- with wisdom hopefully. Without that element of wisdom, Jupiter can run wild with that discovered power.

Jupiterians struggling with discernment is why Jupiter Nakshatras oppose Venusian Nakshatras (Bharani opposes Vishakha; Purvaphalguni opposes Purvabhadrapada; Purvashadha opposes Punarvasu). Venus masters the fine art of 'necessary cruelty' sometimes ya gotta rip out the weeds, warn off the pigeons and trim the rose bush to make your garden a beautiful, pleasant, luxurious place. Jupiter can struggle with this, instinctively wanting to be a safe space for everyone and everything.

Jupiter ruled Nakshatras also partially oppose Solar Nakshatras (Krittika, Uttaraphalguni & Uttarashadha) illustrating the Jupiterian struggle with putting oneself first. Solar Nakshatras keep their energy strong and vibrantly resounding at their core; wheras Jupiter Nakshatras are kinda messy with their energy (lol, not necessarily in a bad way)- they disperse their energy everywhere, giving & giving. Both Solar & Jupiter Nakshatras deal with themes of limitless reserves energy, but in opposite, contrasting ways.

There's so much I could write about Jupiterians, I love Jupiter energy very much. I really love all of the Nakshatras lol, I mean how could you not? Every Nakshatra holds teachings that are integral to making the world a better place 💕🪷

Thankyou for reading!

[alexiroflife]

being married to gojo as an actress while playing the role of a villain...

au, fluff, some suggestive themes, cheating themes

🌟🌟🌟

both you, satoru, and probably the rest of the world can confidently say that satoru is your biggest fan. while he is fully successful within his own career, he can not help but fawn over your achievements like a ten year old boy with one of your movie posters hung up in his room

the world does not associate either of you without the other. yes, you have individually made an outstanding name for yourself within the television and theater industry, but your fans find the two of you so adorable, so iconic that it’s impossible to imagine you without satoru gojo and satoru gojo without you

viewers are starstruck when you arrive to your film premiers with satoru on your arm, beaming pridefully as though it’s his first time walking the red carpet when that’s hardly true. you’re beautiful, and everyone knows it. the second your eyes meet a camera along with satoru’s striking blue ones, his hand wrapped snugly around your waist and your faces adorned with dazzling smiles, photographers go wild. even more so when satoru blatantly grabs your face and kisses you all over, feeding your fan pages’ content as well as his desire to constantly shower you in affection

and when it’s not at premieres, satoru’s supporting you during tours, press conferences, galas, meet and greets, sitting backstage or in the front row of the crowd or at times by your side as though he can’t bear to be away from you. when you’re being showered in appreciation, he’s flicking thousands of pictures, capturing the way you interact with your adoring admirers

satoru's grown rather used to the array of roles you have played. he's seen you in rom-coms, dramas, thrillers, actions, you name it, and though he doesn't necessarily get jealous when you have to kiss someone on screen anymore, he doesn't always appreciate some of the intimate scenes you do. despite so, he trusts you. he knows it's your job and that none of it is real, and above all, he knows the faces you make when you're truly experiencing pleasure. while you're an amazing actor, those faces you make on screen could never begin to compare to the ones he draws out of you

ever the arrogant man, however, satoru always makes it a point to remind you of who makes you feel good- who has you crossing your legs under the table as you meet with colleagues over the computer, his fingers working their way in and out of your sopping cunt off camera as you try your damndest to keep a straight face while your entire lower half is squirming- who makes a point to fuck you over the dresser of your trailer in between shoots after having brought you some coffee to help keep your energy high, rambling on about how one of the tech assistants had been looking at you for too long- who, at any event possible, will never fail to lay you back on the seat of your limo before even stepping outside, scrunching up your obscenely priced gown to eat you out as he gazes up at you over your legs

"you're so gorgeous, pretty. my pretty girl," "how lucky am i to be the only one who gets to see you like this, hm?" "fuck, baby, they have no fuckin' idea how good you feel"

even with his habits, satoru will never turn his nose up at any role you play simply because you're far too talented and simultaneously devoted to him for him to ever feel put off by your occupation. besides, he's managed to bag one of the most famous actors in the world. he truly does not think he has anything to worry about when it comes to you

satoru finds himself rather surprised, yet excited nonetheless, when he hears that you are to be playing a dislikable character in the upcoming film of the summer. you warn him that it's drastically different, that you'll be tapping into a morally poor side of yourself for this role that you have never delved into, nor really favored before

"pretty, you'll do amazing. trust me. do i get to watch you be mean to other guys? do you get to beat anyone's ass? honestly, that sounds like a dream come true" "i mean, yeah, but toru it's more than that. my character is actually a bitch. an unfaithful, abusive one. i don't know how i'm gonna do that..."

satoru knows that behind all the glitz, glamor, and fame, the occupation of an actor can be incredibly emotionally and physically taxing. you don't tell him much more about the role before rehearsals and filming starts, but he can tell over time that you're struggling with this particular film. simply because you're just too kind of a person despite how large your presence is

well into the filming process, he decides to visit you on set to serve as some extra emotional support. he's watching from behind the cameras intently as you go through a scene that's way more intense than he had previously expected, and his jaw practically drops as he watches the scene play out before him

your character is being confronted by her husband about her infidelity, and all the while as your acting partner screams at you in tears to beg you for some remorse, you lay back on a sofa with a cigarette pinched between your fingers, face completely dull and apathetic

"how could you do this to me?! to us? why won't you look at me! I say something!"

"whatever i say won't change the fact that i fucked someone else."

"...do you even care? do you care that you've ruined our relationship?"

"let's be real, there was no relationship to begin with."

"w-what do you mean?"

you stand, stubbing your cigarette into a mug, and walk over to your sniveling scene partner. the camera zooms on your face, your dead eyes, your angled brows. "i never loved you. don't you get it? you're just a pet, and you know it. so don't go crying to me about breaking something that was never promised"

satoru's eyes are wide, completely enraptured as though this scene is a real moment he is witnessing from afar. your fake husband he breaks down, dropping to his knees and clinging to you, but you curl your lips in disgust.

"get the fuck off me," you hiss, shoving him rather aggressively away. he falls, sobbing. "pathetic piece of shit."

you go to turn away, but stop and stumble. immediately you break, and gone is the merciless woman that was acting before the crew seconds ago. the light returns to your eyes as you cover your mouth in embarrassment, looking up.

"sorry, i forgot my next block," you say sweetly, timidly. "how was that?"

"perfect! let's pick up from when you turn away. once you say that last line, you-"

satoru is baffled, the director's notes falling into muffled white noise as he stares at you. he's never seen you in such a position before, one that has him questioning everything about you. and though you claimed to have a hard time with it, you were doing fucking phenomenal

he sees now what you mean about your character being... well, a horrible person for lack of a better term. he doesn't even recognize you, and he's sure your fans are going to have a field day when this film comes out. you're being shown in a drastically different light from your heroine and emotionally relatable love interest positions, and it will surely be a sight for the world to see.

during your break, you walk up to satoru tiredly and burrow your face into his chest. he wraps you up immediately, babbling about how insane you were in your scene. you look up at him with those big (e/c) eyes as he runs his hand over the back of your head.

"you think so?"

"baby, my jaw was dropped the entire time. i don't even know how you did that. you played that a little too well."

he's joking, but you still make a face of slight fear, as though you're scared of offending him. "you think it's too much?"

"no- it's a lot, but no- it's perfect. it's bold, and you do it so well."

"it doesn't make you uncomfortable?"

"why would it make me uncomfortable, pretty? i know you're acting, and it's not like you'd ever cheat on me let alone act like that," he tilts his head as a remorseful look flashes through your eyes. "are you uncomfortable?"

"i don't know... i'm just scared of how people will react... mostly because i could never picture saying this stuff to you, and i've had to do a lot of exercises to get into this toxic mindset that just... eugh. trust me, you haven't even seen the half of it."

"have you been able to take long enough breaks?"

"kinda..."

"alright, let's go chill in your trailer 'til your next call. i don't want you stressing your pretty little head about this, princess. you're doing amazing and remember, it's just a movie."

and yes, it's just a movie. a movie that has satoru twitching in his seat during the premiere at how uncomfortably awful you're acting the entire time in the film. by now, you've eased into the feel of things and are rather proud of the work you''ve done, but also happy that it's all over. you hold satoru's hand tight during some of the worst scenes, sneaking glances at him as the screen flickers intensely over his glassy eyes. you can tell he's rather moved by it all, by seeing you in such a position, and you chew harshly on the inside of your lip

when the lights come up, you're given a standing ovation initiated of course by your rather emotional husband, but in his defense, the entire room has tears in their eyes as well. satoru's clapping harshly, and you try to hide your face as grateful tears spring in your eyes, grateful for this opportunity, for your accomplishments, for the support that surrounds you

satoru wraps you in a huge hug and whispers in your ear "don't ever do what you just did in that movie to me," he whimpers, and you laugh loudly because both of you know the thought is inconceivable. "you did so so good, baby. m'so proud of how far you've come"

that night, you shower each other with love. you're wrapped up in each other's limbs, your lips meeting every part of his skin to remind him that you are still you despite the realism of the character you played, and that satoru will always be your one and only you devote yourself faithfully to for the rest of your life. when the two of you have spent yourselves, satoru holds you in the moonlit darkness of your bedroom, arms wrapped around you from behind with your back to his chest. he kisses your shoulder softly, then your cheek

"you really liked the movie, toru?" you whisper. "i loved it," he mumbles into your skin. "but, god, i thought i was gonna have a heart attack almost fifty times and that one scene with you at the bar didn't help." "i knew you were gonna say something about that!" "i can't help it, baby, you were just so heartless and scary," he pouts

[soulc-hilde]

You’re my Favorite

Pairing: Eminem x afab!reader

Warning: Implied smut, mentions of sexual intercourse, cursing, body shaming, fatphobia

Synopsis: Caught in the chaos of ’06, Marshall falls into bed with one of the most influential actresses of the decade. Despite his desire to let her in and know who Marshall Mathers is outside of the bedroom, his insecurities always seem. Chasing away the love of his life, eighteen years of loneliness darkens his soul until he makes a slip up in an interview.

Based off of this request – speaking of, if you wish to request work from writers (free work, at that) please do not move to another writer and make the same request unless the first writer denies you or completely ignores you. It’s a form of respect, a lot of us writers are adults with working lives, especially in America’s economy. Unfortunately, things are not going to be done in that second. If this happens again, I will simply deny the request and/or close my inbox and strictly do fanfic series. Please, respect your writers.

He silently watches her, nestled into his side, head resting on his chest with arms wrapped around his waist. She was beautiful. So, unconventionally beautiful which was a surprise as not many highly rated actresses such as herself were permitted such grace to keep their natural features.

As her eyes lock onto the action-packed scenes of Snakes on a Plane – a quick joke he made knowing that the poor woman hated seeing herself on camera, her palm absently rubs at his stomach.

His heart thumps, nearly dropping to his ass. Since the death of Deshaun, Marshall had took to the shadows, hiding away surrounded by food and drugs. The only thing that kept the rapper from facing malnourishment was his drug-infused munchies; however, there was a downfall to this.

The once lean man transformed into a round, depressed version of who he once was. His face was constantly flushed and blank.He was the epitome of heartache. Although, his new weight gain didn’t really put off the groupies.

There were some who chased after him just because of his wealth and others who did it as a joke, snorting to their friends whether ‘Fatty Shady’ was better than ‘Slim Shady.’ He wasn’t fazed at first, not at all; bitches will be bitches, he’d mutter to himself.

That was until he was to meet her at a restaurant for some quick lunch before heading back to his place. Arriving first, the Detroit native settled in the back of the dining floor in a booth, looking over the menu when a few waiters – just teenagers, kept pacing around his table with their indiscreet attempts at trying to confirm if he was the man in their heads.

One had raced back to the kitchen, shouting, “dude, Eminem’s here. Right now, he’s here in that last booth.”

The others lean out, eyes darting with excitement only to drop at the sight of the slumped over fat man in the booth.

“Man,” one of them scoffs, “that’s not Eminem. That’s just a fat man who looks like ‘em. Slim Shady’s skinny.”

Returning to their jobs, Marshall sits frozen behind the menu. His face screamed unbothered, but his heart shattered. He wasn’t too sure how much more he could take of this. Losing Proof, himself, hell, maybe his career – it was all just too much at once.

And yet, she seemed to make it better. Whether in public or in private, she never cared for the Eminem side of things, she wanted Marshall. When they undergo their sexcapades, she’d proudly praise his body with innocent kisses that were enough to send shivers down his spine.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he mutters, watching her snap out of her own little world.  She looks up at him with scrunched eyebrows, “do what?”

His shoulders rise, imitating that of a shy child. “Pretend like this is ideal. Like, like I’m the man that you dream of when you lay beside me.”

She shifts, leaning on her elbow. “Are you, are you saying that you’re not Marshall Mathers?” The woman feigns horror, bottom lip trembling in despair. “Are you a clone?”

She pauses, “my God, you’re a clone.” She leaps out of the bed, bare naked. She points a freshly manicured finger at him, shouting, “clone! Clone!”

The rapper bites back a laugh, shaking his head. He could’ve slept with anyone, any actress; he just had to choose the goofy one. Finding it impossible, he breaks into a laugh, tossing a pillow her way.

Regardless of how cool she appeared on camera; she lacked a lot of that appeal. She was a klutz and though she was more of the silent, observant kind, it wasn’t the sexy one. It was like that one kid in your school that didn’t fuck with anybody or anything, they were a ghost.

She misses it by a hair, the pillow crashes into her knee causing her to stumble with a laugh. “Shut up,” Marshall laugh. “I’m not no damn clone. Hell, that might be better than looking like this fat fuck.”

This time, she throws the pillow at him. The humor in her eyes has disappeared and instead, replaced with a somber glare. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you look,” she carefully scolds taking her place at his side once more.

“If you’re uncomfortable because you’re unhealthy, then that’s one thing, but being fat is not a bad thing nor is it unattractive.”

“You can stop fuckin’ lying to me,” he snarls, face burning with anger as his insecurities flush through his mind.

“No one’s lying to you, Marshall! Baby, you were handsome then and you’re handsome now. If you want to take care of yourself then so be it, but that doesn’t mean you have to harm your self-esteem.”

“Stop fucking lying to me,” he barks, “and just be honest. Can you really stand seeing my fat ass fucking you? You don’t ever stop and wonder if I’ll suffocate you? Is the dick that good or are you that much of a slut?”

“If I was such a fucking slut, Marshall, I would’ve already up and left months ago! Just admit that you care and we can go about this like fucking adults.” He continues to shake his head, “get the fuck out.”

But she keeps pushing. “You fucking care and that scares you, I get it, but that doesn’t make it right for you to fuck other people over.”

“Get out.”

“You’re so deep in your mind and the drugs that you forget that you still have family, people who care about you here and willing to support you! Don’t make Proof’s death into anything less than what it actually was. He died believing in you, wanting the best in you.”

“Get the fuck out!”

“You have daughters, waiting to see their father. Wanting more than just a few minutes of playtime, they want to be under you. They want to feel your presence, not gifts. Not texts or calls. They want you.”

“I swear to God, girl. If you don’t shut the fuck up!”

“I’m not gonna shut the fuck up! How about you act like a man!”

“Bitch, fuck you!”

“I love you!”

He glares at her, panting with blind rage. “I don’t. I never did. You ain’t shit to me, but another dick warmer. You ain’t shit to anybody in fucking Hollywood, but some fucking diversity hire with pretty tits and a fat ass. Maybe you should remember what you’re really here for.”

“You’re right. I’m the diversity eye-candy of Hollywood while you’re the drug addicted culture vulture. I guess we both forgot. I never wanna see you again.” He smirks, watching her storm around the room, dressing herself in a haste.

“Not a problem for me, baby. Not a problem at all.”

She storms out of the room without a look over shoulders. In contrast to his words, Marshall had a problem with this. He forces himself to watch her leave like several times before, playful kisses and phrases absent. As the front door closes, he collapse back into bed as sobs begin to rack his body.

-18 years later-

“It’s great to see you, Em, how’ve you been?” Sway asks. Marshall nods, “I’ve been good, man. Literally just working and spending some time with the family.”

The broadcaster nods, “I saw that. I saw Hailey’s wedding pictures on Instagram, congratulations. How does it feel now to see your little girl get swept up?”

“It fucking sucks,” he jokes as the Shade 45 crew laughs along. “Like, I did it before with Laney, cool. Cool, it stung like a bitch, but cool. Then Hailey comes through with her man and their engagement and I’m just like, what the fuck?! I knew I was getting old but shit man.”

Sway nods, “that’ll do it. At first, you know you’re aging, but when accolades are being accomplished then that’s when it really hits you.” As everyone else nods in agreement, he turns the conversation to a more professional piece.

“So, you put out Houdini for your Coup de Grace and it landed at number 2 on the Billboard Hot 100. Congratulations on that as well since that is the highest you’ve charted in the decade. What are your plans for the remainder of the year? Cause I know you have The Death of Slim Shady comin’ around, but do you also plan to make any public appearances, tours, or do you just wanna put the music out and chill in bed?”

“Cause you already did a surprise popout at a Detroit Concert Event, will there be anymore?”

Marshall shrugs, “the bed option honestly doesn’t sound bad at all. It’s one that I’d prefer, but fucking Paulina won’t let me. Instead, I’ll be in Texas this October to headline the Formula 1 Grand Prix Concert.”

“Oh, shit, really? That’s dope man.” Sway nods, “now are you big on racing? I’ve heard that it can be a crazy ass sport.” He shrugs, “kind of. Not into it as much as football, but I do look in here and there.”

“And there’s a list of other artists performing there as well?” Marshall nods, “yeah. I know Sting was confirmed to perform, I think the first night or the third because I’ll be the second. I’m not too sure who’s performing the first.”

A member of the crew leans over, “I believe it was y/n. Let me double check.” It was silent for a moment. Anticipation clutching at his chest, he leans forward with an interested gaze.

His face void of emotion, waiting for a solidified answer. He couldn’t understand if he saw this as a good thing, an opportunity to rekindle things or more so a badly moment of truth he wasn’t prepared for.

“Yes, it was confirmed last night that she’ll headline the first night.”

Sway looks back his way, “are you familiar with y/n?” The rapper nods, “uh, yeah. Yeah, I am, actually.” He gulps.

Marshall wasn’t one to prepare for an interview as he always knew what to say to keep things personal and who to give his time to. However, nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for questions about a lost love.

“We, uh, dated back in ‘06 for some months, I believe.” Sway’s eyebrows raise, “really?”

The former rapper may be a journalist, but he was an artist first who respected Marshall and vice versa. He knew the man basked privacy and wanted to be sure that this was the route he wanted to take.

“Yeah, we did. Things didn’t end well since, ya know, I was dealing with drugs and Proof’s passing. There’s not a lot of things or people I remember from back then, but she. She stays on my mind, always has.”

Sway leans toward him, whispering, “are you sure?” He nods, mouth drying.

“My comeback album, Relapse, in the song Beautiful… I’ve made a few references to her. Made it my moment to say things I couldn’t say to her face. Space Bound, Love the Way You Lie, and So Bad from Recovery were some, too.”

“Do you ever think that, maybe you’d want to see her again? Or is something of the past?” The rapper sighs, “I would prefer to see her again. Make amends, ya know. I see her in the media kicking ass, winning awards. I’m proud of her.”

Sway sends him a reassuring smile, “well, your folks at Shade 45 hope you two can make shit happen, man.”

—

If it was 2006 all over again, she’d swoon and make flirtatious quips at him through the media until he felt confident enough to approach her first. Unfortunately, she wasn’t that little girl again.

She has a couple years until she turned 50, two kids, a divorce under her belt, and a legacy. She no longer had time or the patience to paw at old flames, she wasn’t her ex-husband, for God’s sake. And yet, her heart pumped as if she ran a marathon all because the man who broke her heart eighteen years ago still loved her.

To make matters worse, the only way she had to contact him was through fucking social media. Did the old fuck even know how to operate the shit?

Great, so not only will she have to text him, but now take the chance of him not knowing how to reply. She knew her inability to live in peace was a forever thing, but the shit life throws at her is getting kind of ridiculous right now.

Um, I see you’re talking about me on the radio?

She hits send, fingers twitching with anxiety. She wasn’t some technical guru, but she wasn’t so out of touch to not understand that people take time to reply to things. However, this wasn’t a moment that deserved good virtue, so for fuck’s sake that dingy Midwest motherfucker better answer now.

Was it true? All of it?

She sends another text when a bubble appears, floating happily as it registers whatever the bullshit Marshall plans to spew. After a few minutes, the bubble has made itself at home and she was ready to gank the man by his neck through the damn phone.

Goddamn old man, don’t tell me arthritis got you? Long ass paragraph…

Doesn’t that mean you have a ghostwriter? Oh, scandalous

Finally, his reply comes in.

Shut up. And yes, I meant everything I said. Sorry, if you were uncomfortable.

She sits, staring at the screen in silence. Her fingers move faster than her mind could process.

It took you five minutes to text me that. FIVE MINUTES!

Shut up and just say that you’ll have dinner with me, tonight?

I’m in Charleston.

I’ll fly you out then.

I’m not one of your little sluts

Of course not, you’re my favorite. I’ll fly you out, tonight. Don’t bring anything but a change of clothes.

That’s why your dick’s small.

Tagged: @evasmlp

Sorry, it’s a day late and that it sucks! I fell asleep last night after writing the first portion, but I hope you like it

[endless-ineffabilities]

the only intermission (Ewan Mitchell x f!reader)

a/n: this is a direct result of my wishing that Ewan would do a play here in London so I can watch him. So, here you go <3

main masterlist ▪︎ previous part

You and Ewan share a moment during intermission.

The play's intermission is under way, with twenty minutes of reprieve for the actors and the audience. Bethany had gone to the bar to grab a drink with Harry, and somehow, to Ewan's obvious delight, he was able to corner you out in the foyer.

The two of you stand at a semi-secluded spot away from the main doors, clear of the passage into the theatre.

"So, what do you think of it so far?" Ewan leans against the wall, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, and hoping you didn't notice that he kept shuffling closer to you.

There had been a two-foot distance, which became one, after he said something along the lines of—Wait, I can't hear you, say that again?—even though you are well away from the bustle.

And now, his arm is close enough to brush against yours as you respond, "I really enjoyed it. Emma's absolutely brilliant! I mean, the whole cast is amazing, but Emma's a standout for me."

"For me as well," Ewan agrees. He's mesmerized by the way you beam in enthusiasm.

"I wanted to ask you if you've ever done a play? I think you would be really good at it!"

Ewan feels the heat rush to his cheeks. "Really? No, I haven't been in a play yet—"

"Well you should!" You touch his forearm lightly. For but a second. He wishes you hadn't let go.

"Should I?"

"I wouldn't lie to you, Ewan," you say, smiling and tilting your head. Is this flirting?

Can you do it some more?

"If you say so." He tries to match your tone. "Will you be there to watch me when I do?"

"Am I invited to press night?"

Either his own desires are fooling him, or you shuffle closer to him this time.

"You'll be front and centre, darling."

You nod in appreciation. "Well, I would be honoured. You know, if they do another rendition of Romeo and Juliet, you should go for the part of Romeo."

He laughs lightly, and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, "Only if you would be Juliet."

Your face contorts in apparent confusion. "But... I'm not an actress."

His smile drops, thinking that his attempt at flirtation flew right over your head.

"No, darling—" he stammers. "I, I just meant—"

You throw your head back, giggling to yourself. "Ohhh, you make it too easy!"

He can't help but join you, the trill of your shared laughter echoing in your little corner of the room.

"You're mean," he clicks his tongue, his voice lowering.

"Hmm. So do you still want to take me out?"

You most definitely move closer to him. He sees it clearly, and he mirrors your motion, gently brushing his fingers along the side of your face.

There is a moment of static, electrifying tension. His eyes are drawn down to your lips, which part slightly.

But it all dissipates when the usher's booming voice cuts through, announcing that the play is to resume in five minutes.

You sigh. "We should head back inside."

No. Not yet. Would Bethany be cross with him if he asks to switch seats so he can be close to you for the next hour?

He feels silly—he can't even wait until after the play.

"Hold on," he says, grabbing your hand when you start to turn away. "I do still want to take you out."

"Oh," you smile sweetly. "Great." You glance around quickly, likely checking if Bethany already went back inside. "We'll talk after the play?"

"Yes, please, darling," he exhales, giving your hand a squeeze. Why can't plays have hour-long intermissions? Maybe you wouldn't be averse to just walking out of there and having that date way sooner than expected.

There will be plenty of other nights to watch the play anyway.

"Come on," you tug at his hand, tilting your head toward the entrance. "Time to go, handsome."

You hold on to his hand, and a shiver runs down his spine, your touch sending a surge of warmth through him.

Your skin feels so soft. And you called him handsome.

As you merge back into the crowd, shuffling toward the doors, he leans in close. "You know," he whispers, "when we go on our date, there won't be any intermissions like this."

"You won't need a break from me? I can be annoying, you know," you tease, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckles softly, his gaze holding yours. "I think I can handle it, beautiful."

You blush, lowering your head. He feels pleased with himself.

He continues, "Besides, I have a feeling you'll keep me on my toes."

On his toes, on his knees, on his back—whatever position you want him in.

Oh, he's going to hell.

[shariasweet]

die for me. ᡣ𐭩°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

lee heeseung x fem reader — actress!reader. smut [18+]. pet names. fingering [f]. kissing. unprotected sex [wrap it up!]. public or leaked sex [tape or video].

sharia note — I dunno :( I got bored and this is let of rambley 💔 i really like that new chase atlantic song and I felt a little inspired so !!!

you clenched your jaw — fingers digging into you scalp as you let out an aggrieved sigh. ‘how’re you going to solve this , y/n?’ your managers voice blared through your phone’s speaker as you anxiously paced your condo floor. 

‘im not sure…’ your teeth sunk into your bottom lip , and you let your fingers trail down to your temples — soothing the oncoming headache. ‘at this point , you two’d be better off bringing your relationship to the public. I mean , your fans may not get along but it’s better than dealing with the media snooping around.’ 

you and your boyfriend had just been caught — the news made headlines: reports from entertainment tonight and koreaboo with titles such as ‘actress y/n l/n & singer lee heeseung caught in a dating scandal.’ — ‘lee heeseung and y/n l/n caught in a scandal: sex tape leaked.’ fled your timeline.

‘would it?’ you pursed your lips , throwing yourself onto your bed. you’d told him to be more careful — heeseung had a bad habit of being careless when he gets needy. his head gets clouded by his own desires , and he loses himself in you. 

‘not here!’ you breathlessly whined into your boyfriends ear as he cornered you on the set. ‘why not , pretty girl..?’ he chuckled , hands cupping your cheeks as he smiled against your lips. ‘there are cameras , hee… we’re on set…’ you quickly pecked his lips , returning the embrace with your arms snaked around his neck.

however , he was quicker — capturing you in a deep passionate kiss. you moaned into his mouth upon feeling his knee come up to grind against your core. ‘ah… fuck!’ you gasped , allowing him to slip his tongue into the gaping warmth of your mouth.

heeseung’s hands desperately fought against the buttons and clasps of your outfit , ‘so many damn zippers… ‘need to feel you.’ he groaned , large hands coming up to knead your breasts. ‘you looked so beautiful all day… ‘couldn’t even focus between scenes — want to get this stupid shoot over with. ‘been waiting all day to touch you…’ 

finally , his fingers tangled between your shirts buttons — undoing them leaving your chest bare. it wasn’t long before his hands slipped under your skirt too — he quickly disregarded it , swiftly unzipping it all while trailing hot kisses down your chest.

‘such a pretty girl… my , pretty girl. ‘want to tell the whole world your mine — makes me sick thinking there’re guys seeing you how I do.’ heeseung sighed against your skin , softly rutting his nose into your collarbones to inhale your scent.

‘hah… how do you see me , baby?’ teasingly , you brought a hand to tangle into his hair as he continued revashing your neck and chest. the vibrations of his deep laughter spread across your skin and you could feel the feather light touches of heeseung’s fingers reaching for the band of your panties. ‘most beautiful girl in the world.’ pop! he snapped the band against your waist.

‘mmm!’ you squirmed. this tips of his fingers caressed your clit through the thin cotton material — occasionally , pinching the soft bundle of nerves as he continued complimenting you. ‘I just want to be with you all the time… I’d live under you if I could… so fucking pretty for me — sweet too. you’re such a good girl , letting me play with you in the studio too.’ 

his free hand massaged your boobs — tugging at your bra to roll your nipples between his rough fingers.

‘ah! shit… hee touch me more… please , give me more.’ heeseung’s fingers began to pull your panties to the side — carefully , dipping two of his fingers into the drooling heat of your sticky cunt — leaking all onto his fingers. as he curled his two fingers inside of you his thumb gently circled your clit. ‘mmm!!! feels so good..!’ 

‘I know princess… I know.’ he continued to thrust his fingers upward inside of you , in a  scissoring motion. your hands came down to his fly — fidgeting with the zipper of his pants. ‘eager already?’ your boyfriend grinned , cheekily. ‘just take them off… ‘want it now…’ 

‘not here hee!’ he mimicked your earlier pleas. ‘please…’ you sighed — gummy walls clamping down onto his fingers as they roughly kissed the spongy spot buried between them. ‘you sure , pretty girl..?’ he teased you some more. 

feverishly , you nodded. his free hand left the hardened nubs of your nipples to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. leaving him clad in his boxers before you , as he ripped his fingers from your sopping cunt.

you whined feeling empty. ‘unhhh… hee hurry!’ 

you didn’t have to ask twice before your boyfriend was yanking down his boxers to free his leaking cock — standing straight up as the angry pink mushroom tip stared back at you. you could feel your mouth watering , however , any fantasy you’d conjured up had been interrupted by heeseung abruptly grabbing both of your thighs , lifting you up and positioning himself at your entrance.

he slammed you down onto his cock as you let out a loud mewl. he’d bottomed out in no time , easily assisted by your oozing , slimy slick. ‘shittt! ah ah ahn hee! so fucking full…’ you murmured , arms flying to hold onto his back.  ‘mmm… my pretty baby’s always so tight.’ he threw his head back. ‘s a good thing you get so wet though.’ he grinned diving into your lips hungrily , before thrusting up into you.

he wildly snapped his hips as you let soft vulgarities and outlandish moans rip past your throat. ‘fuck , more!’ 

‘m-more..? god , y/n you want me dead , huh?’ obliging , your boyfriend pistoned his cock further between your silken walls. ‘promise im close! promise!!!’ a ring of white cream and arousal pooled around the base of his cock as he continued to deliciously thrust into your cunt. ‘you know I love hearing you whine , sweetheart! j-just hold on… ‘m close too!’

the knot in your stomach finally snapped as he made one final thrust — leaving you shaking and you rode out your high calling out his name.

everyone had seen it — obviously… if not you wouldn’t be in your current situation: stressing over the phone with your manager lecturing you — heeseung lying in your bed with a sly grin on his face. ‘would it?’ you repeated , glancing at your boyfriend who simply shrugged mouthing the words ‘I couldn’t help it.’ as you rolled your eyes and  fell back into his arms. 

‘it’s worth a shot… I’ll send a message over to his team. just lay low for now y/n and pray they’ll be on board.’ they huffed , ending the call. 

‘well… on the bright side , told you I wanted to tell the whole world you were mine.’ he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. ‘oh whatever , hee! we’re in deep shit.’

[wolverigrl]

Moments of Desire

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

A/N: I may have rushed this one a bit, because I'm reeeally tired right now. I thought I'd have more time today, but unfortunately not. I hope you still like this one!

Warnings: smut, oral m!receiving, unprotected pinv (wrap it up!), light spanking, pet names (baby etc.)

Enjoy!

Not proofread!

Previous part

---------------------------------------------------

The late afternoon sunlight filters in through the half-drawn curtains, casting a soft glow around the room. Hugh is sprawled comfortably in his favorite armchair, legs spread slightly, his posture relaxed but commanding. He's watching me with that familiar, playful glint in his eyes that always makes my stomach flip.

I'm sitting across from him on the sofa, my legs tucked under me, a pillow hugged to my chest.

"So, when do you think we should start telling people?"

I ask, my voice bubbling with excitement. Even saying the words feels surreal. I can't believe it.

I'm pregnant - we are pregnant.

Hugh smiles, that irresistible, easy grin spreading across his face. He looks so at peace, so happy, and it makes my heart swell.

"I've been thinking about that." he says, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

"We can't just blurt it out over dinner, you know? This is big! Huge! It's our baby, and I want everyone to remember how we told them."

I nod, biting my lip as I imagine it.

"You're right. It has to be special. But how?" I lean forward, resting my chin on my hand, thinking.

"We could throw a little get-together, invite our close friends and family and do big reveal. Maybe a cake or something?"

Hugh chuckles, shaking his head, his

voice warm with amusement. "A cake? I don't know if that's us." He shifts in his seat, drumming his fingers lightly on the armrest. "Feels too... formal. I want something more...personal. Something just for us and the people we love."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Okay, Mr. Creative, what's your big idea?"

He grins wider, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this. "What if

we visit everyone in person? One by one. That way, it's more intimate. No big groups, just face-to-face moments with the people who matter most to us."

I tilt my head, thinking it over. "That could work... but what would we do? Just knock on the door and say 'Hey, guess what?'.. It deels a little..anticlimactic."

Hugh's eyes light up like he's thought of something brilliant. "No, no! We take a picture with them. Every single person, we gather them together for a photo, right? And just when everyone's ready to say 'cheese', we drop the bomb: 'y/n's pregnant!"

I burst out laughing, picturing the stunned faces of our friends and family when we spring the news on them like that.

"Oh my God, baby! That's perfect! Can you imagine the looks we'll get? And we'll have it all captured on camera!"

He chuckles, his deep, rich voice

making my heart skip a beat.

"Exactly! That way, it's not just an announcement - it's a moment. A real memory we can keep forever."

I lean back, grinning from ear to ear, already imagining the reactions.

"I love it! I really do!" My eyes drift over

to him, and something shifts in the

air between us. The playfulness

fades into something deeper, more intense. He's watching me closely, his gaze lingering a little too long on my lips, then my legs.

"You always come up with the best

ideas." he says softly, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly tone that sends shivers down my spine. I feel a slow smile curve my lips, knowing exactly what that look means. "Oh yeah?" I tease, letting

my fingers absentmindedly trace the

seam of the pillow in my lap.

"Is that why you keep me around?"

He smirks, his eyes darkening a

shade as he leans forward slightly.

his posture shifting, more predatory

now. "Among other reasons."

His fingers start moving, tracing small,

lazy circles on the armrest of his chair. The movement is slow, deliberate, and for some reason incredibly sensual. His middle and ring finger glide over the fabric in a rhythm that's almost hypnotic. And as if on cue, he spreads his legs just a little more, his posture relaxing even further.

Casual, but undeniably suggestive.

My breath catches in my throat, my body responding to him almost instantly.

God, he knows exactly what he's doing. The way he looks at me, the way his fingers move in those subtle, teasing circles. It's like he's turning me on without ever touching me.

"You're really distracting me."

I murmur, my voice quieter now, more

breathless than I intended. Hugh's eyes flick up to meet mine, and there's something molten in hisgaze.

"Am I?" he asks, voice rough and full of heat. His lips curl into a smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on me.

"I'm not even doing anything."

I swallow hard, feeling my pulse quicken.

"That's the problem." I whisper, unable to tear my eyes away from the way his fingers move.

They're still drawing those maddening circles, slow and steady.

Every time he completes one, a fresh wave of heat pools low in my belly.

He doesn't break eye contact, his gaze locking onto mine as he leans back again, making himself even more comfortable. "You're the one who's making it hard to

concentrate." he says, voice soft but dripping with desire.

I shift in my seat, feeling the tension

Between us coil tighter, the air in the room practically crackling with it.

"Is that right?"

I stand up slowly, my heart racing as I walk toward him, feeling the heat between us intensify. Hugh's eyes follow my every move, dark with need, as I approach. His legs spread just a little wider, and I can feel the tension in the air-thick with anticipation.

I move closer, standing between his

legs, feeling the magnetic pull that always seems to draw me to him.

My fingers trail lightly over his broad shoulders, tracing the firm muscles under my touch. I can feel his body tense as I lean down, pressing soft kisses to his neck, tasting his skin.

His scent, warm and familiar, fills my senses, making my pulse quicken.

A soft groan escapes his lips as I kiss along his neck, his breath becoming heavier. His hands move to my hips, pulling me closer to him, his grip firm and possessive.

I bite my lip as I kiss him again, lower this time, nipping at his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

Slowly, I drop to my knees between his legs, placing my hands on his thighs. Hugh's breath hitches, and I hear the sharp intake of air as I look up at him.

His eyes are locked on mine, filled with desire, his chest rising and falling a little faster now.

He leans back slightly, his hands

sliding into my hair, gently tugging

me toward him.

I press soft kisses along his inner

thigh, while opening his jeans with my hands.

His body tenses beneath me, his

hands tightening in my hair as he

groans softly, his hips shifting

impatiently. I smirk, enjoying the

way his body reacts to my teasing.

He lifts his hips slightly so that I can pull his jeans and boxers down to his ankles.

I slowly start stroking him and finally take him into my mouth moving slowly, savoring the feeling of him against my tongue.

His groans grow louder, his body trembling under my touch. I move my hand to the base of him, stroking in time with my mouth, and he lets out a deep, guttural sound while his hips jerk slightly forward.

"Fuck.." he moans, his voice thick with pleasure, his grip on my hair tightening as he guides me, pushing me deeper.

His breaths come in heavy, ragged bursts, filling the room alongside the wet, rhythmic sounds of my movements.

I hum softly, the vibration making him groan even louder, his hands shaking slightly in my hair.

"Just like that baby.." he breathes, his voice

strained as he tries to hold himself back.

"God, you're so good at this.."

His words send a thrill through me, and I move faster, taking him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I quicken

my pace. His hips lift off the chair

slightly, his groans becoming more

urgent.

The sound of his pleasure, the feeling of him in my mouth - it's all overwhelming, and I can feel my own need growing

But just as his body tenses on the verge of release, he pulls me up, his hands strong and commanding as he lifts me to my feet. His eyes are dark and wild, his breathing heavy as he stares up at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Strip." he growls, the single word heavy with desire

I obey without hesitation, my heart pounding in my chest as I peel off my clothes slowly, teasing him with every move.

His gaze never leaves me, following every inch of bare skin as it's revealed.

The intensity in his eyes makes my skin prickle with anticipation.

Once I'm fully naked, I straddle his lap again, feeling the heat of his body beneath me. His hands immediately grip my hips, guiding me as I sink down onto him, both of us moaning at the sensation. He fills me completely, and the sudden rush of pleasure makes me gasp, my fingers gripping his broad shoulders for support.

I begin to move slowly, rolling my hips against him, feeling the delicious friction as he presses deeper inside me.

His hands slide up my back, gripping me tightly as he thrusts up to meet my movements.

"You feel so fucking good ." he groans, his voice rough with desire.

I lean in, kissing along his neck, my lips brushing over his pulse point as I ride him faster now.

"You're so big.." I moan softly, my breath hot against his skin.

His hands move down to my ass, gripping me tightly as I grind down against him. Without warning, he brings one hand down hard, delivering a sharp smack to my ass.

The sudden sting makes me gasp, a mix of pleasure and pain shooting through me.

I moan louder, the sensation pushing me higher, my movements becoming more frantic. He smacks me again, harder this time, and I cry out, my nails digging into his

shoulders as I rock against him, the wet sounds of our bodies meeting filling the room.

"Keep going baby." he growls, his voice thick with lust, his hand coming down on me again, sending another wave of heat through me. The sharp smack makes my body tremble, my legs shaking as I ride him harder.

"Oh god Hugh.." I moan, my voice shaky as I feel the tension building inside me, ready to snap at any moment.

"I'm close.."

His hands grip me tighter, guiding me faster.

"Cum for me." he growls.

His voice commanding, full of raw need.

"I wanna feel you."

With one more hard thrust, I fall over the edge, my entire body trembling as the orgasm crashes through me. I cry out his name, my body shaking as the waves of pleasure wash over me, my legs quivering as I ride out the high.

Hugh isn't far behind.

With a low, primal groan, he thrusts up into me one last time, his hands gripping my

waist as he buries himself deep inside me, finding his release.

His head falls back, a deep moan escaping his lips as his body tenses beneath mine, both of us completely lost in the intensity of the moment.

The room is filled with the sound of our heavy breathing, the aftermath of our release still buzzing in the air.

I collapse against him, resting my forehead against his, both of us catching our breath as our bodies slowly come down from the high.

His hands move softly now, stroking my waist and back, his touch gentle and soothing.

We stay like that for a moment, our bodies still connected, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin as I run my hands through his hair.

There's a deep, lingering intimacy between us, as if we've just shared something beyond physical.

Our eyes meet, filled with love, and we don't need to say anything - the

connection between us says it all.

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