#the pull line is great though:

[theserpentsadvocate]

Aaaaah, I love stuff like this, thank you!

Tagged by: @copperarsenite

Tagging: @feeisamarshmallow @allonsymiddleearth @iceberg-hootenanny (and basically anyone who wants to, honestly)

rules: post the first lines of up to 10 of your last fics/chapters posted on ao3 or your wips and try to draw some conclusions.

I'm going with fics in general, not chapters (because otherwise it would be entirely Satisfaction), and probably sticking to VM fic because all the Tolkien stuff I've posted recently has been crossposting. So last five posted and last five WIPs worked on. :)

(Also, warning that the second-last sentence has a racial slur (used by a character.))

Satisfaction

Veronica’s dad was the sheriff, so she was usually pretty scrupulous about not breaking the law. 

Flipping the Script

All Jade wanted was to get her mother’s car and drop it off with enough time to get to the library before it closed, and since the library was open late on Thursdays and she’d stopped to pick it up at 4 PM, it hadn’t seemed that difficult.

Unexpected Dividends

It was probably weird to run a to-do list for your boss in your head, but Eli had been doing it since his second month on the job, because Fred was competent, and reasonably organized, and obviously he was a hell of a mechanic, but his ability to prioritize was a little bit whacked out.

The Most Important Part

“Hot date?”

The Art of Starting Over

It turned out that calling your sort-of boyfriend after a whole week and a half of radio silence was daunting.

Choices (upcoming post S4 oneshot)

Jade grew up in San Diego.

Hunger Games AU for 'X universes Veronica didn't grow up in'

I didn’t sleep well, the night before the Reaping.

untitled WIP (zombie non-AU, post-S4)

Veronica made it home for the end of the world.

Carmen for 'Would've, Could've, Should've' (pending oneshot series)

Yesterday, Carter Phelps shoved Carmen into the stair railing and called her a wetback, like her parents swam all the way here from Venezuela.

Circle of Magic AU for 'X universes Veronica didn't grow up in'

The first time the Guard caught Weevil breaking into a rich man’s house, they tattooed an X on the web of skin between his thumb and first finger and threw him into a cell for the night.

*

So for the obvious – I favour third person (which I knew), and I’m a bit heavier on female POVs than I anticipated (which I’m pleased with, actually). Also Jade's very prominent, and since I’m already 50% of the Jade/Eli tag on AO3, that doesn’t exactly shock me.

(It’s not immediately obvious for all of them, but every single one of these is Weevil-heavy, which is the most unshocking thing possible. I think I have exactly one VM fic in progress where he’s not central to the entire premise, and even there he’s still majorly present.)

Other than that, the closest thing to a trend that I can pick up is that apparently I like opening sentences that feel either dynamic or relatable? Satisfaction and the post-canon zombie fic both have the more classic hook of raising questions about what’s going on, and most of the JEC fics as well as Carmen’s WCS entry are an attempt to jump you right into the characters’ heads or at least their social reality. Whereas the fusion AUs seem to establish their crossover-fandom immediately (THG with an immediate reference to a well known part of that universe, and COM by heavily echoing Briar’s introductory sentence). I don’t know if I did it on purpose, but I like it, so I’ll have to see how much/if that holds true for the other ones in the series. (The BTVS and Animorphs ones are harder, because they involve discovering something, but the summary of the latter will definitely start with My name is Veronica…, and the 1-800-WHERE-R-U one starts with a direct shout-out.)

Anyway! I’d be interested to know if there’s anything that strikes you. :)

[chaosxcrushed]

There's a certain CCCC summary video that we really, really like. We think it is a great video for people if they want to grasp the story more clearly, if they're confused, or if they're listening to the album for the first time.

That video being Chonny Jash and the Weight of the Mind on Youtube by W3tBl@nk3t. We think they cover it really well.

However, I'm sharing this for a different reason; they say few certain things that really struck with us until now, that I'd like to share with the fandom. Sometimes, we see people really just.. Miss the point of CCCC entirely, and I'd like to shine a light on what was said here. If you'd like to hear this for yourself on video, the timestamp is 35:57-36:45.

“..I bet we all could relate to that, they are the prime example of the side of you that suffers and the side of you that hates yourself for suffering:

The side of you that just wants to slow down and feel everything even to the unhealthy extent of not being able to do anything else(1), but also the side of you that so desperately wants you to get over it(2).

Sure, laying in bed all day every day to rot isn't healthy, but neither is boiling things down and invalidating your own emotions. Both are paths to inevitable disaster, and that's what Chonny is doing here. Keep in mind that the idea behind this album is being whole, and that means neither of these sides are entirely in the right or the wrong; this album is about inner compromise and acceptance(3).”

1.) The side of you that suffers; Heart. He is representative of Whole's emotions, he holds them. Your emotions can go haywire, especially when one's mentally ill and has no way of their feelings being validated. An emotional person like Heart suffers under the weight of crushing, devastating feelings. He wants to feel things out, have time to just process everything, even if it takes them days or weeks to get over it. It's not healthy, but feeling is what he does, and he wants to help because he knows he has importance. Solely focusing on just your emotions isn't the best thing to do, however.

2.) The side of you that so desperately wants you to get over it; Mind. Many people have been there, have wanted themselves to stop wallowing in their own emotions and just do something else, even to the point where you think feeling things out is unnecessary. This is also unhealthy, but not intentionally. Like Heart, Mind just wants to help, everything he does is in best interest. This is what he thinks will get them to move on the quickest; to leave behind emotions and focus on anything BUT that. Also not the best thing to do.

3.) This album is about inner compromise and acceptance; About being whole. Neither of Heart and Mind are right nor wrong. They have their own ways of doing things, of what they think will help their whole self out the most, but both are unhealthy despite the good intentions. They fight over who's wrong or right, when they shouldn't even be doing so in the first place. It's your thoughts against your emotions, basically; your feelings contradict your thoughts, and it leads to an inner war of sorts. This won't make things better, which is why you can't have Mind over Heart or vice versa; you'll need both of them. In the album, they are only able to be whole when they get along. They harmonize, they 'combine', they see eye to eye with each other and work together instead of fighting over and over. Inner compromise is achieved with this, and acceptance can lead them away from any disaster that there's to come.

What we're trying to say is that mental health is a large thing tackled within CCCC, and yet we see a lot of people who overlook it; thus, end up missing the point of the whole album. We see a lot of people believe Mind's perspective a little too much and treat Heart quite harshly, or the other way where people demonize Mind and say that Heart is perfect, when it's not really that in the slightest.

This is not a hate post towards people's interpretations of CCCC or how they view characters, I'm just saying that people can tend to overlook what's in the very narrative, and we see a concerning amount of people do such.

Anyways. Stream CCCC and put your Hearts and Minds in the get along shirt. Have a nice day.

[shannonsketches]

He said "Fuck this shit, I'm out" I'm crying. Toriyama's Vegeta was so top shelf 🤌

(From Neko Majin Z Chapter 5!)

[sublux]

:.)

[mobbothetrue]

Spotify prompt! Knuckles and tails, an 19 :)

Oh hoho! You managed to land FightSong by EVE (<- YouTube link), a song that by all rights shoulda been #2 (<- I refuse to pay Spotify money).

Hmm…. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything with Super Sonic Speed, but I always did intend to write follow-ups…

.•.•.•.

The city is unbelievably loud. They’re in what Sonic had called a shopping district, and it’s apparently very popular. Knuckles would kind of like to go home, a lot, actually, but Tails is flirting from one shop to another and he doesn’t have it in him to shut the kid down. Sonic is somewhere on the periphery of their little group— he and Tails had bonded, thick as thieves, and Knuckles— well, he tolerated the guy.

Tails gasps like he’s seeing the sun rise for the first time, excited enough that he’s lifting off the ground. Knuckles ambles over, grabs him by the ankle, and pulls him back down. He’s looking at some sort of… thing. Knuckles can’t make heads or tails of it, but it’s definitely saying something to Tails.

Hmm. He is, at least, familiar with the idea of shops. Chao liked to set them up, sometimes, selling fruit or handmade crafts for rings, but Knuckles has no idea if their idea of currency and everyone else’s aligns. Would the shopkeep accept a fruit? Most chao did. It isn’t like rings are a problem, so…

Knuckles turns, seeking out Sonic in the crowd. There he is— stiff as anything, glancing frantically back and forth between Knuckles and some other hedgehog, a pink one. One of his friends, maybe? They look irritated, maybe not. Knuckles steps away from Tails, invites himself into their conversation.

“and you just RAN OFF—“ the hedgehog is shouting. Sonic cracks his mouth open, a faint wheeze escaping.

“Hey,” Knuckles says.

“—do you have ANY IDEA how WORRIED I was—“

This looks like a battle Sonic is better off fighting on his own. Still, Knuckles needs his question answered. “Hey,” he repeats, slightly louder.

“—I mean, I knew you were alright because my cards said so, but—“

“Hey Knuckles,” Sonic manages to crack out, “this is Amy.”

Amy tilts her head at him, and then gives him a sharp, discerning once-over. “Are you one of his other friends?” She asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Knuckles says, and then “do rings work as currency down here?”

She blinks at him, as if this is a weird thing to ask. “Yes?” She says.

“Okay,” Knuckles says, nodding, “try not to scare him too bad.”

Any lingering confusion evaporates, and she whirls around to find Sonic trying to sneak away. “AGAIN!” she shouts, full of conviction, and Knuckles makes his way back to where he left Tails. He isn’t pressed up against the glass anymore, so Knuckles steps into the store. Yeah, there he is. Hovering— literally— over the same display.

Knuckles takes a moment to properly observe, rooting around for the terms Tails would use, in an attempt to ensure he gets the right thing. There’s a looping track, and a few other gadgets on the sides. A switch, one of them looks like, and some barricade, and a few blinking lights. On the track itself is a… sideways cylinder, set on wheels, connected to a few boxes, puffing out smoke— or steam, maybe. Tails is absorbed enough in watching it chug along that he doesn’t even realize Knuckles is standing right next to him. Knuckles’ll just have to make sure he comes up for air, occasionally.

He casts about the rest of the store, vaguely lost. There are a lot of displays, and a lot of colourful boxes. Knuckles picks up one, flips it over, and realizes swiftly he is out of his depth. He brings the box over to Tails, handing it to him. Tails holds onto it for a full few seconds, watching with bated breath as the cylinder switches tracks, before he looks down. His fur all along his spine puffs up, and he turns to look at Knuckles so fast he has to wonder if Sonic hasn’t started to rub off on him in more ways than one. That’s the right box, for sure.

“Really?” Tails asks, voice breathy with excitement, and Knuckles ruffles his fur instinctually.

“‘Course.”

Maybe the shopping district isn’t that bad.

[humanmorph]

PALISADE 18 SPOILERS

the next saddest thing about baldwin home getting shot aside from. The whole situation. is that it cuts Austin off from doing more intros with him when they were sooooooo fucking good

Like I had this on repeat the other day (thank you FatT fans who make AMVs your service is invaluable)

[ghstzzn]

so needy — enhypen hyung line

pairing(s): enhypen hyung line x fem!reader (separate!)

genre(s): pure smut. with some plot from overexplaining.

tags/warnings: SMUT! MDNI! needy but not quite subby, rough & sloppy unprotexted sex, face fucking, jake munch agenda, masturbating (m. rec), male whimpering yupp, lots and lots of descriptions of boners, seriously they are all hard. no prep for reader, exhibition heh.. (parking lot & bathroom at a party), tried my hardest to go needy im a hard!dom writer im sorry, creampie, one pullout method, cum eating, cum... feeding?, biting, uhh lmk if i missed any srsly. wc: 3.2k. 400-700 for each

💭: WE LIKE OUR MEN IN HEAT GROWLS🦅🦅🦅 @jjunieworld and i. we went insane. i went insane. i seriously tried to make them needy and jakes is probably the closest ill ever get to writing a subby idol. its hard. sorry. ill try harder because i like this i think. <3 i need to get them pregnant asap.

heeseung had been in the recording studio since he had woken up, and yet he still had a long night ahead of him due to editing and touch ups. he was going insane.

you had sent him a selfie of you when you woke up, complaining about him being gone. it was innocent. but heeseung has been rock hard since.

his thoughts were full of you— every lyric had just reminded him of you and fuck he’s never needed you this badly before. the pillow that he’s kept on his lap all day felt like a fucking brick and he’s been subconsciously bucking his hips into it.

heeseung lets out a groan, throwing his head back as he cups his hardened cock through his flimsy sweats. he cannot take it anymore. pulling out his phone, he shoots you a text, complaining that he was hungry and didn’t feel good— a little lie because he knows if he told you he was painfully hard, you’d just tell him to wait. he can’t do that.

you’re so sweet to him, truly, you ask him if he’s okay and tell him you’ll be there in ten.

the door automatically locks when it's shut and you walk up to him, resting your hand on his forehead. he is feeling warm. heeseung leans into your touch and groans softly before grabbing your wrist, throwing the pillow and sitting you on his lap.

not even three minutes later, he’s thrusting up into you relentlessly. you’re desperately trying to grip onto anything, his shoulders, the chair and even the equipment table behind you. heeseungs grip on your hips is tight, bruising even. 

you’re both already cumming, the pace he set was too much for you and he’s simply been hard way too long to last more than seven minutes. though, as soon as he emptied himself inside you, he’s lifting you out of his lap, shoving aside an expensive keyboard and shoving your face down onto the table.

“fuck- fucking take it,” he spits as he continues pounding you from behind. “b-been so fucking hard all day, all because of you.”

his cock is hitting the most sensitive spots with his brutal speed, you almost feel as if you really did something wrong. you reach up to grip onto something, knocking into a few buttons in the process, turning on some music— which honestly helped cover the sounds of your moans but probably not necessary due to the soundproof room.

“hah- heeseung it’s t-too much!” you manage to squeak out, hiccuping and whimpering.

you’re spasming around his cock once more, he sloppily thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and emptying himself on your lower back. you weakly lift yourself to peek behind you, glancing back and forth between his still hard cock and his eyes that were full of nothing but lust. 

heeseung will be here all night— and so will you.

─────────────────

jay thought it’d be a good idea, a great one! he brought you with him to tour some fancy guitar museum he was invited to. you both were so excited to attend, throwing on your best outfits— which included that one dress that jay absolutely went feral for.

he could barely focus on the guitar he was testing out when you were sitting so pretty and patient in front of him, smiling and cheering him on. he didn’t even realize he was fucking up the chords, face red when he realized it wasn’t just you and him in the room.

you sat in the acoustics room with him, dress riding up your legs, leather jacket hanging off your shoulder as you watched him pick at each string with so much adoration in your eyes.

jay was going to go fucking insane. he can feel himself hardening at the mere sight of you— truly he’s usually better at keeping himself kept in public.

when you asked so sweetly to try out at guitar yourself, he thought he would combust right there.

he helps you choose a guitar, slipping the strap around your neck and even setting up the amp for you. jay sits back and watches as you play around with different chords you’ve picked up from him, but his eyes refuse to leave your fingers.

the way they delicately pluck each string or how they grip the guitar pick, how your other hand grips the neck of the guitar to hold down strings. he almost groans when he watches you almost struggle to fit them around it.

if only that were his cock. 

jay has to keep yanking and pulling at his jeans. he almost grabs the guitar from you just to cover his inevitable boner. his jaw is clenched, he wants to leave so fucking bad. he’s seconds away from pulling you into the closest room and tarnishing his image just to fuck you.

finally, your time at the guitar center was over. jay’s practically dragging you to the car and you aren’t even sure why. maybe you did something to upset him?

as soon as you reach the car, he’s sandwiching you between him and the cold surface. your boyfriend doesnt waste a second before grabbing your hand and forcing you to grab his throbbing cock through his jeans.

“for the past four fucking hours,” he grits out, nuzzling his face against your cheek, “four fucking hours that i’ve been so fucking hard. because of you.”

your face is red and you’re whipping your head around the parking lots, it’s almost empty thankfully��� and dark outside. “i-i did this?”

he groans in the crook of your neck, “please, baby, fucking need you now.”

those are the only words you need to get you to drop to your knees. your hands shake slightly as they fumble with his belt, pulling it apart and yanking his jeans down just enough to free his cock. 

it’s practically red and leaking, you almost pout when you think about your poor boyfriend being that hard for so long because of you.

jay seems to not like how long you're taking because he’s immediately taking your hair into his fist and smacking his tip against your lips. you eagerly invite his length into your mouth, using your hands to work whatever you can’t fit. 

he has to hold back from cumming right there. the way your lips wrap around him so well, your throat struggling to take him. this is exactly what got him hard in the first place. jay rocks his hips back and forth, pushing his cock further and further into your mouth.

“yeah- fuck. taking me so well, huh?” jay mutters, biting his lip to contain his grunts. “thought about this exact fucking thing in there. so pretty around my cock.”

his words make you hum in arousal, sending vibrations down his length. jay groans and throws his head back, pushing you further down his cock. the gag that rips from your throat is almost enough to make him empty himself all over your face.

jay continues to practically fuck your mouth. your hands drop to grip his thighs as you let him use your mouth however he pleases. both of his big hands in your hair, forming a messy ponytail tail as he continues to thrust into you roughly.

“fuckfuckfuck! almost there, baby.” he’s almost whimpering, it’s so good. after a few more thrusts, he’s pulling out and cumming, emptying himself onto your cheeks and lips. 

there’s so much cum you have to take him back into your mouth to save yourself from a messy shirt.

jay pants as you ride him through his intense orgasm. needless to say, he’s fucking you again in the car this time.

──────────────────

jake was restless. he was quite literally rolling around on your bed as you ignored him for some stupid fucking book.

“jake, i seriously need to cram this by tonight. then we can hang out!” you promised him.

six fucking hours ago. he groans loudly, loud enough to make you scoff and shake your head.

“why don’t you go play on my pc?” you suggest sweetly, “you love the games i have on there!”

“i dont want to do that.” 

you sigh and shrug your shoulders in response, you already told him countless times that you were busy and he’s the one who chose to stay.

“baby, please just take a break.” he pleads. “there’s no way you’re finishing this by tonight.”

he rolls over on his stomach and grips onto your leg, sporting a dramatic expression. jake was right, there was no way you were finishing any of your work tonight, but that almost gives you more reasons to not take a break. 

“the sooner i finish, the sooner i'll be all yours baby.” you tell him, patting his fluffed up hair down, messy from rolling around.

he groans again, “noo, baby i want you- no i need you now!”

“why are you so antsy right now, jake?” 

jake drops his head into your lap, muffling his voice. “ ‘m so horny.”

“hm?” you hum, not quite hearing him. he only responds by softly kissing your inner thighs, unable to hold back any longer.

he pushes his jean clad cock against your soft mattress as he travels down your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses behind. 

“jake.”

“i said im horny. im so fucking horny and you smell so good.” he repeats, lifting his head to look you in your eyes.

your brain freezes at his words. “i… i’ll be done soon, i promise- just-“

he cuts off your words by pressing a desperate kiss over your clothes cunt, sending shivers down your spine. you can feel yourself getting wet by his needy and desperate actions.

“jake!” you whimper out when he licks a stripe over your pajama shorts. he doesn’t even care that you’re still fully clothed, a piece of flimsy fabric won't stop him.

your boyfriend continues to make out with your cunt through your shorts, shifting to bite and suck at your thighs. “pleaasee.” he lets out a muffled whine.

you’ve already dropped your books and papers beside you, soft whimpers leaving your mouth as your hands find their spot in his long hair. “fuck— jake slow down!”

jake shakes his head, his own hands moving to yank down your sleep shorts. he knew you weren’t wearing panties, and he’s pretty sure that’s what got him so horny in the first place. the amount of times he looked down at your thighs to catch small glimpses of your ass and cute cunt because they were barely covered.

it took so much restraint to not shove his aching cock between your thighs— make you forget all about your boring paperwork.

jake attaches his lips to your clit, sucking and practically making out with it. every now and then he shoves his tongue as deep as he can inside your oozing hole, gathering all your juices on his tongue and slurping.

you can’t tell who's moaning louder, you or him. he’s attacking your cunt with everything he has all while rutting his hips into your mattress, attempting to pleasure himself but he could honestly cum untouched as long as he had your sweet pussy in his mouth.

he’s groaning against your cunt and letting out incoherent curses, “f-fuck.. hmph so- so good.”

your eyes roll to the back of your neck and you can feel the heat pool in your lower stomach.

“jake- gonna cum, please dont fucking stop!” 

jake listens well, continues to suck and lap at your wetness as if its his last fucking meal. you don't even notice his hand leaving your thigh to jerk himself off but when you do— it pushes you immediately over the edge. 

you tremble as you cum all over his mouth, and he only eagerly slurps it up. he doesn’t pull away and until you yank him up by his hair, you stare at his soaked lips, your arousal dripping down his face. 

he lifts himself up to kiss you, feeding you your own cum, his hand comes up to grip your neck as you engage in a desperate kiss.

when he lets go of you to rid himself of his pants, your hand comes up to touch the wetness left on your cheek— it hits you that jake came all over his own hand while eating you out.

there was no way you were letting him out of your sight tonight.

───────────────────

sunghoon was giddy when he found out he could bring a plus one to the prada after party. he literally couldn’t wipe the grin off his face when he told you that you could accompany him.

but now he almost regrets it. 

since you were his plus one, you had gotten a free outfit from the brand. and god was it the best thing he’s ever seen you wear. but also the worst.

this wasn’t his only issue. you were his plus one. so why the fuck were you pretty much attached to jungwon at the hip? why were you ignoring him when he’s the reason you were there?

it’s not like he was angry either, instead he just really really wanted you right there next to him. he was so fucking horny. 

even before you both left the house to head over. he had no idea what the outfit looked like until you put it on and his eyes almost popped out of his head.

sunghoons also not really the type to voice his every thought to you, otherwise you both would’ve skipped the party entirely just to fuck.

well, he wasn't angry. but he can’t help it when the horniness eventually turns into pure sexual frustration. he leans further into the couch as he watches you bounce back and forth from jungwon and heeseung. 

your lonely boyfriend couldn’t even tell if he was jealous, angry or hurt. above all, he just wanted you to sit on his cock for the rest of the night. he understood that you were having fun, some of your other friends in the industry were also invited to this party but he couldn’t help but to feel so left out.

he almost groans as he watches you make your way to yet another one of his members. what about him? he’s here too! his cock twitches beneath his dress pants and he sets his hand with his drink on top of it, hoping it’s not obvious that he’s suffering at this very moment.

“you okay, man?” a voice calls from behind the couch, sunghoon looks up to see jake hovering. “you haven’t moved from that spot in about 40 minutes.”

sunghoon nods and shrugs, “can you tell my girlfriend to meet me over here? i haven’t seen her all night.” he lies through his teeth, he’s literally been watching you all night.

jake tilts his head in confusion, “uh, yeah. i’ll go get her, be right back.”

he taps his finger on his cup as he watches jake whisper in your ear, pointing behind him in his direction. you glance behind jake and sunghoon quickly averts his gaze.

you nod and respond to jake before making your way over to your boyfriend. 

sunghoon quickly downs his drink as he sees you walk towards him, a soft smile on your lips. so now you’re finally paying attention to him?

“what’s wrong, hoonie? jake said you needed me.” 

he nods, setting his drink down and grabbing your wrist instead, “yeah. i do need you, right fucking now.”

you don’t get a chance to question his words before he’s yanking you towards the furthest bathroom in the building. you’re heels almost make it too hard to keep up with him and you’re calling out his name but he’s too occupied on finding any empty bathroom to fuck you in.

sunghoon finally finds one, tugging you into it and slamming the door behind you and clicking the lock.

“what’s wrong, baby?” you ask him again.

“why are you talking to every single one of my members but not me?” 

you blink at him, surely you’ve interacted with him throughout the night. a smile grows on your face when it clicks. “awwe, hoonie! are you jealous?”

sunghoon grips your chin with his hand, “i’m not jealous. you ignored me, there’s a difference.”

“i wasn’t! and i’m here now, right?” 

he rolls his eyes, smushing his body against yours and the door. “baby seriously. need you so bad right now, i had to watch you talk to everyone while i was sitting there so fucking hard.”

your eyes widen slightly, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“god this fucking dress— i’m going insane.” he ignores your question completely, pulling the bottom of your dress up your thighs.

“sunghoon! we can’t- not here!” 

“mm, i don’t care.” sunghoon mutters as he pulls your dress above your hips. “told you i needed you, huh?”

he grips your hips and moves you against the fancy bathroom vanity, turning you around and laying you flat against the counter.

sunghoon ruts his clothed hardon over your own panty clad cunt. “feel it? feel how hard you make me all because a stupid dress?”

“y-yeah, hoonie.”

he sucks in a breath of air and yanks down your flimsy thong before practically ripping the button off his overpriced pants to free his angry cock.

you glance at him in the mirror when he aligns his leaking tip with your wet entrance. no amount of slick and arousal could make taking his size any easier.

“wait- baby i can’t take you like that..!” you pleaded with him.

sunghoon doesn't listen, stuffing you with his length, ripping a gasp from you, forcing you to throw a hand over your mouth to contain any more noises from you.

he wastes no time before beginning to pound into you, your hips slamming against the edge of the vanity with each thrust. you feel every vein against your walls and soon the initial pain turns into pleasure.

your boyfriend’s sloppy and brutal pace tells you just how fucking needy he’s been for the past few hours. sunghoons letting out a string of curses as he continues to abuse your cunt to chase the orgasm he’s been craving for so long.

“god. fuck- so fucking tight.” he groans out. “n-need it so bad.”

you’re biting your own hand to contain the noises that are desperately escaping your mouth, his pace making it impossible for you to stay silent. sunghoons bending over as he continues to fuck into you, gripping your throat as he leaves harsh bites on your shoulder— marks that’d be impossible to cover due to the thin and flimsy straps on your dress.

“shit—“ his movements stutter before hitting his peak, his warm cum filling up your insides but he doesn’t dare stop.

he continues to desperately thrust into you, overstimulating himself because he’s still so stupidly hard. grunts and whimpers are leaving his mouth, muffled by your neck and hair— but his noises only bring you closer to your own peak.

“hoon..! c-cumming, please.” 

even after you cream around his cock, his movements don’t stop. his thrusts are sloppy and his cock is knocking against your cervix, fucking you hard and deep all because he needs to cum again.

sunghoon lets out a loud groan as he finds himself emptying himself once more inside of you. rocking his hips slowly to ride himself through his second intense orgasm, it was almost painful.

he slips out of you with a grunt, his cock still half hard but he decided right there that the both of you would be leaving the party early.

[chobunz]

── “ something new ” ( lhs ) 📌

๑ You and your boyfriend try face riding for the first time ever, his new #favorite position from now on.

pair: jock!heeseung ㅊ thick gf!reader | warnings: smut, dry grinding, face sitting, shaking, spanking, praise, quick death jokes, heeseung admiring you to the core, trying new things, worried reader, thirsty heeseung ftw, use of safe word | words: 918

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“fuck..” heeseung groaned, feeling your core grind on top of his clothed erect. ‘netflix and chill’, yeah it's cliché and all but it gets the sex drive going. the two of you were watching *** (show/movie name) cuddled up in bed together. you finally had the day off and what better way to spend it than with your precious, handsome boyfriend? always 100% a good time. guaranteed.

“mmh.. ‘m so wet baby.” you moaned against his mouth, if anything, after you finished you wanted his lips to be bruised, you wanted everyone to know that he had more than what he needed, you knew your worth. “you make me so wet…”

watching you ride him always struck a line in him. he was always wanting to try new things with you in the bedroom. you two have been through a series of ‘never do agains’ ‘once in a whiles’ and ‘fucking greats’, position wise. though, you were always a riding type of girl, you loved how you could feel every inch of him and even have control of him when you’re on top.

“wan’ you to ride my face this time, princess.” he breathed out as you pull away, gently caressing your skin. his hands travelled the curves of your body, all the way down to the hem of your shorts. tugging them down past your thighs.

you tip off of him to take your shorts off fully, feeling him smack your ass as in indicator to do so. “ride your face ?..�� you questioned. you weren’t really sure how to ride someone’s face as you’ve never tried it before, sitting back down on his waist.

he hummed at your shyness, pulling your bottom up to his chest. “you don’ want to ?” “we don’ gotta...” he lazily spoke, not wanting you to feel pressured at all.

“no, no. i mean.. i’m definitely down. i just don’t wanna kill you..” you couldn’t help but worry, you worried about if he’d be able to breathe properly while you sat on his pretty face.

“no baby, i’d live just to die from this pussy. kill me.” he joked kissing your thigh. “wan’ you to suffocate me..” his eyes found yours biting his lip. his sight dripped from your eyes, to your lips, then your boobs, and all the way down to your wetness. he could feel the heat from your core on his bare skin.

you felt so lucky to have someone who constantly praised and worshipped you. he made you feel like a queen, which he so rightfully believed you were one. maybe even a lost princess, ready to claim the throne as yours.

and let’s not lie, you certainly did find one. which looked something like heeseung’s lap— and his face pretty soon.

๑ ๑ ๑

“heeseu.. heeseung !” your hands tugged at the strands of his hair as he licked your slate clean. you were constantly whining. your moans singing a beautiful song to heeseung’s ears.

everytime you found yourself lifting up from his mouth you felt him forcefully pulling you back down. devouring you like a lion to it’s prey. hearing him groan an ‘uhnuhn’ whenever you’d try and lighten the weight you put on his head.

his tongue entered you from time to time, stroking the side of your walls with perfection. “baby, kiwi..” you cried, patting the top of his head. when the safe word slid out of your mouth he immediately stopped.

“did i do something wrong ?” he rubbed your thighs as you shifted on top of him. the bit of worry leaving him once you hovered back over his thirsty mouth.

“mhm.. jus’ wanted to turn around..” you shakily exhaled, feeling him tighten his grip on your ass before he dove back into you.

“taste so good baby..” his hot breath fanned against your sopping core.

you brushed your fingers along his abdomen, pulling his designer briefs down far enough for his bulge to fling out. your hips rotating at just the sight alone.

“hm, no baby, just relax pretty.” he groaned, nibbling on your bud.

“please, hee..” you pleaded, rubbing his length gently.

“no, sit the fuck up.” he pulled your waist, causing you to lean up straight. a pout adorning your lips.

“but, you’re so hard baby..” “looks so good..” you grinded against his mouth once his tongue found your insides again. moaning at your neediness for him.

you felt yourself shaking just at the feel of him kissing your dewy cunt. it was so sloppy and passionate. he kissed your pussy like he loved it. and he did. he could do it for hours without complaining.

“shit.. gonna come..” you breathlessly whined.

“you’re gonna come, hmm? mama ?” he smirked against you licking through each fold. he didn’t wanna waste a single drop of you.

“yeah..” eyes closing shut at the feeling, ready to burst any minute.

“then do it.” he teased your clit, spelling out his name on the tip of your swollen bud. giggling as he could hear you falling apart above him.

“come for me baby.”

he continued praising you, cheering you on every step of the way. your legs were shaking uncontrollably.

“ugh, i’m coming.. right now..” you struggled to even speak, a last stroke of his tongue making your insides tighten. “fuck !”

your body ‘laxed on his. you were breathing heavier than ever. and even felt slight embarrassment for yourself.

“shit princess, you just squirted..” he caressed your shivering ass; licking his cumstache with a ‘good girl.’

“hmmm...”

ヾ(≧▽≦)o

want to read more ?? click here for a part 2 !!

[rememberwren]

Skin Deep

Tattoo artist!Simon x fem!reader. Reader, looking to expand your horizons, you get your first tattoo from an enigmatic artist deemed “Ghost”. 8.4k. Features: soft!Simon who is bad at people-ing, vaginal sex, lots of nipples, like at least three nipples, poor writing, abrupt transitions, shy and awkward reader. Based on this post.

Sequel here.

-

“I bit the bullet!” you shout over the music, hand cupped around your friend’s ear to be better heard. She shrieks in delight at the sound of your voice, turning to wrap her arms around your waist and pull you close to her swaying body. Many eyes in the club follow her movements. She has always been the wild child to your wallflower, attracting attention wherever she goes.

“You bit what?” she shouts back, her breath like a mint julep. 

“The bullet,” you laugh. “I called that guy you recommended and set up an appointment. For the tattoo I wanted!” 

She stares at you blankly. Her silky little tank top is drooping off of one shoulder, so you reach out and tuck it back into place. The longer she stares, the more nervous you grow. She’d been so encouraging after your last boyfriend dumped you—encouraging you to step outside your comfort zone, to ‘make more mistakes’, to live life more fully. Now she’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head and it’s the one doing the talking. 

“What guy I recommended?” she asks. 

“Kevin!”

“Oh no. No, no, no. Not Kevin. Not Kevin. Why, Kevin?” 

You frown. “You said you went to Kevin.” 

“It wasn’t a recommendation, sweetie, if anything it was to caution you away from him! He’s a creep; there’s a reason why I never went back.” 

You deflate like a balloon, going limp and letting her drag you to the nearby free seats at the bar where you sit heavily. It’s not just the tattoo. It’s the icing on a shitcake of a day. 

A new song seamlessly starts, and the dancers nearby go wild with excitement. Your mood is the antithesis of the event; everyone seems to be having a great time except for you. Story of your life. 

“You conveniently left that out. Ugh. I’ll cancel it. What am I even fucking doing—thank you—” you accept the cup of ice water the bartender slides in front of you with a shy smile, sipping at it and keeping your hand curled over the top of it protectively. “—none of this is like me.” 

Your friend frowns. She steals your drink and sips at it. “You were the one who said you’d always wanted a tattoo. You’re an adult. These are exactly the kinds of decisions you’re old enough to make. Look, fuck Kevin. All my friends hate Kevin. I know another guy, and he’s highly recommended. Let me give you his number. Alright?” 

“Alright,” you sigh. You make a silent promise to yourself though: if it doesn’t work out with this next tattoo artist, then you won’t be getting one at all. You’ll take it as a sign from the universe to get back in your comfort zone and stay there, once and for all. 

-

What kind of a moniker is Ghost? you wonder to yourself as you skim the Instagram of the shop this Ghost owns. The profile picture is one of the building itself, and all of the pictures are of various inked body parts. Beautiful ones, admittedly. But no hint of the mysterious figure who owns the shop. There is a personal instagram linked @GHOST89 but it is private when you try to click on it. 

The phone number your friend gave you rings straight through to voicemail. You let out a shaky breath. Fuck, you hate voicemail. Talking to people was difficult enough; talking to people’s disembodied machines was even worse somehow. It isn’t until you’ve hung up after leaving your message that you realize you forgot to tell him your fucking name (genius!). Groaning, you contemplate dialing him back when the phone in your hand rings—and it’s him. 

“Hello?” 

“I’m free Wednesdays for consultations,” says a baritone voice from the other end of the line. 

Nice to talk to you too, you think dryly. Maybe this guy is as bad at the phone as you are. “I work Wednesdays. Are you free in the evenings?” 

He sighs, like this is going to be very strenuous for him. 

“Name a time. I’ll pencil you in. Half is due at the end of the consultation upon booking an appointment. Cash only,” he says. 

Jesus Christ, could he be anymore abrupt? While a tiny part of you is grateful that he isn’t trying to make small talk, a larger part is terrified that you’ve already made an impression so foul that it’s incurred his wrath. What other reason could he have for being so stilted? 

“Alright,” you answer cautiously. “How’s five?” 

“Five. Don’t be late.” 

He hangs up on you, leaving you wondering why every step outside your comfort zone must be so bloody far.

-

You arrive early to the consultation, only to find that the building itself—a tidy little brick two-floor, adorned with a sign that dubbed it SKIN DEEP tattoos & artisan piercings, which you recognize from Instagram—is locked. A note written in neat handwriting taped to the door declares NO WALK INS. Your palms are sweaty. You wipe them on your work slacks, but it doesn’t help. How are you supposed to get in? 

All at once a shadow appears on the other side of the door. The shadow is enormous: well above six feet tall, and broad shouldered. A black surgical mask is tucked up over his mouth and nose, which only adds to his intimidating aura. Judging by the impressive sleeve of tattoos he has, you imagine that this is the guy. 

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. And Ghost. 

Dark brown eyes stare down at you when he opens the door, cocking a hip against the frame, staring at you. Waiting. 

Waiting for you to explain your presence, you realize. 

“I have a consultation,” you blurt out. “At…five?”

He opens the door wider to let you pass without a word. He’s so broad that you can smell him as you pass him: clean and masculine. The inside of the tattoo shop is bigger than it looks on the outside. There is a reception area with a desk and a computer and printer. The glossy wooden floors are polished to shine, leading to an open floor plan. There is a small sitting area with armchairs, a wide sofa, and a table on which rests two bottles of water, a notebook, and a steaming mug of liquid.

“Sit,” he says, his voice the same deep rumble you recognize from the phone. He chooses the chair beside the mug. His body is so goddamn long, his legs lean and thick all at once where he stretches them out in front of him. He reaches for the mug and takes a sip—of tea, judging by the smell. “Name?”

You tell him, perching yourself anxiously on the other chair. He glances up at you, eyes raking over your posture. Suddenly he tugs the mask down to rest beneath his chin, revealing a full, pale mouth. A straight, noble nose. A pink scar stretches across his lips and up towards his cheek. 

“The water is for you,” he says. 

“Oh!” You reach forward and take one bottle, breaking the seal. “Thank you.”

“This is your first tattoo.” 

“What gave me away?” you ask with a weak laugh. 

He doesn’t laugh. “Everything. Is someone putting you up to this? This smells like Soap.” 

“What? No, of course not. I want this, I’m just, I’m an anxious personality. I promise.” You hesitate and then add: “I probably smell like soap because I showered this morning.” 

His mouth twitches. He leans back in his seat and sucks on his teeth, and you get the distinct feeling that he is trying very hard not to laugh at you. Why had you mentioned to him that you showered? What was wrong with you? Just as you’re comprising a list of things, he picks up the pencil and the notebook, opening to a fresh page.

 He asks what you want and God, that’s a harder question. 

You do your best to express your idea, but your words feel halting and silly. His pencil scratches rapidly at the paper as he listens in total silence—pausing only once, when you say that you want this to be a sternum piece. Only then does his pencil seem to hover over the paper, his dark eyes seeking you out and pinning you in place on the armchair. 

He reaches for his tea to take a generous sip and then continues writing. 

He asks a few pointed, concise questions (and you’re just thrilled he was actually listening), following your answers up with more scribbling in his notebook. At length, he shuts the book. 

“I think I see the vision. Give me thirty to sketch something and we’ll see if you want to book an appointment. Something this size, on your sternum could take more than one session, depending on how well you sit. How do you take pain?” 

“I mean, it hurts?” you offer. 

He stares. “Two sessions. Let me sketch something. Drink your water.” 

You think that maybe he’ll move to another room to sketch, but he just flips to a clean page and begins to work right there (drawing the mask up over his nose and mouth again). With nothing else to do, you can’t help but watch him. 

He’s handsome, in an odd sort of way. His brow is a little too low, his gaze a little too intimidating to be considered conventionally attractive, but you find him fascinating to look at, especially when he is so clearly in the throes of something he enjoys doing. It’s almost like watching someone have sex. The thought makes your face go warm. You pick up your phone, determined not to look at him again. 

“Here.” 

You glance up from your mindless scrolling. What he shows you is a beautiful rendition of what you had expressed wanting. There are a few key differences, and he patiently explains why he made the decisions he did. He didn’t make the changes because he thought your idea was stupid. He made them so the image would better fit the contours of your body. He made them because the ink will spread over time, and he wants the look to stay clean. 

His thoughtfulness touches you. 

“I love it. I want it,” you say, enthusiasm getting the better of you. 

“This is just a first sketch,” he says dryly, making that warmth return to your face. “I’ll text you a few variations this week, and we can nail down the final piece. You want to book?” 

“Yes,” you say, nearly buzzing. “I really want to book.”

He’s expensive—but judging by the book of his artwork that is available for you to flip through at the front desk while he quotes you a price and writes you up a receipt, he is more than worth the money. Fuck, he’s got skill. You thought that maybe his art style was too dark for what you wanted, but you found that he was able to adapt styles nicely. You just hoped this tattoo wouldn’t bore him to death. 

“Thanks again for meeting with me,” you say as he sees you out. “I’ll be waiting for your text.” 

“You’ll get it.” He glances past you out the window. It’s dark. “Did you walk?” 

“No, my car is just there.”

“I’ll wait.” 

And he does. His figure darkens the doorway until you have shut your car and locked the doors, temporary insanity making you give him a short wave. He raises two fingers and then disappears. 

-

You didn’t tell me this guy was cute, you text to your friend. 

GHOST? Cute? I’ve never even seen his face lol. He’s always wearing one of his masks. 

You chew over this information. Yes he’d been wearing a mask, but he’d lowered it for you. Did that mean something? Did it mean something that you wanted it to mean something?  

Masks are cute, you say. 

Fuck the tattoo artist!!!! she says. Maybe he’ll ink you for free. 

You’re terrible. 

You’re…thinking about it. 

-

Two days later, you squint blearily into the darkness at your phone after it vibrates on your nightstand. The time reads twelve past one in the morning. It’s from GHOST. 

The two images he sends are beautiful; enough to rouse you straight from sleep into wakefulness. 

I love them both, you tell him. But the second one is amazing. I think that’s the one. 

Keep your appointment. Ten minutes later (after you have already fallen back to sleep) he sends: wear something appropriate.  

And fuck, you didn’t even think of that. 

-

“You’re being ridiculous,” you mutter to yourself in the mirror, turning sideways to assess yourself. On the bed behind you are a series of button up shirts, all of which you have tried on at one point or another. 

“You are,” your friend agrees from where she lounges on your bed, scrolling on her phone. “Your tits are cute. Let Ghost see them.” 

The look you give her is the one the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ was modeled after, surely. She doesn’t even see it, so the effect is lost entirely. You turn your gaze back to the silicone nipple adhesive covers again, still stuck to their adhesive backing. You’ve already used one set of the pack of three, and they covered your nipple and areolas nicely, but still left you feeling so exposed. 

“Be glad you’re not going to creepy Kevin anymore,” your friend says.

“Very glad of it.” 

You felt reasonably safe with Ghost, but still a degree of embarrassment about your own body. Or perhaps that was too strong a word—it didn’t embarrass you, but it felt private. Baring your breasts to a near stranger (especially one you had a grudging attraction to) made your anxiety reach epic level proportions. 

“You should text him about it, see if he has any advice for you. He’s been doing this for years. I’m sure he’s seen it all,” she says—the first good idea she’s had all night, miles ahead of ‘Just let Ghost see your cute tits’. 

That night, you take her advice and text him, hoping you aren’t overstepping some weird artist-client boundary. 

I’m a little nervous.

You can cancel, is all he says. I’ll refund your money.

It’s not that. 

What is it? 

Not really accustomed to the nakedness tbh. There. You said it. Let him think you some prim priss; it was true. 

But all he said back was: how can I help?  

I don’t know, you admit. Then; sorry. I’m probably bothering you with this while you’re working. 

I’m not working. Five minutes later, when it seems as if you aren’t going to message back: I keep the shop closed to the public. One customer at a time: you. I’ll let my piercer know I’m with a client and not to walk in. I’ll keep you covered every moment I can. Better? 

Relief, warm and sweet curling low in your belly, you let him know: much better. 

-

You bring the pasties anyway. 

-

The day of your appointment, you are so nervous you are shaking. Now you know the truth behind the phrase ‘knees knocking together’, as you stand outside SKIN DEEP waiting for Ghost’s hulking figure to appear on the other side of the glass. 

When it does, he’s like a little punch to the gut. That black surgical mask is in place—typical for him, if your friend’s words are to be trusted—but his blond hair, cropped short to his scalp is riotous in a way that is adorably charming, like he hasn’t been able to keep his hands out of it. His black t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, and his jeans fit him nicely around his thick thighs. 

You’re horrified to find that your attraction to him has grown. Exponentially. Your friend’s words echo in your mind—fuck the tattoo artist, maybe he’ll ink you for free. 

“Hi,” you squeak. 

Ghost raises both his brows. He opens the door wider for you to slip past him. Fuck he still smells good.

“I’m still nervous,” you blurt out, hoping that speaking the truth out loud will help you feel better. It doesn’t. 

“That’s normal. You can back out at any time, but the earlier the better. Come look at the image and tell me if it’s still what you want.”

It’s exactly what you want, and more. 

“It’s perfect. You’re very talented.” 

He huffs a little, like you shouldn’t have said such a thing. 

The chair is a great leather contraption which reclines comfortably once he’s gotten you in it (after making you use the restroom first, during which you took the time to splash water on your burning face and double check that your pasties were in place covering all the cutest bits according to your friend). Simon moves around you, making preparations with the ease of someone who has done this work for many years. 

You fight the arousal that blooms in your belly at the sight of him doing such benign things as washing his hands, putting on gloves, opening fresh needles, preparing little wells of ink and sticking them to the movable cart with Vaseline. There’s just something about a person who knows exactly what they’re doing and who is able to do it with efficacy.

“Ready?” he asks at length. 

You nod, hoping your nerves don’t show on your face. Steeling yourself, you unbutton the shirt you’re wearing. His eyes follow your hands, but there is a detached, clinical sort of expression in them. He’s not watching a strip tease, he’s looking at a canvas. 

Finally, you sit in front of him in only the pasties, the shirt lax around your shoulders, and your sweatpants, socked toes curling in anxiety in your shoes. Without missing a beat, he leans the chair all the way back. Then he opens a fresh disposable razor and shaves you. 

“Am I hairy?” you ask, resting your hands oh-so-casually over your breasts to keep them out of his way. 

“Yes,” he says. Then his eyes flicker to yours. “Everyone is. Everywhere. It’s normal.”

“I’m just teasing you.” 

“Didn’t think you had the breath in your body left to tease me,” he mutters, voice nearly lost behind his mask as he carefully works the razor across your skin removing the baby-fine hairs from beneath your breasts and across your sternum. “You’re nervous, I mean.” 

“Would you take the mask off?” you ask on a whim. It had helped last time, to see his face. 

“No,” he says. He adds: “Sorry. It’s more sanitary f’you if I keep it on.” 

You get the feeling that he really is sorry—and that’s well enough. Some of the anxiety in your belly fades away. He would take it off if he could. The most anxious part of the process (baring yourself to a stranger) has already passed. Maybe now you can begin to relax. 

After cleaning your skin, he carefully lays the stencil and has you stand up to look at it in the mirror and make sure the placement is correct and holy fucking shit. It’s sexy. You’ve always been attracted to tattoos, and fancied the idea of getting one on your sternum for far longer than you’d ever admitted to anyone, but seeing it come to life gives you a rush you hadn’t expected. You feel so…badass. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Very good,” you answer, sitting back down, hoping he ignores the way your breasts bounce a little as you do. He leans you back again and this time breaks out the needle gun.

But before he uses it on you, he carefully takes a clean towel and lays it over your left breast, covering the parts of you that are not nearest to his eyes. His gentleness and thoughtfulness go straight to your cunt. 

“Thank you,” you say softly. 

He just nods. The gun buzzes to life. “I’ll make a line and see how you feel. Last chance to back out without any souvenirs.” 

“I’m not backing out.” 

He clicks his tongue as if to say, It’s your funeral. Then he lays his hand on your sternum above your breasts, pinning you in place, and makes a gentle line. 

It burns more than you expected it to. There’s a sandpaper quality to it, almost like the rasping of a cat’s tongue. The pain is sharp and bright, but it isn’t overwhelming. In fact…a strange part of you sort of enjoys it. Maybe it’s the rush of endorphins. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Good,” you squeak. 

You hear his quiet laugh, no more than an exhale of breath.

“Let me know when you need to break.” 

You don’t know how you feel about the way he phrases that: when you need to break. He adjusts his mask a little, leans over you, and gets to work. Sometimes the needles pass over a place that is more sensitive than the others, making you flinch. He pauses when this happens, eyes flickering up to your own, making sure you are alright even though he can likely feel the pounding of your heart beneath his hand. That hand on your chest, wrist just brushing the top of your breast, is a solid warm weight that seems to tether you back down to the earth as he lines you. He is very careful not to brush against your breast when he wipes away the excess ink and traces of blood, but you feel hyper-attuned to how easy it would be for him if he wanted to. How huge his hand is compared to your tit. Beneath the pasties, your nipples ache with tension, a tension that is mirrored between your legs. 

“Alright. Break,” he says, abruptly turning the gun off. He covers your exposed breast with another towel. “Take ten.”

He disposes of his gloves and disappears behind a curtain in the back, leaving you throbbing between the legs. Worming your phone free from your pocket, you scroll aimlessly, hoping to calm your raging hormones. He returns right at the ten minute mark, just as his cellphone rings. He glances toward where it rests on the table, but makes no move to answer it. 

“Do you need to get that?” you ask, offering him an out.

“No,” he says. “I make everyone leave a message. Weeds out the cowards.”

It had almost weeded out you, you think about telling him, but in the end you decide against it. He gloves back up. 

“Good for more?”

And so it repeats. 

At one point, he runs into a patch of sensitive skin on your ribs just overlaying the bone. It has you sucking in a breath through your teeth, eyes squeezing shut. It’s too late to turn back now you tell yourself; the only way out is through. 

His thumb gently strokes your sternum. 

“It’s rough. You can take it,” he says, quiet and focused. The buzzing of the gun never ceases as he tries to make his work as quick as possible, his words a little distant and distracted. “Just keep breathing. That’s it. Good girl.”

Jesus. Did he not have any idea what those words could do to a girl? A groan escapes your lips, and he clearly mistakes it for pain, because his thumb strokes again the soft skin over your heart, just above the curve of your breast. 

“You can do it. Just a little longer for me, and we’ll break.”

“Hurts,” you breathe, flinching again. 

He hushes you, surprisingly tender. 

“This is the worst of it.” This time, his thumb does brush the edge of your breast, making you suck in a gasp. He recoils, hand lifting away from you and curling into a fist. He rests that against you instead, taking away any further hope that he might brush his fingertips against you. You make it through the rough patch with tears in your eyes but no worse for wear.  

“Break. Ten minutes,” he says again, already shredding his gloves and moving to disappear behind the curtain. 

You call out: “Hey, wait—I’d rather just get through it in one go if I can. If this really is the worst of it.” 

“I need breaks too,” he says stonily.

You duck your head, feeling silly. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He vanishes again. 

He is late to return to you. Only by five minutes or so, but noticeably for a man so usually punctual and so demanding of punctuality in you. His face is stoic—what bits of it you can see from behind the mask—as he washes his hands thoroughly and preps his work station again. 

This time his hand keeps a very respectable distance from your breasts—a fact which you both lament and appreciate all in one. He works with single-minded efficiency, giving you his entire focus. You break once more, but this time he breaks in the room with you, stretching out his back and neck (giving you a generous glimpse of his belly when his shirt rides up, exposing cut abs and a happy trail you’d give your life to follow). 

“I think we could do this in one sitting, if you have nowhere else to be,” he mutters at length. 

“Eager to be done?” you wonder. 

He stares at you, expression flat, and says nothing. Nothing needs to be said. 

“I don’t have anywhere to be,” you murmur, staring up at the bright adjustable light that he has positioned over you. You hope he mistakes that for the reason behind any mistiness in your eyes, his rudeness cutting you deeply. 

So the two of you push through later into the evening, until you are sweating at your temples and the base of your neck from the continuous pain for so long. At last he lays the last gradient for the shading, sprays you down, and wipes you clean so very gently. 

“Go take a look. I’m going to cover it up.” 

It’s beautiful. Stunning, even. You let your shirt gape closed and cover the pasties, revealing a broad glimpse of the sternum tattoo, and it is the sexiest you have ever felt. It almost makes your eyes burn anew.

“I love it,” you choke out. “Thank you.”

“Can I take a picture of it?” he asks. “For Instagram.” 

“Sure!” It will feel a little like being famous, you think, judging by how much notice each of the photos on his Instagram garners. He crouches down on the floor to be at the perfect height, reaches out and gently adjusts your shirt. Parts of the tattoo are covered—the very far edges—but you can’t deny how sexy it is. Maybe he feels the same way. 

After he takes the photo, he posts it and asks for your handle to tag you in it. Then he says: “Let me cover it up. Keep it covered overnight, but tomorrow let it breathe. Keep it clean. Don’t do anything stupid to it. Understand?” 

“I understand.”

“And if you have any questions—text me.” 

-

You get home to find that Ghost’s personal account has requested to follow you. Thrumming with nerves and excitement, you accept the request and send one of your own, spending the night scrolling through his Instagram (so, so carefully to avoid any incidental ‘likes’). Plenty of the photos are of his artwork, still. But there are ones of his dog: a German Shepherd that is thankfully much more photogenic than her surly owner. There are three or four photos featuring Ghost himself, and only one has his full face in the picture. You find yourself staring at his fixated expression for longer than is respectable. 

-

Three days later when you find yourself panicking, you don’t text him like he asked you to. You call. 

Your skin is peeling off. Peeling. Off. The sight of it makes your stomach roll. The entire tattoo is hot to the touch, and the skin around it feels warm as well. Flushed. Is it supposed to hurt this much? 

The internet doesn’t help. The peeling is normal, sure. But everything else is suggesting that your tattoo could be infected. What sort of ink did Ghost use? Was it reputable? What if the infection reaches your bloodstream? You were too young to die! Your anxiety spirals like a plane with one wing, trailing smoke as it soars straight down, determined to take you with it.   

With shaking hands, you don’t even think about texting Ghost. You go straight to calling him, tapping his number in your phone and pressing it to your ear, listening to the ring. 

He’s going to send you to voicemail, just like he does to everyone else—except he doesn’t. All the sudden there is glorious feedback from the other end: a cacophony of voices and laughter, clearly some sort of gathering. 

“Yes?” Ghost says into the phone, as if that’s a decent hello. 

“There’s something wrong with my tattoo!” you cry. 

“Wait—get out of my goddamn way.” There is rustling, and then the noise decreases substantially. You can almost see him standing outside whatever bar his friends have brought him to, mask down around his chin, hand over his other ear as he strains to listen to you. “Say it again. Now I can fucking hear you.”

“There’s. Something. Wrong,” you say through your teeth. “With my tattoo!”

“Well? What is it?”

“It’s falling off, for one!”

He snorts. “That’s normal. That's why you called?” 

“It’s all swollen and hot. And it hurts.” 

Now that shuts him up. He sighs a little, switches the phone from one ear to the other. “Hurts how bad?”

“Worse than getting it.” 

“Fuck me. Alright. Meet me at the shop in…twenty?” 

“Twenty minutes from now?” 

“From when else?” He hangs up. Man doesn’t know the meaning of the word goodbye. 

-

The night is cool. You don’t bother with a bra, not when it irritates your tattoo so much. Pulling your jacket closed more tightly around yourself, you walk from your parking spot along the street to the tattoo shop. 

Ghost stands outside at the curb. His figure is unmistakable. He is smoking, mask down, the lit end of his cigarette a burning ember that flares bright in the darkness. When he sees you coming, he crushes the cigarette beneath his boot and opens the door to the shop, which is still and dark. He flicks on a light switch as he goes, casting the place in a warm glow. 

He’s dressed in his usual dark jeans and an obscenely tight t-shirt, his sleeve of tattoos on display. He leaves the mask down. His eyes are on your tits—or resting where your tattoo is beneath your clothes. 

“Well. Sit. Show me.”

You sit in one of the armchairs, your shoulders rising in defensiveness. “What, just flash you?”

“Nothing I’ve never seen before.” 

Gritting your teeth, you begin unbuttoning your shirt until it gapes open. You cup your breasts with your hands, maintaining your modesty while putting the tattoo on full display. He narrows his eyes, leaning down. His fingers reach out, but then he thinks twice and washes his hands. 

“I was smoking,” he says when you roll your eyes in exasperation. 

“You’re worried about getting the chemicals on my skin but not in your lungs?”

“Fuck my lungs,” he mutters. His fingers hover over your tattoo. “Can I?”

You nod. His fingers are cool when they gently prod and ghost along the edges of the tattoo, feeling for the signature warmth of an infection. “Any fever?” he asks. 

“Not that I’ve noticed.” 

“You feel warm, but I’ve felt warmer. I don’t think it’s infected. Have you tried icing it?”

“No,” you admit. 

“Ice will help. Just use something clean, for fuck’s sake.” As he speaks, his breath fans across your chest, making you shiver. He sees this, his eyes darkening. “When you called, I thought it was for me.”

“It was for you,” you say, brow furrowing. “Who else?”

He snorts, lips quirking. It tugs on the scar across his lips. “Forget it.” 

“Forget what?” 

“Talking about it goes against forgetting it.”

You groan, tossing up your hands. “You’re impossible.” 

He reaches out and jerks your shirt closed, hastily doing up a button. Your face burns as you do up the rest of the buttons—you end up having to backtrack and redo them because he was off by one. 

“Thank you for meeting me. I’m sorry it was for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” he says. “And I wasn’t doing much.”

“You were with friends,” you insist.

His eyes narrow. “Who told you that?” 

“I saw it on your Instagram tonight.” 

“Nosey.” 

“I could buy you a drink sometime,” you offer after a lengthy pause, your heart pounding loud enough to fill the silence between you. Are you really doing this? Are you really asking him out?  “Make up for the ones I lost you tonight.” 

“Maybe.”

God, it’s like he’s not getting it. Maybe you need to be bolder. Fortune favors the bold, doesn’t it? Your hands are shaking when they fall back to the buttons on your shirt. 

“Would you take one more look at my tattoo? Just to be…positive?”

He sighs and makes an impatient hand gesture. Your fingers fumble through the buttons again. You don’t cover yourself with your hands this time; just keep the halves of your shirt over your nipples. He dutifully exams the tattoo again, prodding gently, laying the flat of his fingers against it to feel the warmth it lets off. 

“Maybe you should look closer.” 

His eyes flicker up to yours. “Closer.”

Your mouth is dry. “Yeah.”

“Can’t get much closer than I am.” 

“You could—if you wanted to.” 

“If I—“ it hits him then. You can see it in the fractional widening of his eyes, the way his mouth parts softly in blatant surprise before he shuts it, dark eyes returning to your sternum. He says: “Closer.”

“Mhm.”

The back of his hand brushes against your breast, causing your breath to hitch. His thumb traces softly along the outline of the tattoo, following the path just beneath your shirt, nudging the fabric aside slowly, so slowly, until your breast is bare, nipple puckered and aching. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. His eyes flicker to yours as if to see if you really want this—and whatever he sees must reassure him, because then he is sweeping his fingertips along the bottom curve of your breast and taking it into his hand, his palm rasping gently over your nipple. All the breath rushes out of you. Your thighs clench together. Already you’re aching—have been since you saw his mouth around that cigarette on the street—but he moves with determined caution. His thumb finds your nipple and teases it, pulling a desperate little sound from the back of your throat. 

“Pretty little tits,” he says, his voice a warm, smoky rumble that goes straight to your core. He captures your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching softly. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand reaching out to brace yourself against his shoulder. He is solid and firm beneath your touch, unmoving and unmalleable. Your breasts have always been sensitive, but it feels like every touch is directly related to the feelings in your cunt. You find your back arching, hips searching for friction against the seat of the chair. 

“Be still,” he says firmly. Another pitiful sound slips past your throat. “Let me play with you.” 

“Please,” you gasp. “Play with me—even if that’s all you want—just don’t stop, please.” 

His mouth parts as he listens to you, his eyes so, so dark. The pupils have nearly swallowed his irises whole, until you can see yourself bare from the waist up in the reflection. He shakes his head a little. “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“I do. I—“ your words are cut off with a gasp as he hauls you out of the chair by your wrist and onto his lap. He’s so thick thighed that it stretches you obscenely to have him between your legs. His hands tear the button-up off your shoulders and down your arms until it flutters to the floor, leaving you half naked. Dipping his head, he presses a heated kiss to the place on your sternum where he had rested his hand during the tattoo—and then trails wet kisses towards your left breast, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking with a decided softness. 

You let out an unflattering, choked groan, resting your weight heavily against him until you can feel the prominent bulge in his tight jeans. His hands find your ass and grip you tightly, working you back and forth, rubbing that bulge against your clothed sex. 

“Driving me fucking crazy,” he mutters against your skin, opening his mouth to drag the sharp line of his teeth against the curve of one breast before switching to the other and flicking his tongue over your nipple. 

You gape at his admission. Had you been? He’d been so closed off and cool…though now that you thought back, maybe that was just his way of hiding it. Suddenly he grips the back of your neck, where your hairline ends, and pulls you to his mouth. He tastes faintly of smoke, even fainter of the drinks he had had earlier in the night, but it is an intoxicating mixture. Your tongues find a rhythm as your hips do the same, both of you fucking in every sense of the word except the literal kind. 

He takes one of your thighs and wedges it between his own, until you’re no longer grinding against his cock but instead his denim-clad thigh. “You the kind of girl who can cum like this? Just from this?” 

“Uh-huh,” you promise, head bobbing. 

He buries his face in your neck. “Good. I won’t last when I’ve got my cock in you. I’d like you to cum at least once before then.”

“Oh god,” you groan, gripping his shoulders fiercely as you begin a halting, stilted rhythm against his thigh. The denim is rough against your leggings. He feels all around you: his scent, his taste, his touch. When his hands find your hips to help you work yourself against him more smoothly, a sigh of gratitude fans from your lips. 

“What else do you need?” he asks. 

“My—touch me—“ He abandons your hips once you find a suitable rhythm. He finds your nipples again, teasing them with clever fingers. The stimulation has your peak approaching faster, building like a storm in your lower belly. 

Ghost leans back to look at you, eyes trailing over you from head to toe: your face burning with warmth, your breasts with peaked little nipples, your leggings nearly soaked through at the crotch with how wet you are. He shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. 

“Fucking perfect.” You bury your face in his neck, feeling a warmth inside your chest. He grips you by the neck again and tugs you back. “Look at me. Look at me.” 

You look at him for as long as you can, but when the band in your belly finally snaps, your eyes roll up and slip shut, your mouth drops open in a choked gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as you shudder and shake in the throes of your pleasure. 

He leans down to kiss you through it, tongue teasing at your slack mouth. 

When he stands, he takes you with him, hauling you up until you wrap your shaking legs around his waist. It’s probably a good thing too. You aren’t sure you could walk otherwise. He carries you the few steps to the couch and lays you down, curling his fingers in the waistband of your leggings. You nod. He strips them off you, along with your flats, and your panties until you are naked as the day you were born.

Your thighs clamp together shyly. He lets them, reaching behind himself to pull his shirt off. Something catches your eye in the streetlights streaming in through the window: Ghost has one of his nipples pierced, a neat little barbell through the sensitive flesh. 

Fingers enter your vision—your own—reaching out on instinct. You hesitate, unsure if he is receptive, and a little afraid to hurt him. He’s so bloody tall, too…but he takes care of that himself by kneeling down by your side, his eyes cautious. Closer, you can see the scars: silvery in the moonlight, crisscrossing over his torso. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask, softly stroking your fingers beneath the pale pink skin of his areola. 

“No,” he says. You can feel the timber of his warm voice vibrating through his chest, up your fingers, straight to your pussy. “You can play with it.”

You shyly run your thumb over it the way he had yours. He sighs, breath fanning across your arm. His eyes go heavy-lidded, tongue flashing as he wets his lips. After a moment, you grow insecure and move your hands away from his nipple down to a scar that crosses his sternum. He lets you, very patient, like a dangerous creature withholding its bite. 

“You’re so—“ the words are whispered dreamily before you have any idea how you plan to finish the sentence. Flushing with embarrassed heat under his wary stare, you finish: “—hot.” 

He physically turns away, expression inscrutable. You can’t help but feel like you have said the wrong thing. He puts a hand on your belly, stroking the softness. “You broken, or can you take more?” 

“I want more.”

“Want my cock?” 

You nod, feeling like a bobble head. 

“I want to hear you say it.” 

“I want your cock.”

His hand reaches for his belt, unbuckling it. Your eyes track the movement with hungry nerves. His hands put butterflies in your belly: thick palms with long, slender fingers, veins criss-crossing along the backs. An artist’s hands. He works his belt free with nimble grace and shucks down his jeans and underwear in one smooth movement, revealing his cock to your gaze and the light from the street lamps. 

He is huge here to match. Downright intimidating in length and girth, uncut with a nice curve toward his belly. He grips himself and gives a series of smooth strokes, the muscles in his abdomen flexing into sharp relief. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter. 

“No gods here,” he says, kneeling up on the couch. His hands part your thighs, and for a long time he just looks at you, that sensitive, swollen place between your legs. He stares so long that you nearly cover your face, embarrassed by whatever he is thinking. Then he touches you, and when he does, he touches you with surprising reverence. He touches you like you are art. 

“Can’t believe you let me ink you,” he mutters, stroking your vulva with his warm palm. His eyes are on the sternum piece now. “Practically let me carve my name into your skin. Anybody around here who sees it will know who did it. They’ll know who touched you.” 

“Good,” you breathe. 

His sigh is shaky. You’re learning his reactions, his very breaths. That shaky sigh means he’s pleased with you. You’ve said something right. 

He reaches down to his jeans on the floor and works a hand into his pocket, pulling free a condom. He hands it to you—for inspection, you realize, though you’ve had so few one night stands (try zero) that you’ve never had the need to inspect a condom before. The package is intact at least. There appears to be an expiration date which you squint at. All looks well. You hand it back to him and he tears it open, rolling it down his considerable length. 

Then he goes back to touching you. One hand braces himself against the back of the sofa so he can lean down to kiss you, tasting your mouth deeply. The other hand finds your entrance, circling it with a finger before slipping inside you all the way to the last knuckle. You are wet enough and relaxed enough that he slips in easily. 

“Relax…there you go. Let me in,” he says under his breath, working a second finger in beside the first. It is a bit of a stretch—he’s thick everywhere goddamn it—but it’s a good stretch, a much needed one. The third finger has you stiffening, whining at the pinch of pain. He slows his fingers and lets his thumb find your clit, muting the pain with little jolts of pleasure. 

“Ghost,” you groan, toes curling against the leather of the couch.

“I think you can take it,” he says, thumb so soft and insistent against that aching pearl of nerves. “But what do you think?” 

“Your cock—want it—please—“

“Alright,” he laughs, pulling his fingers free and wiping the wetness on his cock. “No need to beg.” 

He notches his cock against your entrance and slips inside you. Both of you inhale together, like on cue. Just the first few inches have you feeling full beyond your comfort zone, but he seems to understand in his silent, all-knowing way. He stills, working that free hand between you both to play with your clit until you’re clenching around him, body trying to pull him deeper. He slips further in and then reaches the end of what your body can take. You feel fucking stuffed, your hands shaking where you have gripped his naked shoulders, nails digging into his skin. 

His own breathing is ragged, pecs brushing your nipples with every inhale. The little bursts of pleasure help, until you find that your hips have grown restless, working back and forth as much as his substantial weight will allow when you’re pinned beneath it. 

“Stay still,” he mutters into the juncture of your neck. “Stay still or I’ll cum and this is all over.”

“Can’t,” you gasp, his revelation electrifying you. “Have to move, ‘m so full—“

“Fucking hell,” he groans. He pulls out, leaving you feeling gaped. “Roll onto your side.” 

He gives you instruction but isn’t shy about reaching out and physically arranging you until you are both spooning, your back to his chest. This time when he enters you, it is more shallow, and easier for him to reach around and play with your clit. 

You arch your back, seeking more of him, pressing your breast into his free palm. He plucks at the nipple, teeth nibbling at your throat. 

“Want you to cum again,” he says, stilling your movements so that you can’t fuck your self back against him. “Give me one more. Then it’s my turn.”

“Ghost—I can’t—“ you’ve never cum twice before. Not even with your favorite toys have you been able to scrounge together more than one illustrious orgasm. This knowledge and your expectation of his disappointment has you stiffening in his arms. 

“If you can’t, then don’t,” he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He keeps his fingers soft and insistent against you, and only after a few lengthy moments does he feel confident enough to work his hips against you too. He pulls out too far and his length drags across your labia, the head brushing where his fingers play with your clit. 

You give a sighing little moan. His head cocks; you aren’t the only one listening to sighs. Now when he gives those lazy, lackadaisical thrusts, his entire length just strokes the outside of your sex. 

“Oh fuck,” you whine, feeling that band in your belly begin pulling tight again. 

He hums behind you, a smug sound. 

“Not sure I want you to cum now,” he says. “Hold it. I’m thinking it over.” 

“Ghost!”

He laughs, honest to God laughs at you. Tears prick your eyes from the sheer need (and a bit from embarrassment) but his hips never cease nor slow their tireless thrusts against you, not even when you grow close enough to beg, close enough to plead. 

He loops his arm around your waist and pins you against him when you cum to keep you from rolling right off the couch, your body wracked with shivers and spasms. The warmth of your release washes over you from head to toe, and you are still basking in it when his cock finds your entrance again and enters you. 

The position keeps the penetration blissfully shallow (otherwise he might give your cervix a painful beating), but he still reaches new lengths inside you, filling spaces you didn’t know were empty. The shop is eerily quiet except for the sound of his hips snapping against your ass and the frequent breathy sounds his cock punches out of your lungs. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck and lets out a series of sounds that are toe-curling: deep groans and raspy curses, whispered praise and hisses through his teeth. His hand grips your hip tightly, leaving shadows the shape of his fingerprints on your skin as he fucks you. 

Sooner than you’d like—but he’d warned you, hadn’t he?—his thrusts grow sloppy, the sounds messy thanks to your wetness as he finds his release and moans it into the skin of your throat. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. And again: “Fuck, fuck. You broken?” 

“Yes.” 

He snorts. Then it turns into that laughter, warm and rumbling against your back. You smile where he can’t see. 

-

“Sorry about this,” he says as he ties the condom off and throws it away, naked as the day he was born. You’re still naked too, though much more shy, legs crossed demurely and arms wrapped around yourself. 

“Regretting it already?” 

“Yes,” he says. Then, when he sees the stricken look on your face, he adds: “Should have at least taken you to dinner first.” 

“Dinner?”

“You owe me drinks. I owe you dinner.” He finds his boxers in the darkness and slips back into them. Then, because the expression on your face still hasn’t relaxed, he says: “I don’t regret the sex. Do you?”

You shake your head. 

He scoffs a little. 

“I mean it,” you insist. You touch your tattoo. “I wanted it…the day you did—this.” 

He raises both brows at you, silently calling your bluff.

“I didn’t think you were interested,” you admitted sheepishly. 

“I jerked off in the back just from seeing half your tits,” he admits, slipping into his jeans now too. His mouth curls a little at the corner when he sees the way you gape at this news. “I was interested.” 

You laugh; you can’t help it. “Dinner, then? Or drinks?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “Alright. Get dressed.”

[flwrstqr]

★ ENHYPEN WHEN YOU GET IN A DATING RUMOR WITH OTHER IDOL.

────𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬, when you get in a dating scandal and your boyfriend is not so happy about it

✶ INTRODUC𝓲NG ⦂ idol!enhypen ୨୧ idol!reader ｡｡ fluff, one shot, ⟡​ 11OO tw. skinship jealousy petnames && ARCHiVE ／ ૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა

` ( ´ ▽ ` ) ♡ : PLEASE REBLOG & GIVE FEEDBACK !

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

heeseung tries to play it cool when he sees fans shipping you with another male idol, but the small pout on his lips betrays him. “so, that’s the new thing now?” he teases as he scrolls through the hashtag, his thumb hovering over a particularly popular edit of you and the other idol. you giggle, leaning over to steal his phone, but he pulls you closer instead, wrapping an arm around your waist. “it’s kinda funny,” you say, cupping his face to make him look at you instead of the screen. “you’re the only one i’m actually with, you know that, right?” his lips twitch into a shy smile, his forehead resting against yours. “yeah, but do they know that?” he murmurs before pecking your lips, “besides, i’m way cuter than him, right, baby?”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘

jay spots the edits on his feed, his eyebrow quirking as he watches fans swoon over the idea of you and another male idol. “huh, interesting,” he mutters, pretending to be unfazed, though the way he clings to your side says otherwise. you notice and nudge him, grinning. “don’t tell me you’re jealous, baby.” he scoffs, pulling you closer by your waist. “jealous? me? nah, i just think they’ve got it all wrong,” he says, brushing his nose against yours. you chuckle, threading your fingers through his hair. “it’s cute, though, you getting all pouty like this.” he clicks his tongue. “i’m not pouty. just making sure they know you’re mine—i mean, not theirs.” he grins cheekily before kissing your temple. “besides, you and i are the real power couple, sweetheart.”

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

you’re scrolling through your phone backstage when jake plops down beside you, leaning his chin on your shoulder. “what’s got you so distracted, angel?” he asks casually, though his eyes quickly catch the screen showing a trending clip of you laughing with another male idol. his lips press into a firm line, and you suppress a giggle. “you’re pouting, jake,” you tease, nudging him lightly. “no, i’m just pursing my lips,” he retorts, though his gaze doesn’t leave the screen. you turn to face him fully, cupping his cheeks to tilt his head toward you. “you’re cute when you’re jealous, you know that?” his face softens as you press a quick kiss to his cheek, and he sighs, his arms wrapping loosely around your waist. “not jealous,” he mumbles, voice betraying his words. “just... reminding you who makes you smile the most.”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

you catch sunghoon scrolling through his phone, his expression unreadable as he stumbles upon yet another edit of you and the male idol you’ve been getting shipped with lately. he glances at you, sprawled out on the couch beside him, completely unaware. "y/n," he starts, voice low and casual, "what's so great about him anyway? he doesn't even know your favorite ice cream flavor." you giggle at his words, but he’s already leaning closer, resting his head on your shoulder as he scrolls pass articles. "besides," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face, "i look way better standing next to you." your cheeks flush, and he smirks, planting a soft kiss on your temple. "they should be making edits of us instead," he quips, pulling you closer as if daring anyone to disagree.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎

sunoo’s lips pout slightly as he scrolls through his phone, the sight of your name alongside another male idol's trending yet again. “they don’t know you’re mine, sunshine,” he mutters, his voice soft but laced with a hint of envy. you glance at him from across the room, noticing the way he fiddles with the hem of his sweater. slipping beside him, you lean your head on his shoulder, your hand finding his. “you know they’re just fans having fun, right?” you tease, intertwining your fingers with his. his pout deepens, but his thumb brushes over your knuckles, a silent reassurance that he’s okay. “still… it’s annoying,” he admits quietly, resting his head atop yours. you laugh softly, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍

jungwon tries to brush it off when your name gets linked with another male idol, but it eats away at him more than he'd like to admit. he watches the fancams, his jaw tightening every time fans comment about your “chemistry” with someone else. it’s not like he doesn’t trust you—he does, more than anyone—but the way people are just shipping you and this random male idol. you notice it when he gets quieter than usual, his playful teasing replaced with absentminded hums. "what’s going on in that head of yours, wonnie?" you ask, gently poking his cheek. he finally mumbles, "do you think they look better with you?" you cup his face, pulling him close until your foreheads touch. "you’re my favorite, always," you whispers with a sweet a kiss at the end. his arms snake around you tightly. "mine too," he murmurs, smiling shyly.

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

riki laughs it off when fans start shipping you with another male idol, but you can tell he’s just masking his feelings. "oh, so that’s your type?" he teases, dramatically clutching his chest like he’s been betrayed. you roll your eyes, but he doesn’t let up, following you around. "should i dye my hair like his? maybe then i’ll have a chance," he jokes, his grin widening when you swat his arm. later, when it’s just the two of you, his teasing shifts to something softer. "you don’t actually think he’s cooler than me, right?" he asks, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. you smile, tugging him down by the hoodie strings so you’re eye-to-eye. "you’re irreplaceable, riki," you say, brushing your nose against his. he groans playfully, hiding his flushed cheeks in your shoulder. "ugh, you’re so cheesy, but i’ll take it since i love you."

[mv1simp]

Vegas, Baby (I Wanna Ride) ♥️

Max Verstappen x Friend!Reader

welcome to vegas baby, give me money, give me diamonds, give me rubies baby (get on your knees and beg me please to let you in me)

Tonight's a big night for the Redbull team in Las Vegas. Max Verstappen just won his 4th WDC, and you, his good friend, just won your first F2 race. After months of rising sexual tension, the line between you and Max starts blurring during a wild Vegas afterparty. Nothing beats crowning a 4th championship than passionate celebration sex, right?

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom! Max, sub! Reader who’s playing mind games to seduce him, size kink, praise kink, cream pie, morally dubious relationship status but no cheating, drunk passionate sex with max post WDC is literally the epitome of my dreams

Max! The blonde Dutchman’s concentration shifts from one of the many post Las Vegas Grand Prix interviews he’s been coerced into to hear your familiar voice excitedly calling for him. His cute smile turns into an even more gorgeous grin as he spots you making a beeline across the media pen, long curls flying behind you. The cameras rapidly start stuttering as you practically leap into Max’s arms when he tightly hugs you back, lifting you up off the ground easily. Congratulations, Maxie! you gush excitedly, beaming up at him with genuine emotion. I’m so happy for you, you deserve this win so much!

Pink dusts the cheeks of the now 4 time world champion from your attention as he looks down at your shorter frame, his muscular arms snugly around your waist. You couldn’t care less about the sticky champagne drenching his suit, because your own RB suit is wet from your celebration of winning the F2 race earlier that day. You too, schatje, Max returns warmly, the paparazzi completely ignored. Winning your first race, in Las Vegas too, from P11? I’m so proud of you! Now you're blushing as he tousles your hair affectionately. You two are just good friends, of course, and Max is in a relationship with a model - even though it's a rather turbulent one. But the F1 gossip mill is always running rampant with rumours about your relationship with Max - especially with the overfamiliar touches you're both now leaving with lingering hands on each other.

The interviewers flock at the chance to interview the F1 and F2 champions together, who provide them with entertaining answers fueled by the 3rd G&T that Max has already started drinking from his Redbull bottle. You smirk and raise your own bottle to cheers against his, making Max’s icy blue eyes twinkle with amusement as he realises you’re very much on the same wavelength of starting celebrations early. Great minds think alike, right Maxie? you wink conspiratorially, making him laugh. The media reps are basically forgotten as the pair of you end up in your own conversation of excited yapping about adrenaline fueled moments from your races, littered with inside jokes lost to the viewers.

When his PR manager calls Max's name, trying to prevent anymore dubious scandals, the blonde looks apologetically towards you, promising that the two of you would have to celebrate properly tonight, okay? You nod eagerly as you watch him go for the rest of his media duties, your smile so wide that your cheeks almost hurt. You’re still buzzing with adrenaline of your own win, and know that your own manager won’t be happy with the pictures of you practically climbing Max to hug him, not an inch of space between you as he pulls you against him. After all, the tabloids love to speculate that there’s something more between the Redbull 3 time - now 4! - world champion and you, the rising talent in F2 with your Redbull Academy seat, and one of the very few women on the grid.

That’s how you and Max had met - on the Redbull practice circuit, the two of you the only ones wanting to practise in horrific conditions of rain and hail. He’d been curious to see another car with the familiar Bull logo out on the track, and then found himself even more curious when the helmet came off to reveal your cutely flushed face and pretty curls that fell down your back. You became fast friends, after you got along your initial awe of 3x WDC Max Verstappen casually giving you driving pointers. He was actually an incredibly humble and loyal friend, and you appreciated how much time he'd spent out of his busy schedule to help you. Meanwhile, Max found your conversation and humour so refreshing compared to other junior drivers who would suck up to him, and you were never afraid to give Max a piece of your mind with your fiery, passionate personality - similar to his. For the first time in months since he'd started dating his demanding girlfriend, who always told Max off for being too loud or making immature jokes, Max found himself genuinely relaxing and speaking freely.

So with all the time on the practise track, and then off the track when you moved to Monaco and began attending the same parties, padel games and hungover brunches with Max, it was no surprise the two of you had become good friends - with a lot of speculation from the public. Many of his fans and friends disliked his current relationship with the pretty model who constantly used Max's name for her own clout with little interest in his passion for racing and e-sim gaming. In comparison, the easy laughs and witty banter seen frequently between you and Max had many conspiring that you'd be a far better match for the F1 champion. Especially in today's Las Vegas interviews, where the growing electric chemistry was palpable to viewers even through the screen.

Of course, you'd never admit to anyone that you secretly agreed with all the gossip columns. You and Max were perfectly suited for each other - but you would never be able to tell him, especially as you didn't have the slightest idea if Max liked you back or even found you attractive since he was so outgoing and touchy with all his close friends. For the past couple of months you'd been secretly pining for him, eyeing his moody girlfriend jealously as she yanked him from celebrations to go home early. You'd starting catching yourself staring up at the gorgeous blonde with heart eyes when he'd patiently explain some new racing tactic to you. No guy could come close to Max in your mind, and you're becoming increasingly sexually frustrated as the object of your desires stayed out of your reach but you aren't hook up with anyone else. So much so that in the week before Las Vegas, you'd started having some very dirty dreams involving a tall, muscular, blonde ending training early and bending you over the hood of his car as he whispered accented Dutch in your ear. Gonna let me fuck you now, baby? You'll take all of my cock, just like I taught you, right?

You knew it was so, so wrong to secretly lust after your friend and teammate like this - especially since he was taken. But tonight, with the thrill of winning your first ever F2 race in frickin' Vegas of all places, at the same time as Max taking his 4th WDC...Well, let's just say you were feeling especially wild tonight. Taking another shot of gin as you got ready in your spacious hotel bathroom, you admire the sight of yourself in the mirror. You're lot more dressed up than usual, out of your racing suit for once . Smokey eyeshadow compliments your wide, doe eyes and long hair you’d blown out in loose curls, all to show off the main view of a tight, sparkly red minidress that pushed up your tits perfectly. You certainly looked the part of a winner out on a hunt for the best way to celebrate tonight, and your best friend agreed as she whistled when walking into the bathroom. Girl, goddamn, that dress looks insanely sexy on you! she gushed, making you shoot her a pleased smile. Trying to catch a certain someone’s attention tonight? she added with a teasing look. Don’t worry, Max won’t be able to keep his eyes off you!

You let out an embarrassed yelp and tell her to shut up, you were not into him like that! Used to your denials, your friend rolls her eyes fondly and tells you you’d been practically moaning his name when you’d been napping earlier, you little slut! She puts you out of your misery when your face goes as red as your dress by adding in that she’d heard his girlfriend wasn’t here tonight to celebrate - apparently, she was pissed he hadn’t flown her out on his private jet and he’d decided to take a break. Winking, she tells you that Max is all yours tonight! You shoo her away but your heart’s nervously skipping a beat with the news. Slipping on your impressive six inch stilettos with glittery straps circling around your legs, you make your way to the after party downstairs.

The bass is thumping, drinks easily flowing and the crowded hotel nightclub buzzing with energy tonight where many of the racing drivers and fans have come to celebrate tonight. You’d meant to go find Max when you got there, but are pulled into excited hugs by lots of your own friends and team members to congratulate you. Soon enough, a few hours have passed and you’re very pleasantly tipsy, giggling and twirling around on the dance floor with your girlfriends and quite a few guys who are running appreciative looks over your pretty figure. But when your wide doe eyes finally meet icy blue across the room, all other men are forgotten and you're making your way over in a heartbeat.

Schatje, Max greets you easily, interrupting the conversations people crowding around him were trying to start. You give him an adoring smile as you wrap your arms around those ridiculously wide shoulders of his when he pulls you into him. The alcohol you’ve both been drinking lowers your boundaries as you giggle into his ears you’ve been looking everywhere for him! He chuckles, telling you that he’d been right here, but you’d been too popular with everyone else tonight. Too busy for me now that you’re a F2 winner? he teases. You playfully push his broad chest, admiring how toned his muscles are under your freshly manicured palm. Maybe, you tease back. I only enjoy the company of drivers who are five time world champions, at least. Seen Lewis anywhere?

Max’s gorgeous blue eyes crinkle in amusement as he tips his head back to laugh, and you're staring up his thick neck, enjoying the sight of his angular jaw and plush lips with a cute freckle you wanted so desperately to kiss. Reminding yourself not to get too carried away until you had some idea how Max felt, you tugged at his biceps to indicate you wanted him to follow you. He easily took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together as you pull him towards the second floor. This was a pretty frequent for you two, breaking off from a crowded party to yap and gossip about some drama or catch up without all eyes on you. Just as you reach the stairs, one of your team’s engineers calls out to you, giving you a tight embrace that lasts a few seconds too long to be a friendly congratulations. You don’t really notice though, too relaxed and happy, and gush your thank you’s to him as he compliments how well you drove today. He’s pretty cute, and you’re starting to get carried away in the conversation until a warm, large palm curls possessively around your curvy hips. A shiver runs up your spine as Max’s deep voice drawls out behind you that he was bored, can you two go upstairs now?

You immediately turn your focus back onto the attractive blonde, assuring him Of course, Maxie! Your arm wraps around his bicep to steady yourself as you two walk upstairs, your high heels clicking against the marble floor. Your abruptly forgotten engineer receives a rather smug smirk from Max. When you’re finally alone in a tiny powder room, small enough that you have to stand close together with the locked door but well lit by an illuminated mirror atop the counter, Max can’t resist a snarky that engineer seemed very into you.

You dismiss Max’s claims, telling him to stop joking around as you leaned into the mirror to repply your lip gloss. No, he was definitely checking you out, Max responds behind you. His already deep accent you’d always had a thing for turns even huskier. Can’t blame him though…you look fucking incredible tonight.

Desire curls in your gut as you gasp at his unexpected compliment, glancing to see Max’s blue eyes locked onto you through the mirror. The Dutchman’s gaze is sharp despite the tipsy flush on his cheeks as it wanders up your lush thighs, accentuated by your stilettos, over your juicy ass and hips before coming to meet your pretty eyes. There’s no denying the hungry expression he wears, especially as you slowly finish applying your lip gloss, drawing his attention to your tempting pink lips. He looks like a lion starving to sink his fangs into his next meal.

You swallow, suddenly feeling a little shy as you avoid his gaze, even though you'd dolled up tonight just for him. You should be saying something like that to your girlfriend, you say suddenly. Where is she, anyways? Max rolls his eyes at the reminder, unamused with the change of topic. Fuck knows, he says exasperatedly. I don’t care anymore, we’re taking a break. You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow as you coyly ask Just a break? What, she’s trying to find a billionaire because a F1 millionaire just isn’t cutting it?

Max chuckles at your not so subtle dig, knowing how you felt about his rather superficial girlfriend. But instead of letting it go, tonight you decide to continue and ask him why he was still with her? He shrugs, telling you it was just easier at this point to stay with her instead of the drama of a messy breakup, and dating hot but 2D models was what everyone expected of F1 drivers anyway.

You narrow your eyes, a little annoyed now, and step closer to Max to announce that’s stupid, since when did he do what others expect of him instead of what he wanted? Besides, he deserved a girlfriend who actually cared for him as a person, who celebrated each of his wins and losses, and on a night like tonight - well, he should be getting whatever he wanted from her, you added playfully. You’ve ended up so close that Max can feel the warmth of your soft tits pressed up against his chest, the heels you’re wearing helping your height. He can't resist admiring at the way your cleavage bounces every time you passionately speak.

Whatever I want, huh? Max murmurs lowly, his blue eyes dark with desire as he suddenly leans down, making your eyes widen and thick lashes flutter. His thumb softly brushes across your cheeks to press against your lower lip, parting your mouth slightly. He’s silent for a moment, choosing his next words carefully, and then - What if all I want is you?

You gasp, both with excitement and shock at the realisation that Max returned your feelings. A coy smile appears on your lips as you press your hands to his firm chest, leaning up to whisper into his ear that he was lucky, then, because you'd been looking for a way to congratulate him properly.

He grins wickedly as you return his hungry look, your normally sparkling eyes now sultry with desire. Oh yeah? he says lowly, large palms skimming your waist. And what were you thinking would be the proper way to say congratulations?

There’s no going back to friendship after this, the blurred line well and truly vanishing. Thank god, because you couldn’t take the sexual frustration any longer. You’d heard that the sex after winning in Vegas is really good…and since he’d ended up winning the championship, he deserved to fuck you long and hard, right?

Max’s breath hitches at your offer, his already semi erect cock hardening. Fuck, schatje, he breathes, his lips so close to yours they’re almost touching. That mouth of yours…I didn’t know it could be so dirty. Makes me want to ruin it. You smile with faux innocence, batting your lashes up at him. Why don’t you, Max? Ruin me, then.

That’s all it takes for his lips to lock into yours, a gentle first kiss between friends quickly turning into a sloppy, heated make out that has you drooling against him. Been wanting to do this forever, Max groans in between deep kisses. You giggle, asking him what his girlfriend would think of that. Who? Max says, looking genuinely confused as he leans in again to slide his tongue in to explore your mouth. Oh, the ex? You laugh into the kiss, knowing any other woman would be out of the picture by the time you’ve shown Max just how he deserved to be treated tonight.

Suddenly you’re being lifted up easily to sit on the marble counter, squealing at his impressive strength. He greedily presses against you, your lush thighs parting easily around his narrow waist. It’s a good thing the club’s bass is so loud, otherwise any passerbys would hear the wet, sensual moans of you passionately making out. Max’s bear paws of hands squeeze your thighs and plump ass firmly, making your minidress ride up so he could feel your dampening panties as you start grinding against his impressive bulge through his jeans. Fuck, schatje, you’re already this wet? Max breathes, blue eyes blown with desire when he pulls back for a second as you both pant. Only for you, Maxie you say adoringly, running manicured hands along his broad shoulders and into his soft, blonde locks. Whatever you want tonight, remember? So tell me, what would the world champion like next?

Max inhales sharply at your obedient words, at how you’re looking up at his darkened blue eyes with so much devotion. It fills him with an inexplicable need to have you all to himself, not just tonight but every night from now. You decide to give him a gentle nudge, guiding his large palms to cup your full breasts through your dress. You keep looking at my chest, Maxie. Do you want to see what’s underneath my dress? Max’s jaw drops open as you help his fingers tug down your neckline, letting it fall to your waist and leaving you half dressed in a lacy navy blue bra.

My favourite colour, Max says absentmindedly, too distracted with the heavenly vision in front of him. When you giggle and tell him you know, that’s why you wore it! he groans lowly, yanking the lace down so your full breasts lay exposed to his hungry gaze. So fucking pretty, he breathes, you look so good in my colours, schatje.

You can’t respond because you’re moaning again from his thick fingers squeezing your bouncing tits, circling your sensitive, hard nipples before latching his mouth over your areolas. Oh, Maxie! Mmm, feels so good! He hums with your tits inside his talented mouth, enjoying your sweet moans in his ears as he leaves a trail of hickeys over your chest and neck. You’re getting wetter by the second, and judging from the large, hard bulge you’re desperately humping, you’re certain Max is just as turned on as you are. But tonight’s about congratulating him, and you can’t get too distracted, tugging at the white t-shirt he’s wearing. Your turn!

Max smirks, and yanks his shirt off in half a second. Now you’re temporarily short circuiting at his broad pecs, ogling his thick upper arms and shoulders that taper down to his slim hips. You can’t resist tracing a path down his defined abs with your manicured fingers, making Max tease you with like what you see, schatje?

You shut him up as your hand comes to rest just above his belt buckle, brushing his blonde happy trail but going no further. Hmm, I’ve seen better, you tease back coyly. His jaw hardens as you come tantalisingly close to where he really wants to feel you. When he wraps his hand around yours to stop your games, you surprise him again when you bring your joined hands up to your lips. Curiosity piqued, he watched you intently as you press the pad of his pointer finger onto your swollen lips like he’d done earlier…and then part your lips to slide him inside till the knuckle. Oh, fucking hell, Max hisses lowly.

You don’t miss a beat, staring right into his eyes sultrily as you swirl your tongue around his thick finger, letting him imagine what else your drooling, wet mouth could do. He swallows when you release him with a pop, only to oh so innocently bat your lashes at him to say did he have anything bigger for you to lick?

Max has a hand tangled in your curls instantly, pushing your all too willing body down onto your knees as he swears, saying if he’d known you were going to be such a good girl for him he’d have fucked you months ago. You whine desperately, making him completely entranced as you press soft kisses to his clothed erection. He unbuckles himself for you, the small room silent except for the clinking of metal making both of you impatient. You gasp when his generously sized cock emerges from his Calvin Klein boxers, his pink tip resting right in front of you. He almost cums right there when you look up at him with those wide doe eyes, the very picture of innocence but your filthy words anything but. It-it’s so big, Maxie. Even larger than what I’d dreamed about.

And then you’re messily kissing up and down his engorged shaft, smearing your lipgloss all over as you pant and drool over his length. Oh my fucking god, Max groans, head slamming into the door behind him. That mouth of yours, baby- Jesus fucking Christ.

He’s rendereded speechless when you begin suckling on his hypersensitive tip, circling it with full concentration just like you’d done with his finger. You don’t break eye contact, pulling back slightly to pump his base with two hands and blow air over his angry, swollen cockhead. Tastes so good, Maxie. ‘M gonna worship your cock tonight, just like my world champion deserves. Your throat goes completely lax as you take his impressive length all the way to the base, gurgling and drooling messily as you hollow your cheeks to suck firmly.

Fuck! Jesus, schat, baby, I’m gonna - Max is panting heavily, cheeks adorably red and flushed as he tangles his large palms into your curls. Go-gonna fuck that insane mouth of yours now, okay?

You hum in agreement, sending vibrations running down his shaft. He doesn’t waste any time then, dragging your face forward and roughly thrusting himself into your wet, slack mouth. Loud, obscene sounds of the dirty blowjob you’re performing for him are filling the air, and there’s no doubt anyone listening in the hallway would be able to tell exactly what going on behind the door. But the both of you couldn’t care less, too far gone. And if your mindblowing deepthroat hadn’t been enough, you’re whimpering in between thrusts that he’s so big, you bet he could fuck your tits at the same time as your mouth-

He doesn’t even need to process that sexy mental image because you’re now using your free hands to cup your bouncing breasts and wrap them snugly around the base of his cock, his leaking tip still thrusting in and out of your mouth. Like this, see Maxie?

Max roars in approval at the filthy display, the warmth of your soft tits sending him over the edge. Gonna cum now, he pants breathlessly. Open your mouth for me, baby, you’ll swallow it all, right?

You follow his command immediately, desperately saying please, please Maxie, wanna taste you so bad, you can cum wherever you want-

He slaps his heavy cockhead against your chubby cheeks first, and then onto your pink tongue as you poke it out, collecting drops of precum from his angry red tip. He’s meanly chuckling as you go cross eyed from his cock whacking your face, squealing with excitement. Guess the only thing that shuts you up is my cock in your mouth.

You nod eagerly, panting with your lips wide open expectantly as you stare up at him, your pretty makeup completely destroyed from the messy blowjob. The sight of you so desperate for him is what tips him over, and with a silent moan he jerks himself off to flood your mouth with a generous, creamy load. So much that you struggle to swallow it, some of it leaking out the corners of your lips to drip onto your heaving tits. But you take most of it just like you promised him, licking your lips rather sluttily before opening your mouth to show him. See, Maxie? Drank it all for you.

He yanks you up off the floor, pressing your soft jiggling chest up against his hard pecs as he rewards you with a deep kiss. Did fucking amazing, sweetheart, he sighs into you. That was definitely the best head I’ve ever gotten. You flush from his compliment, sultry eyes turning shy now from his praise. But the Dutch Lion’s appetite isn’t satiated tonight. He pulls your dress back up, wiping away your smeared gloss and smudged mascara before redressing himself. But we aren’t finished just yet, schatje, he croons as he gently untangles your curls from your dangly earrings. You bite your lip, hanging onto his each word as he says After all, you’d won in Vegas too. He’ll have to show you how good the sex is, now.

Desire darkens your bright, dazed eyes at the thought of Max finally fucking you. You bury your face in his thick neck, wrapping your arms around him as you plead for him to please take you upstairs, you needed him so bad, you couldn’t take it anymore.

He chuckles at your cute begging, discreetly leading you down the hallway that’s thankfully empty while keeping you firmly pressed to his chest. As much as he’d wiped away the streaks of mascara, any of your friends would only have to take one look to know what you’d been upto. The ride up the discreet service elevator is another test of self restraint, the camera in the corner stopping the both of you from outright debauchery. But you can’t stop weakly grinding against Max’s muscular thigh that separates your plush legs, clinging onto him as he whispers dirty things in your ear with that Dutch voice you loved. Tell me what kind of naughty dreams you’ve been having about me, he demands. And of course, you oblige, turning his ears pink and voice huskier when he finds out just what you’d been secretly pining for.

He lifts you up, your legs straddling his waist easily when you finally reach your floor, an carried you down the hallway. After you’re clumsily swiping your room card with Max’s very distracting lips leaving kisses to your throat, you find yourself inside your dark hotel room at last. The Vegas city lights stream in from the floor to ceiling windows, illuminating Max’s handsome form as he looks down to drink in the pretty sight of you. Fucking finally, Max groans, ripping his shirt and pants off in one go and kicking his shoes to the side. He wraps an arm around your waist to pick you up again and gently toss you onto the king sized bed, making you giggle excitedly as you land with a bounce. And then he’s on top of you, eyes dark and a cocky smirk on his face as he presses his warm length against your soaked panties. See what you’ve done to me, schatje? I’m already hard again. Completely ruined me for anyone else with this perfect body. He finishes his sentence with a slow roll of his hips, making you moan breathily at the contact, with your panties so wet they’re practically stuck to you and you can feel all of him.

He unzips you out of your dress, leaving heated kisses all over your body as he admires the sight of your navy lingerie set, telling you he’d buy you ten more so you could wear them for him after every race when he fucked you. You keen at his attention, at the thought that Max wants you again and again, eyes teary as you start to try and grind your hips against him. You’ll have to be patient, schatje Max says in an amused tone, sounding much more in control than the moaning, dripping mess he’s turned you into. You teased me so much after all, it’s only fair that it’s my turn now, right? He kisses your ankles softly as he unties your strappy heels, letting them fall to the floor. And then, with a strong hand on each of your delicate ankles, he hungrily takes in the sight of your dripping pussy. Your tummy flutters almost nervously in anticipation of what’s coming.

Turns out Max, just like you, always held true to his promises. You’d had to be very patient as he had his turn of teasing you mercilessly, making you cum all over his thick fingers that stretched you out and skilled tongue that found your sensitive clit almost immediately. And when he’s finally ripping the condom packet open and slapping your core with his heavy cock, you’re practically crying.Your aching pussy finally gets what she needs when you’re stuffed impossibly full as he slides in to the hilt.

The sight of you completely ruined underneath him, tits bouncing with each powerful thrust he delivers, your nails burying into his strong arms to steady yourself, unlocks a carnal desire in Max. Whatever I want, right schatje? He hums, bending down so your sweaty foreheads touch, and you nod quickly through your deep pants. Even if I wanted to fuck you raw? You’ll let me cum inside your tight little pussy, hmm?

He knows he has you right where he wants as you squeeze down on him instinctively when you imagine him inside you with no protection. Ohmygod Maxie, yes, please, fuck your cum into me, please! The Dutchman’s outright filthy request has your head spinning with desire and you’re babbling half incoherently. Pulling out momentarily and making you whine, he yanks the condom off before sinking back into your creamy hole. You both moan in pure ecstasy at the euphoric feeling of skin to skin sex.

Max fucks you in multiple positions that night, passionately into the soft mattress, meanly up against the cold window, and roughly on the plush sofa chaise with your face buried in the cushions and your red asscheeks up in the air for him to slap. Next time I win you’ll let me fuck you here, too, okay baby? he demands as he fingers your winking back hole while still thrusting into your dripping cunny. You can only let out a high pitched whine, jiggling your hips back onto his cock in approval, too fucked out to respond with words at this point. And when he finally cums, his impressive stamina outlasting yours on his second orgasm, he makes sure to sink in deep and flood your heavenly walls with his thick white release. You give him an open mouthed lazy kiss as a silent thank you for the best fuck of your entire life, hoping he got the message.

You’re pretty certain he did, because the next morning you’re awoken by a heavy length pressed up against your ass. You’d both passed out in the (thankfully clean) spare second bed after running through the shower together for five minutes to clean up the sticky mess last night. The 4th championship celebration sex was definitely record breaking , Max murmurs into your ear playfully. But it’s not complete without the slow morning after sex. You’ll let me show you now, right schat?

_____________________________________________

A/N: WAR IS OVER THE CHILDREN ARE OUT, BIRDS SINGING CAUSE MAX IS RIGHTFULLY 4 X WDC 😭😭😭 the way all the haters were silenced. Everyone’s trying ride his dick now including skysports I love to see it, as they should

Also guys 10 followers away from 2k?!? Wtaf 😳 I’m so sorry for the delayed post, thank you for being so patient. Work has been really busy this month but going on Xmas break in a couple weeks so will have more time to post!!!! Keep sending me ur saucy asks yall I love reading them <3

[poguehearted77]

Co-Star Confessions

Pairing: Actress! Reader x Drew Starkey

Co-Star Confessions-> The cast takes you along on a trip to take a lie detector test for an interview. The jokes are rolling and the tea starts to spill.

Summary: A lie detector, a dark room, and unspoken tension pull you into a whirlwind of revelations, where secrets are spilled, emotions run high, and your growing romance with Drew becomes impossible to hide.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

"Okay be honest, who else went on a deep dive of doom last night and watched all of Blackbox's previous interviews?" Madelyn turns from her place in the passenger seat, facing you, Madison and Chase so you can hear her question clearly.

All hands go up. The anticipation is high and circling in the car. Today the cast has split up into two cars as you're being shipped off to another studio to record an interview with Blackbox.

"Some of those questions were brutal, and you're hooked up to a lie detector so there's no chance you can avoid the truth." Chase lets out a weighted breath, his mind running off with the possible questions they could ask. There's a small sprout of fear blossoming around the possibility they'll pry open closed doors about his and Madelyn's break up. 

The concept is simple: Prior to the interview, Blackbox has done their own research and collected some surface-level, intermediate, and mildly invasive questions that the fans of the show are circulating online. One by one, the cast will sit in the empty black room with no one but the polygrapher and a lie detector, the questions get asked and if you're telling the truth you get a point, if you're lying you lose a point.

The castmate with the most points at the end gets to ask any co-star any question of their choice.

"I can't believe I let Madison drag me into this." You scoff and all she does is smile bright and innocent. It took some convincing of the producers but she's very persuasive when she needs to be.

"We're family now. If we go down, so do you." Chase holds your hand and gives it a condescending squeeze. "I take that as a threat." You snatch your hand away and everyone laughs.

As you arrived, it seems the car with Carlacia, Drew and JD had beat you guys there. Their driver was already pulling off the lot, telling you the others were inside. You got out of the car behind Chase and adjusted your clothes.

Today, your stylists had picked out a white long-sleeve shirt layered under a sleek black vest, paired with a gray mini skirt, black sheer tights, a small shoulder bag, delicate gold acccesories, and a sleek pulled-back pony-tail for a perfectly polished look.

You could already hear the chatter from the studio from out in the hall as you entered the room behind Madison, more chatter erupting as the full cast is reunited. You did your rounds to greet the others you hadn't been riding with. "You look great," Drew compliments as he briefly rests his head atop yours during your hug. You fit in his arms as perfectly as a puzzle.

His pathetic instincts allowed him to take a deeper breath to get a stronger pull of your gentle perfume that intoxicated his mind. "I don't remember getting a compliment from you this morning!" Carlacia accuses him playfully and he laughs along before flattering her endlessly and you thought it was cute.

There’s no denying it. From the very beginning, you and Drew have danced around the unspoken tension, the sparks that have lingered just beneath the surface. But lately, those sparks have started to feel dangerous, like a fuse waiting to ignite. The two of you can’t be left alone for long—what starts as two chairs between you inevitably narrows to one, and then, before you realize it, none at all.

One second you're both rehearsing lines in the studio-b trailer and the next you're passed out on the couch side-by-side. Even though that only happened once, it was more than enough. You've blown through nearly two-thirds of filming the final season and it was easy to consider Drew one of your closest friends, both on and off-set.

There were late-night phone calls, early morning face-times, minimal texting since he hardly replied to his messages but lots of heated glances that shouldn't make you feel as hot as they did. Like right now.

Madelyn is currently removing a piece of lint that had fallen onto your hair from god knows where, meanwhile, you pretended you couldn't feel Drew's deep gaze from behind Madelyn's head, but you shook it off. You had to.

It wasn't long before you're all being ushered to take your seats in the black room, getting ready to record your introduction which will be the only time the whole cast is in the black room together for the interview.

"We're the cast of Outer Banks and welcome to Blackbox." You all say, introducing yourselves personally then retreating to the holding room where there are five chairs, a one-way glass looking into the black room and a microphone.

The assistants spun a wheel which decided that JD is the first one up on the chopping block. "Keep the questions pg-13, please. I've got family that's gonna see this." He pleads, letting himself be strapped into the chair and hooked up with the various components of the detector. Meanwhile, you took the seat in the holding room between Carlacia and Drew.

"So he really can't see us?" Madelyn questioned, waving to JD through the window, but he was unresponsive. "All he sees is a mirror, but when you use the microphone, he can hear your voice in the speakers in the room." One of the cameramen explains and you all nod along.

"Okay, Madelyn, you're first to read the questions. Pick up one cue card from the surface-level, intermediate and invasive stack and project your voice into the mic." She's directed but you all listen for when it's your turn.

Madelyn: "JD, What's your favourite memory from filming season 5 Outer Banks so far?"

He jolts a little in his seat, not expecting to hear Madelyn's voice so clearly in a room where he can't see her, but he answers nonetheless.

JD: When Chase and I were rehearsing that scene where we have to hang-glide off a cliff but Chase's hands slipped and he misses the bar, and he just goes falling to the foam platform like twenty feet below us, but it wasn't even that. It was the scream he let out. I still think about it.

"He's telling the truth." The woman informs.

Chase has his head in his hands while you and Carlacia hold onto eachother, laughing until you're gasping for air.

Madelyn picks up the top cue card from the intermediate pile.

Madelyn: Which castmate are you closest to?

"Oooh." There's a collective sound that sweeps across the studio, it made everyone uneasy, not because of the question. It's a difficult question and everyone knows there are no hard feelings involved but if this is an intermediate question then you should all be nervous.

JD sighs, "You know what-- Unstrap me." He pretends to grab at the wires and it elicits a round of laughs while he thinks about it.

JD: This is hard. I feel like I have such a different relationship with everyone, but..... uhhh... If I had to narrow it down, I guess probably Madelyn.

There's a long silence, everyone waiting for the polygrapher to confirm or deny. "He's telling the truth."

Madelyn: "It must be fate that I'm the one asking your questions. Luv ya. Now, for your final, invasive question. You recently implied in an interview that you're seeing someone, is that true?"

Your hands clasp over your mouth. "Brutal," Carlacia whispers under her breath while you and Drew lean over the edge of your seats as if you didn't already know the answer to this question.

"No." He denies it, another stomach-churning silence. You can see the nerves rolling down JD's face as he waits for the results. "That was a lie." The crew is making some indistinct noise while the cast is stunned to silence. None of you were going to make it out of this interview alive.

JD's head falls with a guilty grin, dreading the news this would spread in the press. He almost immediately unlatches himself from the machine and enters the waiting room with the rest of you, sending in Chase.

"That shit is intense. It's just so dark, and ominous, and you've got a spotlight on you. Makes you feel like you're on trial for a crime you didn't commit." Drew stands to give him a pat on the back, "You did good, man. Hopefully Maya isn't too blindsided by that last question."

Maya is JD's secret girlfriend, official as of last month, you've met her a handful of times but you clicked almost instantly and often texted on Instagram and shared reels.

The game went on, and the questions didn't get any easier. You watched as you all trickled in and out of the rooms, getting paired off in an order something like this:

Madelyn asking JD

Drew asking Chase

Carlacia asking Madelyn

Chase asking Y/N

Y/N asking Madison

Madison asking Carlacia

JD asking Drew

There's an acrylic nail poking your shoulder and you shudder. "You're up," Carlacia informs you and you nearly vomit. The questions have been ruthless thus far, you honestly wonder how and why the producers approved this.

"Hey Madison, this is for you." You hold up your middle fingers, regretting ever letting her get you involved in this bloodbath. She blows you a kiss and wishes you luck.

Chase: "Y/n-"

You're not sure what it is about it, but you and Chase have had enough bloopers on set, that this felt no different, even though you couldn't see him, you broke out in laughter. Before the mic cut out you heard Chase's abrupt laughter cut through.

This is how you two always were. Unable to keep it together. The directors hated when you had a scene together (even though they'd laugh too). "Okay okay, I'm sorry. I'm ready." You reassure, "That was a lie", The polygrapher debunks your confession and it sends everyone rolling for another five minutes due to its spontaneity.

"Okay. For real this time." You clear your throat, waiting for Chase to start with the questions.

Chase: "If you weren’t acting, what would your job be?"

"Ooh, I love photography, my phone is always gonna be in your face, and I've got like a dozen cameras. So, probably a photographer." You answer. The question is light, but it doesn't erase the uneasy feeling bubbling in your stomach. "True."

Chase prepares to move on to the intermediate stack of cards, shuffling them, just for fun.

"Here we go," Madison leans over to JD, they both knew there were bound to be some wild cards for you and Drew. Ever since your casting as Piper was made public not too long ago, the fans immediately flocked to find all your socials.

The rumours between you and Drew were already starting to spin. All stemming from one photo added to one of Carlacia's many photo dumps a few weeks ago. The image is of you playfully feeding Drew a strawberry from when you'd all done some sightseeing and visited the local Portuguese farms.

Chase: "Fans noticed you recently reposted a TikTok that said, 'When he’s tall enough to climb like a tree>>'—was that just for laughs, or did you have someone in mind?"

Your hands raise to your face and you scream, Madison screams, JD laughs, Madelyn kicks her feet while Carlacia gasps--Simply put, the cast is overcome.

Drew straightens a little, now more intrigued than ever (as if he wasn't before). His eyes sparkle with hope? Interest? Certainty. A subtle wave of confidence runs down his spine as he confirms to himself that you're talking about him. You both know it, and you've never been so glad that you couldn't see his face.

"My TikTok account is private how did they even-?!"

Chase: "Answer the question Ms. Y/n."

You could hear his smirk through the mic. Oh, he was enjoying this too much. You made a mental reminder to send Kelsea all the worst images that you've taken of him. "It was just for fun," you shrug.

"That was a lie", You knew it was coming, honestly, but at least you tried.

Chase: "You've recently been cast as the lead in a new rom-com called The Love Equation set to release in 2026, congratulations."

Chase prefaces the question with the recent news that was unveiled to the public merely a few days ago. It was a very recent endeavour of yours.

Not long after you started filming for Outer Banks, you'd received a call back from this project and filming was set to start a little after the OBX premiere which is a little less than three months away.

"Thank you, thank you. I'm very excited and grateful for the opportunity." You say, pretending you weren't dreading the question that's soon to follow. Chase's flattery made you nervous, regardless if he was just reading what was on the card.

Chase: If you could pick any castmate to star alongside you in a rom-com, who would you pick?"

Drew's jaw locks at the question. His grip on the arm of the chair tightens subconsciously as he watches your every move. From the way you looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think to your left foot pacing an unsteady rhythm.

All while Madison was watching Drew, a small smile creeping up on her lips. She needed no further confirmation from the two of you, your body language was loud enough. To her, at least.

"Drew." You say nothing more, nothing less. You don't want to fan the flames that fans have already sparked to life from a simple picture. "She's telling the truth." Yeah, obviously, but you don't say that out loud.

The time seems to fly now that your turn had passed and finally, it's Drew's turn. Deep down you've been waiting for this all day, but if you're being honest, you're a little scared for him.

Drew has one of the biggest and most blunt fanbases of the cast. You've seen how they can get sometimes, you've read the TikTok comments and seen the X threads. Hopefully, nothing gets taken out of context or blown out of proportion.

JD: "What’s your favorite way to unwind after a long day of filming?"

His lips pucker a little in thought, and it dawned on him. "I recently got gifted like, an ungodly amount of bubble bath, but I've actually been using them lately. So, I'll say a nice, hot bath, yeah."

The polygrapher confirms that his statement is in fact true and the round progresses.

JD: "If you had to be stuck on an island with one of your castmates for 24 hours, who would you pick—and what would you two do to pass the time?"

Drew fights the grin on his face, "I'd say Chase, we would go hang-gliding-" He's hardly able to get the sentence out before he's interrupted by his own cackles.

Chase adds his own thoughts into the mic, "You know what, Drew, fuck you, okay?" Chase states before returning to his seat while Drew chokes over his laughs to deliver an insincere apology. "That was true." The room erupts with more laughter at that.

JD: "Your final, invasive question, have you ever secretly dated or hooked up with someone from a movie/show you've worked on, including this one?"

The entire studio goes pin-drop silent. Madison's hand reaches out to hold yours, for comfort, or maybe support? Your eyes are glued to the window that shows a nervous Drew, the most nervous you'd ever seen him. He's starting to sweat.

The two of you have never hooked up, but now you're curious. You would get to find out if he's gotten involved with other girls he's worked with before. Was everything he did just an act? Was it a thing he did with everyone?

"I have not." He answers.

There's silence.

The polygrapher is doing it on purpose, you're sure of it.

...

....

........

JD turns around to face you all and whispers, "Guys, I'm literally shaking for him. Look!" He held out his hand with the card, and it showed a true reflection of his words.

"That is..." She drags out the verdict.

The anticipation got so bad you've all somehow ended up standing, you all might as well press your noses up against the glass.

"True."

The cheering is loud when it swallows the holding room. It's almost shameful how much of a weight you felt lifted off your shoulders at the declaration. Drew is the only one to have told the truth for all three questions, giving him 3 points. He wins.

"Now, Drew. You get to ask any co-star any question you'd like." One of the crewmates instructs as they had you all lined up in the room under Drew's judgement. He stalked along, looking everyone in the eyes, yours lasted a little longer than he was willing to admit but he eventually stopped on Madison.

"Madison, Madison, Madison." Drew taunted in the mic and she rolled her eyes with an all-knowing grin.

Drew: "Not too long ago you were disrespecting my childhood delicacy, the uncrustable. Now, there are rumours going around that you've been seen with them lately, is it true?"

Small giggles were let out around the room. Drew is unbelievable.

"Yes." Madison whispers, looking off to the side.

Drew: What was that? I'll need you to speak up.

Madison: Yes! It's true. Satisfied?

Drew: Very. No further questions, your honour.

You all film the closing sequence, reminding the audience the final season will be released on Netflix on August 30th and September 25th, 2025.

You're all making your way out to the cars. The original groups naturally switched up as you all jumped into the car with people you were in conversations with as you left the studio. This time it's you, Drew, JD and Madelyn.

"Wow, that was lowkey worse than I thought it was going to be." JD admits from the passenger seat and you snicker. Without even realizing it, your head was laying on Drew's shoulder, feeling the sleepiness begin to settle in after an eventful afternoon.

"All that drama genuinely drained the energy from my body." You yawn, and Drew subtly shifts so that you'd find more comfort in him, and you snuggle up just a little more. This is a feeling he could get used to.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,@willowpains, @riaras-everthroner, @iteuosav

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Preggers

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: fluff, smut!

a/n: sequel to Racing Simulator, enjoy!!!

"Fuck.." You sighed closing your eyes. Your palms were sweating and resting on the sink as you waited for the results of the pregnancy test you just took without Lando knowing.

Your mouth went dry and your legs wobbled when you opened your eyes to see another line appear on the test. Positive.

Your body felt as if a heat wave just hit you. You were overwhelmed by a wide range of emotions as you put your hand over you belly trying to make yourself aware that a new life will grow in you in the coming months.

You decided to take the test secretly without anyone knowing because you didn't want anyone to put any kind of pressure on you. You've been feeling weird for the past two weeks and as a woman you knew something was happening to your body something you've never felt before.

The possibility of being pregnant immediately crossed your mind especially after coming onto Lando like a horny teenager that day in his racing chair. You were well aware that there was a great chance you were gonna get pregnant because you were ovulating and that very day you just had to spice it up.

You wisely tried to hide symptoms like nausea, inexplicable feeling of fatigue and headache. You even tried to fool yourself by attributing it all to stress at work, but it was only when you missed your period you decided to stop denying the possibility that you are pregnant. And now that you are standing over the sink looking at two clear lines, you have convinced yourself that a woman's intuition is never wrong.

You didn't even realize that a few tears ran down your cheeks until you looked yourself up in the mirror and blinked a couple of times. Taking a deep breath in you turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over your face to come to your senses before going to look for Lando.

When you finally managed to get yourself together, you went to the kitchen, leaving the test behind in the bathroom. You poured yourself a glass of water looking over the kitchen island at Lando who was lying on the couch in the living room.

"Baby?" He asked looking at you from the couch, but you just kept staring at him without blinking. "Is everything okay?" He asked again, but there was no answer from you which instantly made him get up and walk over to you.

"Y/n, what's wrong? Talk to me." His gaze was full of concern as he cupped your face between his hands making you look up at him.

"I-I.." You stuttered, struggling to get the sentence out. "I have to tell you something." You put your hands over his tightening your grip around them.

"What? Tell me."

"Uh..I.." Nervousness washed over you, words didn't have the courage to leave your mouth because you didn't know what his reaction would be. you didn't often touch on the topic of children even though you had been together for 4 years. You loved each other more than anything, but you wanted to enjoy your youth as long as you could.

"Y/n, please, tell me what's going on. You're all pale and I'm getting really-"

"I'm pregnant." You cut him off making his jaw drop and eyes widen. It took him a second to process what you just said before he chuckled and let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Baby..are you really?" His eyes sparkled. You didn't know at that moment, in fact, you were even confused by his reaction, but it was as if he had been dying to hear those words all this time.

"Yeah..I just took the test in the bathroom" You nodded your head smiling with teary eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours and laughed sweetly before tightly wrapping his arms around yours shoulders.

"You're freaking me out a little with how happy you are" You admit pulling back from the hug to look at him.

"Of course I'm happy. My woman is having my baby. How could I not be?" He couldn't hide his excitement and that was definitely a relief and an encouragement, but you were still kind of terrified of the new unfamiliar situation you found yourself in. "Are you not?"

"I mean..I'm a little scared. I wasn't expecting this now" He raised his eyebrows giving you a doubtful look tilting his head to the side making both of you laugh as he remembered that day he finished inside you without you complaining. "Oh stop it!" You laughed, softly punching his chest before he pulled you to himself again and you leaned your head against him.

"You have nothing to be scared of okay? I'll take care of you, of us. " His words and his hug were enough to erase every fear, every uncertainty and question mark above your head. His embrace was your safe haven, your refuge and your home where you felt the best. "We're in this together. It was going to happen sooner or later."

"You've thought about us starting a family?" You ask looking up at the blue eyes.

"For quite some time now"

"Really?" You asked visibly taken aback, but positively surprised.

"There was one particular moment when I started fantasizing about us having a kid. It was when you met Mila for the first time. When we came for a family dinner at my parents' house and then after a while you disappeared from the table and I found you two in the playroom having a tea party." Both of you smiled as he tucked your hair behind your ear reminiscing the heart warming moment.

"The way you played with her, the way you talked to her..It was so natural for you and she was delighted with you. I was just standing there at the door admiring the two of you and then my mom saw me and it was like she could read my mind right at that moment. She was like "don't wait for too long Lando". And that's when I knew, I knew you'd be the one to carry my baby one day. Nobody else but you."

"Baby, that's so sweet.." It looked like the pregnancy hormones had already kicked in because his words made you a whimpering mess beneath him. You were sobbing as you listened to the man you loved more than anything talk about everything a woman could wish for.

"Just think about us lying in bed in the morning, our baby between us. We're looking at her, kissing her, cuddling her..I can't wait to protect both of you for the rest of my life you know?"

The scene that you pictured in your head was heaven itself just like he described it and now the excitement and joy prevailed in you and the color returned to your face when you realized that everything would be fine. Everything would be just like you've always dreamed of and more.

"Now I can't wait to meet baby Norris." You said quietly giving a soft long kiss to his lips.

"Yeah, baby Norris." He proudly repeated after you loving the way it sounded. "And when are you going to let me make you mrs Norris?" He asked and you smiled shyly looking down.

If it only had been up to Lando, he would probably have married you that day when you met Mila. He knew you were the one for him. You were the one thing he was completely sure of without a single doubt in his mind. You felt the same way about him as well, but you always thought that you should wait a little longer, that you are too young, that you are not in a hurry. There was also a constant pressure from the public that you were not ready to deal with so Lando waited patiently for you to be ready.

"Now is the perfect time to take my last name." He said.

"No, people will think that you're marrying me only because you got me pregnant and I don't want that."

"I don't care what others will think. You and I both know that's not true. C'mon, baby, be my wife." He kissed you and you wrapped your arms around his neck giggling into the kiss as he seemed to propose you right then and there.

"Maybe I should accept it now that you're offering because maybe you won't want to marry me later when I'm all fat and swollen."

"Me not wanting to marry you? That is unlikely to ever happen. Besides," He says between kisses, gripping your ass he pulled you to him pressing you against his already semi hard crotch. "I can't wait to have you walking around with round belly and full breasts. Fuck, it's turning me on so much." His hands moved to your belly gently rubbing it then up to your tits underneath your cropped wide t shirt giving them a tight squeeze.

"Is that so?" You smirk deciding to go along with what he just started. "You gonna help me out with sore breasts?"

"Fuck yes baby. Gonna take such a good care of you. " The soft kisses quickly turned into more passionate and deep ones pushing tongue into each others mouth. "Turn around for me" You do as he pleases bending over the kitchen island as he grinds himself against your butt.

"I'm so hard, can you feel it?" He whispers into your ear making you shiver. Pulling your legging just below your butt, his hand slips inside your panties. His fingers quickly trace over your wet folds before attaching them to your sensitive bud. "So wet for me, fuuuck. You're my good girl, aren't you?" You nod closing your eyes and throwing your head back on his shoulder.

"Arch your back for me" He gently takes your hips in his hands pushing you onto the hard cold surface and collecting your hair into a ponytail. Teasing you with his tip at your entrance you push yourself back against him until you have him deep inside you.

"Ahh, feels so good"

"I wish you could see my point of view right now, so fucking hot." His eyes were glued on his cock disappearing into your pussy, drenching him in your wetness. "I'm not pulling out anymore, I'm gonna cum in you every time you let me fuck you"

"Oh Lando..yess, please"

"Everyone will know that I'm the one who put a baby in you. That I fucked you so good, filled you up so deep, yeah? Shit, baby.." His hands were desperately clutching at your hair while he was slamming hard into your hole. The slapping of your skin against his echoing through the kitchen.

"Yes, you fuck me so good Lando. Keep going, I'm so close." A couple more thrusts later, his hot breath against your skin and soon you were reaching your highs panting out his name.

"Fuck baby, look how much you came" His eyebrows furrowed and lips parted groaning when he saw that you left white ring around his cock taking him again and again. "Gonna play with your pussy every day. Shit, I'm gonna cum, oh shit" The sight drove him crazy, you could feel him pulsating before he spilled his cum inside you pushing his cock as deep as it went.

"You did so good, so so good." His arms pulled you to him trapping you in a tight embrace as he left small kisses on your cheek and your shoulder.

You wince as you feel him pull out of you, your juices dripping down your thighs making him curse under his breath. Unable to resist the urge, his hand slips down to your thighs collecting the dripping cum with his fingers and rubbing it all over your pussy again.

"My beautiful, most beautiful pregnant girl."

[mywritersmind]

GO OUT WITH ME - LN4

summary : Lando doesn’t beg. But when it comes to y/n, he can’t help it.

listen up : nothing big to note! just cuteness

word count : 945

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Go out with me.” He says for the third time today, watching me swipe on my strawberry lip gloss. I pocket the bottle into my jeans pocket, crossing my arms over my black vest. I look to Lando who’s behind me in his papaya suit.

“Could you please stop bothering my friend?” Oscar says, sitting on a stool in his own driver's room.

“I will if she says yes.” He looks at me with big blue eyes, smiling. Too bad I have to crush his dreams.

“No.” I shrug and look back to my childhood best friend.

“Why are you even here, Lan?” Oscar leans his head back against the wall.

“What do you mean? I love hanging out with my bestie!” He stands, messing with Oscar’s hair. I laugh a bit and his face lights up, “Go out with me.”

“Goodbye Lando!” Oscar pushes him out the door and slams it in his face. “You know he will stop if you ask him, right?”

I look at my manicure, sighing, “Yeah, I know.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Lando won. I go to a race to watch Oscar and everywhere I turn, Landos face is being projected onto some screen. I was there in Miami and now I'm here in the Netherlands.

I’m leaving the paddock when I literally run into the man. I told you he’s everywhere!

He’s smiling like I've never seen before, sweaty and laughing before he looks up at me, “Shit, Y/n! I’m sorry.”

“No problem.” I shake my head, “Congrats, by the way.” He bites his lip, his suit unzipped and water bottle in hand.

“Thanks! You must be a good luck charm.” he winks and I'm thoroughly reminded how attractive he is. I won’t go out with him but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate him.

“You going out to celebrate?” He’s walking with me through the hall.

“Nah I want fast food and a movie.” He shakes his head, a curl falling onto his forehead. “Join me?”

“Bye, Norris.” I walk out the door.

I can practically hear the smile in his sweet accent, “See you later, Y/l/n.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I knock on Oscar’s door repeatedly, “Open up, Idiot!”

No reply.

My stupid best friend hasn’t responded to me all night, we had plans for me to cheer him up after his crappy race but he’s totally ditching me!

“That’s my room.” I freeze when he speaks. The British accent is one that I will not confuse with Oscars.

I slowly turn to Lando, “Oh.”

“Any reason you’ve come for a visit?” He holds a bucket of ice and a dutch chocolate bar. “Change your mind about the date?”

I pull my lips into a thin line, “No! I’m looking for Oscar.”

He walks closer to me, “We switched rooms. He's a level down.”

“Shit.” I roll my eyes, “You think he’s asleep?”

“Definitely. Seemed wiped after today.” He shrugs and eyes the bag I'm holding.

I was supposed to cheer him up after a crappy race, I bought all the Australian treats I could find, “Great.” I sigh. ”He’s leaving tomorrow morning so now I’m stuck with all these snacks.”

“Snacks?” Lando almost laughs, “Poor you, stuck with food.”

“Australian snacks! We were supposed to watch ‘How to lose a guy in ten days’ and he was supposed to complain about it!” I frown, I don’t get to see Oscar often even though he’s just come from break, I barely saw him.

Lando unlocks his room, “I’m sorry. I’d invite you in but I'm assuming you’d say no.”

“Lando Norris… Are you giving up?”

His head shoots up when I say it, “No! I’m respecting your wishes.” He opens the door and walks in, clearly waiting for me to make my decision.

I push past him and jump the snacks onto his bed, “Oscar told me you don’t like tim tams.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

An hour later I find myself watching Oscar and I’s movie with Lando. He’s actually really funny, and genuinely thinks this movie is hilarious.

I’m caught looking at him, “Everything okay?”

I nod slowly, pretending like I wasn’t just examining his face, “Can I ask you something?” He nods, “If I said yes… to a proper date- what would you do?”

He smiles, “Probably jump for joy, if i’m being honest.”

I roll my eyes.

“You know I don’t just ask you out on some whim right?“ He’s being serious. “I like you. I want to get to know you more.” He says it so casually but I can tell he’s nervous.

I can’t breathe, “More than just Oscar's friend?”

Lando shakes his head, toying with a candy in his hand, “You’ve always been more than Oscar's friend.”

“Then, yes.” I’m certain this time.

“Yes?”

“Yes i’ll go out with you.”

He blinks.

“You better not be joking.”

“I’m not!” I laugh and he puts his head into his hands, “Lando!”

“I knew you’d come around!” He points at me before pausing again, “This isn’t some pity thing, right? Just because I’m alone after I won doesn’t mean I’m all sad or something!”

“Lando.” I try but he keeps going.

“I did win, after all! And I don’t want you to say yes because of that either because it’s cool and all but I am more than a win also I swear I have other friends besides Os-”

“Lando!” I laugh and grab his face. He stops speaking, “I want to go out with you. Because you’re you.”

I can feel his heart beating, “That’s good.”

“Very good.” I agree. His smile hits me once more and I match it, “You’re cute.”

“I think I'm dreaming.”

note : race was TOUGHHH today😭 had to write smt happy to cope. loved it for charles tho can’t lie! hope you enjoy!

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Pollen and Pheromones

Kinktober Day 13: Sex Pollen

Male Alpha Yandere x Gender Neutral Omega Reader CW: Noncon, sex pollen, aphrodisiac, pheromones, knotting, biting, claiming bite, stranded, spaceship crash, sci-fi, outer space, alien planet, a/b/o dynamics, bigotry/prejudice against omegas, rivalry, breeding, general yandere behavior, tsundere, betrayal Word Count: 1.6k (Enjoy this kinktober meal I have prepared <3)

"Star log: This is Pilot 2418 currently operating vessel Starlion: Orion. I am currently on route to pass the threshold of our galaxy in less than five minutes."

You were a shuttle pilot, one of the Exploration Guild's best. Ever since humanity had achieved interplanetary travel, they had sought to extend themselves ever further. With the new drift-space drives, that dream was now a reality.

They were only currently suited for small 1 to 2 man shuttlecraft, and only a couple such craft had been made. Two different ones had been commissioned through the guild, with both pilots competing to see who could exit the Milky Way first. The new drive could only be used in bursts to prevent overloading, so the journey had still taken a few months. But it seemed like you were about to succeed. Then you could make a U-turn and start drift-jumping back towards the nearest station.

Since you were an omega, this was a great achievement, a notice to the universe that your kind could do whatever betas and alphas could. You would be able to help stamp out the lingering bigotry and inspire others all with one action.

You were just about to cross the finish line!

Suddenly, your opponent, Tetsunori, came out of drift-space behind you. He had been your long-time rival, with both of you being about equally skilled.

But this was unacceptable to him as he was an alpha and held to the knothead mindset that an omega's place was bouncing on an alpha's prick or maybe in a teaching or nursing job.

You weren't worried, though. You had a solid lead. There was no way he could close the gap.

You rolled your eyes at the incoming transmission.

"Why don't you just give up now? If you surrender nicely, I'll let you celebrate my victory by letting you keep my knot warm!"

The temptation to reply was too great.

"Ha! You may be good at navigating the stars, but I doubt you have ever found your way into an omega."

Conversing with him hadn't distracted you or made you pause, so he growled as he switched to another plan. He fired on his tractor beam.

What the fuck, was he insane? Stooping so low to make sure you couldn't have a historic moment? You fired an equal and opposite tractor beam through his, which forced him to disengage. Something only possible because both ships were similar in size and energy output. Did he think you were some amateur?

In a desperate bid to prevent you from winning, Tetsunori rammed his shuttle into yours.

This type of bumping wasn't unheard of. It wasn't lethal if both ships were similar and had their shields up. But the bouncing was pretty strong for both parties, which is why it was a last-ditch effort. It could push you past the line, or it could bump him further. Neither of those things happened, though.

Instead, you careened right into the gravitational pull off a planet. You did everything you could to slow down and stabilize, but nothing seemed to be working.

Tetsunori sped after you in his spacecraft as he spoke into the comm link.

"I'm sorry, oh my god, I'm so sorry! I just had to be first! What omega would want to be mates with someone who they bested??"

You didn't have time for his weird ass confession and barely registered it. Your shields were still online and he had started pulsing his tractor beam to slow you down, full usage of it at such speeds could rip your ship apart, thankfully he wasn't an amateur either and knew that.

You put all available power and quickly put it into overloading the shields. You hit the emergency crash button, and two nozzles came out from the sides of the cockpit and sprayed you with a rapidly drying foam that would reduce damage to you if you got flung about the ship. Tetsunori's reckless and speedy entry into the atmosphere may have been enough to save you, but he had lost control of his vessel as well.

As you crashed, he careened away and crash-landed as well.

It was a good thing the high-tech impact reduction foam was so effective. Despite having shields, the ship was still shaken pretty badly, and the inertial dampeners weren't powerful enough to thwart damage from such a landing.

You took stock of the condition of your systems.

Almost everything was fried. You could at least scan the planet. It seemed like you had actually lucked out. In the entire galaxy planets that supported life were incredibly rare. But you had landed on one.

It seemed there were no known biological hazards present. No recognized toxins, dangerous bacteria, or viral agents. You were cleared to remove your suit. The temporary foam had started to dissolve, so it wasn't hard to remove.

The scanner also indicated there was a strong human life sign. It appeared that Tetsunori was okay.

You took the survival kit from underneath your seat as well as some beverages and rations you had procured at the last station and headed in the direction of dust and smoke in the distance.

You didn't even need the ship's scanner to tell you that the great imbecile, Tetsunori had landed there.

As you got closer, you stepped into a field of flowers that surrounded the entire crash site. You were probably still a mile away, but all around you were odd glittery silver and gold flowers.

The smell of them made you just slightly lightheaded and tingly. You realized the tiniest bit of slick was dribbling down your leg. They must be an aphrodisiac. The scanner hadn't warned you of anything in the air that was truly dangerous, so it probably wouldn't matter very much. And it really didn't. For you. As you trudged through the flowers and pollen, the effects did not get worse.

But for Tetsunori, the pollen was much stronger. When it hit his nostrils, it immediately put him into rut. Not a typical rut either, one of the ruts you see in pornos where the alpha is almost feral and unable to control their mating drive. When you came upon him, he was sitting on a piece of debris from his shit and rocking back and forth in clear distress. Through his outfit, his bulge was immediately visible.

"T-tetsunori? Uh... are you okay? D-did you get hurt in the crash?"

You took a step back when he looked up at you. His eyes were red, giving him a demonic appearance.

"The flowers, I think... they... UGH! My thoughts are all jumbled..."

He started to rub and massage his crotch desperately. He finally caught a whiff of your scent, ripe from the recent hike over to him and from being without a proper shower since your last space station stop. Not to mention the smell of the slick the aphrodisiac had coaxed out of you.

He started wildly sniffing at the air.

"Y-you smell so nice. You can help!"

You started backing away slowly.

"Uh... help with what?"

He got up and closed the difference between the two of you. Sweat had his dark hair clinging to his head. He was significantly taller and looked down at you intensely before sniffing and licking your neck with lazy broad strokes.

"S-smell so gooood. Always wanted to knot youuuu~"

You tried to push him off.

"Tetsunori! St-stop!"

You slapped, smacked, kicked, punched, and flailed, but nothing you did deterred him in the slightest.

"I'm sorry, but I fucking n-need this!"

He pinned you to the ground, clawing and biting off all your clothing until only your underwear was left, he removed it more delicately before inhaling its scent deeply and putting it in his pocket for later.

"Please don't do this, Tetsunori, PLEASE!"

He looked down at you, and it seemed like he was genuinely trying to resist before the pollen-charged rut won out.

Tetsunori unzipped his pants and let his drooling cock and full heavy balls out.

"G-gonna put all my babies in you! Have to! Have to!"

The lust-drunk alpha wasted no more time in ramming into you, an insertion that would have been more difficult had the pollen not slicked you up. Though it was still sudden and slightly painful.

"A-aaah!"

You tried to kick at him, but he growled viciously before pushing you into a mating press and slobbering all over your neck with his eager tongue.

The pollen must have increased the potency of his pheromones, or at least your susceptibility to them, because his musk was starting to cloud your thoughts.

Your grunts of pain became gasps of pleasure as your body quickly accommodated to his large size. You winced as he bit down hard on your neck to claim you. He kept right on fucking into you without skipping a beat.

He licked and kissed the lightly bleeding bite mark, some part of him remembering to comfort you despite his dominating need to fill you with cock. And by that point, the last of your resistance finally melted away.

"T-tetsunoriiiiii~" You moaned as your toes curled and body twitched in orgasm.

He growled your name in response and gave a few hard, deep thrusts before cumming as deeply as possible.

A comforting fullness filled your hole as his knot locked the two of you together. He pulled you close as he sat down so that you were in his lap facing him. The two of you caught your breath, then remained in an awkward silence until his knot deflated.

"G-got it out of your system?"

"Yeah... for the most part... sorry about that..."

You lifted yourself off of his lap, his half hard cock springing free with a lewd plopping sound.

"Well... it wasn't your fault. It was just the pollen..."

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into his lap, his cock ramming directly into you, then began humping.

"Well... it wasn't just the pollen..."

[hoshifighting]

"helloooo lyla!! ive been reading your fics for a long time and I love them sooo much your such a great writer!

I was wondering if I could request jeonghan saying “marry me” in the middle of a rough sex?? ive been thinking about it for ages omg😭😭 (if your comfortable I’m not forcing!! <3)”

jeonghan saying “marry me” in the middle of a rough sex

warnings: smut, penetrative sex, cockriding, crying, needy moans

it wasn’t like you ever imagined that jeonghan, of all people, would let that slip. not when he’s got you riding him like you’re racing to some invisible finish line, his hands gripping your hips so tight it’s like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. you barely register the words at first, too caught up in the rhythm, in the filthy sounds coming out of both of your mouths, but then it hits you—

“marry me,” he breathes out, like a fucking confession, strangled and wrecked.

you freeze, body tensing. “wait, what?”

the room goes dead silent. the only sound left is your labored breathing. and his. and the stupid creaking bed under you both. you choke on your own spit, damn near swallow your tongue trying to process it, and jeonghan’s eyes are wide now, just as shocked as you. his face is this violent shade of red, cheeks flaming, and you swear you can hear his brain short-circuiting.

“i—” he stammers, looking away like that’ll save him from the mess he just made. “shit. i um—fuck.”

your brain’s doing cartwheels trying to catch up, but it doesn’t take long for the absurdity to hit you. you start laughing, like actual laughing, trying to hold it in but completely failing. you double over, one hand resting on his chest as he groans, embarrassment swallowing him whole.

“what the fuck did you just say?” you tease. “riding you so good you gotta wife me up, huh?”

“oh, shut up,” he groans, slapping your back in retaliation, though it’s more out of embarrassment than anything. his face is still red as hell, lips pressed together like he’s praying the earth’ll open up and swallow him whole. but the way he’s looking at you... that little crack in his usual cocky, rough persona has your heart doing this weird, fluttery thing in your chest.

“nah, nah, hold on,” you mock, starting to move your hips again, slow and teasing, feeling the way he twitches underneath you. “you really just—fuck—asked me to marry you?”

his hands snap back to your waist, that grip turning punishing. “i swear to god, don’t start.”

“why not?” you grin, feeling bold. “you mean it, hannie?”

“you want me to stop?” he asks, threatening, but you can hear the edge of it, the desperation he’s not quite able to mask. his hips buck up into you, almost instinctively, and you moan, losing some of your playful edge as your body melts back into his rhythm.

you bite your lip, trying to hold back another laugh. “didn’t say that.”

“good,” he hisses, grinding up into you harder, making sure you feel him. “then don’t fuckin’ tease me.”

but now, all you can think about is how real it feels, how intense his gaze is, and suddenly, his usual roughness feels... different. more desperate. he’s not just trying to make you moan, not just focused on his own pleasure—he’s unraveling, for you. “you didn’t answer me,” he mutters, words slurring together as you pick up speed again, each bounce making the bedframe shake. his hands are gripping your thighs now, pulling you down harder onto him, like he’s chasing something.

“huh?” you barely manage, mind spinning, trying to focus on anything besides the overwhelming feeling of him deep inside you.

he bites his lip, eyes glued to where you’re connected, his voice dropping to a low, shaky whisper. “say yes.”

you blink down at him, heart skipping a beat. he’s serious. fuck.

you’re not even thinking when you say it. “yes. i-i do.”

it’s like a switch flips. he lets out this sound—this needy, broken moan, and fuck, you’ve never heard him sound like that before. he sits up, practically yanking you down to meet his thrusts, arms wrapped tight around your waist, face buried in your neck. the pace is brutal, desperate, and you’re a mess of gasps and moans, every single one drawn out by the intensity of it all.

you don’t realize he’s crying until you feel it, those warm tears soaking your skin as he buries his face deeper against your shoulder. he’s shaking, breath hitching, but he doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop giving it to you exactly how you need it.

“fuck, you’re mine,” he whispers, voice wrecked, wet, needy. “all mine.”

you can barely respond, every nerve in your body on fire, but you clutch him tighter, fingers digging into his back, matching his rhythm with everything you’ve got. “yours,” you choke out, and that’s all it takes for him to fall apart completely. he’s holding you so close it’s like he’s afraid you’ll slip away, fucking you like he’s staking a claim, making sure you never forget this moment.

and then he cums, hard, dragging you over the edge with him, the two of you tangled in each other, breathless and whiny. jeonghan pulls back just enough to look at you, tears still clinging to his lashes, but he’s smiling now—the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“married to me, hm?” you tease heartily caressing his hair, panting, but your chest is warm, full.

“baby.” he groans, face contorting ready to cry again, making you chuckle, he pouts, burying his face in your neck again.

but you don’t miss the way his arms tighten around you. you don’t miss the way he holds you like he’s never letting go.